Archkeeper
Char approached the honeycomb-covered door with a mixture of feeling. Trepidation. Excitement. Doubt. All of their efforts had led to this moment—the discovery of the hive and the secrets that lay within. In truth, it was a narratist’s greatest nightmare; Char had become a part of the story they were supposed to be telling. A narratist told stories; they didn’t exist within them. But, there Char stood, ready to cross the threshold into the place of milk and honey.
Shedding their identity as a narratist, Char lifted up their hand and pushed the honeycomb hexagon in. The door depressed and slid apart. Char entered the hive. Char expected a grand foyer, with flying buttresses holding up the roof of the hive and art across all of the walls. The Archhive, after all, had begun as an art movement. But before them was only a long tunnel, drilled into the mountain that surrounded the hive gate. The floor wasn’t stone, though; a hexagon pattern of black and yellow disappeared into the darkness in the distance.
A cloaked figured walked toward them, almost as if they glided over the black and yellow floor. The flickering lights—lights that were literal flame, which surprised Char, since fire was such an archaic form to light something—made shadows dance.
Acting more courageously than they felt, Char asked, "Who are you?"
"I am the Archkeeper of the Arch-Hive,” the cloaked figure said. ”We are an underground collective of artists who see Mormonism for what it is and can be. Welcome."
Char thought for a moment about that phrase—for what it is and can be. The Archkeeper could've said what it really is, signifying knowledge more than others, or what it was, which would signify a look to the past, or said for what it could be, noting a future potentiality, but instead, the present tense haunted the sentence to not be missed. What it is. I am. What it can be—now. Present, not past or future.
“What has brought you here?” the Archkeeper asked.
“I am a narratist. I tell stories.”
“You are not.”
Startled by the abrupt dismissal of their occupation, Char took a step back.
“Follow me, Charnevellious Lacar, we have much to discuss. About you. About narrative. About story. And about the hive.”
The hive gate shut behind them, and so there was only one way to go: forward.
I am participating in #Archtober from the ARCH-HIVE. They challenged creators to create something every day, or every other day, for the month of October and base it on a theme. I’m free writing for 30 minutes every two days based on the two-day schematic and theme rules they’ve established. So, the writing will probably not be super coherent, but it’ll be fun.
Archtober has been a lot of fun to participate in. Even though small, written snippets aren’t the norm for this type of thing, it really helped me consider ideas and continue to develop a habit of writing. It’s amazing what can be produced if a timer is set and everything else is turned off. Now that I’ve developed this world of Golden Deseret, I’m really excited to dive into it and develop a novel during NaNoWriMo. Onward, friends, onward.
