as per-usual I have to apologise for something, I am aware I have been the most active recently even after saying I would be. For once it has nothing to do with me, sort of. Recently I've been having some problems with my laptop, I might have accidentally smashed the screen, then it stopped charging and slowly began to die. Then it was my birthday and I got a shiny new one, and now I've learnt how to use it properly I can begin to get back into blogging.
Today I'd like to talk about NaNoWriMo, you may have seen my failed attempt last year, if not go check the tab named 'my book' to find chapter one to be part of . This year I'm writing it with a friend and we're doing quite well so far. We both have individual characters that we write and, in my opinion, we have a good plot to work with.
I would highly encourage you to take part in NaNoWriMo, it's not too late. Even if you don't reach the 50,000 words by the end of November, it's still a great experience and something to be a part of.
To finish this post I thought you might like to see the prologue for out story, soon I'll be replacing Silhouette of a City with this on the 'my book' page.
—Prologue—
The nightclub was hot; hot and sweaty. Pounding music thrummed from all four walls. Young, writhing bodies danced together across the floor, occasionally stumbling in their drunken state. A sickening aroma of perfumed perspiration suffocated everyone. Pools of cheap, spilt liquor created an intoxicating wash over the linoleum floor.
But none of that really mattered, because Elliot was rip-roaring drunk. Absolutely hammered, and having the time of his life.
His 21st birthday party was the greatest, most epic celebration hosted by anyone in his entire lodging house, and he wanted them to know. Glass of cheap lager in hand, he was bopping and grinding to some awful rave tune that was being blasted through the speakers in every corner of the room. His partner, a girl he had met only a few moments ago and quite liked the look of, was similarly intoxicated. Not much was running through his brain right now, only the music, the girl, and how to finish off this party spectacularly. The girl with no name tried to talk to him, but he ignored her, still staring off into the abyss. Eventually she got bored and moved on to another young man, hoping to find someone to entertain her later that night. Elliot didn’t really care too much. Someone bumped into him, spilling drink down his front. Elliot’s eyes came into focus on a younger college boy slurring apologies as he stumbled nonchalantly away. In his place, about 15 feet away from Elliot stood was a woman. You couldn’t really call her a girl. It just didn’t suit her. Her presence of being was blinding, yet skewed, like she was everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. She was tall and incredibly slim, sculpted with muscle. Her face was round with a pointed chin and a sharp elongated nose. Her lips were a full oxblood red. Deep set lines sculpted her face, chin length white gold hair curved along the arch of her jaw. Her skin was a perfect porcelain white, flawlessly covering every curve. She had her arms completely straight at her sides, like they could be snapped off. A sleeveless floor length midnight gossamer gown draped from her neck over her delicate frame. It moved like water, it looked like smoke, and while it was dark it wasn’t the darkness of peaceful moonlit nights, but rather a darkness that suggested death, a darkness that lasted forever, sucking you in for eternity. Bare toes peeked out from beneath the hem of her gown. Beyond all that though, beyond her slender arms and silky hair, it was her eyes that captivated him. He wasn’t sure if the alcohol was playing tricks on him or not, because what he saw was not completely human. Deep set eyes, completely black from pupil to iris, surrounded by fluttering lashes, so thick they looked like a butterflies wings, the moment before they are ripped off. Her eyes were intoxicating; more so than the drink in his hand or the beat in his ears, and they were staring right through him. His heart pounded at the site of her, at her mysterious, deadly aura, at her eyes that bore into his soul. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he needed to touch her. Strangely, suddenly, the strong urge overcame him, driven by the hammering melody in his ears. Determinedly discarding his drink at a nearby table, he made his clumsy way towards her. She continued staring at him, obviously not bothered by social convention or simply seeming rude. Maybe she was drunk too? She didn’t look it. She was slightly shorter than him, and definitely significantly smaller than Elliot, despite his lanky frame. Tentatively, he reached out an arm to touch her, and without moving, seemingly without doing anything, she let out a shrieking wail, so high it could have pierced his eardrums, so high you would think it couldn’t even be heard by humans, and so loud that you’d think it would wake up anyone within miles, and disappeared. Leaving only a small cloud of smoke where her shoeless feet stood less than a second ago. Elliott studied the room, stunned that nobody else had heard their encounter. But nobody had. And that was that. He stood there stunned, and alone, thinking about his outstretched hand that caressed the veil of the woman’s arm, and then went straight through it.
Happy Reading!
-A
