This post is part of Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday meme -an unedited stream of consciousness piece that ties into the weekly prompt: “the letters ‘clo-‘ in that order,” used any way we like.
I immediately knew that this one was going to be fiction. I’ve been wanting to get back to my last remaining unfinished novel draft of the year, because I want to end 2015 without any large outstanding projects. If I manage it, then I can begin next year with more or less a clean slate (there are an abundance of smaller dangling projects, and the end of the year is way too close, at this point, to give me any chance of getting to them all, even if I was willing to simply drop everything to try.
So I’ll content myself with finishing four novel drafts – the first three 60,000 words-ish Kifo Island Chronicles books, and the 100,000 -ish word Trueborn Weft story, Foul Deeds Will Rise.
That’s more than I’ve ever written in a year, and doesn’t include short stories, poetry, blog posts, and journals…
Something else that’s getting close right now is my closing my eyes for a while. I didn’t sleep last night – pulled in by the creative impulse. In a few hours, the kids and I are planning to go to a Christmas party hosted annually by a local business. We don’t go every year, but it’s close enough to home, and the weather is unseasonably warm this year, with no snow yet, so it’s a perfect year to go – now, before the kids get too old to enjoy this kind of thing.
That’s closer than it used to be, too….
But now, on to the main feature – a freshly written snippet from Foul Deeds Will Rise. Two sisters are reunited after a long forced separation. Both of their situations have altered considerably since they last met – but they’re still close, in some ways…one has just warned the other of danger potentially closing in…
“They be not close, sister.”
“I think they are much closer than you think – “ Niaan said, shaking her head. She wondered at the heat in her voice, but it scarce mattered. Things were swirling in her mind – because of the tea? Rachyl being here, talking with her, when they had been so long apart? The gathering sense of trouble on the horizon, lowering above them like snow-heavy clouds?
Nay, it mattered not why. Only that she make the point, and keep her sister and this settlement safe, because they too were her people, and she had thought herself their Kaiess.
“You aren’t well, kitten.” Soft words, and mayhap truer than Niaan had known. She had allowed Rachyl to sit her by the sensates, and hadn’t even noticed until now. Certain sure, that spoke of something other than healthiness, that she could be so swiftly and deftly steered.
“I am well enough.” It was a lie. She was nay well; how could she be, when Kaivelt her Solemate was not?
“There was a babe – did no one tend you, Niaan, when you labored?”
Niaan stared at Rachyl, then at the plants. “They can tell you so much?”
“You slept over five glass, kitten.” Gentle, but strong. She had missed that, without even knowing that she had. “There was much time to read the plants. The child – it was born without breath -“
“I beg you, don’t speak to that!” Within her, a stronger echo. Kaivelt, too, wanted not to see what was clear before him. “Let us speak to the safety of your babe. You must move away from this place. I beg you – come to the cave.”
“None here will want to do that.” Rachyl swept an arm about her. “We’re safe enough, and weary, all of us, from so much travel. We have houses of our own; a cave all must share would nay be welcome.”
Thoughts and images whirled, on and on. Osiiraan. Mother’s torn throat, and the blood on the blue stones. Vaara’s furies, and the attempts to control her, to drive her to the murder, to control it. Was that why she had closed her jaws? Or was it poisons, as Rachyl had said?
Did it matter, when Mother was dead, and Vaara was Kai, and the Untribed were fleeing? When her sister’s child might be born in this place?
“Let me help you to our bed, sister. It isn’t fancy, but it is close, and you have need of sleep.”
Is Niaan right about the dangers?
Is Rachyl right about the child?
Well, I don’t truly know myself. I mean, I write with a plan – but my characters (as if they’re really mine!) have lives of their own, and, whatever story I’m writing, they insist on living them….
I’ve got three weeks left in the month; three weeks to finish this draft. You may see more of it next week – but I expect I’ll be considerably further into the story by then…
And, now, in closing, I bid you all a joyful week!
Have you tried stream-of consciousness writing?
Come read more, or join in –
there’s just a few simple rules.
Check out the #SoCS hashtag, or click here!