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Writing Meme! Original fiction.
Pick a number [1-11] and I’ll post an excerpt from the corresponding work in my WIP folder.
Then, if you’re so inclined, post this with the appropriate number range and let people have a peek at your unfinished stuff.
Then, if you’re so inclined, post this with the appropriate number range and let people have a peek at your unfinished stuff.
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Irina (Nanowrimo 2007 attempt)
~*~
And, okay, that's kind of weird, but it's Kirk. He's got so many kinds of weird written all over him that it's kind of pathetic, and trying to figure out which kind of weird he is right now is an exercise in futility.
"So, wait," I say, turning on the couch to look at him and tucking my foot underneath me. "What were you going to say that you didn't want me to laugh at?"
Kirk looks chagrined. Chagrined. I love that word. People don't use it nearly enough. It's o much better than any of its synonyms. Well, maybe not better than 'rueful' or 'traumatically ashamed' but then, those aren't really synonyms. I think. Note to self: check the thesaurus later tonight.
Kirk clears his throat, and I look at him, pulled out of my internal notation system by the expectant sound. "Muh?" I ask.
"I said, loser, that you were right. I hate admitting that you're right, but anyway. I haven't told them… why I don't want to visit them, but they gave me an ultimatum. Either I come out, or they come here."
"Oh, they can come out here! I'd love to meet them!"
"My mother would expect me, and therefore us, to be hospitable." Kirk warns me. I still don't see where the problem is. He's acting like the forces of evil want to appear on our doorstep. I kind of want to point out that that happens at least once a week—doesn't he remember that Anna Neely lives next door to us? Her house sits on a gate to hell, I swear. But then again, it's family Kirk is talking about, so he might be justified in feeling that way. Family is a whole other kind of crazy that's a lot different from normal crazy.
"They'll take over the house," Kirk was saying when I tuned back in. "Mom will take over the computer and my brother will take over the kitchen and my sister will steal your bathroom products and my grandmother will break your computer after Mom is finished with it and all of my cousins will come up with embarrassing stories from when I was six—"
"Wait again," I say, blinking and feeling a little overwhelmed. "Your cousins would be coming, too?"
"We're all really close," Kirk says, refusing to look at me again. There's so obviously a story there, but you don't live together for years without knowing what kind of topics to just not touch, and I've always had a feeling that Kirk's family was one of those off limit subjects. Of course, it helps that two days after we started living together, he told me that if I ever asked a question about his family he'd leave and fuck the mortgage over while he was at it.
Re: Irina (Nanowrimo 2007 attempt)
Re: Irina (Nanowrimo 2007 attempt)
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Lancaster (Nanowrimo '10 attempt)
"Hello?" Lancaster says tentatively, and sees the tumble down before him, replaced with another that clearly stated without words that whoever this was had found Lancaster boring and therefore undeserving of its attention. There was something feminine about this eye, though, and Lancaster couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong, what had made her dismiss him so quickly.
"Hello?" Lancaster repeated, chasing after the female made of blocks, who rebuilt herself into art with each step. "My name is Lancaster. Do you know the way back to Ninja Valley?"
She ignored him, tumbling further with each step, and Lancaster gave up, feeling stung and increasingly lonely. It shouldn't matter that this girl didn't want to talk with him or even pause long enough to do something besides stare at him, especially since he needed to get to the boy named Ryan and he had no idea how much longer he even needed to go. He could be walking for hours still. Maybe even days. Lancaster looked down at the compass again, clenching his hand tight around it. It was nice, really, knowing that he had a constant that he could follow, a needle pointing north, but knowing where he was going did not make up for waking in this dank, dismal place with strangers who only had the last, fading shine of their personality.
The only one who had been different, as vibrant as Lancaster, had been the girl built of bricks, but thinking about her would just make Lancaster upset all over again, and so he wouldn't even bother. To keep himself from being bored, he started trying to recreate the map of the world that Ryan had created for him, because even if there was a long ways to go still, he would feel better knowing where in the world he was. It definitely wasn't the tundra, at least, so he could feel a little better about that. But he wasn't anywhere near the Cinnamon Cliffs or even the Water Lands. This was confusing and entirely knew, and he wondered if maybe the boy named Ryan really was playing tricks on him, if he'd created this gray new partition of their universe and was watching him fumble about and laughing at him for a while. The boy named Ryan was usually nicer than that, but you couldn't always tell with him.
Re: Lancaster (Nanowrimo '10 attempt)
This seriously needs to be a thing that exists forever, jsyk.