Thread: Quix's Random Bullshit Thread (Comments Welcome)

RE Quix's writing samples Goldilocks And The Three 'Bears' - Quix and Cyanide The sun beat down from the noon sky as the three men, hot and tired from the morning spent tilling their neighbour's fields, made their final purchase from the market stall, and began the journey home. The three strode leisurely along the dirt path - a freshly slaughtered pig slung over one's shoulders as a treat for dinner - beneath the thick canopy of leaves. It was cooler here, and the relaxing sounds of birds chirping in the trees, and small forest animals foraging for food, along with the knowledge that work was done for the day, had them in a jovial mood. At first glance they could be taken for siblings. It wasn't until approached more closely that you'd notice, despite his youthful appearance, that the barrel-chested male who walked a step ahead was of considerably greater age. A Father and his two sons. The Patriarch was Rupert Bear, more commonly known as Papa, who stood at 6'2, with a thick mass of curly brown hair atop his head. His forearms were the size of hams, his hands rough and calloused, and his skin weathered by the sun. He carried not an ounce of fat. A large man, Rupert could intimidate by size alone. However, not those who had spent time with him, and heard the laugh which emanated deep in his belly before it erupted from his mouth, nor those who weren't too taken by his breadth and width to be able to notice the way his deep brown eyes crinkled with warmth and good humour. Bear by name, bear by size, but not by nature. Unless provoked. His two sons, Edmund and Walter, had inherited his bulk, though neither had yet reached his height. They were men, but still young, and had growing to do. Attired, as he was, in linen breeches and shirts of varying hues, with woollen vests, the boys facial features were alike enough to Rupert's for there to be no doubt the three were related, but there were also noticeable differences. Walt, the youngest, was smaller, his shoulders not quite as broad, and he had his Father's chocolate brown eyes, and curled, dark-chestnut hair. Edmund was destined to be larger than even Papa, and, in contrast to Rupert and Walt, his eyes were green, and hair a raven black. Like his mother, Genevieve. Genevieve. The conversation and laughter died down as they entered a clearing, and their dwelling came into view. As always, Papa felt a mixture of sadness and contentment as he looked upon it. This was the house he'd slept in every night of his life since he was a boy, and where he'd enjoyed many happy times. When he was but six years of age, he'd helped his own Pater, Humphrey, build it. The child had cut down the trees, sawed the branches into pieces, and hammered in the nails, with his very own hands. Or at least that's how he remembered it. The cottage hadn't changed in all that time, apart from the regular application of fresh coats of paint. It was two-stories tall, with a thatched roof, and constructed entirely of forest wood. The exterior was painted a bright yellow, except for the door, which was a 'just as bright' red. Inside, a small foyer opened onto a spacious living area, where the family spent most of their time. They'd rest on the two wooden benches covered in sheep-skin, which faced the open hearth, and sit up all night, reading, talking, laughing, eating, and occasionally drinking. Off to one side lay a kitchen where Mrs Bear used to cook - duties now shared by the three men -, and hidden away in the opposite corner, behind more doors, were separate area for ablutions, and laundering. To the back sat the Master bedroom, the highlight of which was the four-poster bed Papa had fashioned himself. A narrow flight of curved stairs led from the kitchen to the second floor, where both boys had their own rooms. From there they could view the thick forest on one side, and the green valleys - where the Bear's allowed their goats and cows to roam free - on the other. It was beautiful, and a place of great joy, but also one of sorrow, for it was where his wife had died. For a brief period, after Genevieve had succumbed to a bout of pneumonia, just on three years ago, and Papa was in the worst of his grief, he'd thought of leaving. To avoid the constant reminder of what would he'd miss so terribly. However, he knew he never would, it held too many good memories as well. Though, if that had been the decision he'd taken, he could have afforded it. In the back garden, untouched for thirty years, was buried a trove of gold coins. The coins had been a gift to his Father, from the Queen of a Faraway Land. A modest man was Humphrey, and it wasn't until Rupert's teen years, only a week before his parents were taken by the plague, that he'd regaled his son with the story. Rupert had learned how his Father had risked death, dismemberment, torture, and worse. Of how he'd defeated a legendary troll, and rescued a princess from a tower protected by a vicious ogre. His Father had defeated the ogre, too, after a battle which lasted for days, and returned the young lady to her rightful place, as heir to her Country's throne. Humphrey had rejected all honours and accolades - after all, it had been an adventure, what more reward was required? - and accepted the gift of gold coins only reluctantly. The treasure had been be-quested to Rupert, as had the Cottage, with the stipulation that he'd know the right time to make use of it. Papa secretly yearned for the same opportunity to adventure that his Father had taken, and a chance to replicate his heroic deeds. However, times had changed, and there no longer existed Princesses to save, ogres to defeat, dragons to slay, or giant beanstalks to climb. Though it made the world a safer place, a better place, it didn't stop Rupert from sometimes wishing there were. Little did he know wrong his assumption was, and what the future would hold. Papa, did you forget to shut the door? Rupert was brought of his reverie by his youngest son's voice. His head whipped around, then his eyes followed the direction of a pointed finger, and he saw what Walter had seen. The front door was ajar, and Papa felt a deep anger begin to build in his massive chest. The three men dropped the produce they carried, onto the grass, and the same thought passed through each of their minds. Papa never forgot to close the door, and it was too sturdy and secure to have unlatched itself. That could mean only one thing. It had been done by someone else. Who would be so stupid, or desperate, as to enter their home uninvited, and attempt to steal their possessions? Edmund, around the back. If whoever it is, is still there, we don't want them to escape. Papa's booming voice shook with fury as he directed his elder son. The boy followed the order without hesitation. Let us see who it is, who dares disrespect the privacy of our home. Rupert grabbed his youngest son by the collar, and began to drag him towards the partially opened door. The Bear had been poked. This was not going to be pretty. What can I say? The Fairy-Tale fun continues, with a partner whose writing ability is seriously scary. Goldilocks And The Three 'Bears' - Quix And Cyanide The weasel shook like a leaf in Papa Bear's grasp, and his head bobbed up and down in agreement as Rupert whispered in his ear, and explained the way things were to be. It was easy to order a young woman around, but not such a simple task when faced with a man your own age, and twice your size. Jacob Slint was receiving an idea of how poor Goldilock's must have been made to feel, and it was obvious the man didn't enjoy it. However, unlike Goldie, who'd mustered up the courage to defend herself, and denied being his possession - which had only furthered the Patriarch's admiration for the young woman - Jacob offered no resistance. Though Papa's words were rough, and so was the grip by which he held Slint, he was a gentle soul underneath, and had no intentions of maiming the man if he even deserved to be thought of as such. Rupert wasn't one to cause hurt for hurt's sake, though that wasn't to say that putting the frighteners through Mr Slint didn't bring him some satisfaction. The wink and sly grin he gave the boys as they entered the house attested to that. Walter and Edmund reached the door at the same time, and each emitted an 'oomph', as they became stuck, half-in, half-out, of the entrance in their combined rush to be first. It took a few seconds for them to untangle their limbs from the others, with Edmund, the eldest, and strongest, gaining the advantage. He arrived at the room where Goldie was, just in time to see the undergarments she held being slipped into the trunk. His eyes followed the movement of the lacy material, and he opened to his mouth to comment, but that turned into another 'oomph, as he felt an elbow dig into his ribs. He tilted his head, and the look on Walt's face, and way he appraised Goldie made it obvious that his sibling had noticed the same as he. The elder boy rolled his eyes, and shook his head, as if to scold his younger brother for an obvious lack of maturity, and moved further into the room. Just as she clicked shut the trunk, and stood to face them. What bath? Walt's tone was one of confusion, as Edmund moved closer to the young woman. The shyness with which she had spoken, and the way her cheeks blushed, made the elder boy smile. He completely ignored his sibling's query as he reached out and brushed her elbow with the pads of his fingertips. Sure, the offer still stands. We'll stop and bathe in the river. That way you won't have to wait until we get all the way home. The images that brought to mind caused Walt to flick his gaze to her chest - the one which contained her clothes, of course, although he was also tempted to glance at the other - , and swallow down the lump which had suddenly formed in his throat, and momentarily forced him to stop talking. He couldn't help but imagine what was under the filthy dress she wore. And what, exactly, she'd be bathing in. 'What bath? Walt asked again, but this time his tone contained more annoyance than confusion. Before he could ask a third time, there came stomps on the floor, and Rupert popped his head through the entrance. He took in the scene, then focused his attention on Goldie. Your step-father was very reasonable, and we've come to an agreement. You're free to stay with us as long as you like. See Goldie, we told you everything would work out. My papa never lies. Edmund's voice was filled with admiration, and he shot her a wide grin. At the same time the fingers which touched her elbow slid down the soft, warm skin of her arm to take hold of her hand. Let's go. Walt meanwhile stood there open-mouthed and stared at the two of them. He didn't move an inch as Edmund, with Goldilocks being gently dragged along with him, passed and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder . Do something useful, and carry her trunk, will you. Edmund's eyes then raised to Papa's. Goldie asked if we could stop on the way, so that she could bathe in the river. I told her we could, now that everything is okay. We can't make her walk all the way home as she is. That wasn't precisely what she'd said, but Edmund thought phrasing it as such would make it more difficult for Goldie to resist his plan. And, his plan it was. He had no intention of asking his Father or brother to join in the fun. In fact, he hoped they could be convinced to continue the journey home whilst he spent the night by the river, 'bathing' with their new house-guest. It wasn't until they'd almost made it to where Papa stood that he realised, in his enthusiasm, he hadn't even given a Goldie a chance to respond, or to see if she was ready to leave. He stopped so abruptly, that he stumbled, and his expression was one of nerves, and apology as his eyes came to rest on hers. I mean, that's if you have everything you need, and you're ready? Papa chuckled at one son's actions as he watched the other collect Goldie's trunk, and place it over his shoulder. Walt's pupils narrowed at his brother, and the look said that whatever Edmund had in mind, he wasn't to be allowed to get away with it. Not if Walt had any say in the matter. Are you ready, Goldie? The Patriarch stepped inside to give her shoulder a reassuring pat. If so, just follow me, your Step-Father won't cause us any trouble.