Story Starter

[Narrannik]

Just found this on my parents computer. I started writing it when I was like fifteen and never finished it. Instead of shoving it back in the file for later I decided to see if you all could come up with anything.

Here's the beginning:



There were two scars, one running from the wrist, halfway to the elbow, the other from the corner of the mouth nearly to the ear, at all times giving the man the look of having a gruesome lop-sided smile, as if he were insane. The first was a wide white mass of dead flesh, as if the skin had been ripped by a blow with some club, or a dull blade. The other was a fine white line, perfect in the cleanness of the cut, a rapier perhaps.
The odd thing was, he did not remember how he had received these marks, and it plagued him. He remembered nothing. He lay, semi-conscious in the bottom of a twisted boat, the left side of his head warm with fresh blood, the promise of another scar.
On the side of the boat, in blue and gold letters, read The Anna Jane. He sat painfully up, staring at it. A name he thought, a woman’s name. He lay back, congratulating himself on remembering so much, not thinking how it came to be painted on the hull of his splintered little craft. He lapsed again into his former state, gazing dumbly forward, across the vast expanse of green water.

[Tommie Lyn]

A rumble to the southwest penetrated his reverie, and he turned his eyes toward it. A bank of darkened clouds lay across the horizon like a coiled serpent, tongues of lightning flicking as if to test the essence of the coming night. A sliver of the setting sun gleamed like a shard of orange light beneath the black mass, streaking across the belly of the beast, touching the underlayers with hints of rose purple. He had to find shelter before the storm reached him.

He stood, but fell to one knee when dizziness assaulted him.

[Nora]

Once the dizziness had passed, he tried to stand again. This time the dizziness didn't hit him quite so hard. He began to watch the storm clouds come.

"I'm never gonna make it" he thought. If only he could remember some remnant of himself. Only the name Anna Jane seemed the least bit familiar. If only he could think. But, the pain was too great and the danger too near.

[Textus Rec]

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled like metal in the air. The storm was going to be on top of him soon, but he did not move. Anna Jane was the only thing he could think about. He squeezed his eyes tighter to help him think. “Anna Jane, Anna Jane,” he whispered. “Anna Ja –“ His eyes shot open and he slowly and softly sang a tune that crept back into his memory as he sang it. “Anna Jane my beauty, my love . . . with sparkling green eyes and lips from above . . . I tried to kiss those lips once before . . . but her monstrous husband struck me to the floor . . .”

Fog was beginning to lift from his murky mind, but it was dissipating at a snail’s pace. There was no living, breathing Anna Jane, it was just an old sailor song. The tune must have had a great deal of impact on the man who would name his sea craft after it. Who could possib –

His thoughts were interrupted by clap of thunder that came from nowhere and knocked him off his feet again...

[Nora]

Then, as if they were taunting him, the raindrops began to fall. Lightly at first, then heavier and heavier. Each drop felt like a tiny needle poking him without mercy and without regret.

[Textus Rec]

He winced in pain as he pushed himself to his knees. With arms spread and bleeding head held high, he sang. He sang in a gristly, tired sort of shout that scorned tone and pitch. He sang all of the verses of Anna Jane that his memory would allow, and made up the rest. He sang loudly and proudly. It was his way of daring the storm to knock him down again, “And this little storm can’t knock me to the floor!”

The rain continued to pelt him in response, but the thunder did not return. The lightning stayed in the sky, licking the clouds as it flashed many miles away. The sea slowly calmed, and he let the falling drops wash away the haze that surrounded his brain. As the darkness of night engulfed his little craft he remembered. It was not complete, perhaps not chronological, but he remembered. He remembered the pub…