Yesterday's challenge post was a little much for me to tackle considering how much I wrote yesterday. I still have some writing to do today but since this is technically part of the story, I'll count this bit of writing, too. Who knows? It could be the start of a promotional short story or something. :D
#WIPjoy Day 9 - If your antagonist was your MC, how would the story open?
I had two antagonists to choose from, so I chose Outh'n Durr because I have more of his backstory in my head.
"Ha! Look at that. Outh'n can look at both of us at the same time, Cyrl."
"What a jibri! Can't he score better than that?"
"Aiya, Outh'n! It's too bad about your eye. Well, too bad for you. It's great for me, though. All that beauty gone to waste... Ha! Ha! Ha!"
He remembered. And in memories, strength burned deep within, searing every nerve, firing every muscle, hardening his resolve. He'd show them all today.
"Are the runners ready?"
Outh'n didn't bother joining his 'ai' to the others. He'd rather focus entirely on the red kyrch at the end of the race course. It was his. He'd pushed himself hard -- training, sacrificing. He was quick. He knew it. This was something he could do, something he could excel at. It was a way he could pay Mimiri for all her troubles and woes in his raising. There was no way he'd allow himself to lose today.
The moment the Reif cracked the staff, he sprang. Closer and closer, every breath, every heartbeat was one moment closer to the dainty square of red fabric.
Suddenly a streak of white flew across his line of vision. Startled, he lost his footing and stumbled. He didn't fall, thank the Creator, but that lost momentum would have to be regained. He sped up again and chased after the streaking blur several paces ahead of him. Dymoni take that asher Cyrl! Anger fired Outh'n's blood and he drew on reserves he didn't know he had.
Five paces behind Cyrl.
Two paces behind.
The older boy weaved in an attempt to keep Outh'n from getting ahead. Suddenly, Outh'n took two ground eating strides and somersaulted over Cyrl, taking off like a shot when he landed. In three strides more, he had the kyrch held aloft in his hands. Certain his face would split from the smile of pride, he tried to tone it down. He couldn't. He jumped up, laughing at the hard-won victory.
The crowd favorite had been Cyrl's best friend, I'anor. When he came in third, most of the spectators were shocked to silence. Cyrl had more than a few fans. Outh'n had seven -- his parents, grandparents, and three siblings.
But the one person he'd truly hoped to impress ran to I'anor expressing her surprise and offering a comforting shoulder for him to rest on. The sight tarnished his victory but he held his head high as the Senya of the village awarded him the medallion, colored like the suns with the blue-purple thysta stone set in the center.
This piece may actually end up in the current WIP. I can work it in for certain. And it might help readers to understand more about why Outh'n is the way he is. I love how the beginning of the Viking music sort of fits the tenseness of a competition without overpowering it.
Melody Kittles writes fantasy fiction under the name Robin McElveen. She loves God, her family, the arts, a warm cup of coffee or tea, visiting friends, and collecting coffee & Pusheen items.
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