Halloween Exercise

The Evil Editor blog (you should check it out, especially if you write) had a writing exercise last week. I had intended to make a submission, but hadn't worked up the courage yet when I had my query fiasco. After that I didn't feel much like writing. I wrote this after the deadline. The assignment didn't specify a maximum word length, but I note that previous assignments did. This one is too long. I recommend going to Evil Editor's blog to see the works which were submitted. They are quite clever. There's a lot of other stuff there which writers should find helpful. The people there are good people.

The hooded and cloaked figure heard him long before he was seen. Odd that anyone should be coming here. This was not an easy place to reach. But it sounded like whoever was coming was running, possibly in panic. That would explain a lot. The heavy thuds suggested it was a man. He was just below the rise now. He pulled up short when he broke into the clearing.

The hooded man appraised the newcomer, completely disheveled, leaves and twigs stuck into his hair, including those huge muttonchops. His clothes were torn and blood oozed from the scratches on his arms. He could have been anywhere from thirty to eighty. He stared at the shadowed figure by the fire like a cornered animal. The figure waved him over.

“Come. Sit and rest your legs,” he said, his voice a polite whisper in the dark.

The newcomer relaxed and smiled. He hurried up to the fire and sat down, warming his hands.

The air wasn’t that cold, thought the cloaked figure. To have hands that cold on a night like this meant the newcomer had to have a cold heart.

“Thank you,” said the newcomer. “I – I’ve been running a long time.”

“I see.”

“I was being chased. I feared for my life. I think I lost them, though. I haven’t heard them since I fought my way through the hedge.”

“Yes. I doubt they will come through the hedge. Only great need brings people through that hedge.”

“I had great need. Your name, Sir?”

“People just call me Hack. I am making tea. Would you care for some?”

“Yes. Thank you very much.”

“I like to put a special honey mix in mine. For you?”

The newcomer looked like he wanted to refuse, but seemed to feel a debt toward the one in the cloak.

“Yes, but only a little.”

“Very good.”

The cloaked figure poured out the tea and added his special sweetener. Then he handed the mug to the newcomer who accepted it with relish. He drank a long, slow draught, emptying the mug and sighing with satisfaction.

“Ah! I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was. All that running. I’m not used to it. I’m a little out of shape.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You know, that was really good. Could I have another?”

“Certainly.”

While the cloaked man refilled the goblet, the newcomer gave an embarrassed chuckle.

“I suppose I should tell you why I was being chased?”

“If you like.”

The newcomer accepted the mug back and took a quick sip before speaking.

“You see, I am an editor. In fact, my name is, ah, Evil Editor. I suppose you have heard of me?”

“I will not say so.”

“Oh. Well, the people who were chasing me were authors. Correction. They were writers. They were hardly authors.”

“I see.”

“Well, needless to say, they are upset with me.”

“The work that bad then?”

“Bad? You should read this latest piece of dribble I got. I still have it in my coat. I didn’t have time to reject it before I was attacked. It is an offense to the senses. Some fool named Boris thinks his book about living in isolation on an mountain is worth something. I mean, nothing happens! What tripe.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, enough about me. What about yourself? What do you do?”

“I write books.”

Evil Editor froze, his mug only inches from his lips.

“You do?”

“Oh, yes. In fact, I have just finished a work.”

Evil Editor swallowed.

“Well, I owe you a favor, I think. Perhaps you would like me to read it? But later, if you don’t mind. I’m feeling kind of sleepy.”

“Oh, no. You wouldn’t be interested in my book, I’m sure. Besides, I have already sent it away for review. I expect it will be rejected, though. A pity.”

There was a sound in the distance. Evil Editor turned his head and stared into the night.

“What was that? Do you think they may have come through the hedge after all?”

“Oh, no. Nobody comes through the hedge. They know better than that. Do you mind if I whittle while we talk?”

“What? Oh, no. Go ahead. By the way, what was your book about?”

“It’s about a man living in isolation up on an mountain. I expect to be getting it back soon.”