There's an hour and a half to go. I finished all my preliminary writing(nice treats to be posted in the week following NaNo), and I'm just waiting for midnight now.
So I'm going to list all the writers/directors who I took inspiration from for this novel, in no particular order: Robert Jordan(RIP), Anne Rice, Yoshitoshi aBe, Carol Berg, Neil Gaiman, CS Freidman, and others I'm sure who I've forgotten. All of them have done some incredible work, and in some way or another I've ripped ideas off of all of them. Sorry.
So I'm trying to get in the NaNoWriMo irc chatroom. And the servers are lagging like hell. It's no fun. :(
I'll probably post again later shortly before 12. Until then, adios!
T - 11 days, 12 hours, 26 minutes and counting...
Well, when I put it that way it seems so far away. :(
Anyway, NaNoWriMo is right around the corner. I'm getting pretty excited, and keep catching myself wandering around grinning at one of my ideas. I'm sure this is off-putting for the rest of the population, but I really don't care about them.
I've been participating in the KiwiWriters pre-NaNo challenges(even though I'm not from New Zealand...lots of us migrated from NaNo boards though, so I'm not the only one), and I think they've helped me by forcing me to at least write down a general idea of what's going on, and by getting some backstory straight. As you can see, I've published 3 of the short stories I wrote, and I'll put the other 2 up as well as the longer 5k-word piece in December. Because nobody likes spoilers.
I got a work shift changed to handle some nastiness at school, and I now have a lunch break on Saturdays, so I bet I'll be spending that time writing. Take 5 minutes to shove down a sandwich, then just bang away on the keyboard for 25 more minutes. Only problem would be if I have to kill a character, they I'd be an absolute wreck while I'm trying to work the circulation desk or something. Oh well, writing trumps all.
November 1st is a Thursday this year. My plan for the day is to stay up lateish(maybe 1:30 am, tops), then go to bed, wake up, go to comp sci class, and sit in the back and write for an hour and thirty minutes. Then go to latin class and not be able to write at all, write some during my 30 minute break, then go to lab, and finally get back home and be able to work again! Isn't school so lovely? I'm glad that it's my short day, though.
See you all in November, unless I get bored and find something else to ramble about prior to then!
Anyway, NaNoWriMo is right around the corner. I'm getting pretty excited, and keep catching myself wandering around grinning at one of my ideas. I'm sure this is off-putting for the rest of the population, but I really don't care about them.
I've been participating in the KiwiWriters pre-NaNo challenges(even though I'm not from New Zealand...lots of us migrated from NaNo boards though, so I'm not the only one), and I think they've helped me by forcing me to at least write down a general idea of what's going on, and by getting some backstory straight. As you can see, I've published 3 of the short stories I wrote, and I'll put the other 2 up as well as the longer 5k-word piece in December. Because nobody likes spoilers.
I got a work shift changed to handle some nastiness at school, and I now have a lunch break on Saturdays, so I bet I'll be spending that time writing. Take 5 minutes to shove down a sandwich, then just bang away on the keyboard for 25 more minutes. Only problem would be if I have to kill a character, they I'd be an absolute wreck while I'm trying to work the circulation desk or something. Oh well, writing trumps all.
November 1st is a Thursday this year. My plan for the day is to stay up lateish(maybe 1:30 am, tops), then go to bed, wake up, go to comp sci class, and sit in the back and write for an hour and thirty minutes. Then go to latin class and not be able to write at all, write some during my 30 minute break, then go to lab, and finally get back home and be able to work again! Isn't school so lovely? I'm glad that it's my short day, though.
See you all in November, unless I get bored and find something else to ramble about prior to then!
SS: Inexplicable Decisions
“I still don't know why he picked you.”
My mother's voice echoed in my head as I navigated the hills and turns leading to my apartment. I kept an anxious ear out for any sign of distress from the baby – my brother's baby – in the backseat, but she sounded like she was sleeping. I tried to sneak a glance using the rear view mirror, but couldn't see, so I craned my neck around my seat. Irritatingly, I had chosen to seat her directly behind me – something I need to learn not to do – so I couldn't see. I craned my neck a bit farther, and caught a glimpse of the infant happily sleeping. I turned around to face the road again, just in time to watch myself veer into the opposite lane. Jesus. I wrenched the wheel around and drove back into the proper lane. This was going to take some getting used to.
My brother and his wife had died two months ago in a skydiving accident. Since both he and his wife were in the military, he'd left instructions as to what would happen to his property if he died unexpectedly. His monetary assets were split evenly among his parents and siblings, his property was given to his parents, and any children he might have went to me. Yeah, me, his kid brother, just a few years out of college. As my mother had wondered, why had he chosen me? We hadn't been very close while he was still at home, and we'd only grown more distant once he went to the academy.
It was a shock to everybody when I had been named as the guardian of any children he might have. Most had assumed it would be one of the grandparents, but instead it was me. There wasn't any reason why I couldn't take Elizabeth, so the executor of the will had decided it would be best to honor his request, odd as it was. So, here I was, on the last leg of my trip back home with a new responsibility that I wasn't fully sure I was ready for.
I took a deep breath as I flicked my turn signal on and drove into the apartment complexes parking lot. I parked my car, got out, didn't lock the keys inside, and removed the still sleeping baby from her car seat. I held her against my shoulder with my left arm, and got inside without incident. I closed the door gently behind me, and walked through the short hall into the main room of the apartment I shared with my two roommates.
Jim, an engineer I'd roomed with at school, was sitting on the couch watching football. Angie, the punk rocker girl who had answered our ad for a roommate, was at the counter baking something. She looked up when I came in, and broke out in a grin. “Hey,” she said too loudly. “How's she doing.”
“She's asleep,” I admonished, smiling at Angie's exuberance despite myself. One of the teams on the television scored a touchdown and roars filled the room, pumped through Jim's sound system. She started to fuss in my arms. “Well, she was,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Angie stopped halfway across the room and put her hands on her hips. “You're just going to take that?”
I blinked. “Take what?”
She pointed at Jim. “He's not even paying attention, probably didn't even notice you come in. You're not going to tell him to shut the game off and come say hi to our new roommate?”
I shrugged. “Why? He can say hi after the game, and it's his right to be able to watch it on the TV.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good thing there's a woman in this house, no use leaving you guys alone with an innocent child.” She walked over to him and thumped his shoulder, hard. “Hey, you! Turn that game down, Eric just got back and the baby's sleeping.”
“Too late,” I said, bouncing her in a likely futile attempt to keep her from crying. Jim muted the TV and turned around.
“Oh, I didn't even see you come in!”
“What did I tell you?” Angie interjected.
He ignored her and walked around the couch. “Can I hold her?”
“Don't drop her,” I said protectively.
“I won't,” he said, feigning hurt. “What do you take me for?”
“A clumsy oaf,” Angie muttered to herself, grinning, as I passed over the baby. She couldn't contain herself. “Aww, she's so cute. Just look at that cute little nose, those tiny fingers, her lit-ack!” Those tiny little fingers had just grabbed Angie's decidedly not cute little nose, and Elizabeth giggled at the resultant noise.
“Hey look,” Jim said, laughing. “She loves you already.”
Angie extracted her nose, and rolled her eyes at Jim. “The kid's got spunk, I'll give her that. Though she has to start directing that at the system, not at her friends. Damn, ow.” She rubbed her nose, and walked away back to her baking.
“What are you cooking?” I asked.
“Chocolate cake,” she responded. “It'll be done in a few hours.”
“Chocolate cake?” Jim said excitedly, passing Elizabeth back to me. “I want chocolate cake!”
“I said in a few hours,” she said forcefully. “It needs to cook, cool, and get iced first. I said no!” She grabbed a wooden spoon and bopped him on the head. “Get away! No cake for you!”
I laughed at my friend's mock battle, and walked into my bedroom. A crib had been set up for Elizabeth, but I set her down on my bed instead, sitting down beside her. I looked at her, then around the room. Maybe this could work. It wouldn't be easy, and I'd have to change my career plans to something in-home since I don't have a girlfriend, but it was doable. We could do it together.
My mother's voice echoed in my head as I navigated the hills and turns leading to my apartment. I kept an anxious ear out for any sign of distress from the baby – my brother's baby – in the backseat, but she sounded like she was sleeping. I tried to sneak a glance using the rear view mirror, but couldn't see, so I craned my neck around my seat. Irritatingly, I had chosen to seat her directly behind me – something I need to learn not to do – so I couldn't see. I craned my neck a bit farther, and caught a glimpse of the infant happily sleeping. I turned around to face the road again, just in time to watch myself veer into the opposite lane. Jesus. I wrenched the wheel around and drove back into the proper lane. This was going to take some getting used to.
My brother and his wife had died two months ago in a skydiving accident. Since both he and his wife were in the military, he'd left instructions as to what would happen to his property if he died unexpectedly. His monetary assets were split evenly among his parents and siblings, his property was given to his parents, and any children he might have went to me. Yeah, me, his kid brother, just a few years out of college. As my mother had wondered, why had he chosen me? We hadn't been very close while he was still at home, and we'd only grown more distant once he went to the academy.
It was a shock to everybody when I had been named as the guardian of any children he might have. Most had assumed it would be one of the grandparents, but instead it was me. There wasn't any reason why I couldn't take Elizabeth, so the executor of the will had decided it would be best to honor his request, odd as it was. So, here I was, on the last leg of my trip back home with a new responsibility that I wasn't fully sure I was ready for.
I took a deep breath as I flicked my turn signal on and drove into the apartment complexes parking lot. I parked my car, got out, didn't lock the keys inside, and removed the still sleeping baby from her car seat. I held her against my shoulder with my left arm, and got inside without incident. I closed the door gently behind me, and walked through the short hall into the main room of the apartment I shared with my two roommates.
Jim, an engineer I'd roomed with at school, was sitting on the couch watching football. Angie, the punk rocker girl who had answered our ad for a roommate, was at the counter baking something. She looked up when I came in, and broke out in a grin. “Hey,” she said too loudly. “How's she doing.”
“She's asleep,” I admonished, smiling at Angie's exuberance despite myself. One of the teams on the television scored a touchdown and roars filled the room, pumped through Jim's sound system. She started to fuss in my arms. “Well, she was,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Angie stopped halfway across the room and put her hands on her hips. “You're just going to take that?”
I blinked. “Take what?”
She pointed at Jim. “He's not even paying attention, probably didn't even notice you come in. You're not going to tell him to shut the game off and come say hi to our new roommate?”
I shrugged. “Why? He can say hi after the game, and it's his right to be able to watch it on the TV.”
She rolled her eyes. “Good thing there's a woman in this house, no use leaving you guys alone with an innocent child.” She walked over to him and thumped his shoulder, hard. “Hey, you! Turn that game down, Eric just got back and the baby's sleeping.”
“Too late,” I said, bouncing her in a likely futile attempt to keep her from crying. Jim muted the TV and turned around.
“Oh, I didn't even see you come in!”
“What did I tell you?” Angie interjected.
He ignored her and walked around the couch. “Can I hold her?”
“Don't drop her,” I said protectively.
“I won't,” he said, feigning hurt. “What do you take me for?”
“A clumsy oaf,” Angie muttered to herself, grinning, as I passed over the baby. She couldn't contain herself. “Aww, she's so cute. Just look at that cute little nose, those tiny fingers, her lit-ack!” Those tiny little fingers had just grabbed Angie's decidedly not cute little nose, and Elizabeth giggled at the resultant noise.
“Hey look,” Jim said, laughing. “She loves you already.”
Angie extracted her nose, and rolled her eyes at Jim. “The kid's got spunk, I'll give her that. Though she has to start directing that at the system, not at her friends. Damn, ow.” She rubbed her nose, and walked away back to her baking.
“What are you cooking?” I asked.
“Chocolate cake,” she responded. “It'll be done in a few hours.”
“Chocolate cake?” Jim said excitedly, passing Elizabeth back to me. “I want chocolate cake!”
“I said in a few hours,” she said forcefully. “It needs to cook, cool, and get iced first. I said no!” She grabbed a wooden spoon and bopped him on the head. “Get away! No cake for you!”
I laughed at my friend's mock battle, and walked into my bedroom. A crib had been set up for Elizabeth, but I set her down on my bed instead, sitting down beside her. I looked at her, then around the room. Maybe this could work. It wouldn't be easy, and I'd have to change my career plans to something in-home since I don't have a girlfriend, but it was doable. We could do it together.
SS: Parallel Reasoning
It was a summer day just like any other. London, gripped in a late-summer heatwave, baked while its inhabitants went about their daily business. On leave from Oxford for the season, I sat in my usual spot on the stone bench, trying to see past reality.
I know that sounds funny, but let me try to explain. There's the plane of reality that we normally see, and that we exist on. All of our daily actions interact with this plane, and our five main senses observe it. Most people will only see this plane. Some will get glimpses of other planes – or dimensions, if you prefer – during waking existence, but most will never see the other realms that exist behind and around our own except in dreams.
Lucid dreaming – being able to recognize and control your own dreams – has long been practiced, but perfection has yet to be obtained. I believe that if I can induce a dream state in myself at midday, while I'm conscious, I will be able to project my consciousness into this parallel dream reality. That is, if the cops don't toss me in the looney bin before I make it.
Speaking of asylums, another aspect of reality that I've been thinking long and hard about is it's power to drive someone mad. Perhaps people aren't born mad, or predestined to go down that path, but they become so due to witnessing something they shouldn't. If you think about it, our entire existence is based on the assumption that our perception of the world accurately describes reality. But, if that assumption is false, everything you've built your life around will turn out to be a lie. Quite shocking, I'd imagine.
So, there's a chance I'll be driven mad, I'll accept that risk. I've spent the past three years of my life studying the philosophy and religion of the world, and I believe this is the secret to enlightenment. Maybe going the whole way isn't the best thing to do, but if I can just get a glimpse of the worlds behind the metaphorical curtain, that will be enough.
I was trying something new. Before, I'd been trying a variety of mental and chemical methods to put myself in a dream-like state, with no success. Today, the process I was trying involved looking through the world. In theory, it was similar to the 3-D picture tricks that are printed on postcards for children to play with. You know, the ones where you see only a psychadelic picture no matter how hard you look at it, but then you finally manage to look through it, and the picture snaps into your head. I hypothesized that the dream state was like that, where as you were sleeping you mentally snapped into the other world.
So, that was what I was doing that day. Sitting here on the hard stone bench, staring at the fountain in the middle of the square. I must have been a sight, sitting stone still, notebook in my lap to scribble my notes in, intently crossing and uncrossing my eyes all while staring at the center of the square. The hot sun beat down on me; I was beginning to regret wearing long pants and long sleeves today. It was shaping up to be another useless theory I'd had, I would have to go back to my room and formulate a new method.
As I bent my head to retrieve my bag from under the bench, I saw a flash of white out of the corner of my eye. I jerked my head up, and saw nothing. Cursing under my breath, I bent my head down again, concentrated, and slowly looked up again.
There was a caped figure walking across the opposite side of the square, hood pulled down so that their gender was indeterminate. They definitely hadn't been there before. I yanked my bag out from under the seat, slung it over my shoulder, and began to follow it.
They quickly left the square, and walked down the street. I wondered briefly if they could be dangerous, but thrust that notion aside quickly. Had any of the great men of the past stopped to wonder if the majestic event they were witnessing could be harmful? Of course not. I went down four streets – heading out of the nicer areas of town – then followed the person as they turned into a narrow alleyway. We emerged into a narrow street lined with old housing.
They walked up the stairs to a front door, and fumbled under their cloak for something, presumably their key. Realizing my only chance to make contact was draining away alarmingly quickly, I took a few hurried steps closer.
“Hey!” I said, perhaps too loudly, for they spun around abruptly with a cry.
The key narrowly missed me, landing a few feet away on the street. I bent down, picked it up, and offered it to the woman on the stairs – for it was definitely a woman, or more of a girl, now that I looked closer.
“Who are you?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
I blinked. I hadn't quite thought this part through. What do you say to the denizens of the alternate reality you've entered? 'Greetings, I come from Earth! Take me to your leader?' Only in bad science fiction stories. I guess I waited too long, because she snatched the key from my hand and ran back to the door.
As she fumbled with it in the lock, I tried again. “Wait,” I said. “I don't want to hurt you! I just want to understand-”
I was cut off by the door being opened from the inside. “Carol, what's going on? You look so flustered.”
With a squeak, the girl pushed past the woman standing in the doorway and dissapeared into the house. As she looked out to see what had caused the alarm, she inhaled sharply. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“Uh,” I said. “See, I'm just trying...I'm a student, at the university, I study philosophy and religion. It was an idea I had, to see what was...you know,” I babbled, off-put by the woman's demand.
She sighed, and walked out into the light. I could only stare. Her clothing was ordinary – a skirt and a blouse – but she had wings like an angel. She walked to an arm length away from me, then extended a single finger and touched me between the eyes. “You're dreaming,” she said smoothly. “It's a hot day, and you fell asleep, and dreamed. You should go home and drink some water.”
The day shimmered, and I must have blacked out. When I came to, I was laying on an unfamilar street, with the sun beating down on me. I should go home and get some water.
I know that sounds funny, but let me try to explain. There's the plane of reality that we normally see, and that we exist on. All of our daily actions interact with this plane, and our five main senses observe it. Most people will only see this plane. Some will get glimpses of other planes – or dimensions, if you prefer – during waking existence, but most will never see the other realms that exist behind and around our own except in dreams.
Lucid dreaming – being able to recognize and control your own dreams – has long been practiced, but perfection has yet to be obtained. I believe that if I can induce a dream state in myself at midday, while I'm conscious, I will be able to project my consciousness into this parallel dream reality. That is, if the cops don't toss me in the looney bin before I make it.
Speaking of asylums, another aspect of reality that I've been thinking long and hard about is it's power to drive someone mad. Perhaps people aren't born mad, or predestined to go down that path, but they become so due to witnessing something they shouldn't. If you think about it, our entire existence is based on the assumption that our perception of the world accurately describes reality. But, if that assumption is false, everything you've built your life around will turn out to be a lie. Quite shocking, I'd imagine.
So, there's a chance I'll be driven mad, I'll accept that risk. I've spent the past three years of my life studying the philosophy and religion of the world, and I believe this is the secret to enlightenment. Maybe going the whole way isn't the best thing to do, but if I can just get a glimpse of the worlds behind the metaphorical curtain, that will be enough.
I was trying something new. Before, I'd been trying a variety of mental and chemical methods to put myself in a dream-like state, with no success. Today, the process I was trying involved looking through the world. In theory, it was similar to the 3-D picture tricks that are printed on postcards for children to play with. You know, the ones where you see only a psychadelic picture no matter how hard you look at it, but then you finally manage to look through it, and the picture snaps into your head. I hypothesized that the dream state was like that, where as you were sleeping you mentally snapped into the other world.
So, that was what I was doing that day. Sitting here on the hard stone bench, staring at the fountain in the middle of the square. I must have been a sight, sitting stone still, notebook in my lap to scribble my notes in, intently crossing and uncrossing my eyes all while staring at the center of the square. The hot sun beat down on me; I was beginning to regret wearing long pants and long sleeves today. It was shaping up to be another useless theory I'd had, I would have to go back to my room and formulate a new method.
As I bent my head to retrieve my bag from under the bench, I saw a flash of white out of the corner of my eye. I jerked my head up, and saw nothing. Cursing under my breath, I bent my head down again, concentrated, and slowly looked up again.
There was a caped figure walking across the opposite side of the square, hood pulled down so that their gender was indeterminate. They definitely hadn't been there before. I yanked my bag out from under the seat, slung it over my shoulder, and began to follow it.
They quickly left the square, and walked down the street. I wondered briefly if they could be dangerous, but thrust that notion aside quickly. Had any of the great men of the past stopped to wonder if the majestic event they were witnessing could be harmful? Of course not. I went down four streets – heading out of the nicer areas of town – then followed the person as they turned into a narrow alleyway. We emerged into a narrow street lined with old housing.
They walked up the stairs to a front door, and fumbled under their cloak for something, presumably their key. Realizing my only chance to make contact was draining away alarmingly quickly, I took a few hurried steps closer.
“Hey!” I said, perhaps too loudly, for they spun around abruptly with a cry.
The key narrowly missed me, landing a few feet away on the street. I bent down, picked it up, and offered it to the woman on the stairs – for it was definitely a woman, or more of a girl, now that I looked closer.
“Who are you?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
I blinked. I hadn't quite thought this part through. What do you say to the denizens of the alternate reality you've entered? 'Greetings, I come from Earth! Take me to your leader?' Only in bad science fiction stories. I guess I waited too long, because she snatched the key from my hand and ran back to the door.
As she fumbled with it in the lock, I tried again. “Wait,” I said. “I don't want to hurt you! I just want to understand-”
I was cut off by the door being opened from the inside. “Carol, what's going on? You look so flustered.”
With a squeak, the girl pushed past the woman standing in the doorway and dissapeared into the house. As she looked out to see what had caused the alarm, she inhaled sharply. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“Uh,” I said. “See, I'm just trying...I'm a student, at the university, I study philosophy and religion. It was an idea I had, to see what was...you know,” I babbled, off-put by the woman's demand.
She sighed, and walked out into the light. I could only stare. Her clothing was ordinary – a skirt and a blouse – but she had wings like an angel. She walked to an arm length away from me, then extended a single finger and touched me between the eyes. “You're dreaming,” she said smoothly. “It's a hot day, and you fell asleep, and dreamed. You should go home and drink some water.”
The day shimmered, and I must have blacked out. When I came to, I was laying on an unfamilar street, with the sun beating down on me. I should go home and get some water.
To Do List for October
Behold, what I have left to do this month, in a nutshell:
Finish finding all my starting characters.
Find a title.
Draw maps of important places I'm likely to screw up.
Research real historical events to tie into the story.
Find a name for the groupings of chapters inside of each part.
Find quotes to include at the start of each chapter grouping.
Finish loading sountrack songs to my computer.
Finish all planned prewriting(4 more 1k word short stories, and a 5k longer short story about an important event).
Finish finding all my starting characters.
Find a title.
Draw maps of important places I'm likely to screw up.
Research real historical events to tie into the story.
Find a name for the groupings of chapters inside of each part.
Find quotes to include at the start of each chapter grouping.
Finish loading sountrack songs to my computer.
Finish all planned prewriting(4 more 1k word short stories, and a 5k longer short story about an important event).
SS: The Burning of Watercross Keep
My breath was loud against the blanket I was squeezing as I huddled under the bed and listened to the commotion in the corridor outside. The moon was full, and shone in the narrow window, illuminating the bedroom with its pale light. The shouting grew louder and something crashed against a stone wall, and I whimpered like a dog. A dog. Where was my dog?
Ignoring my father's command to stay hidden at all costs, I crawled out from under the bed. A red glow was illuminating the room, and I smelled smoke. Fire. The keep was on fire. Ignoring the midnight autumn chill, I raced across the room, looking under chairs and in corners, but the dog was nowhere to be found.
“Where are you!” I shouted, forgetting I should keep quiet. “There's a fire, we need to get out, boy!”
I ran across to the door, and wrenched it open. The corridor was filling with smoke from the commotion further down the tower stairs, so I headed up, still calling for my dog. I was breathing harshly as I emerged at the top of the tower, coughing from the smoke. I immediately caught my breath as I emerged, staring out at the scene in horror.
Not only the keep was burning, but the village and the fields surrounding it. Everything was in flames, from here to each of the three rivers bordering my family's property. All this was the work of those people my father had warned me about, the dark ones. He never told me why they were coming, but the trips to the bridges, the wards he'd set up and the preparations around the castle were all to keep the men away. Evidentially, they'd failed, and he had come to my room to tell me to hide myself and my mind while he held them off. At that thought the spell was broken, and I whirled around. I was looking for my dog, then I would go back to my room where it was safe. Where was he?
“He's right here, Frances.” A figure cloaked in a heavy black cape stood between me and the stairs back down, holding something in his arms.
“You have him!” I shouted. “Is he safe?”
“Yes,” he replied. “See?” He put down the bundle he had been holding, and unwrapped it. My dog lay there on the ground, and wagged his tail when he saw me, but didn't lift his head.
I ran towards them, and then stopped. “He's not alright,” I said. “There's something wrong with him.”
“It's the smoke,” came the calm reply. “Can't you feel it yourself in your body? Imagine how it feels to someone smaller than you are. Come, let's get out of here before it's too late.”
I stood there, frozen between my father's abandoned command and my love for my dog. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Your father sent me to come and take you away. Now hurry, there's not much time.”
“Wait, how do I know? You could be one of the dark ones, come to take me away. How do I know?”
“Your father gave me this,” he said, holding out a gloved hand on which rested a slim golden ring. My father's signet. I stretched out my hand towards it, then snatched it back.
“I don't believe you,” I declared, standing my ground above my pet. “That's not his ring. He's always taught me never to trust strangers, and I don't believe you're who you say you are.” The whimpering from the floor stopped, and I stared down in horror. There wasn't an animal there any longer, but only a blanket filled with ashes from the fire downstairs. I wrestled my gaze from the sight just in time to see and dodge a bolt of power emanating from the man's hand.
I slipped around him quickly and ran down the stairs. “Father!” I yelled. “Where are you?” I thought I heard a reply from further down the stairs, but couldn't be sure. I kept running, not bothering to ward my thoughts – they knew where I was. I rounded a corner of the staircase onto a landing, and there he was.
He was standing guard at the top of the stairs, his sword discarded on the ground behind him, the artifact still pulsing with a sharp blue light. In his off-hand, he held the iron circle that he used to strengthen his protection spells, but I screamed again as I saw his sword hand. It was chopped off at the wrist, and blood was streaming from it, yet he stood his ground, guarding the stairs. Guarding me. “Father!” I yelled again, as I felt a hand tighten around my neck.
I kicked out behind me, as he whirled around and shouted in anger. My captor shoved me to the side as he drew his sword and thrust it towards my father. I wrenched my neck around to see what was happening, sending bolts of pain down my spine. A flash of light lit the landing, and my captor dropped me, gasping for breath. Another came, then a third. Squinting, I saw my father with one hand towards the sky, pulling down the energy to save me, even as his own life was running out.
“Stop!” I screamed. “You'll die!”
“No,” said a cloaked man, striding up behind him and knocking him down with one blow, stopping the paralyzing flashes of light. “No, he won't die. Not now, at any rate.”
“No!” I said, backing against the wall and looking around myself. The man who had found me on the tower was still gasping on the stairs, a stream of dark liquid which was blood but at the same time without any life at all flowing down to the landing from beneath him. The only other man who had recovered was the one who had struck down my father. “No. You can't make me. My father was willing die to save me, and I won't let that happen in vain.”
The man looked over his shoulder for a moment, and I stole the moment to grab the sword from where it lay on the ground. It was too large for me, and I had to wield it with two hands. “You'll die,” I declared. “I'll kill you all for what you've done.”
He turned back to me, and started to laugh.
Ignoring my father's command to stay hidden at all costs, I crawled out from under the bed. A red glow was illuminating the room, and I smelled smoke. Fire. The keep was on fire. Ignoring the midnight autumn chill, I raced across the room, looking under chairs and in corners, but the dog was nowhere to be found.
“Where are you!” I shouted, forgetting I should keep quiet. “There's a fire, we need to get out, boy!”
I ran across to the door, and wrenched it open. The corridor was filling with smoke from the commotion further down the tower stairs, so I headed up, still calling for my dog. I was breathing harshly as I emerged at the top of the tower, coughing from the smoke. I immediately caught my breath as I emerged, staring out at the scene in horror.
Not only the keep was burning, but the village and the fields surrounding it. Everything was in flames, from here to each of the three rivers bordering my family's property. All this was the work of those people my father had warned me about, the dark ones. He never told me why they were coming, but the trips to the bridges, the wards he'd set up and the preparations around the castle were all to keep the men away. Evidentially, they'd failed, and he had come to my room to tell me to hide myself and my mind while he held them off. At that thought the spell was broken, and I whirled around. I was looking for my dog, then I would go back to my room where it was safe. Where was he?
“He's right here, Frances.” A figure cloaked in a heavy black cape stood between me and the stairs back down, holding something in his arms.
“You have him!” I shouted. “Is he safe?”
“Yes,” he replied. “See?” He put down the bundle he had been holding, and unwrapped it. My dog lay there on the ground, and wagged his tail when he saw me, but didn't lift his head.
I ran towards them, and then stopped. “He's not alright,” I said. “There's something wrong with him.”
“It's the smoke,” came the calm reply. “Can't you feel it yourself in your body? Imagine how it feels to someone smaller than you are. Come, let's get out of here before it's too late.”
I stood there, frozen between my father's abandoned command and my love for my dog. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“Your father sent me to come and take you away. Now hurry, there's not much time.”
“Wait, how do I know? You could be one of the dark ones, come to take me away. How do I know?”
“Your father gave me this,” he said, holding out a gloved hand on which rested a slim golden ring. My father's signet. I stretched out my hand towards it, then snatched it back.
“I don't believe you,” I declared, standing my ground above my pet. “That's not his ring. He's always taught me never to trust strangers, and I don't believe you're who you say you are.” The whimpering from the floor stopped, and I stared down in horror. There wasn't an animal there any longer, but only a blanket filled with ashes from the fire downstairs. I wrestled my gaze from the sight just in time to see and dodge a bolt of power emanating from the man's hand.
I slipped around him quickly and ran down the stairs. “Father!” I yelled. “Where are you?” I thought I heard a reply from further down the stairs, but couldn't be sure. I kept running, not bothering to ward my thoughts – they knew where I was. I rounded a corner of the staircase onto a landing, and there he was.
He was standing guard at the top of the stairs, his sword discarded on the ground behind him, the artifact still pulsing with a sharp blue light. In his off-hand, he held the iron circle that he used to strengthen his protection spells, but I screamed again as I saw his sword hand. It was chopped off at the wrist, and blood was streaming from it, yet he stood his ground, guarding the stairs. Guarding me. “Father!” I yelled again, as I felt a hand tighten around my neck.
I kicked out behind me, as he whirled around and shouted in anger. My captor shoved me to the side as he drew his sword and thrust it towards my father. I wrenched my neck around to see what was happening, sending bolts of pain down my spine. A flash of light lit the landing, and my captor dropped me, gasping for breath. Another came, then a third. Squinting, I saw my father with one hand towards the sky, pulling down the energy to save me, even as his own life was running out.
“Stop!” I screamed. “You'll die!”
“No,” said a cloaked man, striding up behind him and knocking him down with one blow, stopping the paralyzing flashes of light. “No, he won't die. Not now, at any rate.”
“No!” I said, backing against the wall and looking around myself. The man who had found me on the tower was still gasping on the stairs, a stream of dark liquid which was blood but at the same time without any life at all flowing down to the landing from beneath him. The only other man who had recovered was the one who had struck down my father. “No. You can't make me. My father was willing die to save me, and I won't let that happen in vain.”
The man looked over his shoulder for a moment, and I stole the moment to grab the sword from where it lay on the ground. It was too large for me, and I had to wield it with two hands. “You'll die,” I declared. “I'll kill you all for what you've done.”
He turned back to me, and started to laugh.
NaNoWriMo '07 site lauches tonight
From Chris Baty's blog: "We'll be throwing back the curtain on Monday evening, Pacific time."
I can't wait for it to come up. Seeing the new site open and fresh on October 1st kinda puts in in perspective...only 4 more weeks! Four more weeks to finish your plotline sketch, to find and name your characters, and to get ahead on your schoolwork so that you can write without worry throughout November. It seems like a long time if you express it as 1/12 of a year, but when you realize it's 4 weeks - 30 days - it's not very long at all.
Where do I stand? I have a decent sketch for part 1 of my book. I need to work a bit more on part 2, but maybe that'll come as I write and find out more about what happened. I'm not stressing that yet.
I need to find some quotes to introduce my chapter groups with, and I need to find a word that means chapter groups and sounds better than that.
I need to finish finding characters and figuring out who rooms where when.
And, of course, finish the death list.
I'm excited. Are you excited? Come NaNo with me!
Oh, and in unrelated news...my pen broke during latin class this morning. So that's why I'm blogging instead of doing my physics homework. Arrr!
I can't wait for it to come up. Seeing the new site open and fresh on October 1st kinda puts in in perspective...only 4 more weeks! Four more weeks to finish your plotline sketch, to find and name your characters, and to get ahead on your schoolwork so that you can write without worry throughout November. It seems like a long time if you express it as 1/12 of a year, but when you realize it's 4 weeks - 30 days - it's not very long at all.
Where do I stand? I have a decent sketch for part 1 of my book. I need to work a bit more on part 2, but maybe that'll come as I write and find out more about what happened. I'm not stressing that yet.
I need to find some quotes to introduce my chapter groups with, and I need to find a word that means chapter groups and sounds better than that.
I need to finish finding characters and figuring out who rooms where when.
And, of course, finish the death list.
I'm excited. Are you excited? Come NaNo with me!
Oh, and in unrelated news...my pen broke during latin class this morning. So that's why I'm blogging instead of doing my physics homework. Arrr!
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