Writing Exercise: Name Generator

2008-10-27T05:32:56Z

Exercise: Generate names from http://www.behindthename.com/random/, and write an excerpt from these characters' lives.

Casper Godfried & Angus Constantia Honor

Casper is a repentant thief trying to live an honest farmer's life, not realizing that it takes more than an instructional pamphlet to run a farm. He's turned back to stealing, just the bare minimum, just to get by, until he gets a hang of this 'getting up at sunrise to milk the cow' thing. Actually, he'll give the sunrise thing a go first, then ease into the cow. Baby steps.

Angus is an overeager but undeniably skilled healer-in-training. Sent away from the College by annoyed instructors, he's searching for a discreet medicine school that doesn't exist, in a discreet village that doesn't exist. (The College confirmed their lack of existence before sending him to their care for extended traning.) Angus can't pass by someone who could benefit from his medical expertise, and is driven mad by their evident lack of it.

Angus Constantia Honor took the grassy footpath to the northern edge of the village, where the stout houses were few and far between. Angus thought he had left the last house when for three miles beyond he saw no sign of inhabitance, but then a thread of smoke appeared on the horizon. He trudged for a mile more, the grey string becoming a thick black streak as the sun set and the air cooled. He came upon a log cabin, and an ageless man planted on a stump before it, carving pins for a half-finished fence. He had a haunted look about him, like he’d witnessed a ghost once and the blood had never come back to him. His hair was shaven and his skull patched with clumsy scabs. Angus visibly winced, fingers itching for a cotton ball slathered in balm. The man’s skin was grey and moist. He had only a suggestion of eyebrows, an ashy smudge. His mouth was long and pliant-looking, like putty.
Angus’ boots crunched on pebbles and the man’s pinched face swung up, pupils expanding and shrinking until they found a happy medium. His stare was the color of dead grass. He clutched his carving knife in a dirty hand. He said nothing.
Angus nodded politely. Though smoke continued to bellow up from the chimney, he didn’t hear any household sounds from within. Perhaps the man was alone. He slowly lowered his head as he realized Angus meant only to pass by, but a sharp exhalation made him turn back. The man’s knife dropped to the grass. He cradled one hand in the other, and one, or both, were shaking. Blood pooled in his palm. Angus flew to him, throwing his pack aside. He flinched away, Stop!

“Don’t fear,” Angus shouted over him. “I’m nearly a doctor! Knife bite you, did it?” Angus’ hands groped in his pockets, automatically pulling out a stoppered bottle of astringent and a needle and thread. As Angus held the needle in his teeth and threaded it with one hand, he used the other to pry the man’s hands away from each other. There was a gaping slash down his thumb, across the bottom of his palm. “What a beauty,” he whistled. In response, the man shook more, the tremor moving up to his shoulders. “I’m absolute shit at this,” he spat, and lifted up his other hand. A blackened scab cut the palm in half.
“Perhaps you should be a butcher!” Angus harhared, before his mind could shank itself in the leg. The air between them cooled a few degrees. Angus spun the needle between his fingertips and peered at the wound from all angles. It was growing a bit too shadowed to work outside. “Let’s go into the house, I’ll stitch you up. The other hand looks a bit nasty, too. I’ll tend them both for a cup of tea and bite to eat.”
The man pulled his weeping hand away and wrapped it tight in the hem of his too-large shirt. “I have nothing,” he proclaimed, as if he were proud of it. His collarbone jumped against his skin as his chest swelled. “I am a thief who thought he could live clean, and learned he knew nothing about cleanliness.” He gazed manfully into the distance with righteous and frustrated surrender.
Angus had the feeling he’d wanted to unload that proclamation onto someone for a long time, and didn’t know how good he felt about that person being him. Angus pushed the unease aside. There was a wounded man, here. And he knew if he was not allowed to draw the infection out of that older cut by midnight, he’d be tearing his own hair out thinking about it.
“Well, that’s no matter! I’ll tend your hands for a cup of water and a bite of air.”
The man wavered, standing stock-still with his hand pressed tight to his belly like a precious package. For a few suspenseful moments the only sound was the blood creeping into the fibers of the man’s shirt. His shoulders lowered a fraction. “Well, I have got that. I am Casper.”

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Writing Exercise: Name Generator