Monthly Archives: January 2011
As promised, here’s a short scene from act two of Rephaim. I’ve made a few minor edits, but it’s still mostly in its NaNo state. Certain parts of it irk me, but I’ll let you come to a verdict on which. I know a lot of people are really busy right now so don’t fret if you can’t get to the critiques right away. RWWP is meant to be relaxed, so don’t stress over it. Just have fun.
Act 2 – Scene 23
Selwyn and Runa left out the back door. Passing through the lower room was hardly as awkward as the first time. Elvira and Katharina entertained separate groups of girls while others talked amongst themselves. A few read books while others slept on each others laps. Selwyn caught Katharina’s eye. She smiled at him.
“I trust you can walk silently.” Runa said once they were outside
“You remember I am–was–a professional murderer, right?” he found himself smiling despite the company. He never considered himself much of an assassin, but he did find a certain exhilaration in disappearing into the night. Now he could do that quite literally. He was completely invisible in the dark night, but Runa didn’t seem to have a problem knowing exactly where he was.
They took the back alleys to the Ryder manse to avoid the brightly-lit streets. The street lamps weren’t yet upgraded to gas. The elderly man who was in charge of lighting every post along the street was long gone, but that was no promise of safety.
The estate itself was much of how Selwyn recalled it. The security was a lax as ever, with just two guards at the main entrance. One looked asleep. The other didn’t look far off from it.
“How do you propose we get in?” Selwyn asked Runa. They had hid themselves behind a nearby house, though it wasn’t necessary; Selwyn was invisible and Runa might as well have been in her cloak.
“Walk.” She made no attempt to keep her voice low.
“And what of the guards?” Selwyn kept his a whisper.
“They’re already dead.” She stepped past him and continued to the estate. “Their life clocks have stopped.” Read the rest of this entry
Right, so hi everyone! /waves I’ve been more or less MIA from WP as of late and with very good reason. In fact, I share it with Thaumaturgist.
You guessed it. School. Yay! *mock enthusiasm*
Contrary to Thaumaturgist, however, I am 20 years old and in university.Which means this week I have to write a critical analysis of the pros and cons of offshore outsourcing, write a use case narrative for a self-service printing kiosk, interview people on an everyday task to discover how technology can improve it, and develop three studies involving said task. And I’m still looking for a job. Two, in fact, a part-time one for the semester and a full-time one for the latter half of the year.
I can’t speak about the rest of the world, but at least in this country there is a huge push for everyone to continue on to higher education. There’s very little you can do with a high school diploma, so one must get at least a bachelor’s degree to be worth anything in society. The push for masters and doctorates isn’t lightening up, either.
That’s right, you need a piece of paper to be a real person. Huzzah. Read the rest of this entry
Confession: I haven’t written a single thing ever since that horrid scene I had to post for my own Winter Writing Project.
Why? I don’t want to. I don’t want to write anymore. At all.
I have no other way of explaining it. Writing isn’t fun anymore. I reap no enjoyment from it. Writing is frustrating and stressful in ways it’s never been before.
I know they say you should write anyways, even if you don’t want to. I tried that, and after several hours, I got this monstrosity. I did not feel better afterward. In fact, I felt worse. I’m finding it near impossible to even post on this blog. I have nothing to say.
Maybe I’m not a writer, after all. Maybe I’ve “outgrown” writing. I’ve no ambition to write. I stare at my outlines, character sketches, and blueprints without the slightest desire to add words to them. Read the rest of this entry
Listening to The Section Quartet cover Such Great Heights by The Postal Service.
This is the image that popped into my head. Hope it makes up for not posting yesterday. And for not having done critiques yet.
He stood at the top of the world. It was his place. The wind blew, circling his body like a loving hug. It carried with it the scents of the world below, the world he left behind. He spread his arms.
He stood alone, soaking in the heat of the sun. Shutting his eyes, he turned his face upward. The warmth spread throughout his body.
Nothing could reach him here. This was his refuge, his sanctuary. This was peace.
The scent on the wind became that of flowers, blooming for the first time since the ground thawed. He breathed it in. He knew the scent.
He lowered his eyes and returned his arms to his side. The breeze released its embrace and traveled across the long grass.
He stepped away from the edge of the world and turned around. A lone figure stood at the water’s edge, long hair tangling in the wind.
She stared at him and he stared back. Someone had found his spot. She was an intruder, but not an unwelcome one. The wind embraced her as it had him. It pushed him toward her, and her toward him.
He stepped forward.
She opened her arms.
The sun was warm.