Subject: Aladin Half Z ('nuff said)
Date: Tue, 17 Sep 1996 20:46:23 -0700
From: "Harold C.Hayes" <hayesman@webspan.net>
To: fanfic@fanfic.com
Author's note:
Hi! It is me. The infamous HAYES. I know I normally think of fanfics
as, y'know like wrong n'stuff. But I just couldn't get this idea out of
my head. I may finish it too.
Aladin 1/2 Z
Prologue
A dark night in the mountains. A caravan has set up camp in a
plain on a platuea. In the distance, a field with many spings is in the
background. The reflection of the moon can be seen in many of the small
pools, each about 4 meters across. Palm trees sprout straight up all
around the pools. The vally is surounded by jagged rocks. The only foot
path leading into it is guarded by two worn statues of demons, left by
some forgotten civilization.
The caravan itself was of a dark nature. It was filled with
brigands. All watching each others' backs, as not to be stabed.
For all there efforts, the only theiving done was from outside.
A mysterious figure grabbed a bag from under the largest tent and ran
into the Oasis of the Damned.
The figure was a mear boy. Not 13 years old. He was dressed
plainly in a vest and worn white pants. A rug served as a cloak to
shield him from the elements.
Pausing by a pool, he rests to make sure no one followed him. No
one did. Resting, he opens the bag to see what is inside.
He uncovers some clothes, rags and other such things, but at the
bottom he discovered something gold...
Holding it in the moonlight, the boy examines it clearly. It is
a brouch shaped like a scarab. Or at least half of one. It was
incomplete, yet it didn't seem to be broken. It was as if it was meant
to be a half of a scarab.
But the boy din't particularly care. It was gold. Even if it
was gold plated, it would feed him for a very long while. The boy put
the scarab back in the pack and started to walk off.
He only traveled a few steps when bumped into someone. The
figure was seven feet tall. He was black against teh night sky. He had
jutting shoulders pointed outward and even more pointed were his ears.
He spoke in a old sepulcral voice.
"Give it back."
The boy froze in fear.
An instant later, the turned the fear to action. He was used to
fighting to keep alive. Some would say he was the finest fighter in
Agrabah. For his age. Surely, he could take down an old man, no matter
how tall he was. Or so he tought.
The boy lunged forward, aiming at the dark figure's midsection.
Before he could hit him, he felt a blast of energy, and was propelled
upward, dropping the cloak and the bag.
The boy found himself in the pool. He tryed to struggle upward,
but he couldn't swim. Hey, he lived in the desert. He tryed to climb up
the sides of the pool, which seemed to strech forever, but it was no use.
The pool seemed to come alive, and had a will of its own. At first the
boy thought the pool was trying to kill him. But the pool knew, as the
boy soon would, that there are things much more sinister than death.
Chapter 1
coming soon.
HAYES:
If I should be caught or killed, I will disavow any knowledge of my
action.