posted on Mar, 30 2017 @ 10:28 AM
Hello again everyone.
I was looking through some of my files and came across something I had written over a year ago when I first joined the Shed.
Not everything I write makes into my stories.
I had written this scene early in Errollorres adventures and decided not to use it.
In this scene he speaks his native language "palindrome."
I didn't use it for a couple of reasons.
It didn't really advance the story.
I didn't think everyone would "get" that he was speaking in palindomes and it wouldn't make sense.
But I thought you might find it amusing and interesting to see what doesn't make the cut.
So here is a cut scene from "The Adventures of Errollorre."
It hadn’t rained on the small magical village of Sun Valley in centuries.
But on this day lightning illuminated thick black clouds pouring an ocean of heavy cold rain down on the now muddy streets of the town.
A lone stranger walked slowly into the village wrapped in a drenched woolen overcoat with his boots sinking deep into the muddy road with each
It was Errollorre of the Palindromes.
The pain of the many bruises he had received at the hands, feet, teeth, tails, and hooves of the angry enchanted beings he had encountered, was
beginning to fade.
Errollorre heard voices and laughter coming from behind the doors of one of the unusual multicolored buildings that lined the small town.
It was the Last Stop Inn.
The soaked Errollorre headed for the inn with a sucking sound coming from his boots as he walked out of the mud. He pushed open the door and entered
Elves, Gnomes, Brownies and many other beings sat drinking and eating at tables in a large room.
A large stone fireplace at the far end of the room gave off warmth and flickering light to add to this welcoming scene.
Silence suddenly fell upon the room as all eyes turned to gaze upon this oozing wet mess that had entered the inn.
Errollorre was about to speak when suddenly he was hit in the face by a large wet rag.
“What be wrong with ye?” yelled the innkeeper from behind the counter.
“Clean up those mud prints you dragged in here! I run a neat and proper establishment.”
Errollorre got down on his hands and knees and began to try to wipe up his muddy footprints from the wooden floor.
All he managed to do was smear the mud over a larger area.
Water continued to drip from Errollorre’s clothes forming an increasingly large puddle on the wooden floor.
“Oh by the stars!” yelled the exasperated innkeeper. “Drako! Dry this stranger off!”
All in the room turned to look at a corner of the room where a large scaly figure lay sleeping.
Drako was a young dragon not yet close to full size, but still large enough to barely fit in the room.
“Just heat Drako, no fire.” said the innkeeper. “I don’t want to have to clean up smoldering ash today.”
Errollorre rose and stood still.
The ceiling of the inn had to be taller than seven men, but Drako had to bend so as to not bump the roof with his head.
The dragon lowered its face to the same level as Errollorre.
It’s could easily swallow Errollorre in one bite. Perhaps two.
Errollorre looked into the dragon's eyes. He thought he saw mischief there.
Lights and fire could also be seen in the dragon’s eyes.
Drako open his mouth. Errollorre beheld rows and rows of giant razor teeth.
A large serpent tongue that could stretch across the room laid in the dragon’s mouth like a coiled whip ready to crack.
Errollorre could see in the back of the dragon’s mouth an orange glow that grew brighter, and redder and warmer!
Then the dragon let out a gust of air.
It was if someone had opened the doors to a great furnace used to melt steel.
The superheated breath of the dragon dried the wet mud on Errollorre’s clothes into pottery.
Then the pottery became brittle,cracked and shattered into dust that fell to the floor.
Every fiber of Errollorre’s clothes was dried as if it had been sitting in the desert sun for years.
Errollorre felt the heat of the dragon’s breath burning down through his skin until it seemed that his very bones might soon ignite like
The Drako the dragon stopped. He looked at Errollorre.
Then he yawned and went back to his corner and fell asleep.
Errollore looked down at his freshly baked clothes. His skin now had a deep dark tan.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a polished mug sitting on a nearby table.
He noticed small wisps of smoke rising from his eyebrows.
Errollorre looked at everyone staring at him in the silent room. The he put his hands on on his hips, threw his head back, and let out a hearty
The innkeeper began to laugh. Then the whole gathering of enchanted beings because to roar with laughter.
“Come me lad,” laughed the innkeeper, “sit down, have a drink and tell me you troubles.”
“We’ll sweep up that dust from your baking later. Where do you come from stranger? And where be your going?”
“War-distended nets I draw.”, said Errollorre. “What??” asked the innkeeper.
“No. I save on final perusal, a sure plan if no evasion.” said Errollorre.
“Oh my”, said the innkeeper, “we’ve let a looney into the inn.”
“Mad? Am I, madam?” exclaimed Errollorre.
“Wake the dragon”, yelled the innkeeper, “I think we might have one to cook!”
Suddenly Errollorre realized what was happening.
“Oh no, wait!” said Errollorre. “Forgive me. Out of habit I was speaking in my native tongue, Palimdromese.”
“I sometimes forget when away from Palindrome I must speak in one way speech.”
The innkeeper looked at Errollorre with slightly less contempt. “Your speech is not any more impressive when I understand you.” said the
innkeeper. “Now state your business.”
“I am Errollorre of the Palindrones. I have come from distant lands on a quest of utmost importance. I seek that which will set the balance of my
life right again.
But to do that I must find a place that has the object of my quest.
The place I seek is called “The Shed”.
edit on 30-3-2017 by Errollorre because: I didn't know how to spell Errollorre yet back then.
edit on 30-3-2017 by Errollorre
because: (no reason given)