Message-ID: <40572asstr$1043363403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20030123180205.21388.qmail@nym.alias.net> From: Crimson Dragon X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 23 Jan 2003 18:02:05 -0000 Subject: {ASSM} (New) Dawn of Time [004/157] (MF+, bond, control) {Crimson Dragon} Date: Thu, 23 Jan 2003 18:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates -----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- There is story below the rather long preface. Page down if you must, but don't blame me if you end up offended. The preface was written for a reason. Ignore it at your own risk. ==================================================================== Author's Preface: ==================================================================== Four years ago, I wrote a novel that some of you may have read, entitled "Time Out Of Time". In the following four years, some have been disturbed by the work, and some have been enthusiastic. Some have even requested a sequel. "Dawn of Time" is not a sequel, in a strict sense, nor was it intended to be. In some ways, I think "Dawn of Time" is a more mature piece that investigates different themes, and provides a new perspective on fantasy and reality, and things that might or might not be. I hope that I have learned a little by some of my failures in "Time Out of Time". But you'll have to judge the effectiveness of that yourselves. Please be warned: "Dawn of Time" is unlike my other works. It is harsher and grittier, necessarily differing from my short stories. As writers, sometimes it is necessary to explore ourselves in unique ways. If this kind of writing is not your cup of tea, please pass this story by. Despite its novel length, and the sweat that went into its creation, I will not be disappointed if you decline to read it. It is not my wish to offend anyone. To make one think, perhaps, and to make one consider the implications of strange situations, yes, but offend -- no. This story does contain scenes with sexually charged content. It contains situations that are questionable in terms of consensual behaviour and eroticism that are probably only suitable for adults, and then only to a subset of those that happen to understand responsibility. Please don't assume that a scene described in a work of fiction is safe in reality. Play safe. Please. (Do I really need to hold your hand and tell you this?) Like my short stories, "Dawn of Time" is not overly explicit. There is more to Eros than pumping hydraulics and instant gratification, and this novel encompasses this. For a piece of writing of 157 chapters, there is remarkably little explicit sex. If you are looking for a quick stroke piece, you should probably wander elsewhere. Unlike many serial stories posted here, "Dawn of Time" is complete. It took me the better part of a year to write and self-edit it -- an exhausting but fulfilling endeavour. While I choose for sanity reasons to release it slowly, be assured that all 157 chapters are complete and will be posted. Please also note that this was not proofed by outside counsel due to its length. I wouldn't push such a task on anyone voluntarily. However, as readers: caveat emptor. I've probably missed many silly language mistakes. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or dead, is purely a coincidence. Well, for the most part anyway. Those that lived through the story are very unlikely to admit it. The universe does not accept paradox. This is an original work, copyrighted by the author, Crimson Dragon. Please do not use it as if it were your own. Enjoy the writing, but do not archive or sell it in any manner without my written permission. I'm easy to contact if you wish to redistribute my words. Lastly, I thoroughly enjoy hearing from people reading any of my stories. Feel free to contact me with raves, rants, encouragement or dissertation (note the lack of invitation for spam). I do try to reply to all who are kind enough to drop me a note. Now, if you are still with me, onto the story, - Crimson (dcrimson@yahoo.com) http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Crimson_Dragon/www ==================================================================== Dawn of Time - Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com) Chapter 4 ==================================================================== (C) Copyright 2002 - All Rights Reserved Crimson Dragon (dcrimson@yahoo.com) ==================================================================== Success. Four times the word had graced the bottom of the orange monitor in front of him. This last time, he'd pressed the "Return" key with relish, smiling and waiting for the computer to churn out its inevitable result. His stomach in knots, he clasped his hands behind his neck and inhaled deeply. The output from the computer scrolled up the screen, on a journey to somewhere outside of existence. Of course, those letters and numbers of diagnostics were composed of fleeting electromagnetism, phosphors lighting and dimming with the passage of time. "But time is fluid, isn't it?" he mused. And then aloud, he whispered to himself, his voice barely louder than the fans that surrounded him. One word. "Success." The butterflies in his stomach arose en masse, fluttering, making him shake. It was time. He glanced at the clock. 12:18 Most people would be on their lunch, enjoying the warmth of the new spring, enjoying the sunlight. Not Sandra, not her. She'd be working industriously in her office across from the lab, but everyone else. The world waited, blissfully unaware of this unassuming man, sitting in front of the unassuming word. "Success." Without conscious decision. If he thought about it, he might second guess himself. It had been long enough that he wondered if it might have all been a wonderful, exciting dream. "Success." He didn't know why, but he watched the second hand sweep across the face of the clock, ticking down the moments. It was so normal, so utterly normal. He would change all that. He was going to wait until the second hand touched the twelve, until it pointed straight up. Foolish, he berated himself. Foolish. The second hand kissed the numeral nine and fell somewhere between that and the ten. 12:18:47. He closed his eyes, mind whirling, envisioning the images that had haunted him for so very long. Images that graced the pages of the notebook, his handwriting scribbled across its pages, still buried in his briefcase. Equations, numbers, symbols, and thought became meshed with the fabric of existence around him, air swirling for a moment, static crackles permeating the air. He shivered involuntarily as lights flashed behind his closed lids. Without warning, nausea engulfed him and he felt himself falling. Falling. Falling. <---===***===---> "What's the matter, Kate?" The red-haired girl stood by her locker, her fingers idly swinging the door back and forth, listening to its hinges creak. She turned slowly; Karen, who had addressed her, stood a few metres away, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot. The other girl wore a little too much makeup, and her skirt perhaps showed a little too much leg. But she could carry it off, as could most of Kate's friends. The other girl knew what the matter was, of course. Most of the school probably knew. Kate gathered in her breath, let it out in a long sigh. "Darren ..." Darren, had pursued her. He wasn't unusual in that. But she'd agreed to go out with him a few times. They'd had fun, she was even beginning to like the guy, more than she should, perhaps. The problem with Darren was that he also pursued other girls, Karen included. They hadn't been exclusive or anything, she hadn't wanted that -- or at least she didn't think she had -- but then she'd seen Darren kissing Karen before first period. Karen nodded. "Kate, you know, don't you?" Kate nodded. She wasn't angry at Karen, Karen was as much a looker as Kate was -- but with blonde hair, not fiery red like Kate's. She was going to miss Darren. At least a little. "I didn't know he was going out with you. Honestly. I dropped him, you know?" Kate's voice was monotone. "You didn't need to do that." Karen shifted her weight again. "I did. And I wanted you to know." Karen paused for a moment. Kate sighed, decided to stop torturing Karen. "We're still friends. Don't sweat it." Karen's face visibly brightened. "Go for a smoke?" Kate shook her head, her hair dancing across her shoulders. She pushed the locker door shut with her palm, her fingers engaging her combination lock and automatically spinning the dial. "I don't smoke, you know that," Kate admonished. "And you shouldn't either. Makes you smell." Karen laughed. "Doesn't seem to deter the boys, and I thought after this morning, you might want to take it up." Kate shook her head again. She knew a few boys that disliked the smell of cigarette smoke, though to be honest she doubted if any would turn down a date with Karen over it. "I just want to be alone for a while," she said. Karen nodded understandingly. "Catch you later, then?" Kate sighed and waved her off. Karen was itching for a smoke, could see it in her posture. At the wave, Karen walked swiftly down the hall, grabbing a few others that didn't mind the stink as she hurried down the hall. Her voice carried in the quiet corridor as she rounded the corner. "Yeah, she's still the same old Kate. She's okay ..." Kate wet her lips, and walked slowly in the opposite direction, towards the front of the school. The front doors swung open and the fresh air swirled around her. The front of the school was usually abandoned, the students favouring the back where there was a field, and smoking area for the older students and staff. The front of the school featured a few oak trees, and the main drive leading to the school. Kate settled to the grass under one of the oak trees, her fingers finding a stray leaf, perhaps left over from autumn. Slowly, she began to tear the leaf along its veins, listening to the slow drone of cars and the crackle of the brittle leaf in her hands. She'd miss him, a little. They'd had fun. The transition was sharp, no smoke, no flashing lights. The breeze stilled, the BMW passing down the road halted without so much as a protest. The sun continued to beat down, but its slow motion across the sky stopped as though the wings of Mercury had been clipped. Kate, frozen with everything else, continued to stare down at the leaf in her fingers. Preternatural silence engulfed the universe. <---===***===---> She'd been up until all hours, unable to sleep, her mind awhirl. If it wasn't Dean, it was Darren. If it wasn't Darren, it was math, or science, or history, or French. Sometimes it happened; sleep refused to cooperate, refused to descend, refused to permit her rest. An overactive imagination? Hah. More like adolescent torment. Her eyes drooped, her chin cupped in her hands, her elbows supporting her against the scarred surface of the small desk. Leigh sighed and tried to pay attention. She furtively glanced at the clock, whose refusal to move more quickly vexed her. Class should have finished at 12:15, lunchtime, and she was supposed to meet Dean, and Janice, and Tim in the cafeteria for Euchre. She didn't want them to start without her, but she supposed that they probably wouldn't find a fourth all that quickly. It was 12:16 now. Some geek had asked Miss Waters to explain something to do with some old Greek guy, Pythagoras? At any other time, she might have been interested in the discussion, but with the second hand relentlessly sweeping, Leigh only wanted to get to lunch and forget about school for an hour. The hard green chair under her bottom numbed her. Her eyes began to close. "Come, on. Come on," she willed the teacher who obliviously stood in front of the blackboard drawing right triangles and talking about hypotenuses. The class was beginning to get restless around her. Her attention faltered again and she forced her eyes to open. Finally, the teacher turned towards the class, her eyes resting on the clock for a moment. "Unfortunately, it appears our time is up. Class dismissed." The woman dropped the chalk to the ledge below the chalkboard and dusted her hands as she walked back towards her desk, as the students began to rise, some with utterances of relief. The transition was smooth, even if inaccurately portrayed upon the institutional overhead clock. The second hand on the clock stopped mid-way between 12:17 and 12:18, nearly a full minute and a half inaccurate. The teacher's footsteps quieted, the voices and movements of the students in the class stopped with the rest of the world. Leigh halted halfway out of her chair, her mouth open to speak some words to her neighbour, her finger absently brushing a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear. Preternatural silence engulfed the universe. -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.3ia Charset: noconv iQEVAwUBPjArmExM3srBk85hAQG3eQf+PpDU8V2H885m/aIB+mivTFlP1M483SYR rtLoryIZoMSD9TvtpMvhOWgGNppEd6Lgu5D/iBh/fTK0sm1cRpydmpElsUohbJ9m B89qaE0E7H5IBP1sb3Su6UVu45SO50fWPq7w5OnwPVBM34tulYOPtLBC6GPcNBGX BMwCFYJ//uqxRnJ4u++2GMWoPrUwm/wEAfw7qmu7EhBYUKNKH2qI6LsQxW6A14uy vcTDvqbd3KQgT6qnk2OUX3XTvN9z0vRr+WoG5mq9SkiQMqLnCZqNdFx5hAQQuL8h TkwBXjLp9dMAsUEh1GdYtorY/kdwo7EA/o51u2QHKQHVnzqy7Ww/+Q== =DHu8 -----END PGP SIGNATURE----- -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+