A Writing Snippet!

I love to write. This is no secret. Sadly, with all the work I have with school, sometimes my writing time gets cut down or even deleted. It saddens me greatly. Last night, I decided that I would at least write something! My fingers were twitching as they always do when I crave to write and I felt an idea at the edge of my mind.

I didn't write for long, but I like what I created. It's a short snippet of a greater story that remains unknown. I'd love to hear what you guys think of it and your ideas for what could happen next. It's all one big mystery!

Enjoy!

Feet pound into the earth. Thud. Thud. Each step sends shock waves of urgency jarring through her body. Mud clings briefly to bare toes, painting them brown before dropping off like flakes of snow in her wake. Dirty droplets splash up the back of her body, painting a polka dotted design on her clothes. Faster her feet push into the earth as if trying to break free of the ground altogether and soar into the sky.

Short gasps of breath squeeze from her lungs as she races up the hill. Sweat trickles down the sides of her face and her back. Stumbling, she falls into the muddy slope, her fingers and toes both scrapping at the dirt. She scrambles to her feet, ignoring the scrapes and cuts that mare her legs and arms. She lifts her eyes ahead and frowns in determination, her thin brown eyebrows coming together in her small face.

Orange and red lights flicker over the horizon, painting a foreboding image on the fading blue sky. She pushes forward towards the light, her arms pumping furiously at her side. Dark strands of hair escape from her pony tail and drop forward before her eyes. She pushes them back behind her ears and forces herself onward.

She slips twice more as she climbs to the top, her faded blue t-shirt becoming unrecognizable due to mud and grass stains. The fabric sticks to her sweat ridden body, displaying her muscular and starved frame. With a mighty shove, she uses the last bit of energy she has to force herself to the top--to the flickering lights.

Her eyes close shut for a minute as she fills her lungs, breathing hard and fast. At last she stands and turns to face the scene before her. Grey eyes widening in horror, she takes a step back.

"O great mother, what have I done?"

a poem

Written Oct 31, 2008

Alone in darkness she patiently waits,
for captors with knives and evil with pain.
No glimmer of light will come to her aid,
rusted shackles cling to frail arms in chains.

Grit covers floors while water seeps down walls.
The stench of mildew still lingers around.
Critters watch her with glassy eyes like dolls.
She cries out in pain and prays to be found.

Here they come with their blades, and whips, and spikes,
Satan’s silent sentries, juggling death’s flame.
Suffering in their wake--they are black knights
stopping at nothing to play their cruel game.

Alone she cries out from dark prison walls.
Lifting her voice, to Lord Jesus she calls.

NaNo... Update and Snippet

Well, it's a week into NaNo and I'm already a full day behind. Yay... o man. At this point, I have no idea if I'll even finish. The teachers are really loading up the workload and I will be so busy in the next coming weeks. I'll do my best, but like I said before I started, I am not putting NaNo above my school work. At this point in my life, my school work is much more important.

With that in mind, I'm really liking where I'm going. Over the past couple of days, some really great ideas have emerged and I have really enjoyed exploring the new twists and turns my story has taken. Though I don't have time to super edit, here is short excerpt from one of my favourite scenes so far!

I hope you enjoy it! Please comment and let me know what you think:

Disclaimer : Not my Photo

As she sat down and closed her eyes, a night ware emerged from the shadows, binding the Time Keeper with a thick paste. Opening her eyes in shock, the Time Keeper looked around herself in fear. Upon seeing the night ware, her lips curled down and she moved as if to push him from time. She tugged at her arms but they remained nestled at her side. Glancing down in alarm, she saw the paste and her eyes widened in alarm.

“That’s right, little keeper,” the night ware sneered, his voice scratching and grating against her ears like fingernails on a chalk board. “Struggle all you like but you cannot free yourself from its clutches. You are trapped in our web and you will not be able to escape so easily.” He began to laugh, his cruel voice jarring as it bounced off the folds of time.

“What do you want with me?” she demanded, her voice dripping with poison. “I cannot give you anything and I wouldn’t even if I could.”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong, dear girl. You can give me something. You can give me the secrets of time.”

Her eyes widened for a moment and then she snickered. “And how do you suppose I’ll do that?”

“Don’t play ignorant with me, witch! The book of secrets! I want the book. Give it to me!”

She spat at his feet. “I don’t have it.”

A loud slap rang out and her cheek glowed red. “Don’t lie to me, wench! I know you made it.”

She smiled grimly. “That may be so, but I do not have it any more. It’s somewhere you will never go and it will be found by someone you do not yet know.”

“More lies!” he growled, pacing back and forth.

“Believe what you like. You cannot get what I don’t have. Search all you want, but you will not find when you don’t know what you seek.”

“SILENCE!” he turned on her and bared his teeth, leaning close to her face. She could smell his putrid breath and feel the evil growing and churning within him. “If you so refuse to tell us the secrets, you shall tell no one the secrets!”

The night ware pasted her mouth shut then hoisted the Time Keeper on his shoulders. Glancing around swiftly, he then jumped through the time rift and disappeared into the unknown, the Time Keeper gone with him.

Scarred..? - day 28

A scar you have and it's story

DISCLAIMER : Obviously not my photo..

Well, you see this scar on my brow?  I received it years ago when I battled against the fearsome ripple-beaked cockatoo.  This rare bird is brother to a basilisk and relishes leaving markings upon its opponents.  Shorter than an average tree and yet taller than a bolder, the ripple-beaked cockatoo has brightly coloured plumage that range from reds to blues.  The beak, a luminous orange, can break through even rock and is as sharp as a blade.  This bird is truly deadly.  Why I sought to fight it, I do not know.


  I narrowly and gallantly won my life, but this scar will forever mar my face.  People look on me with fear and loathing, somehow hating what this line symbolizes.  Why they judge me so, I do not know.  I only want to have my own honour and, of course, power.  Is that so much to ask?

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Okay, so I don't really have any scars with good stories.  I have markings and indents and burn marks, but no real scars that stand out.  Hmm... Maybe to solve all that, I need to find this ripple-beaked cockatoo, eh?

I am thankful for medicine and bandaids that provide us with a means of healing ourselves when we are injured!

my word hobby - day 20

A Hobby of Yours

DISCLAIMER : Not my photo

I suppose writing is my hobby. I love to do so many different things and sometimes, I wonder if I even have a hobby. I love to read, I love to make things with my hands and do different crafts. I love to play sports and so many other things. Can each of those be a hobby if I don't do it in excess? See, I'm not too sure...

And thus, I suppose that writing is my hobby. I mean, I'm writing all the time. I write these blog posts, after all, and that's just a small portion of my writing. There is the school work I have to do [which is sometimes fun and engaging--always challenging to some aspect], and there is the creative writing I do. I always need to have pen and paper with me because I find myself with all these ideas waiting to be expressed.

DISCLAIMER : Not my phot

Now, I'm not really a poet, but since I don't really have any specific passages that I'm working on at the moment, a poem will have to do. Below, you'll see a poem I wrote back in September. I was trying to capture my feelings at the prospect of university. I didn't really have a style going in or a feel that I was going for but this is what emerged. Enjoy!




[P.S. NANO IN 11 DAYS!]

Change

Verdant, lush, burning, crimson

Aureate, honeyed, auburn, brown

Perfect, whole, braking, falling

Crumpled beneath feet

Changing

Royal azure, trickling foam

Rippling, burbling over stone

Crisp, biting, winds blow

Freezing ice crystals

Changing

Lustrous, unique, sparkling

Purring power, rumbling

Tarnish, deteriorate, corrosion

Scrap withering away

Changing

Gentle glow, first breath, fresh tears

Rosy cheeks, soft skin, no fears

Play, laugh, scrapes, booboos

Time goes by

Changing

Pencils, binders, lineups, bells

Words, numbers, problems

Job, clothes, diplomas

Leaving home

Changing