The Legend of the Lake

Foreword: For a recent English assessment I had to write a fiction story inspired by Touching the Void. It was really great not having writers' block, as I was forced to write as homework and classwork &c., and because of this I produced the best story I have ever written. I got the highest grades possible in all criteria, so I thought that the people of Ludicom might enjoy it.

The way this'll work is that I'll post a chapter a day. There are 10 chapters and 10,756 words in total. I'll update this main post with each new chapter and I'll also post a separate one. I'd really like some feedback, but even better, I would like some criticism! The story is split into two separate narratives focussing on two different girls in different time periods. They become intertwined in interesting ways.

There's a bunch of references in there as well, plus a few hidden ideas so see if you can spot them. Enjoy.

The Legend of the Lake

Chapter One: Chell

“Swiftly running warriors, fighting each other in order to get first pick of their prey; getting ever closer to the ultimate goal of food. They sprint, jump and stab their way through life. This was the world of a Native American tribal warrior. They knew no limits, no boundaries. Their only goal was to survive. Sure, maybe they did hunt in packs, but at the end of the day, it was the one who brought home the bacon who could survive for another day.”

Middle School teacher Mr Browne continued his tales of the Native Americans. Most of his students decided to re-occupy their time by looking out of the window: there was an interesting scuffle between a pigeon and a hedgehog in the schoolyard which occupied most of their time for that short hour of a history lesson. One student, however, focused on every word of Mr Browne’s. Her attention was not held by an insignificant skirmish, or the attempts of her friends to get her to talk: she was utterly lost in the world of her native predecessors.

“Chell…Chell!” Chell’s head snapped up. She hissed at Claudia, sitting on the desk next to her: “What do you want?” Behind Claudia, Danny and Michael were playing with a paper aeroplane. Chell sighed at her class. When Mr Browne stopped talking and tried to stop Charlie and Kellen playing card games in his lesson, Claudia answered Chell’s question.

“Are up for a party tonight? It’s at Danny’s house. I have a plus one.” Behind her, Danny eagle eyed her, nodding enthusiastically. “I can’t, tonight.” Chell groaned. “I have too much homework.” Danny’s head dropped in disappointment and Claudia looked away.

After the disappointed exchange, Chell resumed listening to Mr Browne, who had meanwhile moved onto tribal life.

“The celebratory festival of the water-cleansing occurred approximately every forty years. It involved symbolically moving a dying or near-dead elder up to the “status” of the Gods. Of course, while this was purely fictional and not to be taken literally, many local tribes – including the one which resided where our town is today – were particularly big advocates of this ritual.” Chell’s ears were pricked by her teacher’s regurgitated textbook statements. A Native American tribe, here? From centuries ago?

Chell eagerly raised her hand. Mr Browne did not bother to conceal the surprise on his face; somebody actually taking part in his lesson, imagine! He coughed, readjusting himself. “Yes, Miss Clearwater?”

“Does the tribe still exist? Would it be possible to meet their descendants, or to find some bones of theirs’ buried in the side of the mountain?” Claudia looked at Chell with some evident disgust on her face, but Chell’s bright eyes burning with natural curiosity deflected Claudia’s scorn.
Mr Browne, tentative at first, gently answered “I’m afraid that not, Chell…Although historical documents show no sign of this tribe did disappearing because of Smallpox brought to America 500 years ago, there are soil records which suggest something did, conclusively, happen…a disaster, of sorts. I think, a flood.” Mr Browne’s brow furled as he struggled to remember his university seminars.

The bell sliced through the temporary hush that had fallen upon Mr Browne’s energetic class. Chell’s peers were spurred back into their usual activity and rustled around her as they struggled to get out of the classroom. She barely acknowledged them. Mr Browne’s history lesson was still caught in her mind, stuck; a labyrinth of letters she was struggling to make sense of. Chell couldn’t yet see the big picture, but it had certainly caught her interest like a paper fish and a pen rod.

Autumn leaves rained down outside like the October downpours which usually visited this remote corner of remote corner of Michigan this season. Chell tried to catch them as she walked down the quiet roads of the suburbs; leaves are actually quite devilish things to catch. They are too uneven and oddly shaped to choose a direction. Chell sometimes felt like that; though her grades had always been good and she was interested in nearly all of her school subjects, there were too many distractions in her life, from all the possible paths she could take. Her intrinsic curiosity was piped by the natural world, but modern life, with all its complexities, had never been simple. Sometimes all she wanted to do was to play on the rocky outcrops of the mountain all day long. Perhaps life would have been better for her if she was born in a simpler, anterior time.

The ruralness of Chell’s town was something she liked very much. The city centre was quite urban, but apart from that the suburban areas were almost idyllic; the balance of the modern with the natural was achieved through the plentiful foliage Chell was always grateful for and the high rise trees in plains of fruitful grass to rival their artificial counterparts some miles westward of Chell’s house, which she had just reached.
Chell’s house was also something she liked particularly. It was picturesque as she walked into it: the patchwork autumn sky, complimented by falling leaves in all shades of red, orange & yellow, shone down fading light to illuminate Chell’s home. Her parents had bought it with good instinct ten years ago; it was a highly minimalist and new development and bought it immediately, easily understanding three-year-old Chell’s reaction to the light and airy architecture. It was small, but in its smallness and from its minimalist feel sprung an odd, yet comfortable kind of warmth and familiarity. After a decade, they still loved it here.

Until now.

“Darling, are you there?” Chell’s mother called, hearing the door slam. Chell considered sarcastically responding “No, strange women, I’m a burglar,” but decided against it. Even though Chell loved her mother very much, they were light years apart. Chell loved exploring new places and investing things out in the wild; her mother wasn’t ready to go anyway without a spray gun of Mr Muscle disinfectant and direct instructions from her Yummy Mummy group.

“Yes, I’m here.” Chell sighed, the weight of the day pressing down on her. “Come into the living room, darling. We have some news for you.” The high pitched, sparkling clarity of Chell’s mothers Lynette’s voice revealed nothing.

As Chell walked into the room, both of her parents stood up. “I didn’t know you were here, Dad.” Her Dad often worked long hours as a graphic designer in the city centre. His most successful works lined the walls of the house, more plentiful than any picture frame or abstract squiggle.

“Yes, they’ve let me off early, as we both need to tell you something great. Lynette…”

Not often great with words, Chell’s mother resumed the conversation. “Yes, well, the thing is, an offer has been made. And we’ve accepted it. It was a great price, especially for now with the recession and everything, and—”

“Hold on, what’s been offered?” Chell frowned with impatience. “Yes, sorry, I should have been clearer about that…” Lynette clarified, “You see, a company specialising in land renovation, has bought the house. And we’ve accepted.” Chell’s parents smiled at their daughter and they linked hands behind their backs.

“What?” The incredulity of Chell turned her parents’ smiles to dust, fading like the last glimmer rays of sunshine.