I highly doubt that anything will be happening in December 2012. I don’t even know which date something is supposed to be happening on – the twelfth? The twenty-first? Make your minds up doom-mongers, if you’re one of the few doom-mongers who is actually mongering doom these days, as many of your cohorts appear to have given up for quite some time.

However, just because I disbelieve the doomsday, end-of-days scenarios being spouted across the expanses of the internet doesn’t mean that I can’t take inspiration from their events and draw upon them for my own personal creativity. After all, it is upon this subject that I garnered inspiration for one of my books that I wish to write at some point.

It should be mentioned here that I have numerous ideas for books and comics, and I would prefer to keep them closely guarded and out of public scrutiny so that my ideas remain mine until they have been put to paper. I may not even be putting such ideas to paper for a long time, as I don’t think highly of myself as a writer or artist at present, and will probably want to try and expand my repertoire and skills before attempting to do my narratives justice.

But I am also interested in what people have to say about these ideas, whether they are good and require further development, or whether they are not good at all and should be snuffed out or promptly rethought before they are allowed to pollute the world of literacy. It is for these reasons that I will be detailing one of my narrative ideas for you here. Also, I am rather tired and have few ideas of what else to write about.

In essence, my story hinges on the events of a non-specific date in the future – non-specific because the story will be told by a character in the future who has long since lost track of dates and days by name and number. On this historic day, mankind and the world around them were transformed, by way of magic making its way into the world.

Cultured Raptor
"I wish to hear more about this book...are there any raptors in it?" - Cultured Raptor

This magic affected every single person alive, but in varying and seemingly random degrees – a humble office-worker would get the power to directly conjure powerful magic such as explosive fire storms, whereas the leaders of various countries would get no more power than being able to will a small image into being.

The natural world itself was affected too, with animals being twisted and morphed into strange, exotic and dangerous new creatures, some wild, untameable and madly intelligent, with others becoming docile and obedient. Countries would be ripped apart, the face of the world itself changing and distorting in ways never thought possible – although some of these physical changes happened instantaneously, many others are still taking place in the days of my story.

Needless to say, despite the best attempts of those in charge, society in all its forms broke down and was utterly destroyed in a manner of weeks – who can keep order when the man you are oppressing can summon forth avalanches or terrible beams of ice? Millions died on that first day as their newfound power was too much for them and, unable to control the forces within them, they destroyed themselves from within. Billions more died in the weeks that followed; victims of a world with no law or order, victims of people gone mad with power, victims of the new world.

It is estimated that only a year after that first day, possible a little over, much of the world had changed forever, with the majority of the destruction wrought by men and women having been done. People tried to start settling again, fighting to live on in a world that was now dangerous and unforgiving. Roving gangs made any settlements of real size difficult or impossible to maintain without a powerful leader or group of protectors, and various small villages arose out of the dust of the old world, ruled over by tyrants with unimaginable power, or benevolent guides attempting to restore mankind.

So we would join our protagonist approximately fifteen years after the First Day, as it became known amongst some, and he is well on his own, self-given mission. During the First Day, a man was walking in front of his house, presumably on his way home from work. Our man was inside, with his wife of two years, making dinner as she sat in the front room watching something or other on the TV, when magic decided to enter the world. The next few minutes erupted in a flurry of white fire as the front of their house was torn asunder, the man on the pavement spewing forth magical power in a torrent of unstoppable force.

Regaining his footing and staggering out of the ruins of his house, he saw the man on the pavement floating inches off the floor, his cries a mixture of terrible laughter and pained screams. Looking around, he could see the houses next to his had suffered the same fate as his, and he could already see the bodies of his neighbours strewn about the wreckage, the flesh stripped down to the bone in places. Frantically he scanned the charred earth and rubble for his beloved until his eyes froze on her fragile form, reclining in horror from the man on the pavement with her hands outstretched.

The white fire that had engulfed everything else flowed around her, licking furiously at what was left of the ground to the left and right of her and searing the air, yet she herself remained untouched, a patch of carpeting lay behind her as a reminder of the life that was now surely over. Drenched in sweat and her face a horrid picture of strain, she stared woefully at the man on the pavement who remained apparently oblivious to the disaster he had brought upon the world.

He cried her name. No sound reached her, or even appeared to leave his lips. Scrambling forward against the forces pushing him away from his wife, he planted his feet and cried again, and again, tears of effort streaming from his eyes. Finally she looked around, despair and terror in her expression, and he could see her frantically thinking of some kind of solution, a way to end the suffering both her and her love were enduring, She faced the man on the pavement once more, just in time to catch a fresh explosion of fire, far in excess of what had come before.

Vaguely, he could hear the man on the pavement screaming, a horrific mixture of pain and delight. He looked down at his wife before him, only feet away yet still out of his reach. He had only a moment for the question of how he was also shielded from the magical onslaught before he was blown back in the explosion that rocked forth from the man on the pavement, casting him back into the ruinous remains of his house.

When he awoke and dug himself out of what remained of his old life, the man on the pavement was gone, and his wife was charred and ultimately destroyed. The man on the pavement had killed numerous other people around him; his neighbourhood had been decimated thoroughly; yet all he saw was the blackened corpse that was once his love. He spent a couple of years reeling from that day, running from all that had been taken away from him. He existed in a harsh new world, without the courage or depravity to take himself out of it.

Until he saw the man on the pavement again. He recognised him instantly, and swore he was seeing some kind of ghost – he had seen stranger things in his time since the First Day, and he had assumed he was destroyed in his own magical forces – but he was all too real. Before he could do anything or even call out in rage the man on the pavement had vanished in a flurry of that same white fire that had claimed his wife. And so began our man’s mission for vengeance against the man on the pavement, for all that he had done to the world, to his wife, and to him.

And so therein lies the crux of my story – our man will travel the new world in search of the man on the pavement, meeting various people and beasts, some of which will join him, some of whom will not survive. He is not a saint, our man, and nor would I want to portray him as such, but that just makes it all that more interesting.

Of course the writings above should not be considered an extract; there are many things I have not sussed out, such as names, places and the like. And this is before I’ve got into the various kinds of magic there are, magics that affect things differently or perform different functions, but that is for the book itself.

Does this story get your approval, Cultured Raptor?

I only hope that this small snippet has whet your appetite, so please let me know what you think of this story; whether it has any weight, whether you would want to read any more, and any suggestions you care to put forward – I will not deride any such suggestions if they are given in all seriousness. Anywho, even if you didn’t like it, thanks for giving my site traffic.


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