I'll Sleep When I'm Dead

Argh! My computer decided to crash right before I finished typing out this Blog entry so I lost a good portion of it. I’m so far gone that I don’t think I can remember my stream of consciousness thoughts right now. So instead you get the shorter version.

Been awake roughly 24 hours as of now. When I got home from work last night I was finally able to capture Fannin and tie him to a chair long enough to flush out about ten more pages or so. Damn muse won’t sit still for the life of me.

I think that I am beginning to get into the groove of things for Kay’s side of the story. I’m very pleased with the newest chapter that I’ve written for her. A huge chunk of me wants to share it but I really can’t because it’s got a few major plot points in it that need to stay hidden for now. I actually sat down tonight with the intention of re-writing a big section of one of Aimee’s chapters, but when all I could do was tap my fingers against the keyboard for fifteen minutes only to write the word “the” I decided it was time to let go of those scenes for the moment. The good news is that Tessell is now introduced fully and Kay’s posse is starting to take shape. Between Tess’ introduction and another important scene, however, I need to add something extra because there is such a sharp gear shift that, while I want to bring out Kay’s Bi-polar tendencies and passive-aggressive attitude, are a little too halting to keep with the flow of the storytelling.

Just to share, I have a brief dream-like sequence from Kay’s first chapter.

Memories that didn’t fully belong to me slithered surreptitiously into my dream-state. The knowledge that I was, and yet wasn’t, alone reared itself. There were others with me, weren’t there? A vague blip of her presence tugged at me, but there was someone else. Names I couldn’t visualize paired with blurred faces. At least one of them had to still be alive. Or else, what would I be running back for? Surely my legs wouldn’t throw me into the turmoil of utter destruction; but I feared deep down in the pit of my stomach. A knot of disconcerting anguish tightened itself.

The scene shifted. I entered a scorched battle ground and slowed to a steady walk. Barefoot though I was, the embers greeted my footfalls with an oddly cool touch. The stone floor was still smoldering and the pungent stench of rotten flesh and char-broiled innards filled the air.

Sulfur; the unmistakable stream of rotten eggs and burning.

My eyes shimmered with water, unable to stand much of the aroma. I coughed and covered my face with the back of my hand. Immediately those same eyes focused on the outline of two figures through the waves of heat. As I moved closer, I could see the crystalline construct of a woman’s form, motion frozen in time. A Daemon’s neck was in her tight grip, head blackened with ash and tilted back in an eternal war-cry of torment. His wings were twisted, so broken that they almost looked natural. His arms had been low and extended out towards his side, his axe still clasped firm in his hand, his muscles still visibly taut. The woman herself was no more than the glass construct that held her together. I began to reach out my quivering hand to touch the woman’s cheek, though the intense heat radiating from her forced me to retract.



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