Wondering if I should send out a sneak peak of the prologue to my novella/short novel before I go on my 4-6 week hiatus at the Res.
The story is set in a future universe where demi-angels (kind of like demi-gods) exist. Ever since they started popping up, the Church became the government. And the religion that runs the place isnt very friendly. Any acts of defiance will get you excommunicated, both for Humans and Demi-angels (though humans get let off a bit easier). But what happens when, Lukus, a trans Demi-Angel, starts acting out and falls? Who will be there to pick him up and help him fight against the controlling Church?
Would you like to see the Prologue of this short novel?
The room was small and cramped. When I entered it, there was a faint scent of roses with an even fainter hint of citrus. It reminded me of the perfume my grandmother wore when she visited for the holidays. In the center of the room, there was a dusty pink chair with a floral print. A beige blanket was draped over the chair, and two floral pillows colored in different shades of tan. A stack of old books sat balanced atop them. One book that caught my eye was Little Red Riding Hood, one of my favorite books from my childhood. I remember lying in my bed as a toddler, all tucked in and comfy, and having my mother read it to me.
Surrounding the chair were old sculptures and paintings that my father had collected over the years. He was always taking any chance he could get for new art to put in the house. They always ended up in the attic after a while, though, when he found a new one to go in its place. There was a bronze sculpture shaped like a ball of rubber bands on the edge of the coffee table. I remembered staring at it on the mantle in the living room, just wondering what the point of such a thing would be. I still don't understand it to this day.
On the antique wooden coffee table, next to the sculpture, there was an old lamp that used to be in my bedroom, just collecting dust like everything else in this attic. The lamp shade was pink floral, but a drastically different shade to the chair. It had pink gems dangling from the rim of it when it was new, but now most of them have fallen off now. The white base of the lamp was cracked and wobbly. I would be astonished if that old lamp still worked, it looked like it would blow up if it was turned on ever again.
So I decided to write kind of like a harry potter and percy jackson like thing but its about knights and wizards and stuff like that. The story takes place in around present times. I'd say technology wise, it'd be about in the 70's. But the culture is completely different. Anyways, Dorwin's is an academy strictly for training knights and (in some cases) magic users. The main character, Amias, is new to the school. However, he has a secret that no one can find out about. He's transgender.
Feel free to ask me any questions about this story if you're interested!
A Knight's Battle
On my 16th birthday, my dad told me I was going to Dorwin’s Knights Academy. Dorwin’s is a school made to highlight and encourage the becoming of a knight. Here, we live in a world where knights are soldiers who fight for their kingdoms or for sport. There’s not much technology, but there are a few who wield magic. However, I’ve always been obsessed with the idea of becoming a skilled fighter, clad in metal armor.
When I was 14, I told my dad I wanted to train at Dorwins. At first, he scoffed and told me female knights never make it far. You wouldn’t believe his surprise when he found out I wanted to be a male knight.
My dad taught me what it takes to be a man. I can never show weakness and I must be the strongest emotionally and a bit physically. I should never do lady-like things such as my drawing hobby or sewing. This was the only way he would accept me. He said that if I wanted to be a boy, then I better start acting like one. When he considered me to be man enough, that's when he would allow me to join the academy.
When I turned 16, he told me that I passed enough to be considered a boy. Even though he still has a hard time addressing me as a boy and never calls me his son, I was still proud of myself. I’ve been training for 2 years to live as myself. Now I can finally do that.
As I walked up to the big gates, dragging my luggage behind me, I smiled to myself. I was finally here. I’ve waited a long time for this moment. With the other kids entering the school, I walked in with them. I made sure to stand tall, even though I’m 5,6. I couldn’t help but feel a little bit intimidated though. Half the kids here are buff tall boys. Rarely, I’d see a girl, but even they were a bit intimidating. I tried not to let them scare me though. I must show everyone that I was meant to be here.
I was told to walk up to the headmaster’s office when I arrived. Since I started during the second semester, I would need extra guidance on where I go and what to do. Plus, I needed to know my dorm room.
After I walked through the corridors of the castle-like school, up stairs and through more halls until I finally found the headmaster’s office. I knocked on the door and waited for him to let me in. It took a couple of seconds but I was eventually greeted by a middle aged, maybe a bit older, man. He wore a fancy fur lined cloak with a red vest and belt. It was winter so it made sense, but the school was surprisingly not too cold.
“May I help you?” He asked.
“I am Amias Evington, sir. I recently transferred here. I was told to come talk to you when I arrived,” I spoke, trying to keep as formal as possible. I heard he’s a powerful magic user who can defeat armies of knights. But seeing him up close, he looks so fragile.
“Ah yes, Amias. I remember speaking with your father about enrolling you here. Come in,” He opened the door enough to let me in. I walked inside and closed the door behind me as he sat at his desk. He rummaged through his desk drawers before pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to me.
“This is your schedule. It has your dorm number and classes. Breakfast is at 8:00 and dinner is at 6:30. Your lunch depends on your class schedule. It seems like you have… ah, 1:00 lunch,” He leaned over to peek at the paper. I studied the sheet, checking out what classes I had. A couple classes were normal education like maths and english. But I had 3 hours in the afternoon that were dedicated to physical education.
I looked over the paper a couple times and took in the information. Every week there would be a battle-like simulation of capture the flag. All the branches would combine together before separating into 2 teams. The headmaster seemed to notice how intrigued I was by the weekly battle and suddenly handed me another paper and a pen.
“It’s time for you to choose what you want to specialize in. You are required to choose at least one in order to participate in the weekly Capture The Flag,” He told me. I looked at the sheet and it had a list of the branches the knights would fight in. There were archers, swordsmen, medics, and drummers. This would determine what specific class I’d do my 3 hours of training in. I immediately put down Swordsman. This is what dad trained me for.
“Hmm, swordsman? Not many young women choose that. May I suggest medic?” The headmaster suggested. I had to resist the urge to swear at him. Not only was that sexist, but it was implying that I was a woman.
“I thought my father spoke to you about this? I’m a boy,” I stressed.
“Yes, I am aware. But I’m sure you’ll want to go back to living as a young lady after being a boy for a year or two,” He said. He thinks I don’t have what it takes to be a boy. Little did he know I spent 2 years training and working hard to become who I am. Dad didn’t berate me for nothing.
“Sir-”
Suddenly, a knock came from the big door.
“Ah, that must be your guide. Come in!” he yelled out.
Then a boy about my age with dark brown, wavy hair that was pushed back with a few strands in his face, with a thin but somewhat muscular frame, walked into the room. He wore the school’s uniform which consisted of a collared shirt with a maroon long v-neck tunic and a belt that went over it on his waist, as well as leather arm bracers around his wrists. He stepped inside and gave me a small smile.
“This is Maxwell Remus. I believe you have a few classes with him and share a dorm hall,” The headmaster said. He turned back to me to continue our conversation.
“Now, are you sure you want to pick swordsmanship?” He asked.
“Yes sir,” I confirmed. He hesitated for a second, like he was debating arguing with me on this. Then he took up the paper I had filled out and went back behind his desk.
“If you’re ready, I can show you to your dorm,” Maxwell interjected. His voice was smooth and a bit deep. I wished my voice was as masculine as his. Instead, I had this voice that sounded like I was forcing noise out of me.
But I nodded anyway and stood up. Maxwell went to reach for my luggage to carry it for me, but I grabbed it before he could take a hold of it. “A man should always carry his own bags or carry his lover’s. Otherwise, you’re seen as weak” I remember my dad telling me. I can’t show this kid I just met any weakness. Only a girl would let him carry it. And I am not a girl.
“I can carry it,” I told him.
“Alright. Well I’ll show you to your room, then,” He started walking in front of me, leading me out the headmaster’s office and down the hall.
We walked down a few corridors and stairs until we got to dorm hall 200. When we emerged from the 2nd floor staircase, I was greeted with what seemed to be a living room that led into a hallway. There were couches and coffee tables with a couple bookshelves that held board games. I saw a couple kids laying on the couch and comfy chairs, and beanbags, reading or talking with their friends.
“This is the common room,” Maxwell said to me. Then he looked at the kids who were chilling on the couches.
“Hey, Max! Who’s this kid?” One of the boys sitting on the couch asked.
“Guys, this is…” He looked over at me, waiting for an answer.
“Amias,” I said.
“He’s new to Dorwin. Please make him feel welcomed,” Maxwell told them. They looked up at me and smiled. Some waved but it just felt extremely awkward. After that brief introduction, Maxwell led me down the hall to room 206.
“Here it is. You got lucky. No roommates” He smiled. I knew it wasn’t luck though. Dad didn’t want me dorming with other boys in case I’d get found out and I didn’t want to be with the girls. So the headmaster made sure I got a single room to myself.
“Thanks, Maxwell,” I mumbled.
“You can call me Max,” He said with his hand out, waiting to shake mine. I looked at it and shook his hand with an expressionless face. My grip was strong, Dad had me train it.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” He waved goodbye and went to join the other boys in the common room.
I grabbed the knob and turned it, opening the door. This would be my home for the next 2 years.
Inside, it was bare and cold. I forgot this place doesn’t have much heat. It was a bit dark, the only light illuminating the room came from the pane glass window. The bed was tucked into the right corner of the room and the desk sat facing the wall across from it. On my bed were a couple pairs of my uniform and a school winter cloak. It was like a normal cloak, but it was thick and lined with wool and fur.
I started to unpack my stuff, put away my clothes in the closet and get my books set up at my desk. I sat on my bed and loosened the tight, corset-like vest binding my chest. I made it myself, it did a great job at hiding my breasts, but it was super uncomfortable when wearing it for a long time.
As I waited for the time to pass before I could head down to dinner, I relaxed in my new room, watching the light white snow fall outside my window
Dreadfully silent, yet somehow I could hear the incessant voices inside my head calling my name to pick up that pen which at a certain time of my life I thought ran dry from overuse. This pen, although only a writing tool, would allow the vivid thoughts of my mind to simply flow out and into my notebook, much like tap water running from a sink into a drain. In the first few nights, I could not but resist the persistence of my mind. However, as the days got shorter, the nights longer, and as I dug my head deeper into the softness of my pillow, the voice inside my voice grew even louder and more persistent, pulling me towards writing, insisting on transforming my emotions into words. Desperate for a piece of mind, I finally picked up my pen, and as I matched feeling to word, I felt a sense of relief, a rush, an excitement but most importantly, I rediscovered my long time suppressed passion for expression through writing.
