This one is my favorite draft that I wrote in the past. It was started on May 31st, 2015 and I kept working at it until June 3rd. Sad, I know… It would make a cool story, but it isn’t where I want the Dostillan Hero to head.
Staring at a lake seems rather boring, if I must say so myself.
I mean no one would like to do that instead of playing ball with friends, read an exciting story or enjoy an afternoon with your family. There must be something to do around town, right?
I am Tiffanny Niwea. I was a reporter of the Erinville Times. And I had led on a pretty normal life, living with my best friend, Anastasia Morrison. My job was great and I got paid with enough money to support both me and my friend. Even Ana had a job, so we had some Silver to spare.
I got paid more than the average reporter, because I always found different, vivid stories to report in.
Well my normal life changed on August 17th, 1850, when I saw a young woman sitting on the dock with her daughter, sending paper flowers into the lake.
Curious, as usual, I started over for them. But I stopped myself. I mean- would you like it if a random stranger walked into your business and started asking questions and writing your every word down for all the public to hear? I mean, I wouldn’t like it. But it intrigued me so. Every morsel of my body was urging me to go near them. I just had to! And then I found myself subconsciously walking towards them. What was I going to say? I hadn’t even thought of it!
Would I say just say, Oh hello! How are you today? I was just wondering why you were throwing paper flowers into the lake. Could I write a story about it for the paper I’m working for? My deadline is near and I must have a story before the 31st of August. My job is at stake, and could you risk your privacy and tell me what is it your doing?
Would someone like me really say that?
Yes. Yes I would.
I now stood a few feet behind them, and I awkwardly shuffled my feet.
“Um, what a nice lake.” I said as the wind blew my short, auburn hair in my face.
The woman turned around (without standing up) and looked up at me.
She had wavy, caramel colored hair, and deep, feeling grey eyes. Her daughter had straw blonde hair, and brown eyes.
“Yes, it brings back memories.” The woman said. Smiling softly, she gazed off in the distance, most probably filing through memories.
“Really? I just remember it being there for God knows how long.” I said, stating the truth of what I thought.
“That’s what I thought at first. Well that was before everything changed.” She smiled sadly. “I remember being the happiest girl for miles.”
“Just being my curious self, what were you doing before. With the paper flowers and all.”
“I guess it’s a ceremonial thing.” The woman shrugged. “It is the anniversary of when I found out my brother didn’t drown in the lake.”
“Wait…” I said thinking. “I read about that in the paper years ago. Are you the sister of Petro Dainstrom or what’s his name?”
“Peter Draught-Storm. And yes. We are related.” She said.
“Are? Still? Alive?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes. He was taken care of by a pack of wild wolves.”
“Wow, this is a story to hear.” I said, grinning. “If ya don’t mind telling it to me.”
“Well I wouldn’t mind. Only if you have the time.” the woman said.
“I have over a week before my deadline.” I grinned.
“Deadline?” A frown formed on her face, and she furrowed her eyebrows.
“Oh, yea. About that-” I said sheepishly. “I’m a newspaper reporter.”
“Well that explains the curiosity.” The woman muttered. “Well, anyways. It all started 14 years ago, at the Shallow Lake.”
March 17th, 1836
Erinville. The most beautiful town in the world. That’s what it’s citizens have to say for it.
Recently, an old man discovered a way to make steam-powered mechanics that’s crazy.
It was Harvest time. And the town was bustling, getting ready for the Maple Festival.
The Maple Festival was the time of year when all the maple trees were ready for the syrup harvest. Men and women and children, of all ages worked together to make the syrup and sell it to surrounded countries.
Well today was going out normally when 12 year-old Arthur Draught-Storm decides to take his siblings to the festival. Arthur had sandy blonde hair and blue sparkling eyes. He had defined cheek-bones and always had his hair in a military cut. His 10 year-old sister, Alexis (the woman who is telling the tale), had caramel-blonde hair and deep grey eyes. She had a round face and held a basket for carrying things.
And the youngest of all the Draught-Storm’s was Peter, and he was 8 . He had raven-black hair and blue-grey eyes that thought critically but always had room for a laugh or two. Or three. He had thin facial-features and plenty of dark and obvious freckles.
Arthur held onto his little brothers right hand and Alexis took Peter’s left.
Their parents were helping with the festival and since they have been working hard all week harvesting, their parents allowed them a day’s rest.
“Oh! Oh!” Peter pointed enthusiastically. “Candy!” And alas! Where little Peter had pointed was a stand selling Maple candy. Their parents had given them each 3 silver to spend, so- why not?
They then made a beeline for the candy stand.
“3 maple candies, ma’am.” Arthur said to the peddler. The peddler was a plump woman with greying hair.
“Of course, sweeties!” She said kindly. “3 copper, then.”
The 3 children graciously accepted the treats (paying the copper coins), and walked off licking their candy.
At the festival, there were peddlers of all kinds. Story Peddlers, Tin Peddlers, Copper Peddlers and even a Pastry Peddler!
Once they reached the edge of the festival, there were a couple pony rides and maple syrup taste tests, but one ride intrigued them. A steam-powered boat.
It’s sleek and polished wooden sides, gleamed with pride. And the bow of the boat was carved a magnificent wolf. And on the side of the boat was the name, The Wolf’s Pride.
Peter’s eyes shone with true love for the ship. “Can we Arthur? Can we Alex?” He begged.
“Sure.” Arthur said. They bought three tickets (which cost 6 silver all together) and boarded the ship.
The ship was magnificent!
It’s turquoise painted borders were shining brightly in the hot sun. The ship was full of middle class peasants. Arthur, Alexis and Peter felt weird being the only lower class citizens on board. But a familiar voice made them happier.
“ALEXIS!” a feminine voice called. It was Zinnia Zephyr, Alexis’ 9 year-old friend.
Zinnia had long brown hair flowing behind her back, and had a strand braided against her forehead. She wore a purple linen dress with little yellow and orange zinnias on it. A little lacy apron was tied to her waist and in the apron’s pocket was Zinnia’s doll named Bentleigh.
“Hello Zinnia!” Alexis smiled warmly. “I love your dress!” Alexis said, complementing young girl.
Zinnia laughed. “It may look nice, but it is so itchy.” Exclaimed the girl. “Mother got it for my birthday. I want to be a lower class like you guys. You get the comfy, worn cotton clothing, and you get to work with animals.”
“Well, it’s hard work, Zinni.” Arthur said smiling.
“I’ll try! I really will!” Zinnia begged. “I’ll go ask my mommy for a weekend sleepover and we can work together with farming! It’ll be great!”
As the friends talked, Alexis saw Jeremiah Porter of Porter, Inc. Wasn’t he against Raven, Corp? The maker of this ship? Alexis thought, as the tall, lanky man looked around suspiciously.
The man had slicked back deep brown hair and a mustache that curled on the ends. He wore a velvet, burgundy red suit with a black tie.
The man straightened his tie and slipped into the engine room.
“Arthur.” Alexis tugged on his sleeve. Arthur turned to his sister, obviously annoyed.
“What?” He asked, angrily. He had just started talking to his friend Zackaria Zephyr , older brother to Zinnia.
“Oliver Raven’s Enemy, Jeremiah Porter just entered the engine room. He could be dangerous. You know how he is when he has competitors.” Alexis said in a low voice.
Arthur nodded and whispered, probably the same message to Zackaria. Zackaria nodded and grabbed Zinnia’s hand (who was in mid-sentence), and dragged her away from Peter.
The Porter’s Head-Man just walked out of the engine room.
“Come on!” Arthur said, and dragged them to the edge of the boat, by Mr. and Mrs. Zephyr with Zackaria.
“Where is Zinnia?” Mrs. Zephyr asked worriedly.
They heard a whirring sound coming from the engine room and Mr. Porter jumped off the ship onto a small boat and paddled away.
“We need to jump!” Arthur said.
“WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?” Now Mr. Zephyr exclaimed loudly.
Right after those words were said, the ship exploded.
All they could hear was ringing in their ears and the splashing sound of debris hitting the water.
All wet and soaked the small group held on to debris as they mourned for their loss.
Peter looked sadly around. She cannot be dead. SHE CAN NOT! He screamed in his head, as burning tears covered his vision. He rubbed his eyes and looked around once more. He saw a helpless figure of a girl in a purple, yellow and orange dress.
He almost jumped into the water. But I can’t swim! He thought. But he saw her body slowly slipping into the Shallow Lake. It is only the Shallow Lake. 20 feet at most. He thought and then dived in.
He heard Alexis screaming his name and Arthur yelling “NO!”. But that didn’t stop him. So far the depth was 10 feet, but soon it had reached 15 feet. He had been slowly walking on the bottom of the lake and his ears rung from the pressure. So he jumped and hit the ground. When he touched the ground he propelled himself up. He had learned how to float, when Alexis and Arthur taught him, and he had only begun swimming lessons. So he grabbed a plank of lumber and pulled himself onto it, gasping for dear breath.
He then used the lumber as a balance and he kicked his legs to propel himself. He took one look back, and saw his family around 30 feet from him. They were crying and mourning, probably over him and Zinnia. Zackaria looked beyond the lake and spotted Peter. He yelled something that sounds distinctly like “Peter’s alive!” and pointed at him. They all looked up and called to him. He ignored them and continued on his trek to save Zinnia.
Speaking of Zinnia, her board she was laying on was sinking rapidly. She would surely sink. Soon.
So Peter kicked faster and finally reached her. He checked her pulse. It was somewhat strong. And she was breathing. Peter breathed a breath of relief.
He held onto her board for strength, and looked around for a rope. There was nothing. But her apron was enough. He tied her securely to his board which was stronger than her own, and pushed her along. He was getting tired and dizzy. So he pushed her even faster, kicking as hard as possible. He swallowed so much water, it felt like he drank the whole lake. He finally reached his family and friends. They pulled Zinnia on their big board and hugged her limp body.
Peter felt triumphant. He saved someone’s life. But as a price of that he grew very dizzy and tired. He could bring himself to move his cramped legs. As he slipped into the cool water once again, with the unclear screaming above, everything turned black.
I don’t know why, but I’m in love with this draft… But this was when I hadn’t come up with Aaron (with tons of help from my older sister)… HEHUEHEUHE
This draft is the only steam punk draft of all TDH, but I’m working on a steam punk story HEHUEHEUE