MACHINATIONS: THE JOURNAL
(Novel Preview)
By derrick Stahl
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February 2nd
God, help me. I can’t believe I’m actually doing this, but here I go.
I’ve finally decided to start a journal. I never really planned on doing anything like this, but I get so bored just sitting around here in my airship. If I don’t write down the things that go through my head, it’s bound to explode sooner or later. Cort and Quinn don’t make things any easier. They are constantly whispering things into my head, making me insane. Maybe if I can write down some of the things they tell me, they’ll go away. I hate these voices.
I don’t plan on letting anyone read these words, but I also didn’t plan on writing them in the first place … so who knows? Let me start off by telling you a little about my past and myself. I’ll keep it short, not because I don’t want to bore you with history, but because I hate it.
My name is Satheal Pnume. That’s about all I can tell you without having to stop and think. Sad, isn’t it? But it is so hard to recall and read my thoughts. The scratching of a madman on the wall of a dark cavern from thousands of years ago could more easily be read. I think as I write and vice versa, but rarely do the two become one. My pen almost never writes what my mind is thinking. And no matter how poetic and beautiful my mind can make a thought, my pen can hardly match it. But let me try.
[The remainder of chapter one is in the process of a re-write at this time. Sorry.]
April 5th
I sat alone in the pub, drinking my problems down. The bartender was walking around the place, picking up trash from the night before. As I tilted my head back to finish the last remaining drops of my sanity, the tiny bell on the door started to jingle. The bartender and I both turned to look.
A dark-skinned man, taller than the barkeep and myself, slowly walked into the pub. His black cloak seemed to fill the room as he walked in, its torn edges waving with an unfelt and unmoving wind. His eyes scanned the room, stopping when they fell on me. He looked at me with his scarred face, not moving or saying a word.
I set down my empty glass, getting to my feet. The stranger smiled as I got closer. “Saébel?” I asked.
He put his hands behind his back, softly nodding his head.
He’s still a wanderer, so I offered my home to him once again. He immediately agreed, coming back to Machinations with me once we finished our drinks.
This page was taken from parts of chapters 01 and 02 of
Machinations: Satheal’s Journal
By derrick Stahl
www.ForgottenRose.com
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