A Weird Semblance Thereof

I’m adding a ‘Setup’ item since the circumstances at PP1 need to know what came before them in order to make much sense.

Next up from my cheat sheet of master plots is Pursuit

Theme – Lying to your kids never goes well.

Setup – A former royal guard (think Special Forces-type), Conner has retired to the country to farm and raise a family. His meek ways don’t impress his son much at all.

Hook – A beast Conner had put down in his former life arrives at the farm to take its revenge, but Conner slips away with his son via a previously scouted escape route.

Plot Point 1 – Conner’s son is trapped in the narrow tunnel; Conner leaves him behind in expectation the beast will follow the man and not the boy. Of course, the son sees this as cowardice.

Pinch 1 – Having been chased over field and through forest the beast discovers Conner is without his son and leaves to find the son instead.

Mid-point Twist – Trying to find the beast and his son, Conner discovers his late wife was not the plain farmer girl he’d thought her. For some magical reason this makes Conner’s son special.

Pinch 2 – The beast captures Conner’s son but escapes Conner’s attack. Conner is rendered unconscious in the process.

Lull – Conner wakes in the home of the mysterious woman who cared for Conner’s son until his capture by the beast.

Plot Point 2 – The mysterious woman turns out to be Conner’s wife or a weird semblance there of.

Conclusion – The wife goes to save her son, the injured Conner follows her; Conner locates all three, kills the beast, loses his wife, and frees his son back. Despite being saved the son still isn’t much impressed overall.

310 words on day 641

Edit: The Third Conner’s Son

All entries for Conner’s Son.

Conner’s Son hadn’t destroyed them.

Conner toted the injured boy back to the source of the spring. He laid him carefully be way of apology. COnner’s Son couldn’t tell.

The first part of the cave required one to lay down and scuffle through the mud. It would not be forgiving about the bad ankle.

“Right one, yes?” Conner’s Son grunted his assent.

“I’ll go first. A bit of a ways in I can turn around and come back to help pull, but you’ll need to lie on your left side with he bad foot on top, crawling till I can get back to you to help.”

Conner’s Son struggled through the remaining nausea to say, “Cover…up.”

“Too late for that. We can only hope [the beast by name] won’t be able to get in. Don’t waste time come in right after me.”

Conner worried they’d wasted time trying to lead the beast astray of their hole.

Conner dropped into the spring and began to crawl. The narrow space made him a little frantic. He struggled his way through to each opening he could feel. Sometimes pushing, sometimes kicking, sometimes wriggling with his whole body. His son’s smaller stature would make it easier, but not by much. There was no way to know if Conner’s Son followed or not. All Conner could do was to get tot he turn around and edge back hands first.

Recall, on the weekends I edit.  Above edited below:

Conner’s Son hadn’t destroyed them.

Conner toted the injured boy upstream to the spring’s source.  He laid him down carefully by way of apology for his early outburst, but Conner’s Son didn’t notice.

“Right one, yes?”  Conner asked.

Conner’s Son grunted his assent.  The change of position from being carried to being prone renewed Conner’s Son’s nausea.

“I’ll go first.  The first part we have to lay down and scuffle through the mud. After a bit—two body length’s maybe—I can turn around and help, but you’ll need to lie on your left side, bad foot on top, kicking till I can get back to you to pull.   Near the end you want to be on your back.”

Conner’s Son stammered through the remaining nausea to say, “Cover…me…up.”

“Too late.  We can only hope [the beast by name] won’t be able to get in.  Don’t wait for me to disappear.  You need to be right behind me.”  Conner captured Conner’s Son’s eyes with his own.  “Right behind.”

Conner ducked into the spring-cave and began to crawl.  The narrow space made him frantic at first, but as the cold water soaked into his shirt and pants it cooled his fear.  He struggled through four narrowings and a leftward bend.  Sometimes pushing, sometimes kicking, sometimes wriggling with his whole body.  The pattern of movement brought to mind the first—and only—time he’d explored the cave.  Hopefully nothing new blocked their way.

There was no way for Conner to know if Conner’s Son followed or not.  All he could do was race to the chamber, turn his body around, angle back hands first, and hope.

The Third Conner’s Son

All entries for Conner’s Son.

Conner’s Son hadn’t destroyed them.

Conner toted the injured boy back to the source of the spring. He laid him carefully be way of apology. COnner’s Son couldn’t tell.

The first part of the cave required one to lay down and scuffle through the mud. It would not be forgiving about the bad ankle.

“Right one, yes?” Conner’s Son grunted his assent.

“I’ll go first. A bit of a ways in I can turn around and come back to help pull, but you’ll need to lie on your left side with he bad foot on top, crawling till I can get back to you to help.”

Conner’s Son struggled through the remaining nausea to say, “Cover…up.”

“Too late for that. We can only hope [the beast by name] won’t be able to get in. Don’t waste time come in right after me.”

Conner worried they’d wasted time trying to lead the beast astray of their hole.

Conner dropped into the spring and began to crawl. The narrow space made him a little frantic. He struggled his way through to each opening he could feel. Sometimes pushing, sometimes kicking, sometimes wriggling with his whole body. His son’s smaller stature would make it easier, but not by much. There was no way to know if Conner’s Son followed or not. All Conner could do was to get tot he turn around and edge back hands first.

Word count: 231
Day 146

Day 125: A Son’s Father’s Love

From Day 117: Conner’s Son’s Father

Conner’s Son thought his father was foolish for leading them to this dilapidated oasis on the open prairie.  Surely the beast that tracked them would turn it’s attention here–even if he didn’t think they were that stupid.  A flock of crows startled at their unstealthy approach, rose like a flare, then dove back to their perches and cawed loudly.  Nothing Conner’s son could imagine would announce their location more plainly.  He hoped that in his death book they wrote, “Not the crows nor the beast that killed Conner’s Son but Conner’s Son’s Father.”

Conner’s Son’s Father, Conner, smiled at the crows.  “There’s been just enough rain that this should work.  Follow the trail along the stream like you are hiding.  Make sure you cross through the water several times.  Come back when you hear my call.  Come back through the stream only.  Not on the path.”

Conner’s Son nodded.

As soon as Conner’s Son was away Conner began meticulously uncovering the entrance to a cave.  Stone by stone he exposed the slim hole.  Each stone within arms reach of the entrance and neatly laid to avoid disturbing the secret over much.

“Son!  Come back quickly.”

Conner made a hasty and obvious trail opposite his son’s that ended in an expanse of rock and hard scrabble earth to obscure his path.  He removed his boots and turned back to the hidden escape walking swiftly but with as much craft as he could to conceal his trail.

The beast would arrive soon [but].  Conner’s Son had not returned.

Conner was bad at farming; his son good at reminding him.  Since the first delicate sign of the beast Conner ceased farming and became a warrior again.  It filled him with joy to be hunted.  He didn’t regret thinking that the boy would need to fend for himself for not returning quickly enough–that was a warrior’s instinct–he regretted that it took him so long to resist the urge to leave him behind.

“Protection; not punishment.”  He repeated his wife’s dying words.  He’d spoken them out loud so often as a reminder in these past three years his son taunted him with them when they’d get into a fight.  “The things I fucking do for you.”

Conner sprinted down the ravine in the direction of his son.

Rounding two bends of the stream he came upon his son hobbled by a twisted ankle.  Tears streamed down Conner’s Son’s face as he stumbled over the wet stones.  He sobbed as quietly as any fallen compatriot Conner had ever heard.  Pride calmed his panting heart, but did not inspire his tongue: “Shit, Son.  Now you’ve fucked us.”

Immediately he wanted to apologize.  Immediately he wanted to rend the beast by hand and eat it whole to show his love.  Instead simply knelt in the running water in front of his son and said, “Get on.  Grab my neck.”

Pile some more on them; but not tonight.

Word count: 235

Day 117: Conner’s Son’s Father

http://www.flickr.com/photos/14410084@N02/2122918476

Conner’s Son thought his father was foolish for leading them to this dilapidated oasis on the open prairie.  Surely the beast that tracked them would turn it’s attention here–even if he didn’t think they were that stupid.  A flock of crows startled at their unstealthy approach, rose like a flare, then dove back to their perches and cawed loudly.  Nothing Conner’s son could imagine would announce their location more plainly.  He hoped that in his death book they wrote, "Not the crows nor the beast that killed Conner’s Son but Conner’s Son’s Father."

Conner’s Son’s Father, Conner, smiled at the crows.  "There’s been just enough rain that this should work.  Follow the trail along the stream like you are hiding.  Make sure you cross through the water several times.  Come back when you hear my call.  Come back through the stream only.  Not on the path."

Conner’s Son nodded.

As soon as Conner’s Son was away Conner began meticulously uncovering the entrance to a cave.  Stone by stone he exposed the slim hole.  Each stone within arms reach of the entrance and neatly laid to avoid disturbing the secret over much.

"Son!  Come back quickly."

Conner made a hasty and obvious trail opposite his son’s that ended in an expanse of rock and hard scrabble earth to obscure his path.  He removed his boots and turned back to the hidden escape walking swiftly but with as much craft as he could to conceal his trail.

The beast would arrive soon.  Conner’s Son had not returned.

Word count: 259