Nathan Bransford - The Forums

Rell jumped to his feet when his sister brought the water jug around. He wasn’t that thirsty, but he was glad of any break from the monotonous task of weeding the fields. He’d far rather be working with the animals in the barn and pasture, but his older brother Bren always got that job. Bren didn’t even like the animals. Not like Rell did. And they didn’t respond to Bren like they did to Rell. It wasn’t fair, but Da always just said “Bren’s older”, as if that had something to do with mucking out stalls and pitching hay. Bren didn’t even have to listen to Da’s string of reminiscences as they worked.

“Back before the War we’d have had a mage bespell the seeds before we planted. Then the corn would grow faster than the weeds and choke them out. Things were easier, then,” Da said as he pushed himself to his feet.

Rell was sick of hearing about it. He was looking right at the blackened stumps of what had once been a rich woodland before the War. He was just old enough to remember playing under those trees. Now it was the Blighted Forest. “Well, there aren’t any more mages. They killed each other in the War. And we wouldn’t be planting corn at all if the mages hadn’t destroyed the orchard along with the forest,” he said, hoping to break the stream of nostalgia.

His father only grunted in reply.

Rell stood for a moment longer, noticing the dark line of clouds on the northern horizon.

“Looks like there’ll be a storm, later,” he said.

“All the more reason to get this done earlier. Back to work, Rell.”

Rell sighed and started to turn back to the row of corn he was supposed to be weeding. He froze as he saw lightning fork down from the distant clouds. That bolt had been red! He would swear to it. He watched for another ten heartbeats, waiting, ignoring the distant thunder clap. Another bolt. This one was green. He cursed every one of the seven gods. Not just a storm--a mage storm. The charred remains of hundreds of wizards killed in the same instant, circling the world and wreaking havoc on whatever it touched.

“Cover!” Rell shouted. “Get to cover, quick. Mage storm.”

The others of his extended family stood and followed his gaze. The towering clouds scudded across the sky with unnatural speed. No wind drove a storm that fast; it was powered by magic. The underside of the clouds flashed with changing colors--white, red, green, blue, yellow. The women grabbed children fascinated by the display and dragged them away. Not towards the inadequate cabins. Those would offer no shelter from this storm. Most would be smoking piles of rubble when the storm had passed. They must hide in the caves to survive this tempest.

Very vivid, Meredith! I might divide the longer paragraphs, but that's just me. I prefer shorter paragraphs than most writers. I would definitely read on.

Meredith wrote:
His father only grunted in reply.

Ditch that bit. I'm jealous. This is really tight writing. Give us something that NEEDS critiquing.

This is a very nice piece of work. I honestly have nothing to add other than I want to read more.

I think this is very interesting and the beginning of a good story. This first paragraph, though, is very clunky and heavy. It comes across as a lot of he said, she said. It feels like an info dump.

The rest is really good.


Rell jumped to his feet when his sister brought the water jug around. He wasn’t that thirsty, but he was glad of any break from the monotonous task of weeding the fields. He’d far rather be working with the animals in the barn and pasture, but his older brother Bren always got that job. Bren didn’t even like the animals. Not like Rell did. And they didn’t respond to Bren like they did to Rell. It wasn’t fair, but Da always just said “Bren’s older”, as if that had something to do with mucking out stalls and pitching hay. Bren didn’t even have to listen to Da’s string of reminiscences as they worked.