I got a rabid streak of creativity today, and decided to write out the idea I had mentioned previously in my smut thread. I simply couldn't wait! You may notice that this story does not contain any adult material yet, but rest assured-- it will belong here. Without further ado, I send this serial fic on its maiden voyage. A Boy Named Beute --------------------------- Chapter 1 November 13, 1927 For my tenth birthday my parents gifted me this journal. I allowed it to sit on the shelf for two years and forgot about it. At the time I appreciated the copy of Götz von Berlichingen much more. I suppose it can now be put to some use. I started classes at the Gymnasium recently. The majority of my classes are dull or covering topics I already am familiar with, however I have found a haven in the library. Felix from church will occasionally join me and his reason for this I scarcely know. He watches my every movement with barely concealed curiousity. For the most part I tune out his presence and continue my study of the medical encyclopedias. Mutti encourages me to make friends, though it hardly appeals to me. I find much more pleasure in reading and listening to the phonograph. Father regards my favorite pastimes with little encouragement and he remains isolated in his study for the greater part of the evening. His stern glances effect me greatly. November 17, 1927 My teeth are ailing me. Father curses it, but nonetheless bent to the necessity of visiting the dentist in Rottenburg. We traveled there in silence, I clutching my jaw, he watching the road with narrow and dubious eyes. From a very young age I have gathered an impression that father does not enjoy my company. He espouses the virtues of young active life and athletic pursuit, claiming they build character that cannot be attained in books. I dislike him. When we reached the office I was introduced to the dentist, a man of warm disposition, great stature, and middle age. His name is already absent from my mind. He seemed to be fascinated by the contents of my mouth, and I, in turn, the contents of his mind. His instruments were the most interesting facet of the office. Even as I sit here now I am covetous of them. He caught the glimmer of my eye and indulged me by explaining each tool's use and name. Then he promised me that he would walk me through the procedure as he performed it. Upon his explorations he discovered a rotted molar on my lower right side. He reached among his tools and withdrew a jar of some salve, a pick, and pliers. First-- he explained as he was acting-- he applied orthoform to the tooth and surrounding area to numb and sterilize. I nodded and he continued. He tested the area for numbness by pricking the gum with the pick. Though I could taste blood, the jab produced no sensation. I tell you, it was thrilling! My dentist then placed one hand on my forehead and held it against the chair firmly. This startled me, though the motion, I realized, was to steady me as he reached the pliers into my mouth. I held still, and the sound that vibrated through my skull was both the most ghastly and the most amazing I’ve ever encountered. With several twists and tugs, the man extricated the molar. Copper gushed in my mouth, and the room was filled with a heady scent and darkness tugged at its corners. Though little sensation came, my body must have suffered a shock as I awoke at least an hour later to the man patting my face with cool water. He told me that he had packed gauze in my mouth, and gifted me with the removed molar, giving me a glass vial in which to keep it. It sits on my desk now. November 23, 1927 Felix approached me in the library today. I figured he came to deliver scathing comments about my still swollen face, as many of the other boys have. He shook his head, and handed me a charcoal drawing. It was anything but crude, a face obviously, but belonging to whom I'm not sure. When I asked Felix who he had drawn it of, he replied it was nobody. I regarded him with some skepticism. When I arrived at home today, I placed the drawing on my desk. Mutti came in to dress the bed, and took curiously to the drawing. First she asked me if I had produced it, and when I said I had not, she asked who had drawn it. I replied Felix, and her eyes brightened. "So you have made a friend?" she asked. Hardly able to disappoint her, I affirmed that Felix was in fact my friend. She embraced me in such a whirl that it knocked my glasses askew.
Please continue.
Medkid? Yes, yes, I approve very much. Please continue. Though, I won't lie, the name Felix just sorta seems...out of place for me? I mean, I have no idea if that's a normal name in Germany but alright, I'll just go along with it.
I love how Medic remembers what orthoform is called but not his doctor's name. It's beautifully in character that he cares more about the science than the people. Hope to see more of this soon, Freizeit!
>>3 Felix is a pretty common German name actually, though I believe it appears in Scandinavian countries quite a lot too, and Denmark and Germany have quite often similar names anyway. That said, I'm glad you've actually chosen a name other than the stereotypical names that are used so often for German characters - such as Hans or Friedrich. Gives me the shivers every time I hear that. Also love the idea you're having here. I can totally see Medic's family relationship playing out this way, as well as his behavior in this. Hope to see more as well! As of late there hasn't been anything active that really interested me.
Thank you all for your encouragements! I'll post the next three days now: November 25, 1927 To my dismay I have discovered that Felix's mother and my mother are well aquatinted. Upon my mother's return from market this morning, she revealed how elated Felix's mother was to hear her son had made a friend. It puts me ill at ease to be placed in such familiar terms with that strange boy. I aquired a new cylinder for the phonograph from the store on the edge of town. My father warns me against visiting the store, likely because of the family who runs it. The owner, a Roma, showed me to a suitcase full of old cylinders. The array before me was overwhelming, I used my pocket money to purchase one by Nellie Melba. I have no idea who she is, but the yellowed paper and gothic script of the container enticed me. As I write, her voice floats through the house. It is haunting and melodious. November 27, 1927 I am fortunate to have discovered a nest of frogs in the little stream that borders the Gymnasium. The means by which I discovered it were less than ideal-- a classmate had shoved me into the muddy bank for sport. After they left, I remained on my side, resigned to lay there. The sound of croaks emanated from the reeds, and I crawled to get a closer look. Thousands of tadpoles darted in the water, circling their mother, who floated lazily above. Through the parted reeds she looked back at me with dull yellow and black eyes. Maybe I will return to visit them come Monday. November 29, 1927 Today was my birthday. Mutti made a great fuss about the whole ordeal, father was indifferent as usual. I was gifted a set of brass fountain pens and an ivory and silver razor. The razor perplexes me, as I have no use for it yet, though I suppose I can attribute it to my father's apparent recognition of my coming of age. After dinner I stepped out to read under the oak at the edge of our property. My foot kicked something on the stoop, and I reached down to retrieve it: a small brown package, tied in butcher's twine, adressed to me. I took it with my book to the tree, and opened it. A little card fell out, "From Felix," it read, and beneath it a copy of Poisonous Plants of the Schwartzwald. I set aside the book I had originally brought, and delved into this new treasure. Perhaps I have misjudged Felix.
Every three days, I will gleefully check this thread out. I enjoy how you narrate Medic as being very adult like but withjust a hint of his young age peeping through. I also enjoy how He remains rather indifferent towards his parents, like he knows he's not really wanted but his mother just tries to see the bright side of the situation. I dunno, maybe I'm just reading to deeply into it because of my over-active imagination. Eh, whatever it is, keep up the good work and the creativity going!
This is looking very interesting, I havent read anything like this on the chan before. Please continue!
Brilliantly in-character, this captures hasty journal/diary entries to a T yet is able to cary emotional and phycological weight. A wonderful example of period writing:) (also loving the details from surgical equipment to an appreciation of Gotz the Iron Hand)
http://freizeit711.tumblr.com/post/44682743343/a-boy-named-beute
Hey guys! Sorry bout the long wait. I've been preoccupied with classes and a large-scale translation project. Here is another installment: November 31, 1927 The book that Felix gifted me has provided me quite a bit of knowledge. For instance, henbane has the common side effect of hallucinations when eaten in excess. Belladonna, hellebore, and aconite-- all which grow around my house-- are incredibly toxic. I never would have imagined I was surrounded by such dangerous foliage! December 4, 1927 Today was especially cold. I returned to the stream by the Gymnasium today. It was frozen over, the ice speckled with the tadpoles encased within. Their mother may have hid in the mud, as I am told amphibians do, but I am not certain. I broke off a piece of the ice and brought it home, placing it in a bowl. The tadpoles were quite dead-- not suspended by the freezing as I may have hoped. Their dark little floating forms were curious. I prodded them some, but grew weary after a time and poured them out the window. The little creatures fell into a thatch of foxgloves below my eve. December 5, 1927 Felix and I met after classes to search the wilds just beyond his family property. We searched the hoarfrosted landscape for wild mushrooms and I pointed out the species of hazardous plants I gleaned from the book he gifted me. At each mention of the book he seemed to grow eager. Their forms were suspended in spikes of ice, like glass castings. He reached into the brush and broke off a stalk of hemlock with its flowerettes held in crystalline form, holding it out to me. I took the poisonous thing into my gloved hand, feeling the stalk melt in my fingers. When I looked up, Felix was in close proximity to me. His foggy breath filled the space between us, and I am sure the gaze I fixed him with was one of utmost confusion. He looked down at the frozen ground, then swiftly raised his head and planted his lips on my cheek. My knees locked, and the frozen stem in my hand cracked. He quickly cast his face down again, stepping away. He said he would see me the following day, and scurried off deeper into the Schwarzwald. For once I am at loss for words.
This is a cute fix and I'm eager to see where it goes. One thing to watch out for I think is that, like, this is sounding more like prose instead of journal entries? Especially in that last one. The line "he said he would see me the following day" was particularly distracting. Wouldn't it just be "tomorrow"? Some other word choices seem a bit odd for a journal too, but it could also be that the medic is just an odd kid. Sorry, I don't know how to explain it better.
I think it works, actually. It sounds exactly like the overly-scholarly, socially-awkward child that Medic might have been.
This is indeed quite unlike anything I've seen on the chan before, and so far I'm enjoying it. And yes, the young Medic is writing in a manner I consider very formal and somewhat archaic and I don't mind. I was a bookworm when I was a child, though not to the extent the Medic is - he's after all reading scientific literature while I enjoyed fiction. Still, I'm told I started speaking formally when I got upset.
December 7, 1927 The past two days have filled me with a sensation that I cannot name. I think it is illness. It leaves me dizzy and breathless and sick to my stomach. When my mother asks what is wrong, I tell her that I am tied. Since the moment in the forest, I have not seen Felix. I kept the sprig of hemlock. It sits atop my dresser with its snapped stalk. I find myself wandering around the house, only to discover that I have been carrying it in my fingers the whole time. December 8, 1927 Today I saw Felix again. He walked with me to the Gymnasium. At every possible moment, he would initiate some sort of contact. A brush of his hand, an arm around my shoulder... I hardly know how to react. It makes me fearful. December 10, 1927 I have scoured the library. Every book on socialization, every encyclopedic article. I found a slough of information... Of which only a fragment I can use. I have decided to rule out illness for the time being. Fear, anxiety, friendship: none encompassed it. Friendship then led me to the emotional sphere. Lieb. That was the entry that struck me. It cited a physical response like my own. It sounded correct. The only issue is that leib in the context of the entry was an emotion shared among males to females and vice versa. Perhaps I need to research further.