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caseyswritingcorner · 7 years

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this is part of a short story that i am writing.

Submission: The Bewitched Candlemaker

the prompt:

“Why do you need so many watermelons?“

“I got a big order coming in this week, and I gotta be ready.“

-P&C

The Bewitched Candlemaker

She stood in her shop, waiting for the people to filter into the slightly larger than average store. Everything was ready for the first day. Celine took pride in the fact that she had finally opened the first candle and flower store in the nice little town of New Alm, which was about 45 miles from the border of Canada, but still in the state of Minnesota.

Without so much as a breath, she headed back to her desk and began arranging bouquets of rich, red roses and soothing, fragrant lilacs in a vase. With the flowers neatly placed, she turned her attention to the candle making process. She had over one thousand unique candle scents, and every week she was coming out with a new one. Decadent cherry pie, delicious apple turnover, brisk ocean sunset, and a rich summer day were just some of the scents of her candles. But she had a dark secret. She took pictures of the things that she wanted for her scents, then she sacrificed a watermelon and squeezed out all the juice over the pictures and they magically turned into the scent of each chosen object or objects in the picture.

Celine breathed in the rich, permeating aroma of cinnamon swirl buns. She had brought one to work from the bakery. She took a photograph of the sweet, confectionary pastry and opened a little tube and poured some watermelon juice inside it. Ripping up the photograph after she had it printed, she placed the tatters in the vial and closed the lid. Shaking the tube, it began to glow white and blue in a fluorescent sort of way, and not even ten seconds later her scent was complete.

One of her patrons noticed that the smell of watermelon was on the air, and began to wander towards her counter. Said patron rang the bell on the counter and Celine rushed to the desk. “Hello, welcome to Celine’s Flames and Flowers! How might I help you?” Service with a smile was a big deal for her. If she treated her consumers right, they treated her just as well.

“I’m so terribly sorry, Ms. Celine, but I couldn’t help but notice the delicious aroma of watermelon in your shop, and I couldn’t help but also notice the great many watermelons that you have out on the front display… If I might inquire, why do you need so many watermelons?”

She took a breath and smiled again. The townsfolk were beginning to catch on to her magical prowess. This was the twenty-first century, but magic and spellcasting was generally frowned upon in general public, for fear of causing widespread pandemonium. She didn’t want the latter happening, not in the slightest.

“Well you see, I’ve got a big order for candles coming in this week, and I’ve gotta be ready to take that on as soon as possible.” Smiling back to the old woman again, Celine showed her the latest line of scented candles that she had appropriately titled, “Peace and Love”, for the fact that their fragrances brought one a sense of calm and reverence for life.

The next day, Celine was in her shop, with her watermelon knife carving up a watermelon when she heard someone walking outside the window. Suddenly, they stopped, and Celine kept on with her watermelon chopping as if it was normalcy. Without further delay, the footsteps picked up speed again and turned toward the town square, going quicker than they had come. A few more sets of footsteps came toward her window, this time about four or five distinct voices and shadows, all of them whispering and some of them gasping.

She thought nothing of it, as the windows were tinted and the shades drawn down in a precarious effort to prevent the normal public from seeing her carve up fruit like a madwoman. She sighed, a real indrawn breath and large exhaled one. After all, what good is it to ponder the abstract realisms of what-could-be’s? She was fine, and no one had caught on to her thus far.

When she was done for the night, she had placed her chopped up melon in the fridge and closed the door without so much as a consequential squeal.

Lock and key was used to close up shop for the so far uneventful evening. However, unknown to Celine, she was about to experience a brutal mugging. Without so much as a cry, she was taken down in a massive push, and the man who attacked her astoundingly brandished a rather large, very sharp sword. His blade was rife with symbols and ancient writings, and the guard was angular and defined, as though it had been carved of unbreakable stone. Running to her shop door, she broke the ornate glass and reached for the scabbard she kept by the door for just such this sort of occasion. Unsheathing the weapon, it bore a striking appearance, as the sword had an uniquely-formed blade with a green hue to it. The guard was styled to resemble a pair of angel wings, inlaid with turquoise.

She took the stance of an ancient warrior doing battle, and with a stupendous motion, she clashed with the other opponent. This was her town, Her property, and no one was going to take that away from her. The combatants bore sparks and rang with shrieking stresses of metal on metal, each trying to outperform the other’s defense. Blows rained down from every side; all around her there was someone trying to kill her it seemed.

I hope that you enjoyed this excerpt of the short story that I am writing!

^^you have a fabulous imagination! Keep writing m’dear :)

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caseyswritingcorner · 7 years

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My new fan fiction!

Casey’s new book. Jyn walked hesitantly down the steps shrouded in darkness. Breathing in a sigh, she stood no chance against her captors, the Galactic Empire's stormtroopers. Inexorable, implacable, the two gleaming white and black armored figures were about as recognizable as the great Darth Vader himself. However the circumstance, she had survived the Death Star's attack on Scarif, but at great cost. She had lost her friend, Cassian, and the droid K-2SO. The quaint blind warrior that believed in the old mystical Jedi religion. And the fearless armored man with his rapid fire chaingun. They had all died, while she lived. Interrogated by Vader himself, she had been able to give him nothing. Choked in the style of the Force he was known to do, she was able to give him, again, nothing. With each time, Vader grew more impatient, and more brooding about the entirety of the issue. "Jyn, you are not doing yourself a favor, I suggest you give up the location of the Rebel base immediately. We don't want any...messes, do we?" This time, he pulled out a cylindrical handle once known to be used by the Jedi. But he was no Jedi, for Vader was all dark side this time. Turning the weapon on, the blade glowed white hot at it's core and red on the outside. Vader's lightsaber was seen only by those about to die. Jyn Erso, the most brilliant soldier in the rebellion, was about to be cut in two by the second most powerful Sith Lord to date, and she wasn't even afraid. This realisation came about her mind as though one snaps their fingers; so casually it came, so calmly, and under great duress, but still she held her ground. "Darth Vader. What a surprise to see you again. I suppose you had that wire on your regulator replaced since yesterday, am I right? A man has to sleep after all. Wait, you're not a man anymore, are you? YOU'RE a MONSTER! That attack on Scarif has done you nothing. The Death Star will be destroyed by rebels any day now. And when it is, you better hope that i am nowhere within lightyears of your mechanized existence..." Jyn spat out with such conviction that her words were truth to even the stormtroopers. They all knew, what had happened on Scarif. The entire situation was laudable: two infiltrators and a reprogrammed droid breaking into an Imperial stronghold, finding their way to the information retrieval vault and stealing the most important piece of data concerning the most powerful superweapon ever concieved, meanwhile the Empire's laughable attempt to contain the situation ended in the inevitable destruction of their own base by their own hand, nevertheless by means of their own superweapon. It was indeed incredulous that she had survived. The means upon which she survived however, were a closely guarded Imperial secret. "The next interrogator will not be as forgiving as I am, Jyn. Tell me, do you wish to regale me of all your loss? Losing friends, family, even hope?" Vader implanted images in her mind, of those things that she had lost over the years. and tears welled in her eyes. But she was steadfast. "Rebellions are built on hope, and that will never change. As long as there is a will to live, there is hope. As long as one survives, there is hope. And as long as the empire exists, there will always be someone in the shadows, working to overthrow and restore the rightful place of Democracy. And by the way, we are done here. Guards, take me away." Suddenly, without thought, a red beam of plasma was stabbed into her knee. She crumpled to the ground. Gritting her teeth through the pain, she saw Vader's glimmering helmet crouching down, looking at her eyes. Then she went black, and lost consciousness. With a massive groan, she had awoken in a large circular room. She was laying on a somewhat spacious table, with restraints at her wrists and ankles. When she tried to open one, it clamped even tighter, like a snake devouring its own tail. Suddenly, she knew. She knew how to open the locks of the wrist restraints without tightening them any more than they had already. However the Sith Lord was there and waiting. “Jyn, you are very smart indeed. Having broken the restraints you were given with the use of the Force unwittingly has inevitably brought you closer to the dark side of the Force,” Vader stated this information as if it was as known fact already. “You are one step closer to being my apprentice,” he looked at her with such fascination and such reverence that it was sickening. Without any real thought to what she did next, she mustered up every fibre of her being and thought to herself, if only I could throw him across the room. Suddenly, Vader threw his hand up as if he was cutting something with his glove in midair. Dust flew in waves at Vader, but still he somehow emerged unscathed from the mental push, like a rubber o-ring snapping back into shape after being pulled. “I see your Force abilities are quite strong now. Now the true test comes.” Vader tossed her a lightsaber. It was long and thin, and had a ribbed handgrip with a switchbox on the left side. She pushed the activation stud, and a long glowing blade of bright blue plasma sparked into existence. She knew what she had to do. She had to fight and win against the infamous Darth Vader. How she was going to pull off a stunt like that was beyond her imagination.

She awoke from her sleep. She had just experienced a lucid dream, one that included lightsaber dueling, Darth Vader and herself. Jyn was aware that her heart was beating a million miles an hour, and that her brain was enshrouded in what ifs when she groggily came out of her long period of slumber. Without thinking, she reached for the blaster that lay underneath her pillow. Good, it was still there in case she needed it. She was going to need it for the next phase of the mission. The modified Alderaanian ship that carried her was named Veridium, and she was a stolen Imperial craft with various laser cannons and great rooms inside of her. One such room was where Jyn Erso resided. Normally reserved for imperial dignitaries, or the Imperial Security Director himself, this room was dressed in the most brilliant of colors, ruby red, shimmering white, and scintillating silver. The bedsheets were made of dreamsilk, and the floor was of a very comfy yet stainproof qashmel carpeting. Putting on her boots that were atop of a wicker chair without realizing, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall. “Kiro, I've got a bad feeling about this.” At that moment, a shudder was felt through the craft and the lights went out. Then, after a few seconds the lights went on again. Everyone began running as a voice started speaking over the internal comm channel that they were under attack by a TIE Carrier. Depending on whether or not the vessel was elongated or not, normal versions of TIE carriers could carry up to six TIE fighters and modded ones carried up to ten. This was very bad news indeed for the Alliance vessel that was trying to outrun their pursuers. As green fire lanced out of the attackers’ cannons, waves of red plasma returned their blazing lines of cannon fire. Jyn was running to the internal hanger. If she could just get to that hangar, she would be able to stand a chance at surviving this mess with the Imperials. If the TIEs were able to knock out the tensor fields on the main hangar shielding, the other vessel would be able to dock and attackers allowed to board the Rebel Alliance ship. Finding the hangar still in one piece, she climbed the ladder into the control-laden cockpit of an A-wing. Quickly and precisely turning the small fighter’s engines to full, activating the shields and the HUD, she hopped back out and picked out a life support bodysuit and armored vest over her head. When Jyn was ready, her fighter’s engines glowed a fluorescent orange-yellow, which signified that the excess fuel on the fuel lines had been burned off, and that everything was running smoothly. Running out of time, She set the mission chronometer to the “on” position. Jyn, the brilliant strategist and fighter pilot, was ready for combat.

Chapter Two: Victory and Loss

Jyn pulled her craft out of the shielded hangar bay and rolled right as a TIE slipped past her on the left, its lasers firing in staggered bursts, trying to get a lock on the Rebel he had just inadvertently encountered. While the TIE was coming around for another run at her, she slipped her craft sideways and pulled the trigger. Lasers punched holes in the attacker as though she were ripping open a bag of Ithorian candy. The TIE exploded into a burst of shrapnel and debris, with the pilot having ejected helplessly into the battle. As her lasers flared, another TIE came into existence at just the right angle and red energy raked across starfighter armor plating like claws ripping across paper. Gas began to vent out of the opposing fighter like a leaking balloon as it lazily swirled off into space; the pilot was no longer able to control his craft. The Gozanti class cruiser began to take fire from all sides as more fighters poured from the Veridium’s hanger bay. There was a loud noise as the tensor fields holding the cruiser together failed and exploded, ripping the craft apart, and a large cloud of debris billowed out of it like a wounded beast. When all was said and done, the TIEs realized that they could not fight alone without their support craft and fled. When she landed again in the bottom of the Alliance cruiser, she took off her helmet with a whoosh and placed it inside her arm nonchalantly. Her hair was up in a bun, ands her hands covered the color of blackberries from gripping the steering controls the entire time. Jyn Erso, the brilliant pilot, head of the Alliance Army, was about to congratulate herself on a swift victory. However, there was work to be done. Prep was made for lightspeed and the Veridium vanished into the wondrous travel of faster than light transport.

His fist slammed onto the table. Black glove smashed the cup of Alderaanian tea that lay under it. The pieces picked themselves up, and aimed themselves at the door. The Sergeant never saw it coming. His back was stabbed with a thousand little pricks, and Vader himself picked him up by the collar, and threw him against the durasteel wall. “WHAT? What do you mean, the ship was lost?!? Are you telling me that we lost a Gozanti class cruiser to a Rebel blockade runner? Men, I want this man out of here, NOW!” Vader yelled the word now with such horrid volume that his vocabulator practically screeched. Two stormtroopers took the man out of the massive viewing room and down a turbo lift to the med bay. After all, he was going to need medical treatment for the multiple stab wounds that had just been inflicted upon him. He would die without medical attention. “My Lord, the fleet is coming out of hyperspace now. Shall I send a envoy to pick up the survivors? They are maneuvering from the debris field to hangar H-719,” A ensign, elderly, but able-bodied, had walked up to Vader, giving this information to him without so much as a pause. “Yes ensign, recover the survivors. I want every inch of every cruiser inspected for flaws, understood? This has not been the only time that a cruiser like this has been destroyed this way,” Vader spoke with such viciousness that one would have thought him under attack. The man gulped, and nodded. The last standard week, another cruiser had been lost from tensor field failure as well, causing a massive exploding mess all over the landing deck on the city-planet of Coruscant. A report had been filed, and the loss investigated. Without a doubt, the report concluded that there had been rebels on the landing dock that day. “The mechanical failure that day had been caused by rebel activity near the ship when it landed. I believe that they have learned how to target these cruisers’ flaws. Admiral, I want to place a holo-comm to the Corellian Engineering Corp as soon as possible. This flaw must be remedied. The Imperial TIE Carrier has been a vital instrument in our plans to expand the Empire into the Outer Rim. Without them, our starfighter complements cannot and will not be refilled. And that means defeat. That is something I, nor the Emperor, will not tolerate. You have forty eight standard hours to recall all TIE Carriers to Corellia. There, I will have the Corellian Engineering Corps on site and reconfigure those ships. Do not fail me, Admiral. You know what happened to your predecessor…” Vader’s mask showed no expression, and yet, it was effective at getting its intended message across: if you so much as blunder this, you will die. This message was so clear to the Admiral Neeva that it stuck out like a bantha at a Jawa family gathering. “I will be in my meditation chambers. Do not disturb me unless it is urgent. I feel a disturbance in the Force. I must clarify it with the Emperor himself,” and with that, Darth Vader, the most feared man aboard the Star Destroyer, left for his chambers. The entire bridge seemed to hold their breath until they were sure he was gone. Neeva looked out the viewport again, worried about the timeframe he had just been given.

The Admiral was a man of virtue, integrity, and honesty. His peers could not be vouched for the same, however. They lied, cheated, and even murdered their way up to their positions. Admiral Neeva was different. He believed that the Empire was a worthy cause, that the oppressive regime really was trying to fix and mend the galaxy. His conviction to duty, honor and loyalty was what had kept Lord Vader from summarily strangling the man all this time. Vader himself had even given the man a medal for courage and honor displayed in battle. “Ensign, I will be in my quarters should you need me,” Neeva spoke gravely to the elder man as though his departure was his last, and it very well could be, if the Dark Lord’s instructions were not carried out as they were detailed.

This is the current state of the Empire. Fighting against a insignificant rebellion, they are superior. Throwing all those who dare oppose the emperor’s reign into incarceration or even the cold hands of death. However, There are people working to rightfully restore the Republic. A well known senator from the planet of Alderaan, his wife and daughter are among the many who secretly dare to rise up against the dictatorial rule of Sheev Palpatine. Hope is something these beings have naturally, and it is this innate hope that the Empire is attempting to destroy.

The Rebellion. A group of ragtag soldiers, runaways, and defectors from the Empire, these beings are the champions of hope. The bringers of peace, or so their homeworlds said. The Empire’s very worst fear personified. Every day that the Rebellion exists, the Empire loses more and more star systems to their cause, and more and more resources to their opposition. This is both of their stories, expanding and reshaping with each storyteller.

Chapter Three: Confrontation:

Jyn Erso was dreaming again. She was in the same dream she had been dreaming for weeks. She was in her worst nightmare. Lightsabers clashed and sparked on one another. With each flash, Jyn tried to move her sky blue blade a little closer to Vader’s hand, without much success. Fluorescent red and blue whirled and danced around each other in time to the crashing hits and glancing blows that they sustained. Still, neither adversary was going to give in to the other. They could have been rationalizing with a deadly snake, which couldn't be rationalized with at all. Vader sliced at her as though she were nothing, and Jyn with all her strength countered to merely offset the incredible amount of strength the Sith Lord showed. As Vader swung for the final kill, she sidestepped him and neatly left a hole in his armor weave cloak. Surprised, Vader took a step back. With all the newfound power she had, she found courage to lash out with the Force and push Vader off the platform they were dueling upon. Unconventionally, he floated back up, lifted in a dignified Force glide. He stabbed at her throat when he landed. She snapped to consciousness right away, with sweat on her brow, and cramps in her muscles. This dream was beginning to take a toll on her. She remembered when the Empire was a grand Republic, and not some evil force trying to wreak havoc upon the universe. She remembered when there was no Vader, but only distant memories of Jedi wielding lightsabers in defense of democracy. Then it all changed. The Empire arose, and out of the ashes of the smoldering Republic which it had destroyed it came. Vader, and his feared lightsaber. Palpatine, with his ever terrifying Force Lightning. They ruled the galaxy currently, but that was about to change. Rumors were heard that Vader himself was going to visit the Death Star sometime in the next two standard months. What a brilliantly flawed plan, she thought to herself. Rolling on her side, she realized that she was not going to get more sleep this time. She did not want to experience that horrible illusion to its conclusion. Reluctantly, she brought herself up and yawned. Picking up her blaster, and putting on a more comfy pair of slippers, Jyn shuffled her way to the cafeteria for some food and hot drink, for she was cold, and the heating duct in her quarters was not working as well as it should. “What would you like for today, dearie?” A small old lady asked politely. “I'll take the Fried Endorian chicken strips, and a side of fried topato slices seasoned with black hole pepper and some roasted Pirki nut sauce please.” The woman shook her head. “Honey, all we have is Boontaspice honey mustard sauce. We ran out of Pirki nut sauce hours ago.” “I'll take it. Thank you very much.” Rummaging for and finding the seven and a half credits she needed to pay for the dish, Jyn took a seat at the nearest table, and waited for her food patiently. When the hot meal at last came, the old woman sat down gingerly across the table from her. “Jyn, I know you haven't been sleeping well. I see you walking around at night. What is on your mind, my dear? You can tell me anything.” The old lady smiled like an old friend. She placed her hand on Jyn’s reassuringly. “Well, it's just… I've been having this dream. It keeps happening over and over, and I don't want it to keep going. It horrifies me to my soul,” the younger confessed. “The Force can have powerful symbolic meaning when it enters into the realm that is sleep and I believe you are having a Force premonition. I've heard some people who can touch the energy field can actually have such a strong connection that they can see the future. Experience things that normal beings cannot. Maybe you can touch the Force after all?” Jyn gulped. It was a daunting prospect to have the ability to utilize the Force. She could not comprehend being able to have such responsibility of that power. If she was able to touch the Force, Darth Vader would want to search her out and destroy her or convert her to the dark side. When she got that far, she would either be destroyed or turned into the very thing she swore to bring to an end. She was not going to die, and she was not going to be some Dark Lord’s lackey either. Questions swirled through her mind. I’m able to use the Force? What caused this? Why me, of all people? The answers were not clear, to her, nor the other woman. Vader was in his meditation chamber. His thoughts were centered on his body. Renewing it, through the use of the Dark Side. His first battle with Obi-Wan Kenobi left him marred and scarred for life. Rendered him unable to breathe without the use of his mask. However, The chamber he sat in cross legged could become hyperbaric, which supplied the oxygen he needed to him when his helmet was removed. For the first time this session, he could concentrate his hatred upon healing his damaged body. Vader began to focus, thinking about how Obi-Wan and the other Jedi betrayed and hurt him. Cells began to reshape and grow, becoming whole again. He smiled, concentrating harder on how even his late wife, Padme had left him for democracy, the wheels of which had turned against his Master. Then the process stopped, and reversed. He realized that he had allowed himself to grieve over his love, his only partner in life. Attachment was looked down upon by the Emperor. To him, love was only a game, in which pawns could be moved or destroyed. To Vader, love was what had brought him to the dark side, and attachment was what had caused his downfall. Love was also what kept him from the true power of the dark side.

“My master. I have encountered a disturbance in the Force. Without a doubt, I suspect it is a Jedi. My senses tell me they are untrained still, and might be useful to our advantage. What is your wish toward this matter?” Vader kept his opinion of the matter to himself. He could not understand why his master didn't simply destroy worlds and resistance to his rule outright. Those that resisted deserved to be destroyed, Vader thought. “Lord Vader, we have encountered a great disturbance together. If we are able to turn this new Force-wielder over to the dark side, it will mean that much more detriment to the Rebellion. With this in mind I push you to go forth and proceed with finding the identity of this new Force wielder.” “Master, I feel that this individual will be destroyed in our grand plan to expand the Empire. They will mean nothing in the end-” Vader was cut off by his master’s hideous smile. “Yes, however, their mere existence threatens ours. Therefore, you must convert them to the dark side, before they bring our grandiose plans crashing down upon themselves. Whoever they are, they must not be allowed to become a Jedi.” With a renewed faith in the Emperor’s vision, Darth Vader bowed to Palpatine, had his mask replaced and turned off the holoprojector, then strode out of the meditation chamber.

Imperial Intelligence had worked their magic before on such matters. Finding Jedi who had escaped the Emperor’s wrath was one such example. Another prime factor in how successfully the operations were completed was Lord Vader’s regular battlefield promotions of his officers. When one predecessor died, it usually meant that Vader was willing to send in another to do the same task. One Rebel commander, who had the misfortune of meeting Vader face to face, had called him a coward and a more physically incapacitated version of his former self. That commander was now dead, and his entire platoon of troops were smashed into oblivion on an insignificant planet. That day, Vader had looked at himself through the eyes of someone else. As a man who was physically incapable of accomplishing what he had once thought mere child’s play. Vader however, had learned other methods for getting the same results. The signature Force Choke was a perfect example of this adaptation. When Force jumps were required in battle, Vader simply floated up in a dignified Force Glide. And if any adversary even so much as attempted escape, a lightsaber throw was all that was needed to cut them down or hinder them. He was not as he once was, but the terrifying presence of him created fear so deep, that his enemies radiated it like a natural spring in the Force. They needed to fear him. Suddenly and without warning, the Star Destroyer Valiant shuddered, as though there was some inertial force keeping it from moving as its engines strained to break free. Klaxons blared over internal speakers, whilst pilots and soldiers alike ran toward battle stations. Nothing was to be said of Vader. The effect of said inertial change on the Sith was limited to the straightening of his posture. “Commander, I suggest that you begin to take command for protecting this ship. The Emperor will not be pleased to hear that you could not fight off a Rebel incursion aboard this vessel!” With this in his mind, Commander Neeva ordered all deflector shields to be faced toward the bow and at least one shield to be aimed toward the stern; like any reasonable Imperial Star Destroyer captain, he did not want his ship shot out from under himself. Not that such an event mattered. The ISD Valiant could hold its own in any fight, and take more punishment than the average Star Destroyer. When she was built at the height of the Empire, she was given updated weaponry, armor, and even tracking capabilities. This ship was not going to let Neeva down. She couldn't. Not here, and not now, especially with death hanging over his head like a guillotine if he failed. She had to hold together this time.

Chapter TWO:

Vader held her up in an undignified Force choke. She calmed herself and pushed back with the Force, causing Vader to leap backwards to avoid being pushed off the platform again. She leapt for her saber, and soon her blade was out and flaming again. She hurled the saber with all her might and force, causing it to whip directly at her adversary. His saber came up and knocked the spinning buzzsaw of a weapon right out of the air, and it zoomed back into her brown gloved hands again.

Waking up today was hard for her. She remembered everything about her dream, and sleep had not come easily the last few nights.

#Jyn erso #Star Wars #awesome!

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