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[N3B]

Prologue – The Temple of Rain

The metal head struck against the rock of the ground, billowing dusty clouds into the Mayan sky. Rusty shovels penetrated the crust of the earth, leveling the terrain. Thirty worked in unison, operated by top-less male natives. The fiery red orb they called “father” lit the sky and burnt its rays onto the backs of the working men.
Upon a nearby hill stood the rulers of their civilization supervising the terrain work. Nine stood in the line discussing the progress of the construction. In the center of the group stood a regal-looking lady garbed with fancy clothes and fitted with jewelry. With a wave of her hand, the head priestess ordered the others away, looks of hatred painted on their faces. Only one remained by her side.
“The temple will take time to be built,” The much older man spoke into the ear of the much younger female.
“Do I care? The temple will be built in four months’ time!”
“But we only have limited workers. At this pace, it would take at least 3 years!” The priest reached a single arm and placed it on the shoulder of the woman. “Chacs…” He started to say, but cut off just as she batted his hand away.
“Do not call me Chacs! Be it my name, it shows nothing of respect. I should have you stoned!” She spun around and met the elderly man eye-to-eye. He backed off and trembled weakly.
“The temple for the gods of rain will be built within four months.”
“But priestess,” He protested. “It’s not possible!”
“Have you forgotten your place, Quetzalo? You are only in the position of power you so crave because I took pity on the beggar at the gates. I made you what you are now, I gave you what little you have, and if I so chose I could take it away! The temple will be completed in four months, and if you aren’t strong enough for the task then I will find someone who is! Now get out of my sight you lazy, god-forsaken wretch!”
Quetzalo stepped back, his noble facade vanished, fear evident in his eyes. “It will be completed on time, most high and noble one.” He then made a hasty retreat before her wrath could grow.
“Worthless fool,” Chacs grunted under breath as she turned toward the work site and began descending the steps to inspect the progress.
She waded through the stench of sweaty laborers, looking down her nose at each one as she passed. Each in turn slowed as she passed in an effort to appear flawless before the priestess.
“Look!” one of the workers exclaimed, prying something from the dirt. The other workers gathered round excitedly, talking eagerly about the find. Chacs, noticing this disturbance from the usual routine, strode over and pushed her way through the crowd to the very center of the commotion. She ordered the others to back away and stop encroaching on her space. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the shimmering object before her, one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.

[N3B]

Chapter 1 ¨C The Train

Flint sighed as he set down his paper and took a long sip of coffee. A five-letter word for a garment beginning with a C¡­ He took a bite of his biscuit and studied his crossword puzzle with a look of interest.
The view out the train window was an incredible stone structure with a large set of steps. The German capital building, most likely. He looked back to his crumb-covered plate and wiped it clean. Frustrated by his inability to make progress on his puzzle, he folded his newspaper and replaced it in his vest pocket.
Glancing around the caf¨¦ car, he surveyed the passengers and tried to guess where they were going. An old man with a paper; going home to his family. A mom with her three screaming kids; moving. A clean cut middle-aged man; on his way to the nearest bar, no they serve alcoholic beverages on the train. A male in his early twenties; a recent college graduate, probably on a vacation like Flint. A French man; buying roses. A beautiful young woman¡­
Flint cut his thought-line short. His girlfriend back home in the states, Lara certainly wouldn¡¯t approve. Yet, she wouldn¡¯t mind just a little flirting¡­
Getting up, he casually moved across the car towards her seat. She was talking to another woman and he listened to their conversation as he approached. Her friend was apparently finishing a joke, he couldn¡¯t quite catch the words, but it sounded like she said ¡°Und dann sie sagt ¡®Da¦Â ist mein Fu¦Â!¡± The other woman burst into laughter
¡°Hello, do you mind if I sit here?¡± he inquired politely as he reached the table.
She looked up and smiled at him shyly. ¡°Ich spreche keinen Englisch. Sprechen Sie duetsch?¡±
He shook his head, ¡°Sorry, my mistake.¡± He quickly moved away, silently cursing himself. You moron, you should have known they wouldn¡¯t speak English! You¡¯re in Germany!

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¡°Hey man, you speak English?¡± came a voice from behind him.
He turned in his place and replied, ¡°Yes, I do, who are you?¡±
¡°My name is Allen,¡± replied the man, ¡°I¡¯m touring Europe. And you?¡±
¡°Me too.¡±
¡°Your name is Allen as well?¡±
¡°No, I¡¯m also touring Europe, my name is Flint, Flint Hoelle.¡±
¡°So are you from America?¡±
¡°Yes, I just graduated from Princeton and I¡¯m taking the summer off before I start work and all that stuff.¡±
¡°Do you have a job yet?¡±
¡°No, but I¡¯ll have plenty of time to find one when I get back to the states.¡±
¡°What do you do?¡±
¡°Mostly sit around reading and eating cookies.¡±
¡°No, I mean for work.¡±
¡°Oh, I¡¯m an engineer.¡±
¡°Oh.¡± There was a brief pause, then Allen broke the silence by inquiring ¡°What does ¡®push¡¯ do?¡±
¡°I beg your pardon?¡± said Flint.
¡°On the wall, it has a button that says push.¡±
¡°Why don¡¯t you push it and find out for yourself?¡±
¡°No, I¡¯d better not, It might be something important.¡±
¡°Well, I¡¯ll see you later.¡±
¡°All right, see you around.¡± Allen walked away.
Flint returned to his seat and turned on the radio. He twisted the dial, and was shocked to find an English news channel.
¡¦And then she says ¡°that is my foot!¡± Ha, ha, anyways up next, Penny Smith talks about sex and violence in modern literature. But first your weather report. Right now we¡¯re enjoying some nice sun with a high of 78¢ª and a low of 65¢ª, but that won¡¯t last long. Heavy storms moving in tomorrow and staying around for the whole week. We¡¯ll have a high of 59¢ª and a low of 47¢ª with wind gusts up to 40 mph. Back after these messages is Penny Smith, this is Berlin news and weather.
He turned off the radio and groaned, what a wonderful forecast for a vacation!
Slouching back in his chair, he slid his hat forward covering up his eyes. He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been onboard the train, but it seemed like an eternity. Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, finding this nearly impossible due to the constant clatter of the car. Just as he was finally beginning to doze off, the train halted in it¡¯s place, people all standing and grabbing for their luggage. It was at the station in Berlin, and several people were outside waiting to get on. Realizing this was his stop, Flint grabbed his single bag that was at his feet, and headed down the aisle towards the door.
He hopped down the set of stairs and found himself on a platform crowded with people. Looking over the crowd he found the exit, and headed that way. He pushed the door open, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. He tried harder, but again, it wouldn¡¯t open. Infuriated with the door, he backed up, and charged at it face-first, and slammed into the door, falling to the ground, his head swelling. In Germany for five minutes and I¡¯m already stuck! He thought to himself, pounding at the door. He turned around and noticed there was a line of people forming behind him, all looking at him like he was a psycho of some sort. One of them spoke to him:
¡°It says ¡®pull¡¯ you idiot!¡± Flint looked back at the door and noticed a large sign to its right, obviously a German word. His cheeks turned bright red with embarrassment as he pulled the door open and exited onto the streets.
Several shop windows were filled with merchandise, all advertising their finest products. A few cars drove around the dirt roads, sending clouds of dust into the sky. The dominant mode of transportation was still horse carriages, however, just like back in America. The streets weren¡¯t too populated; apparently people didn¡¯t shop or travel at this time of day. He pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket and read the time: ¡®4:25¡¯. Looking around the town, he knew just what he wanted to visit, the capital building. He had taken several steps down the sidewalk when he realized that he was still carrying his luggage. There was no way he¡¯d carry that around all day.
I need a hotel of some sort¡¦ he thought to himself, searching the wooden signs hanging from building roofs. A block down the road he found a sign with a cottage and the word ¡°Inn¡± just below the cottage. Imagining this would be a decent hotel, he headed that way, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
As he came to the door, he saw a sign hanging from the inside that looked familiar to the sign back at the train station. Once again reminded of this little mishap, he grabbed the handle and pulled it open, entering into the quaint lobby room. From behind a desk, a woman who appeared to be in her 30¡¯s said:
¡°Hallo! Sprechen Sie Deutsche oder Englisch?¡±
Recognizing only the word ¡°English¡± Flint replied, ¡°English.¡±
She looked down at a notepad and then back at Flint. ¡°Welcome to Sweet Dreams Inn. Would you like to stay for the night?¡± She said, flipping a pen in her fingers.
¡°Well, yes. I¡¯d like to stay for a few days. Would I be able to do that?¡±
¡°Certainly! You will need to fill out these forms for your room first.¡± The clerk handed him a sheet of paper and a pen from under the desk. He began to fill them out, ¡°Name (First initials, last name): F.U.A.Hoelle. Age: 23. Date of Birth (in digits): 4-19-1889¡¦.¡± and so on and so on. Once it was completed, the woman glanced over it, then told him it would cost 8 marks for a 5-night stay. Flint searched about through his pocket that he had earlier filled with about 30 German marks and handed over 8 of them. He wondered if that was a good deal. Without knowing the exchange rate, he couldn¡¯t tell if he was getting ripped-off or paying a decent price, but he didn¡¯t care much at this point. He simply wanted a decent bed to rest on.
¡°Alright, here is your key sir, enjoy your stay at the Sweet Dreams Inn!¡± The clerk handed him a key with ¡°5b¡± printed on it. Taking ¡°5b¡± to be his room number, he headed down the hall into the rooms. Currently, he was in the section for ¡°1¡¯s¡±, and could see the ¡°2¡¯s¡± continuing on down another hallway. He followed various halls until he had reached the ¡°5¡¯s¡±. Two doors down on the left, he found the door with ¡°5b¡± in it. Sticking the key into the doorknob, he twisted it and kicked the door open. The door swung into a small room with two beds, three chairs, and a dining table. Not too fancy, but it¡¯d work for him. He threw his duffel bag onto the floor and flopped onto the bed.

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* * *

Flint awoke in his bed, lying face-first against the pillow. He sat upright, stretched his arms out, and wiped the drool from his mouth. Throwing the covers out of his way, he checked his pocket watch. The time was “6:30”, still some time left to tour around the immediate vicinity. Grabbing the key he had placed on the table and straightening his vest over his white dress-shirt, he headed out the door, locking it as he went.
More of the population was out now than the last time he had been here. This must be more towards the peak time of day. He looked around for something of interest, and his eyes fell upon a large building only a few blocks away. He turned and headed towards it, his pace quickening as he approached.
He found himself at the foot of a large set of steps that led up to the capital building. He couldn’t see much from his current position, so he headed up the stairs and found a tour guide with a line forming in front of her. Casually filing in at the back of the line, Flint found himself in a group of eight; three young women, two older men, a couple a few years older than him, and their baby. No one else showed after himself, and the tour was about to start anyways.
“Guten Abend! Ich heiâe Tonya. Ich bin deinen Fremdenfûhrerin! Komm mit!”
Flint hadn’t a clue what she was saying, but the line was moving on inside the building, so he followed them inside, bringing up the rear. The first room was really big, with a red velvet carpeting on the floor. Several pictures hung from the walls, most likely politicians. There was a large staircase in the center, which was closed off by rope and a sign which probably read something along the lines of “No entry beyond this point”. To either side, there were hallways, both leading to other rooms. The tour guide said something about the room and continued on to the left.
The next room had a large table in the center, with about 20 chairs around it. This was probably a meeting room of some sort. Against the far wall was a fireplace burning and cackling as the group walked through. Again, the tour guide stopped the line and said a few sentences and asked some questions. Flint wasn’t too impressed with the building so far.
Eventually after 45 minutes, Flint was growing quite tired of the tour. He supposed it would be more interesting if he could understand what was being said. Luckily however, the tour ended and he was able to return to the streets in hopes of more interesting activities. He wandered about the narrow sidewalks of the streets, looking through large windows and bright-colored signs. Nothing seemed too exciting; it was all grocery stores, barber shops, and hardware stores. Every now and then he’d walk past a hobby store or a monument dedicated to some important person. None of these particularly interested him.
Towards the end of the street, where “Hauptstraâe” met with “Marktstraâe”, he found a small pawn shop with big pieces of gold and jewelry displayed in the window. Glancing in, people were moving about observing the fine-crafted necklaces and wristbands. Obviously the store was open. He walked a few feet past the window and entered the shop.
The store was small, and rather quaint; no windows other than the main display window up front, and only a few shelves for items. Only the most common and priceless products were kept here, what everyone was interested in was in a glass display case next to the cash register. He kept to himself for the most part, finding slight interest in the items stored on the shelves. Books were lined up on the shelves cover-to-cover, with little trinkets and such surrounding them. He couldn’t quite figure out what one was for, as it was only a circular piece of metal with a string coming out of it.
Checking behind him, Flint decided to see what everyone else was interested in. Walking through the small isles of shelves, he got to the glass case and peered inside it from behind two older women. Both of them seemed to have their eye on a certain necklace centered in the middle with big red rubies on it. He obviously had no care for anything of this sort, as he didn’t care much for jewelry. Though, Lara would most likely appreciate a souvenir from his trip. Glancing around for something with silver and blue, Lara’s favorite colors, he managed to find a silver bracelet with sapphires along the edges. That was what she would like. He motioned for the clerk that he was ready to purchase, but was only met with confusing German words and useless body language. Apparently most common Germans didn’t know English, since they really had no need to. For the most part, only the politicians and tourist stops employees knew any English.
After a few minutes of charades they finally managed to exchange nearly all of the remainder of Flint’s German Marks for the silver sapphire-embedded wristband. Satisfied with his purchase, he left the pawn shop and started heading back to his hotel room.

[N3B]

i just noticed, alot of the symbols are messed up... but i am not taking the time to fix every single one of them, so, you all will just have to figure it out yourselves

[N3B]

added a bit recently:

A cool air swept through the streets of the town, sending chills up Flint’s spine. He adjusted his vest, trying to make it more wind-resistant, but failed. He folded his arms together and hunched over slightly, this was the best way he could break the cold wind biting at his body. He found shelter under an awning, where the force of the wind was not quite as strong, where he sat for a few minutes checking the streets for his hotel. None of the signs he could see had the quaint little cottage on it; the only way he could tell which building was the hotel.
Standing up, he checked further on down the streets, but still couldn’t see it. Great, now I’ve gotten myself lost. Public embarrassment, and lost all in the first day here! He decided he’d brave the cold winds to explore further around the block, continuing on down the sidewalk. The air was humid, and wet. His clothes were covered in a thin layer of precipitation, as rain pelted the ground around him.


^^ Leinad has been slacking in writing, so, i'm going to have to take full credit for this novel if he never does anything ^^

*tra la la*

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finally got inspired to continue writing it. i'll post what i've added tomorrow.

[N3B]

aha! i've demoted leinad to "editor", rather than co-author.

i've written like 6 more pages, versus his 2 paragraphs. i'll host it on the net as a downloadable/viewable word document, since the format gets severely mangled in message boards.

[N3B]

home.ripway.com/2003-11/40397/Story/DanielandNick-storynet.doc

that's to get the story in word. it ends abrutply, in the middle of a sentance. leinad was supposed to finish, but didn't...