Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It’s hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys!
This week, I’m returning to Chameleon’s Dish (which may or may not become Never Doubt I Love) – to reconnect with Henry, Tisira, and Nockatee…
In the dangerously superstitious past of Shakespeare’s England, an amnesiac girl and a foundling boy must keep her strange nature hidden as they stalk the Bard’s words and Hunt her lost identity.
Note: The characters have been growing older during the revision process. This snippet was written when I imagined Tisira/Nockatee to be about 7 years old. In the final draft, she’s going to be nearing or at puberty, I think, so some details will change.
WIPpet Math: Time Warp! This post was intended to be posted during our vacation; apparently, a black hole swallowed it up. So the math made sense once, but now, well…not so much.
- Today is February 25, 2015.
- Math: Playing with the date: 25 – (2×5) := 15: for a total of 15 paragraphs, with some single lines.
This is the incident that creates Nockatee, although she doesn’t yet have a name…
I Changed, and Ran – from the screeching woman, and the boy who tempted, and, more than these, from Father, and his terrifying madness that Hunted me through space and time. His Hunting drove me past all reason, and I Ran as though for my life, until I came to an ancient grandmother of a pine, and dug my claws into the tree’s bark.
The pain crushed my self; the force of Father’s will a vise, locked on me. “The stars are fire. Never. Doubt. I. Love.” I whispered, as the last breath was forced from my lungs, and I could not draw another. Blackness, like space if there were no stars, crashed over me, pressing, pressuring –
“Let it be all a dream,” I thought, as I struggled against the pull that wanted to swallow me, burn me to ash. I held to my sense of the boy – had there been a boy? Had we been dancing? -as anchor, and to the tree…Or was he only another dream, another part of this nightmare?
Father was crushing me, dragging me to him, even though I fought him now, dug my claws in and pulled myself to the first tier of branches, huddling against the trunk, although it was no shelter – there could be none, from the force of those unseen jaws, and my own cracked open in a yowl of pain as my claws and awareness slipped, and I fell-
The wind again, and a slapping, over and over, upon my body, – I was helpless, unmoored, crushed beneath the force of his will, his madness, his desire.
A jolting impact, those jaws so tight, I knew I was dying.
No – not nothing.
Pain. Pain everywhere – with each breath, each bloodpulse, slicing like fangs, like talons –
I tried to count breaths, to measure time – but my mind would not hold a count, and I knew I repeated myself. All I knew was the pain, and that I couldn’t move.
I turned my mind to trying to open my eyelids. I was sweating when I managed to open them to slits -and, after another forever, I could see a blur of faint color, the barest tracing of shape. I couldn’t direct them; it was as though they belonged to another.
A cry tore up from my depths, scraping madly at my throat as it emerged in a single, meaningless word…
The word held shadings and scents that made no sense…and a terror that twisted at my belly, that crushed my mind in a sickmaking tightening. I tried to get up, to run, although I didn’t know where I was or where I might find safety…but the pain and the crushing force held me pinned to ground, senses fogged and leaving me helpless as a mewling kit.
Was this my nature, to be so?
I was looking at something, vague shapes swimming oddly across vision – one silvered and round; others indistinct sparks against the darkness…
Something in it spoke to me, and I tried to listen, and to learn.
Stabbing pains, fang-sharp, pierced my mind, so that I called out –
Will this girl find meaning in her own words, and this new reality? Will she survive Father’s attack? What prompted it, to begin with?
Well, I’m going to leave those questions dangling for a bit – and, I confess, I’ve got no idea what I’m going to offer next week. Maybe more of these three, or more Trip and T’Pol – or a snippet from the early explorations of my CampNaNo novellas to be, drawn from my Kifo Island Chronicles stories…
So, if you have a preference, don’t hesitate to speak up – I’m especially open to suggestion, this week!
See you next week – and, hey, while you’re here, here’s the link to more delightful WIPpet Snippets; assorted genres and styles to choose from! =D