So, anyways... What do ya guys think about this? This is my first short story, but is moving towards fantasy right off the bat going in the right direction for a new writer? Thoughts? (Ahhh... the pessimistic thoughts are pouring in right now...)
---------------------------------------------The Fisher of Dreams (continued)
Under the surface of the water, small lights began to illuminate. They were of all colors and sizes, their shine varying amongst many. Slowly they began to swirl, making patterns and floating lazily. Net looked over the edge of her boat and took a long look. The lights were faint from her view, but she could still distinguish the many colors. There was going to be a pretty good haul today; there was a very diverse selection of shining orbs, which meant dreams of all sorts. Net smiled a little, but it did not reach her eyes. From a square, glass-like case, the girl drew a small silver bell. It was a thing of power; runes flowed gracefully across its smooth curves. She cupped the bell’s sides so it would not make any noise. A slight touch of metal to metal could cause chaos. Net traced several symbols with her finger on the face of the bell. The runes illuminated and faded as she traced. In less than a minute she was done. Breathing out one last breath, Net raised the bell over the surface of the water and rang it once. Its pure clear note echoed through the swamp and faded. Net waited, and the chime came echoing back, this time its pitch was soft and alluring. Ripples cast themselves outward, as if trying to escape the boat. When the rippling stopped, Net was surrounded by a sea of color and light. Some of the orbs had even inched into the open air. The first time Net had seen this sight, she was awed by its beauty. Now, though, she did not take a second thought, but grimly set to work.
Net unfolded what seemed to be fishing nets, which they were, but they were fishing nets of a vastly different sort. Like the bell, tiny runes scattered across the net’s threads, giving off a shining effect. Net cast them into the water and watched as they slowly drifted downward. Now it was time to wait again.
Net was a dream catcher, or a fisher of dreams, or whatever the gods called her. She was one of many, but Net had never met the others. She was not allowed to. The area where she worked was the Swamp, an isolated place home to only the rarest and most magical of freshwater creatures. But, none of the living would be able to survive in this place, at least the normal amongst the living could not. Net was not amongst the normal, nor was she amongst the living. Somehow, Net had died as a young as a human, and was given one of the gods’ many occupations for dead souls, which happened to be dream catching. All memories of Net’s previous life were erased, but the girl did not fancy thinking what her previous life must have been like. In her opinion, life must have been horrible for her to die at the tender age of 13. Net stared at the luminous sky, with nothing much to think about. With all of her memories replaced by unending years of fishing, she had nothing left to feel.
A picture of what I'd imagine the bell would look like.
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As always, comments, critique, suggestions, and questions are always welcome. Keep looking forward to more writing. Thanks. :)
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