Preface: I've written this countless times, snippets here, summaries there, told, and retold the story to those few who were kind enough to lend an ear. In the end, however, I would present the one piece that was the beginning of Silas. The beginning of a story if oft though to be the most vital component, both to set the scene and emotions, and reel in a reader. I had oft thought about this story but didn't proceed with in fear of a Bad Start.
It wasn't until high school that I first shared my ball of yarn, and still many years later was it still a fable I weave and spin. Given how much time has passed one would think that I'd have polished it more, but no. Unwise it may be, but being the sentimental and cowardly sort, I held on to the grain that I still hope will become a pearl, though too afraid am I to apply the layers upon layers that is what makes a pearl exactly that.
But still, I want the reader to see exactly where it all began. My novice hand that tapped away at the keys, the naive perspective of my writing and how it develops. As compromise, I present you the original start of Welcome to Insanity, rewritten but plot unchanged, with my still developing style.
(That being said I did tweak it a bit. Maybe more than a little bit.)
Welcome to Insanity: Prologue
Part 1: Bad Start
Part 1: Bad Start
Grey clouds roared their might in brief flashes before letting out. A fine mist had spread over the rustic suburban city and the streets were still and quiet with the exception of a few bakeries of whom were just beginning to fire up their ovens, columns of steam and smoke rising from their chimneys and vents as a savory aroma filled the shops and streets.
On the 2nd floor overlooking a majority of the quiet town was a figure sitting in the alcove, so still it seemed slumber had overtaken them. But such peace couldn't be farther from the truth, and tranquility was far beyond his reach.
Silas scowled and turned his jaded glare to rest on the city that was slowly rousing. The sprinkle had turned to a downpour. Shaking his head he wheeled himself away from his cozy spot by the alcove. There was much he had seen, much more he had done, and still more that he tried. To say the man was tired was wholly an understatement. On his last legs, he had retired to a life of solitude, a serenity he longed for but seemed all but out of reach.
He pulled on an odd brace of sorts, their binding and form not unlike that of a prosthetic though appeared of custom design. A metal cage that relieved him of pain by ironically bringing him more of it. Still, it was a worthwhile exchange for the freedom they both inhibited, and granted.
Giving them a once-over he nodded to himself, reassured of their stability, and climbed to his feet gingerly. With the same care did he test his footing. Finding it satisfactory he continued down the stairs, leaning heavily on the handrails. A wry chuckle escaped him, bitter and belying of something much darker. For all his appearances, the towering height and broad shoulders contrasted by narrowed eyes and a sharp brow painted an intimidating picture, he was anything but. A picture of strength that hid the true frailty of his corporeal form.
A sigh of relief left him as he reached the end of the staircase. The morning had scarce begun and already he was worn. Nonetheless he fired up the ovens, started the roast, and boiled water for tea. Silas set up the various knickknacks on the ground floor, watered the indoor plants, flicked on the firefly lights, set up the tables and beanbag chairs, switch on the power strips for those who were tied to their techs, and other small tasks of sorts.
The ovens had finished preheating and his large hands were soon buried deep in the pliable beige lump of dough. Deft hands kneaded, pulling and folding what would soon be sourdough bread rolls. It was a new item on the menu, but clam chowder bread bowls scarcely went wrong, and Silas had much faith in this "monthly special". As that was set to bake he pulled yet another tray off the counter where it had set aside half an hour earlier when he had taken it out of the fridge to reach room temperature. On it were an assortment of dainty danishes, custard or chocolate tarts, and some egg custards that had been prepared the night before.
Silas scanned the ovens and found the one he was looking for. Double checking the temperature and timer, he gave a satisfactory nod and slid the tray into the oven. Just one last chore. He unlocked the shop door and flipped a small wooden sign to "Open".
With that he pulled a kitchen stool over and settled behind the counter with a book in hand and fresh mug of tea within easy reach, though not before going through the fridge for a last inventory check. He was a thorough man in his work.
The storm took a turn for the worse, the already heavy downpour accompanied by thunderclap was likely to turn away any customers this morning. The street outside was deserted, save, for the stray umbrella, bustling down the sidewalk as its holder sought shelter. Silas glanced up from where he was arranging pastries and frowned lightly. sliding the gloves off his hands and hanging them on a hook under the counter.
Just as the pâtissier made to stand and flip the "Open" sign back to "Closed", there was a familiar crescendo tinkling, the chime a small set of crystal bells that hung above the doorway to signal the coming of a customer.
Silas turned, a charming smile resting easily on his visage as he greeted them, "Welcome to the Tea Shop, what will be your 'cup of tea' today?"
White hair poked out from under the hood and idly Silas wondered if it was one of the elderly residents a block or two down given the hunch and short stature, though it struck him as odd that they would come out in such weather. True to that thought, the customer shook off some of the water from their coat, and lowered their hood to reveal not a senior, but a round and childish face that for some could be reasoned to be of boyish charm. Their eyes met as the albino straightened up, recognition coloring their eyes with a mild and mutual surprise. Odd eyes blinked at him as their owner gaped before throwing on an amicable smile and extending a hand towards him, "Oh, you're Silas right? You came as a presenter for my Food Sciences class!"
Smiling, he took his hand and turned his own so it was resting atop, "Yes, but for the next 14 hours I'll be your barista and server." The pâtissier dipped his head in a slight but nonetheless dramatic bow, raising the albino's hands higher and earning jovial laughter.
Despite the light-hearted jest and affable conversation, the pâtissier was anything but amicable during the after hours. Something he was almost certain the other had observed. But whatever the other thought of him outside of work, he was pleased to keep outside, and remained easy-going as he returned his smile in full. And the pâtissier had no qualms. He loathed those who could little define the boundaries of work and personal.
A small glint around the others neck drew his gaze and Silas glimpsed an odd trinket. Dangling around his neck and safely beneath the layers of his clothes and hanging on a thin but sturdy necklace was a heavy gold ring of twin entwined dragons, their eyes glistening emeralds and a smoldering ruby in their mouths. The craftsmanship of the ring was masterful, and as if pulled in by them, he leaned closer, obsidian shades slipped as he tilted his head to peer at the dragons that were so jealously guarding their respective rubies.
"W-well.", The albino stammered, flustered, and whether consciously or not, clenched at the zipper line, hiding the ring within the folds of his coat and away from prying eyes, "The wintergreen mint hot chocolate."
Silas started and taking in the other's flustered appearance, gave a nod, releasing the albino's hand almost brusquely to push his shades up--when had they slipped?--and setting about his business as barista while the albino hurriedly left to find himself a seat.
Once out of earshot, he let out a low mirthful laugh.
At least his acquaintance would be young forever he grinned.
But what an oddity it was. Rarely did one as grounded as him fall into so heavy a daze as he did then. Even with his restlessness in sleep, it wasn't often that he found himself so far removed from reality.
Something about the ring had called to him, beautifully crafted as it was. But he shook off the stray thoughts. There was work to do.
Measuring out the cocoa powder, milk, and mint syrup, he heated and mixed the concoction together and finished with a frothy cream top, garnishing that with a sprig of mint. Seeing as his customer had made himself at home in a hammock and encased by the soft multicolored glow of the 5-headed floor lamp, headphones firmly clasped over his ears, he took it upon himself to bring the takeout cup over to him. It scene itself brought to mind a strong impression of a child, one that he found (albeit grudgingly) endearing.
A soft muted tune of some foreign language greeted him as he approached. As the albino seemed absorbed by his book, he set it on the table side, slipping a coaster underneath and made to return to his post. But a tug on his sleeve stopped him and he stared down at the heterochromia eyes that stared curiously back at his own.
Their owner broke out in a wide grin of pearly whites, "Thanks Silas!"
The barista blinked, trying to wipe the burn of the after image from the other's overly bright smile.
The morning passed with the typical mundanity thereafter with the usual morning rush and customers coming and going. Silas drifted through the day without truly attending, smiling as the regulars came and went, the occasional office worker on break, those here a prime interview location or project, some other outing, and such events. The afternoon was spent similarly leaning against the counter and appealing to his younger customers by returning the ogling stares of some middle and high school students with a curt nod and gentlemanly smile. They smiled and peered up bashfully at him as he waved in their general direction.
Eventually the crowds died down, children returned home, and business was coming to a lull. With a quiet sigh he stretched and walked to the front, flipping the sign to "Closed". As he turned back, it was to his amazement that the albino from earlier was still in the hammock, leafing through his book and humming softly.
Briefly he considered shooing the boy out, but seeing him there lost in his own world gave him pause. Wordlessly, he started up the electric kettle and crafted another hot chocolate.
The albino perked as he approached, boyish face peering up at him, "You have refills?"
Silas scoffed and shook his head as he set the new cup beside him.
Finally glancing around, he mouthed out an "oh" and apologized profusely, "Didn't realize it was after hours! I'll be on my way."
Silas stopped him with a shrug and gestured towards the broom already in hand. He doubted that anyone could hear through the thick closed headphones he was wearing, if his own AKGs said anything. They were the same model after all.
Twisting to look at what he was pointing to, the boy nodded as understanding dawned on him. The store was in the midst of closing. As he turned back a 'thank you' on the tip of his tongue, he balked. Silas had already gone back to going about his business, sweeping under tables and cleaning up after abandoned cups and napkins. Smiling at the pâtissier's back, he snuggled back into the hammock to read.
As his cleaning drew to a close, Silas groaned softly and straightened out, stretching his arms and back. He glanced back at the child in the corner, but his worry was needless, for already he was packing up. Idly he noted the origami book corner he used to mark his page. Did he make that himself?
"Thanks for the cocoa!" he flashed him the same blinding smile and to his pleasant surprise, dropped a generous bill into a venus flytrap shaped tip jar. The mouth of the plant slammed firmly shut around the bill with a satisfying snap, clamping it straight out of the air before slowly releasing and leaving it to flutter into its bowels. Silas watched his horrified expression and almost laughed.
Note: Admittedly my mind was not altogether here during the writing process. Rewriting previous works is not a forte of mine, still it was a much needed update from the writing of my younger self and an improvement nonetheless.
On the 2nd floor overlooking a majority of the quiet town was a figure sitting in the alcove, so still it seemed slumber had overtaken them. But such peace couldn't be farther from the truth, and tranquility was far beyond his reach.
Silas scowled and turned his jaded glare to rest on the city that was slowly rousing. The sprinkle had turned to a downpour. Shaking his head he wheeled himself away from his cozy spot by the alcove. There was much he had seen, much more he had done, and still more that he tried. To say the man was tired was wholly an understatement. On his last legs, he had retired to a life of solitude, a serenity he longed for but seemed all but out of reach.
He pulled on an odd brace of sorts, their binding and form not unlike that of a prosthetic though appeared of custom design. A metal cage that relieved him of pain by ironically bringing him more of it. Still, it was a worthwhile exchange for the freedom they both inhibited, and granted.
Giving them a once-over he nodded to himself, reassured of their stability, and climbed to his feet gingerly. With the same care did he test his footing. Finding it satisfactory he continued down the stairs, leaning heavily on the handrails. A wry chuckle escaped him, bitter and belying of something much darker. For all his appearances, the towering height and broad shoulders contrasted by narrowed eyes and a sharp brow painted an intimidating picture, he was anything but. A picture of strength that hid the true frailty of his corporeal form.
A sigh of relief left him as he reached the end of the staircase. The morning had scarce begun and already he was worn. Nonetheless he fired up the ovens, started the roast, and boiled water for tea. Silas set up the various knickknacks on the ground floor, watered the indoor plants, flicked on the firefly lights, set up the tables and beanbag chairs, switch on the power strips for those who were tied to their techs, and other small tasks of sorts.
The ovens had finished preheating and his large hands were soon buried deep in the pliable beige lump of dough. Deft hands kneaded, pulling and folding what would soon be sourdough bread rolls. It was a new item on the menu, but clam chowder bread bowls scarcely went wrong, and Silas had much faith in this "monthly special". As that was set to bake he pulled yet another tray off the counter where it had set aside half an hour earlier when he had taken it out of the fridge to reach room temperature. On it were an assortment of dainty danishes, custard or chocolate tarts, and some egg custards that had been prepared the night before.
Silas scanned the ovens and found the one he was looking for. Double checking the temperature and timer, he gave a satisfactory nod and slid the tray into the oven. Just one last chore. He unlocked the shop door and flipped a small wooden sign to "Open".
With that he pulled a kitchen stool over and settled behind the counter with a book in hand and fresh mug of tea within easy reach, though not before going through the fridge for a last inventory check. He was a thorough man in his work.
The storm took a turn for the worse, the already heavy downpour accompanied by thunderclap was likely to turn away any customers this morning. The street outside was deserted, save, for the stray umbrella, bustling down the sidewalk as its holder sought shelter. Silas glanced up from where he was arranging pastries and frowned lightly. sliding the gloves off his hands and hanging them on a hook under the counter.
Just as the pâtissier made to stand and flip the "Open" sign back to "Closed", there was a familiar crescendo tinkling, the chime a small set of crystal bells that hung above the doorway to signal the coming of a customer.
Silas turned, a charming smile resting easily on his visage as he greeted them, "Welcome to the Tea Shop, what will be your 'cup of tea' today?"
White hair poked out from under the hood and idly Silas wondered if it was one of the elderly residents a block or two down given the hunch and short stature, though it struck him as odd that they would come out in such weather. True to that thought, the customer shook off some of the water from their coat, and lowered their hood to reveal not a senior, but a round and childish face that for some could be reasoned to be of boyish charm. Their eyes met as the albino straightened up, recognition coloring their eyes with a mild and mutual surprise. Odd eyes blinked at him as their owner gaped before throwing on an amicable smile and extending a hand towards him, "Oh, you're Silas right? You came as a presenter for my Food Sciences class!"
Smiling, he took his hand and turned his own so it was resting atop, "Yes, but for the next 14 hours I'll be your barista and server." The pâtissier dipped his head in a slight but nonetheless dramatic bow, raising the albino's hands higher and earning jovial laughter.
A small glint around the others neck drew his gaze and Silas glimpsed an odd trinket. Dangling around his neck and safely beneath the layers of his clothes and hanging on a thin but sturdy necklace was a heavy gold ring of twin entwined dragons, their eyes glistening emeralds and a smoldering ruby in their mouths. The craftsmanship of the ring was masterful, and as if pulled in by them, he leaned closer, obsidian shades slipped as he tilted his head to peer at the dragons that were so jealously guarding their respective rubies.
"W-well.", The albino stammered, flustered, and whether consciously or not, clenched at the zipper line, hiding the ring within the folds of his coat and away from prying eyes, "The wintergreen mint hot chocolate."
Silas started and taking in the other's flustered appearance, gave a nod, releasing the albino's hand almost brusquely to push his shades up--when had they slipped?--and setting about his business as barista while the albino hurriedly left to find himself a seat.
Once out of earshot, he let out a low mirthful laugh.
"The rate at which a person can mature is directly proportional to the embarrassment he can tolerate." --Douglas Engelbart.
At least his acquaintance would be young forever he grinned.
But what an oddity it was. Rarely did one as grounded as him fall into so heavy a daze as he did then. Even with his restlessness in sleep, it wasn't often that he found himself so far removed from reality.
Something about the ring had called to him, beautifully crafted as it was. But he shook off the stray thoughts. There was work to do.
Measuring out the cocoa powder, milk, and mint syrup, he heated and mixed the concoction together and finished with a frothy cream top, garnishing that with a sprig of mint. Seeing as his customer had made himself at home in a hammock and encased by the soft multicolored glow of the 5-headed floor lamp, headphones firmly clasped over his ears, he took it upon himself to bring the takeout cup over to him. It scene itself brought to mind a strong impression of a child, one that he found (albeit grudgingly) endearing.
A soft muted tune of some foreign language greeted him as he approached. As the albino seemed absorbed by his book, he set it on the table side, slipping a coaster underneath and made to return to his post. But a tug on his sleeve stopped him and he stared down at the heterochromia eyes that stared curiously back at his own.
Their owner broke out in a wide grin of pearly whites, "Thanks Silas!"
The barista blinked, trying to wipe the burn of the after image from the other's overly bright smile.
The morning passed with the typical mundanity thereafter with the usual morning rush and customers coming and going. Silas drifted through the day without truly attending, smiling as the regulars came and went, the occasional office worker on break, those here a prime interview location or project, some other outing, and such events. The afternoon was spent similarly leaning against the counter and appealing to his younger customers by returning the ogling stares of some middle and high school students with a curt nod and gentlemanly smile. They smiled and peered up bashfully at him as he waved in their general direction.
Eventually the crowds died down, children returned home, and business was coming to a lull. With a quiet sigh he stretched and walked to the front, flipping the sign to "Closed". As he turned back, it was to his amazement that the albino from earlier was still in the hammock, leafing through his book and humming softly.
Briefly he considered shooing the boy out, but seeing him there lost in his own world gave him pause. Wordlessly, he started up the electric kettle and crafted another hot chocolate.
The albino perked as he approached, boyish face peering up at him, "You have refills?"
Silas scoffed and shook his head as he set the new cup beside him.
Finally glancing around, he mouthed out an "oh" and apologized profusely, "Didn't realize it was after hours! I'll be on my way."
Silas stopped him with a shrug and gestured towards the broom already in hand. He doubted that anyone could hear through the thick closed headphones he was wearing, if his own AKGs said anything. They were the same model after all.
Twisting to look at what he was pointing to, the boy nodded as understanding dawned on him. The store was in the midst of closing. As he turned back a 'thank you' on the tip of his tongue, he balked. Silas had already gone back to going about his business, sweeping under tables and cleaning up after abandoned cups and napkins. Smiling at the pâtissier's back, he snuggled back into the hammock to read.
As his cleaning drew to a close, Silas groaned softly and straightened out, stretching his arms and back. He glanced back at the child in the corner, but his worry was needless, for already he was packing up. Idly he noted the origami book corner he used to mark his page. Did he make that himself?
"Thanks for the cocoa!" he flashed him the same blinding smile and to his pleasant surprise, dropped a generous bill into a venus flytrap shaped tip jar. The mouth of the plant slammed firmly shut around the bill with a satisfying snap, clamping it straight out of the air before slowly releasing and leaving it to flutter into its bowels. Silas watched his horrified expression and almost laughed.
Note: Admittedly my mind was not altogether here during the writing process. Rewriting previous works is not a forte of mine, still it was a much needed update from the writing of my younger self and an improvement nonetheless.
Doubtlessly I will return to nitpick on this piece, make amends with the old storyline, touch up on wording and sentence structure, and the like. For now though I would put it up for the time being.
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