A Very Rough Draft

Alright where to start? Ah, I know. We’re going to start off easy. Let’s give her a name. Hm, let’s name her Atti. Now we take Atti and place her into the story. We’ll start her off in her bed and she’s going to wake up and go to work at-

“Hold on, let me get this straight. First, you name me something as boring as Atti. Then you start my story off with me going to work?! BARF! C’mon, do you have a brain? Give me something goooood. Make me a princess or a siren or how abou-“

Atti. This is my story. And I’ll write you however I choose. You shouldn’t even be speaking on your own, you know the rules. And the name Atti means beautiful goddess by the why.

“Oh, come on. I don’t care about rules. Give me a fun story. You know you want to. I know you can do it. Make it worthy of winning a contest or something. Give me a dragon or a motorcycle. Something cool. Oh, and keep the name. It’s kind of growing on me.” She says with a pout.

I’ve written stories about dragons and…You know what, Atti? I have an idea. Since my stories are no fun, why don’t you write your own story and I’ll merely supervise. Just don’t go overboard with fantasy realms and war or crazed kings, alright? 

Atti’s voice ignites. “Really? You mean it?”

I’ll only interfere when I think you’re going too far. Do we have a deal?

”Heck yeah! I’m gonna write it like you do, with the quotations and commas and all.”

Of course. You don’t have to be extremely formal, though. This is just a rough draft, after all.

”Okay. I got this.” Atti coughs to clear her throat before taking a breath and writing out her own story the way the author would, taking note to speak it aloud for the author to hear:

“It was a dark day for Atti. The moon was full and the clouds were dark. She walked hurriedly from the corner store, trying to reach her house quickly. The idea of what things could be lurking in the shadows at night scared her and she didn’t want to be out any longer than she needed to be. 

A light breeze blew through her hair and she heard a branch snap off in the distance. Picking up her pace, Atti stared at the ground, terrified of what she could potentially see in the dimly lit street. 

Suddenly, a shoelace from her beat up sneaker came loose and she caught it with her other foot, stepping on it. She tripped and fell to the ground clumsily. And that’s when the beast lurched from its hiding place in the bushes. She heard the jostling of the bushes and saw something jump out to barrel towards her. 

With a scream, she panicked and stood, in search of someplace to hide. But there was no place for her to hide and her house was too far to run to. She turned back to look at the snarling beast, and couldn’t believe what she saw. A werewolf!

Atti knew what she had to do. Just before the wolf reached her, she drew her sword and-“

Atti. No, just, no. What is this? A werewolf? A sword? Where’d you even get a sword? 

“Oh come on! Really? You said you would supervise.”

I am supervising, but this is absurd. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

”No! I can do it. Just, uh, let me try again. I’ll start over with something else. Please?”

Alright, rewrite it. But you have to make it make sense this time.

”Okay. Make it make sense. Got it.” She started again, reading aloud as she wrote:

“She knew it was too good to be true. The mysterious treasure everyone had spoken of. Atti had been searching for days and nights looking for the supposed ‘treasure’ hidden in the mountains.

Her boots were filthy and she hadn’t bathed in days. She smelled putrid and she felt even worse. Atti was exhausted. But the things she could do with this treasure, if she found it, were immeasurable. She could buy a kingdom, buy an entire fleet of ships. She could rescue her family from their impoverished farm in the south. 

The lair that the treasure was stored in was said to have a massive winged guardian. A dangerous creature in search of a princess to claim.”

Atti. Really, a princess and a dragon? This is just cliche. This isn’t good at all.

”What?! How dare you? This is beautiful. This is basically poetry. Dickinson or Frost couldn’t compete with this. This is gold.”

No, it’s not. This is not what I had in mind. I wanted something creative, not cliche.

“Well, how do I write something with you breathing down my neck?”

You don’t. I’ll just write it myself. You have too big a flare for the dramatics.

Atti snorts. “You know you created me, right? But, fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Now, where was I? Oh, the bed and work. I suppose that is a bit boring and simple-minded, isn’t it? Why don’t we try something else? 

Oh, I’ve got it:

Atti straightened the silver corset atop her sleek white gown. She’d never truly been ready for this day. But she needed to be. This was the day the war was to come to an end. With every species of humanoid coming together for such an intricate ceremony, this was going to be a day for the history books. 

She couldn't imagine why one man and one woman being wed held such an enormous amount of power and responsibility in their hands. But it didn’t matter. This was going to happen, whether she liked it or not. It had to, for the fate of their nation. They were the people’s last-

”Now hold on, werewolves and dragons are cliche but an arranged marriage isn’t? Is this your best work? This is embarrassing. I thought you were about to spin out some mighty story of a famous queen and how she came to power or something, but this? Just gross.” Atti laughs.

Would you not interrupt me, please? It’s very distracting.

”Oh, I couldn’t imagine.”

Atti, your attitude is becoming repulsive.

”You can’t spell attitude without Atti.”

Cocky, are we? Fine, I’ll just scrap it. Hold on, I think I’ve got an even better idea. How about this: 

The wind was blowing harshly on the Sea of Thalmuth. It had dragged in one of the worst storms the crew onboard The Bloody Pearl had ever seen. The wind was so powerful that it was throwing the hefty ship around faster than they could drop the sails.

The captain of this particular sea of bandits, Atti, had been barking orders the second the storm had rolled in, but the storm had moved in too quickly, dragging towering waves with it. She was now on deck herself, fighting the wind for balance, as she helped her crew secure the sails.

Atti had been tying a knot when a gust of wind swept right across the deck, throwing half her crew to the back of the ship, and throwing her overboard. The dark waves welcomed her, sucking her under.

”NO! There’s no honor in swallowing nasty seawater! You can’t kill me! At least not like that!” Atti cried.

Oh, yes I can, this is my story. And you didn’t die, I’m not even done with it. 

“Regardless, no drowning. This one was actually better, though. Besides The Bloody Pearl part. Very original. Uh, just leave out the killing me part.”

You’re really demanding, you know? I thought I was writing this story.

”You are. I’m just driving you to do your best work. I know you’ve got a good one buried in there somewhere.”

Hm, you know what? I think I do. You won’t be interrupting this one, I know it:

Atti awoke from where she lay in the sand, the blinding sun tormenting her skin. Looking around, she squinted past the sun’s rays. All she could see for miles was sand. She sat upright and brushed some of the sand off the translucent nightgown they’d left her in. 

”Hold on, why am I nake-“

Atti, please have some patience and let me finish, I’m not even to the good part yet. 

“But why a desert? I mean-“

Atti!

“Okay, okay! Sheesh. Please, continue.”

Thank you, now where was I? Oh, yes, the desert:

They’d really dumped her in the desert and fled. She glanced back at the ground around her and found a travel pack, her boots, a water flask, and something long wrapped in cloth for protection against the sand. Upon further examination of the pack, it contained all her belongings. As well as her fighting leathers, some mage books, throwing knives and daggers, and food.

She reached up to touch the raw stitches on her throat and cringed. Had she been foolish in making such a trade? 

Hoping it wouldn’t cost her rather than help her, she reached down to her side to run her fingers along the coarse cloth wrapping. It contained what she’d thought had been worth such a demented trade; a sword. The custom-made sword that the great King Runon himself had used. He was the only one to ever wield it. It had wiped out an entire enemy army with one solitary swipe. But the power that was stored inside could only be wielded by someone of his blood. And she was the only remaining descendent left. 

Atti’s lips were crusted with blood, and she felt painfully parched, but the inside of her throat was so dry and swollen that she couldn’t manage to swallow. The skin on the outside of her throat also had blood and sand crusted around the stitches. Pouring a few drops of water from the aluminum flask into her hand, she rubbed it on her neck carefully to clean the skin. The pain from touching her throat alone made her grimace, and rubbing it felt as if she were ripping the stitches out herself.

The pain was so severe that she opened her mouth to cry out, but not a single sound escaped through her dry lips. She frowned, hoping her trade would somehow be worth it. The seemingly nonexistent society, the Nadiv, who’d had the sword for decades had been almost impossible to reach, and only a select few people outside of their hidden world knew it even existed.

She’d caught wind of their whereabouts from a traveler. Atti had paid for the information of their location with a piece of jewelry gifted to her by a friend. It was the only thing he’d wanted from her. And after learning of their hiding place, she quickly packed a bag and set out. 

Once she arrived, the Nadiv had greeted her with hostility before they learned who she was. They were honored to have such a fierce warrior and mage grace their presence, until they learned what she’d come for. They’d told her she would have to pay dearly for what she wanted. That they couldn’t risk anyone else finding their civilization. Atti had diligently agreed, deeming it worth it if it would save the lives of millions back home. She didn’t have much of a choice, seeing as how it had been placed in her hands now.

Glancing around and seeing no one, Atti quickly changed out of her gown and slipped into her leathers and boots. Slinging the pack and flask over her shoulder, and picking up the sword, she left the sheer gown on the ground behind her in the burning sand as she began her journey home. 

Parting with it and the Nadiv, as well as her voice. The thing she’d so confidently given up to regain a powerful heirloom that was destined to save the nation she’d been fighting for so vigorously. A nation only she could save now.

How about that for a rough draft, Atti? Short and sweet, right? I think I’ve done well.

Atti? What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Oh, come on now. Is it not to your liking? Don’t you have some advice or something to add? How about some criticism, hm?

No? That’s what I thought.