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The Chosen One by Bartnel and Eulalia

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Eulalia

Poet Laureate
Staff member
Early this year, Bartnel posted on Deviant Art, week by week, a short series of his wonderful pictures
with a 'challenge' to writers to write short texts to add stories to the pictures.
Excited by the images, I contributed a few short pieces, at the end,
Bartnel held a poll to decide who would have the honour of extending the story, with additional pictures.
To my surprise, I won that poll - though certainly no more than first among equals,
the other offerings were all very enjoyable and full of imagination.
Anyway, I set to work, and discussion with Bartnel we developed the story
mainly 'backwards' with a series of images and texts leading up to the ones he'd already posted,
with five new pictures in the prequel, some small tweaking of the original four,
and one final one. So 'The Untold Story' became 'The Chosen One'.

Now the whole story has appeared on Deviant Art,
I'll start posting it here - I hope it will carry members who enjoy such stories
off to a world of fantasy were things can be dark and scary,
but light and beauty have their power too ...
 
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1
The Book of Enoch, chapter 7

1. It happened after the sons of men had multiplied in those days, that daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful.
2. And when the angels, the sons of heaven, beheld them, they became enamoured of them, saying to each other, Come, let us select for ourselves wives from the progeny of men, and let us beget children.

10. Then they took wives, each choosing for himself; whom they began to approach, and with whom they cohabited; teaching them sorcery, incantations, and the dividing of roots and trees.
11. And the women conceiving brought forth giants
...


‘Yes, I know Father. But that’s old stuff, why do I have to learn it? If it ever happened at all, it was long, long ago. There are no giants now, no sorcery or incantations, that’s all nonsense ...’

‘Daughter, be careful what you say. Yes, we live in a peaceful, prosperous world of beauty and kindness and truth. But the giants and the creatures of darkness are not gone, they are still all around us, far beyond the margins of our land, deep in the Forest ...’

‘But the Forest is a beautiful place! I love the gnarled old trees, the jewel colours of the flowers and fantastic fungi, the thrilling songbirds, the prancing deer ...’

‘Yes, daughter, we know you love the Forest...’
 
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1
The Book of Enoch, chapter 7

1. It happened after the sons of men had multiplied in those days, that daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful.
2. And when the angels, the sons of heaven, beheld them, they became enamoured of them, saying to each other, Come, let us select for ourselves wives from the progeny of men, and let us beget children.

10. Then they took wives, each choosing for himself; whom they began to approach, and with whom they cohabited; teaching them sorcery, incantations, and the dividing of roots and trees.
11. And the women conceiving brought forth giants
...


‘Yes, I know Father. But that’s old stuff, why do I have to learn it? If it ever happened at all, it was long, long ago. There are no giants now, no sorcery or incantations, that’s all nonsense ...’

‘Daughter, be careful what you say. Yes, we live in a peaceful, prosperous world of beauty and kindness and truth. But the giants and the creatures of darkness are not gone, they are still all around us, far beyond the margins of our land, deep in the Forest ...’

‘But the Forest is a beautiful place! I love the gnarled old trees, the jewel colours of the flowers and fantastic fungi, the thrilling songbirds, the prancing deer ...’

‘Yes, daughter, we know you love the Forest...’
Oh, wonderful! :aplastao:

I'm so glad you're posting it on here, Eul!
 
WHY? SURELY NOTHING REALLY BAD LURKS IN THE FOREST. NICE PLACE.
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This image brings to mind Terry Pratchett's "Discworld" character Death - a 7 foot skeleton whose sardonic narrative and behaviour holds up the human condition for amusing consideration. Here are some images from works in his renowned "Discworld novels series. The fourth image is perhaps Death's most pithy 'bon mot'
 

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2

‘Suddenly he looks anxious, worried, he’s hesitating to speak.’

‘What’s the matter, Father?’

‘It’s that ... it’s one sign ... well, it might be, that you ... that you are The Chosen One.’

The phrase strikes some nerve deep within me, with a sharp twang of recognition, yet why this surge of excitement dancing with terror?

‘The Chosen One? Whatever do you mean?’

‘The reason, dear daughter, that we live in this happy land now, is because of a bargain, a covenant, that our great, great ancestor Enoch, founder of our race, made with the Angels of Darkness, so that they, and their monstrous offspring, would no longer consort with the daughters of men, nor trouble our peace in any way ... on one condition ...’

‘What was that?’

‘That, at a certain time, The Chosen One, a maiden of perfect beauty, goodness and truth, would be offered – no, she would offer herself – to be stripped of all her beauty, her goodness and her truth, and made to bear offspring, and feed them with her own flesh and blood, and become as they are, a daughter of darkness.’

I almost laugh, this is so absurd, yet Father is looking deadly earnest.

‘Well, it’s nice the boys at College fancy me, but I’m really no ravishing beauty, as for goodness and truth, sorry Dad, but ...’

‘It is not for us to judge, daughter. We can only observe the signs.’

‘Signs? What signs?‘

‘The offering must be made on the darkest, longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. And it must be the eighteenth birthday of the chosen maiden.’

I shudder, shit! 21st December, that’s my birthday ... number eighteen, coming up ...

‘And that night, there must be a total eclipse of the moon ...’

So ... I’m beginning to feel nervous ...

‘There .. there isn’t going to be ...?

‘The Temple Priests have predicted that there will be.’

I’m feeling a sinking sensation in my stomach – and yet still a certain, strange fascination with this rigmarole.

‘Any other signs?’

‘A comet will ... no, a comet must appear in the night sky.’

‘And have they predicted a comet?’

‘That they can’t tell...’
 
This image brings to mind Terry Pratchett's "Discworld" character Death - a 7 foot skeleton whose sardonic narrative and behaviour holds up the human condition for amusing consideration. Here are some images from works in his renowned "Discworld novels series. The fourth image is perhaps Death's most pithy 'bon mot'
This image brings to mind Terry Pratchett's "Discworld" character Death - a 7 foot skeleton whose sardonic narrative and behaviour holds up the human condition for amusing consideration. Here are some images from works in his renowned "Discworld novels series. The fourth image is perhaps Death's most pithy 'bon mot'
INDEED. SIR TERRY DID CAPTURE MY, SHALL WE SAY IDIOSYNCRASIES, RATHER WELL, I THOUGHT. ;)
The Chosen One, a maiden of perfect beauty, goodness and truth, would be offered – no, she would offer herself – to be stripped of all her beauty, her goodness and her truth, and made to bear offspring, and feed them with her own flesh and blood, and become as they are, a daughter of darkness.’
Honestly, these "Chosen Ones" never get to be chosen for tea, biscuits, comfy sofas, do they. No, it's always that they get "honoured" with the chance to die horribly and feed snarling offspring of darkness with their own flesh. I say don't go for it. (Like anyone here will listen to that advice, eh? :D )

I almost laugh, this is so absurd, yet Father is looking deadly earnest.
Good reaction.:thumbup: And it's always the bloody fathers who go all earnest about this stuff. They probably made the stupid deal with the dark monsters to begin with.:BangHead::BangHead::BangHead::BangHead:

‘It is not for us to judge, daughter. We can only observe the signs.’
The man's an idiot.:doh: Of course he can judge. I'm judging. Do you see me judging here? You see it, right? :cursing2::rolleyes::cool:

‘The offering must be made on the darkest, longest night of the year, the Winter Solstice. And it must be the eighteenth birthday of the chosen maiden.’

I shudder, shit! 21st December, that’s my birthday ... number eighteen, coming up ...

‘And that night, there must be a total eclipse of the moon ...’
...and dogs will bark at trees, and a squirrel with a camera will show himself? Signs and portents.

So ... I’m beginning to feel nervous ...
I would be. I suggest running away as well.

‘A comet will ... no, a comet must appear in the night sky.’
Oh, right. I forgot about the comet. There's always a comet.

‘And have they predicted a comet?’

‘That they can’t tell...’
Priests, eh? :rolleyes::doh::devil:

Look, even if there isn't a comet (and I'm almost banking on one now), those priests will find a way to have you fed to the dark offspring, or whatever monster they come up with. You'd better just hope that being a Daughter of Darkness is ultimately a good gig.

Fantastic story so far!! I'm looking forward to where you're taking it. Images are great too. :thumbup::thumbup::thumbup:
 
"Bartnel held a poll to decide who would have the honour of extending the story, with additional pictures. "

No Eulalia, please, not the honour... because, finally, the honour was for me :smile:
I like Deviant Art, because of its interactivity between members
I just wanted to do an experiment, a challenge and I thought I had to take my part in this challenge ;)
 
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3

"Dear diary – well, this may be my last entry, at any rate my last as a daughter of man. My birthday, my coming of age, such a lovely day – and it was, all my friends, gorgeous new clothes, lots of presents, sweet wine – but all spoilt by this gnawing fear inside. I think I hid it, but Mum and Dad were distracted too, I almost flipped, I wanted to yell out ...

And yet ... something seems to be telling me ... I must ... it seems so horrible, so dreadful, yet it’s what I must do ...

Anyway, sunset now, I must take a walk in the woods, at the Forest edge, watch the rising moon before the eclipse begins, watch the sky for that comet ...

Goodbye diary, I’m closing you now. Maybe I’ll write tomorrow how it feels to be truly grown up. Or maybe ..."

....

I’m panting, I’ve run all the way here, to the Temple.

The White Priest is waiting, I knew he would be. Father and Mother too ...

I fall on my knees, forehead to the floor, I know I must.
 
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‘A comet will ... no, a comet must appear in the night sky.’

‘And have they predicted a comet?’

‘That they can’t tell...’
OK. Now I'm not worried. What's the chance of a comet along with an eclipse on the winter solstice night? Zero! And even those fucking priests admit that.
Boy, you had me worried for a while there. :eek:
 
OK. Now I'm not worried. What's the chance of a comet along with an eclipse on the winter solstice night? Zero! And even those fucking priests admit that.
Boy, you had me worried for a while there. :eek:

Don’t worry PrPr ... it’s sure to turn out fine in the end ... I think :confused:
 
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"Dear diary – well, this may be my last entry, at any rate my last as a daughter of man. My birthday, my coming of age, such a lovely day – and it was, all my friends, gorgeous new clothes, lots of presents, sweet wine – but all spoilt by this gnawing fear inside. I think I hid it, but Mum and Dad were distracted too, I almost flipped, I wanted to yell out ...

And yet ... something seems to be telling me ... I must ... it seems so horrible, so dreadful, yet it’s what I must do ...

Anyway, sunset now, I must take a walk in the woods, at the Forest edge, watch the rising moon before the eclipse begins, watch the sky for that comet ...

Goodbye diary, I’m closing you now. Maybe I’ll write tomorrow how it feels to be truly grown up. Or maybe ..."

....

I’m panting, I’ve run all the way here, to the Temple.

The White Priest is waiting, I knew he would be. Father and Mother too ...

I fall on my knees, forehead to the floor, I know I must.

Nice writing. Fine short sentences. Thrilling, hot. More!
 
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