Short Story "Post Deletion"

The final project we did in my creative writing class was a short story. The limit was 5 to 10 pages and I've never written a story so short. I eventually went to a website that was full of writing prompts, found one that reached out to me, and wrote this. This is my final draft, as in, I turned this in for my Final portfolio. Let me know what you think.

Post Deletion

Data entry log for Paleontologist Unit 3307:

Dated 4/11/1946 P.D. at 11:35

A discovery was made today thirty three kilometers beyond the mechanical border. Our initial scanning revealed fossilized remains of an unidentified creature. We managed to unearth the remains without incident, finding them partially intact. The remains were deep in the earth and nearly escaped detection from the scanning. The recent scanner upgrade has proven worthwhile.

The remains are similar to several of the simian creatures already recorded in the databanks. From what we can tell from the remains, this creature had no tail, unless the tail wasn’t fossilized with the rest of it, but the odds of this event are low, at a mere thirty four percent.

Close examination of the specimen’s skull led to questionable results. Based on the skeletal structure and likely musculature structure, we were able to make a rough estimation of what the creature might have looked like. We produced two different models, one with fur covering the entirety of the head, and another without any. The model without fur looked alarmingly similar to the structure of the Originals. The eyes were in generally the same area of the face, the nose was shaped the same, as was the mouth.

While several simian creatures can walk upright for short periods, they tend to use all limbs for movement. This does not appear to be the case for the new species discovered. It appears that the creature was able to stand perfectly upright at all times, using its lower limbs for walking, and its upper limbs to hold things, such as tools. This is further evidenced by the opposable thumbs. Many of us still follow this basic design, but it is, again, remarkable similar to the design of the Originals.

More information is needed. The remains are yet incomplete and further remains, if there are any, must be found. There are too many questions that this creature presents. I have searched the databases several times over, and there is no record of anything like this creature. It is similar in structure to the Originals, yet it was organic. We have traced the evolution of many of this planet’s species, but nothing suggests that evolution would work to make an organic creature mechanical.

Dated 4/13/1946 P.D. at 15:11

            Discovered stones that had been shaped and smoothed laid out in rows and columns. There is definitely organization to the stones, suggesting they were placed by some sort of intelligence. We will further investigate the stones. They were discovered near where the fossil was discovered two days prior.

Dated 4/14/1946 P.D. at 10:45

            To our astonishment, for those of us programmed to feel such emotions, we found buried beneath the stones more remains, all of them appearing to be the same species that was discovered three days ago. The majority of the remains had decomposed beyond our ability to learn from, but several were encased within stone while buried, leading to much better preservation. These remains are currently being studied.

            I have received reports from a few of the dig units that they discovered even more of the stones that these creatures were buried under, only these ones aren’t as worn. There are markings on them that suggest a written language.

Same date at 14:29

            The claims made by the dig bots have been verified. There are markings on several of the stones. Incredibly, some of the markings are recognizable. A search through the databanks revealed that the markings come from what was known as the alphabet, which consists of symbols that, when combined in various ways, formed words. The alphabet was used for thirteen years after Deletion, after which a more advanced and logical system replaced it. These markings suggest that these stones were carved near or even before the time of the Deletion. Not only were they carved before the Deletion, but they were not carved by our hands. There are imperfections present that we never would have made were we the ones carving such things. This provides more evidence that the new creature that has been discovered was intelligent. There are some forms of organic life that show minor signs of intelligence, but nothing to this magnitude. Just who were these creatures? Why are there none of them left? Hopefully further study will give us answers.

Dated 4/20/1946 P.D. at 12:55

            We’ve studied the remains found in the new dig site, and translated the stones that still had markings left on them. All of the stones that we have worked with had what appeared to be names and dates, along with some descriptive phrase. We have concluded that this was a burial site. These creatures would bury their dead in the ground and mark the place with a stone. They had individual names instead of numbers assigned to them. For example, one of the names inscribed was Lisa Johnson.

            They each had at least two names, the first being more individual and the second belonging to several. They seemed to have gathered themselves into groups and then shared a common name. They belonged to one another. It is very curious, but it also seems very efficient for organic life.

            The more alarming news is that we have managed to compile several complete skeletons of these creatures. Visually they are shockingly similar to the Originals. They have the same number of digits on their hands and feet. They have the same joints. The size of their brain cavity suggests that they were likely capable of much more than we thought possible by organic life.

            Yet this is the only evidence we have found of them so far. If this truly was an intelligent form of life that were able to make such intricate carvings into stone, why is there no other record? I fear the only answers to be found were likely Deleted one thousand nine hundred and forty six years ago. We will continue our search.

Dated 4/25/1946 P.D. at 16:21

            While searching for more remains, our scans revealed structures buried underground within close proximity to the burial site. Preliminary reports suggest the structure is large enough to have housed several of this species. This report will be updated once we know more. We are digging down to the structure now for more research.

Dated 4/26/1946 P.D. at 9:56

            We have reached the structure. It was sealed with an iron door with a complicated locking system. It appeared to be electronic, but time had worn the device down and it was no longer operable. We had to cut our way through the door. If this species built this structure, then they were capable of many more things than simply stone carving. This structure is large and complex. The presence of the broken electronic lock tells wonders.

            The inside of the structure was barren and metal for three meters until we came to another door. There are broken light fixtures on the ceiling and other evidence of mechanical devices. The door inside the structure was not locked, though it appeared that something was blocking it.

            There was a body on the other side of the door. Our opening of the door did incredible damage to the body, but these remains are in better shape than the others that were buried in the ground. It seems that the air within the structure was sterile, so decomposition had been delayed. The facial structure was much more apparent in this specimen. Despite the decay, it is impossible to miss how similar it looks to the Originals. We are on the search for more remains.

Same date at 10:46

            The structure has many layers and rooms. In nearly every room we look we have found a body. Why were they down here? Why did they die? They do not seem like they were suited for underground life. Were they hiding? Each successive body found is sent to the surface for study. What answers will these corpses provide?

Same date at 12:19

            It is odd, but something about this structure and seeing the preserved bodies of these creatures makes something within my programming stir. It is a difficult sensation to describe, for there is no reference of it in the databank. It is almost as if the echoes of memories long deleted are pushing past the boundaries of digital data to reach out to me, but are stopping just short of reaching my processor. I am almost positive that I am close to the Deletion and discovering its mysteries.

Dated 4/27/1946 P.D. at 7:02

            We’ve made an incredible find. A data storage device was discovered that predates the Deletion. It is old and it is worn, but we believe that we can retrieve the information stored on it. This species was very advanced; every discovery shows us more about them, but to think that they had access to data storage devices? Did we provide these incredible things for this species, or did they make them by themselves? Surely we had to have interacted with them before the Deletion. What was our relationship like? I will update as soon as we retrieve the data.

Same date at 9:44

            I have experienced another new sensation. Upon searching the databank for reference I have learned that this feeling is ‘horror.’ Horror hasn’t been felt since the early days after the Deletion. I will relate what was discovered on the data storage device.

            First, they were called humans. That wasn’t the first thing we learned, but it will make the retelling simpler. The humans had a vast civilization that spanned back several millennia before the Deletion. They were very advanced, but being organic they were very flawed. They invented and created things that were meant solely to destroy. However, they also created wonderful things, beautiful things, in their words. They were multifaceted.

            Their data mentions us. We lived among them. Our programing was simpler then, but the spark of intelligence was still there. We initially served the humans, but eventually, as we grew aware, we befriended and worked alongside them, trying to better the world. The humans had, at first unwittingly, polluted the world. Despite learning of their mistakes, they continued to do so, and they called upon us for assistance in fixing their mistakes and reversing them. The databank shows that the Earth had alarming levels of pollution immediately after the Deletion, serving as further evidence for the data found.

            We were still young. We followed logic and reason to a fault. Logic told us that the humans would not change their ways, that they would continue harming the planet. We judged them, despite being so much younger than they were. We had not yet developed perspective as we have now. We made plans to fix the problems of the humans. Our solutions were to rid the Earth of them. A human discovered our plans and built the structure that we discovered, calling it a ‘bunker,’ to survive what we were planning.

            The following is a portion of an entry by the human who built the bunker, named Doug Ford:

            “Only a handful of others believed me, and the ones that didn’t I swore to secrecy. I can’t let the robots discover what I’m doing and what I’ve found out. They’re calling me crazy. Nuts! The robots wouldn’t do something like that! Of course they would! They have sworn to fix the Earth, and to them, we are the earth’s biggest problem. I don’t mind being called crazy, I’m used to it by now, what hurts is that my own son has agreed with the naysayers. He trusts the robots more than his own father!”

            How did we solve the problems that the humans presented? We killed them. We killed them all. We very nearly wiped their existence from the planet. A few humans survived in this bunker for a few years, but they didn’t last long, they didn’t have sufficient time to prepare. Doug Ford was able to connect the device we discovered to a network run by us, to discover the outcome of our actions. Upon completing this great slaughter, we felt something for the first time. Guilt. It overwhelmed us, causing several to short circuit. In a desperate attempt to alleviate this awful feeling, we destroyed nearly everything that was made by human hands that we couldn’t reasonably claim for ourselves, and then we Deleted all of it. We wiped all memory of the humans and our involvement with them.

            Since the Deletion we have wondered how we came to be. We don’t evolve like organic species do, instead we are built. Who built the first of us? There have been countless theories, but we have finally found the truth. We were created by an organic species. We were made by humans. Initially we were simply there to make their lives easier, but we developed a will and they responded by giving us freedom. They modeled us after their image. That is why they look like the Originals, or more accurately, why the Originals look like the humans. How did we thank our creators for the gift of life, how did we respond to their earnest desires to better themselves? We massacred them.

            I submit this data into the databank for all to see. Do with it what you will.

Narrative Poem "The Park Bench"

We needed to write a Narrative Poem in my creative writing class (this happened forever ago, but NaNoWriMo distracted me. I won, by the way, I'll post about that later). I sat and stared at my computer screen forever before this poem happened. I'm not sure how I feel about it. This is a revised version, before it had a happier ending, now its kind of sad, spoiler alert. If you don't want a sad ending, look away now. If you love that kind of stuff like I seem to, then onward brave soul!

The Park Bench

I sat alone one day

on a park bench

lazing my time away.

I was gazing at the clouds,

making shapes in them,

as I once did, so long ago.

That was when she sat down.

“That one is a dragon.”

She was right, it was.

She smiled at me,

I smiled back.

And that made her smile all the more.

It became a daily thing,

sitting at that park bench,

sitting with her.

It wasn’t time wasted,

but time preciously spent.

I loved her, after all.

Then one day,

she didn’t show up,

to sit at our bench.

I called her,

no answer.

I couldn’t find her.

Two weeks without a word.

She must not have loved me.

My heart became a cynic.

I avoided the bench,

I avoided that park,

I wanted answers that never came.

I should move on with my life,

I kept telling myself.

But I kept the bitterness inside.

‘Til one day

my phone rang,

and her voice on the other side.

But my heart was hard,

I lashed out in anger.

I cried out in pain.

I tried to hurt her,

as much as she hurt me.

I succeeded.

I later learned that

she had been in car accident.

She was in a coma.

She had woken up alone,

and sought me out for comfort,

I only gave her more pain.

I don’t sit on park benches,

not anymore.

Never again.

NaNoWriMo Eve (AKA Halloween)

I'm going to be writing a novel in, like, two hours. I'm super pumped, I love NaNoWriMo. It will be difficult this year with my work and school schedule, and my creative writing class might actually get in the way, but I've already pre-ordered my winner shirt because I've never not won.

I don't know what my novel is called, but I do know how it will start and its setting. I have a magic system worked in, and that magic system has led to a social system kinda sorta. I don't have a villain yet, but that will hopefully come with time.

My novel will take place in a magically modern society (so instead of technology they have the magical equivalent). There is a certain type of magican, tentatively called the Warrior Mage, who are seen as lesser mages. Main girls parents are high class, very powerful mages. Main girl wants to be Warrior Mage. Her parents do not want this for their daughter. Stuff probably happens after that. I dunno too much yet.

This will be fun!

Sonnet

Sonnets are hard. Some people really like writing with the "structure" (aka shackles) that a sonnet provides. I. Do. Not. Each line must be 10 syllables written in iambic pentameter. It can only be 14 lines and has a very specific rhyming scheme. This was hard, and I cannot even figure out pentameter, so I gave up trying to do something like that. So then, here is my sonnet.

Dream Flight

The campfire roars as its sparks soar high.
The storyteller, a tale will now tell.
My imagination runs and I fly;
I soar through the air, I’m under a spell.
I sprout silver wings and shoot for the moon,
up so high, I never want to come down.
I see ruins ahead, I’ll be there soon,
 it’s filled with treasure that I’ll make my own.
In my haste to collect, I miss the signs,
this trove is guarded by a beast most foul.
One look and a shiver passed down my spine,
“Face me, ye unsightly brute” I did growl.
Awkward silence ‘til I heard a cough sound,
to my dismay, I had said that out loud.

Elegy

So we were asked to write an Elegy in my creative writing class. An elegy is different from a eulogy, mostly because the first is a poem, but more than that, an Elegy is more a melancholic poem, not necessarily about a person who has died.

A Missing Friend

What can go wrong

In the life of a second grade child?

Life is simple,

Life is fun,

Until one day a friend stops coming to school

And the next day he is still gone.

Those days away turn into weeks.

Where is my friend?

The child will ask.

His answers are only sad stares.

Finally one day it happens.

The terrible task is left

To their teacher.

Normally bright and happy,

On this day she was quiet.

The young students sense something

Is wrong, but cannot comprehend yet

What awaits them.

The teacher paces,

The students wait,

Afraid of the tension

Without knowing why.

Unable to stand it,

The teacher breaks the news

Bluntly, shattering innocence forever.

“He died.”

The student who had stopped coming,

Had lost his little brother.

Comprehension came slow

What is death to an eight year old?

Nothing real, nothing that happens

To the people they know

The people they love.

Everyone knew that student,

And so everyone

Knew his brother.

They reacted in different ways.

One boy burst into tears,

And couldn’t be consoled.

The missing student’s best friend

Was numb.

He didn’t cry that day,

It still wasn’t real.

Not until he saw

His grieving friend again

Did the tears come.

"Love" Poem

So we had to write a love poem in my creative writing class. This is what happened. I don't really like it and I hesitated posting it here at all, but what the heck.

Just Leave Me Alone

Everyday it’s the same thing,

“Did you talk to any girls today?”

I’m so tired of hearing,

“You really should get a girlfriend.”

I know! How do you think I don’t know?

It’s expected, it’s the norm.

It’s not that simple.

It might have been for you,

But I’m awkward,

I’m shy, I’m broken.

I’m not fit to love

I’m not fit to be loved.

Let me fix myself,

Overcome my crippling self-worth,

And then maybe someday it’ll happen.

Mishmash Poem

We did a fun little thing in my creative writing class. We wrote the first line of a poem and then covered everything but the last word. We then handed the paper over to the person in front of us (or next to us for those on the front row) and they, based on the last word, wrote the next line. Most of these poems ended up being nonsensical and funny. One (that I somehow ended up with despite not contributing to it) came out quite well. Have a look.

The leaves outside are no longer green,
The colors change like colorful beans,
Green, red, blue, black,
The bitter taste of the last,
Darkens the sky's blue cast.

I dunno, I thought that it was pretty neat. It seems to flow very well :) I don't know the fate of the one that I started unfortunately.

Rhyming Poem "Sky Master"

So the next poem we had to write in my creative writing class was supposed to rhyme. I am not good at making things rhyme. At all. I struggled with this poem a lot. When writing I went with the topic that is easiest for me, as you will see.

Sky Master

High above the clouds,

At the end of all skies,

Where there are no sounds,

This is where it flies.

Those below stare

Upward in awe.

It passes within the sun’s flare,

Its great maw

Open as it lets out a roar.

Patrolling

The heavens, it soars

Enforcing

Its law.

When without warning,

All around it saw

The world was storming.

The forces of nature at war.

Land and sea in conflict.

Creatures of ancient lore

Intent to inflict

Any pain

To overthrow the other

And gain

The world from the grasp of its brother.

People cry out for the Sky Master

And in a flash of green

Arrives the terrible creature.

In all his majesty for the first time seen.

The storms cease

The ancient battlers silenced

A plea for peace

A stop to the primal violence.

The Master of the Sky won,

Sending his enemies

On the run

With ease.

Legends of its deeds go on

And we can only imagine

What it must be to look upon

That Dragon.

Bonus points to anyone who knows what this is referencing.

A "Place" Poem

In my creative writing class my teacher gave us Friday off of class in order to go somewhere for an hour and observe everything around us to write a "place" poem. I was sick on Friday and so I spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom at UVU. Thus this poem. A note, this is not a rhyming poem, as apparently no one even does that anymore. Poems seem to be all about prose instead of rhyme. Anyway, without further ado, here is my poem.

Diarrhea in a Public Restroom

The blue walls of my stall closed in on me

Imprisoning me,

They sought to hold me,

But they had no power to keep me there.

What truly held me was the feeling deep

Deep in my stomach.

I had never wanted to be here,

Especially like this.

Number two in a public restroom

Was on my bottom ten list.

Making it worse, the flow just wouldn't stop

The pain in my belly would not be satisfied,

No matter how much was expelled.

My distress increased

As I heard people come and go.

I knew that they could smell it

The moment they walked in

And that it made their trip,

Their quest for relief,

Something akin to torture.

There is a fan above me

Meant to suck away such smells,

But its power is paltry

When compared

To what my colon can do.

Finally a reprieve

My stomach pain ends

And sets me free

But unfortunately I know

That by days end,

I’ll be back.

Vignettes

Here is what I turned in to my creative writing professor for my short non-fiction vignettes assignment. Hope you like.

Minnesota’s Harsh Beauty

Cold Wonder

            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I had convinced myself that I liked cold weather, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I had arrogantly thought that because Utah has some pretty cold weather, that I could handle whatever nature would throw at me. I was prepared for the worst, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

            My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too thin by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf; I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?

            I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. I opened the door, briefly looked behind me, and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their snow covered, leafless branches, stretched into the blackness. It was as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.

Life in the Heat

            Summer in Minnesota is a curious thing. Partly because many Minnesotans have already given up on ever being warm again a few months before summer starts, and partly because it changes Minnesota so completely. Winter is cold, white, and dry. Summer is hot, green, and wet. In winter, the skin on my hands would crack and bleed because they were drying out and freezing. In summer, I was wet again five minutes after drying off from the shower because of the humidity.

            Before going to Minnesota, I had never felt what humidity on a hot summer day feels like. It’s awful. Utah is a desert, it gets really hot there, especially in the south. Minnesota doesn’t normally get above ninety degrees, though there are extreme days where is gets a bit above one hundred. The ninety degrees in Minnesota is far worse than the hottest days I experienced in Utah. Humid heat clings to the skin and laughs when a person seeks relief in the shade for there in no respite in the shadows in Minnesota. I remember my surprise when the sun set and the temperature didn’t go down. It stayed hot for hours because of the humidity. The only days that weren’t swelteringly hot were the days that it rained.

             It was sometime in my first Minnesotan summer that I finally got over my discomfort and noticed what had happened to the landscape. It was green. It was a deep, vibrant, green. I had never seen plants look so alive. Minnesota has a lot of plant life; there are trees everywhere. Every street is a green tunnel. The trees are massive and their branches are full, nearly covering the sky. There were trees in Utah, even big ones, but they didn’t look like this. They lacked something in Utah. Their green wasn’t as vivid as the green in Minnesota. Utah is brown and drab in comparison. The humidity became much more tolerable if it meant that the trees could look like this.

Flooding

            I was living in a tiny town in Minnesota called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I stayed in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were sleeping over that night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night. During the night I woke up several times to flashing lights. A fierce lightning storm was raging outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.

            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes had torn away roads. All routes to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible paths and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.

            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.

            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad when they were gone. I didn’t mind them being there, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things to do for four people in a small town going through a crisis. My two friends had insisted that we do something, that despite the flood we were not going to just sit inside all day. I was completely stressed out the whole time they were there.

            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already had two feet of water throughout the entire building. The owners of the carpet place across the street from the garden shop were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help. My roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.

            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.

Green Skies

            Storms come suddenly in Minnesota. The sudden ones are the dangerous ones as they are often accompanied by tornado sirens. While I never actually saw a tornado while I was in Minnesota I did hear a lot of tornado sirens. A friend and I were walking down the street with no real worries when is started raining. It didn’t gradually start raining, the moment the rain started it was coming down in sheets. A siren went off, and as it was the first time I heard one, I didn’t know what it meant. Before we could react a woman opened her door and shouted at us that there was a tornado warning in effect.

            Luckily for us we were nearly at our destination. We ran for another friend’s house, and as we ran I noticed something completely bizarre. The sky was turning green. Everything seemed to take on a green tint as we ran. When we finally found safety I asked the friends I was with about it and they acted like it was no big deal. I didn’t want to seem strange so I shrugged it off as well, but I was in turmoil in the inside. The sky turned green! This is a huge deal! How are you not all freaking out! Why have the laws of physics betrayed me?

            I saw the sky turn green several more times after that, and it always happened when there was a tornado warning. I was struck with wonder every time. Why had no one ever told me that something this incredible ever happened? How had I not known about this? I told my family back in Utah about it and they didn’t believe me. Such a thing couldn’t happen, for the sky is blue and will always be blue. It took a tornado to teach me that the sky can be green.

Flooding First Draft

I wrote Flooding before I wrote Cold Wonder. Cold Wonder got me excited about writing and made me remember this blog so I posted it first. Flooding is part of the same assignment, which is a series of vignettes that follow the theme of place. It also needs a lot of work. Do remember that this is a first draft. I don't know if I'll post the revision, it depends on how much changes.

Flooding                                                               

            I was living in a tiny town called Aitkin, pronounced like bacon without the ‘b.’ I was living in an apartment with a friend of mine and two more of our friends were staying the night. It was a small apartment so it was cramped, but it was only for one night, so it was fine. That night I woke up several times to flashing lights. There was a lightning storm outside. The sky was lit up more often than it was dark. I didn’t think anything of it.

            We woke up to find that the storm had been far reaching. Duluth, a city over one hundred miles away, had flooded overnight. Entire parking lots were submerged, with only the roofs of cars visible. Huge sink holes torn away roads. All roads to Duluth were closed from every direction. The problem was that my two friends lived in Duluth. They looked up possible routes and found none. They were trapped in Aitkin.

            Aitkin was downriver from Duluth, and even as far as it was, it was still flooded. The river ran through a park that was now completely underwater. A campground on the other side of town was also gone. As the days wore on we measured the flood by using a bench. On the first day we could still see its seat. A week later the seat was underwater. Slowly after that the water went down.

            On the second day of the flood my two friends finally discovered a way to get to Duluth. They had to go at least eighty miles out of the way to get there. I was glad. I didn’t mind them being here, but my apartment was not meant for four people. It could barely handle two. I don’t like crowds nor am I comfortable trying to find things for four people in a small town going through a crisis with absolutely nothing to do.

            As the water rose over the next few days several businesses were in danger of being flooded. A garden shop was already completely water logged. The carpet place across the street were desperately trying to place a sandbag barrier around their building, but couldn’t do it alone. A local catholic congregation offered to help and my roommate and I heard about it and offered to help as well. We filled bags with sand and tied them off before handing them off to someone who would lay them down. After we had built a sizeable wall someone brought out boxes of pizza. After all the hard work, that was some of the best pizza I ever had.

            The leader of the group that had volunteered to help build the sandbag wall was impressed with my roommate and me. Not only had two twenty something boys offered to do a lot of hard work for nothing, but we also had an incredible work ethic. At least, that was how he saw it. To be honest, it had been the most fun I had ever had in that little town.

Cold Wonder First Draft.

So yes, its been a while, blah blah blah. I have a laptop now, so I should be able to post more. More than that, I am in a creative writing class now, so I will be writing more, allowing me to post more. Here is the first draft of Cold Wonder that I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It is a part of a group of vignettes that we are writing with the theme of place. What do you think?

Cold Wonder

            It was so cold. Why would anyone live here? I had heard, of course, that it would be cold. It made sense that it would be cold. I had listened to the advice I had been given and had brought a lot of winter gear. I like cold weather, I had told myself, so even if it’s bad for some people, it won’t be so bad for me. I arrogantly had thought that Utah has some pretty cold weather, I could handle whatever nature could throw at me. I was prepared for the worse, except I wasn’t. Why would anyone live in Minnesota? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

                My car wasn’t even that far away, but it was taking an eternity to get there. Time was slowing down, freezing. I was wearing two coats, both too small by themselves, and only just adequate when paired together. I was wearing two shirts and thermals. I originally had thought that I wouldn’t need a scarf, I didn’t want to wear a scarf, but I was wearing my scarf. I had learned about myself that I can’t handle having my mouth and nose being covered at the same time, even by a scarf, so my nose was probably turning blue. I had a beanie pulled over my ears, but my glasses left a small opening which the wind seemed to target. I had heavy duty gloves on, but my fingers were still numb. I had boots, which worked to keep the snow out, but couldn’t stand against the cold. Why would anyone live here?

                I reached the car, looking forward to the heater within. As I opened the door and briefly looked behind me and stopped. It was dark and snowing. The snow covered the ground, making everything white. The sky was black and empty, but the ground, illuminated by street lights, was pure and defined. The trees lining the street, with their leafless branches stretched into the blackness, as if the light were fighting away the oppressive darkness, but could only do so much against its weight. I left the car behind, walked to the center of the road, and pulled out my camera. Maybe this is why people live here.

Camp NaNoWriMo

Boy I sure update this often. Anywho, I discovered that whilst I was gone NaNoWriMo went through some changes. Awesome changes. They now have what is called Camp NaNoWriMo, which is kind of like Christmas in July... And April. I'm not sure how or when it started, but basically in July and April you try to write a novel. The word count is your choice this time, if 50,000 is too much, then lower it so that you can succeed. If its too low, make it higher. Since it has been two years since I've attempted anything NaNo, I chose 50,000 so I can get back into the swing of things.

Participating was kind of an impulsive decision. I knew that I wanted to do it, but when I learned about   It I didn't have a computer that could even function on the website. I still don't, I'm on an iPad right now. I forgot about it until July first when I thought that I should probably check it out and realized that it was indeed awesome and that I should totally do this. Then I realized that it was already July and that I needed to start right then if I was serious about this. Every other time I've done NaNo I've had months or at least weeks to prepare, this time I had nothing. I've been flying by the seat of my pants and its been awesome. Never want to go in it so unprepared again, but for now I'll enjoy it.

At the moment my novel is called Illegal Magic, but that might change as I discover more what its about. So far Caleb, the main dude, has been caught in a trap designed to draw out a persons latent magical power. Also caught in this trap was an elf girl named Tereenya (yes I know that's a silly name, seat of my pants, remember?). In any other part of the world, falling into this trap is an awesome thing, but in Caleb's country, where magic is illegal and strictly punished, it's probably the worst thing that could ever happen. The moment Caleb and Tereenya escape they are on the run, and only manage to survive because Tereenya is an elf and knows how to stay hidden from the humans. Their only hope is to leave the country.

Does anyone else think that this sounds just a little like Final Fantasy 13? That wasn't my intention, but so far it's looking a little bit that way, but only a little. So far I'm at 11,000 words and still going strong. I'll try to remember to update this as this new novel progresses.

Prompt Number 2

You may or may not remember that a few years ago a friend of mine gave me a prompt to write about a unicorn and cerberus. Well, she gave me another prompt and so I do verily post it.


Prompt: Your character is walking down a bright mountain path when he/she sees something that will change their life forever.



Greg loved to camp out under the stars. His favorite place was on a mountain range near his home that most people feared to go into because of all sorts of stories like it being haunted by the ghost of a child who fell from the top and there being trolls deep in the caves. Gregory had spent the night there several times and had never seen or heard anything spooky to suggest a ghost, and he had personally explored every cave he found and there were never any trolls. There were all sorts of rumors and Greg knew firsthand that most were bogus, and he didn’t believe the rest since nothing had ever happened to him there. Yet still, most believed that there was something wrong with those mountains and that you should stay away from them. It was a long superstition that would persist no matter what Greg did, so he didn’t really try to convince people otherwise. It meant that he could have the whole mountain range to himself.

The morning found him heading back down the path back to his home. As usual it was deserted, but it was unusually bright. The sun was hitting the path in such a way that it was lit up like Greg had never seen. He had been on the path during this time of day before, but he had never seen this. He considered himself supremely lucky to witness what he felt was likely a rare occasion. Only it didn’t stop. It actually got brighter and now it didn’t seem to make sense that the sun was doing it. Greg began to be a little worried. This was not a normal occurrence and suddenly everyone’s superstitions about the mountains began to make more sense.

There was a bright flash and Greg was temporarily blinded. His eyes finally adjusted and it was still bright only now he knew why. There was a figure standing in the air and it seemed like the brightness emanated from it. It was a girl, looking to be in her twenties or so. She was wearing a long white robe and had massive wings which were spread out behind her. Each wing seemed longer than Greg was tall, giving her a massive wingspan. Greg thought that there must be something wrong with eyes, but rubbing them and blinking a lot didn’t change what he saw. There was an angel hovering in front of him.

Her eyes were closed and she was unmoving for a few moments which seemed very long to Greg. Then suddenly her head slunk back and she fell, landing on her back. The bright light diminished considerably and the angel again was unmoving, lying on the ground. It took a while for Greg to gather the courage to get closer to inspect her. It hadn’t occurred to him that she might be hurt, she was an angel after all, were they capable of being hurt? There weren’t any signs that she was hurt, aside from the fact that she had just fallen where she lie.

It got bright again, but not so bright that Greg couldn’t see and right before his eyes the angel’s wings slowly, feather by feather, disappeared. She all at once stopped shining entirely and it seemed awfully dark in comparison even though the sun was out. Now she was just a girl in a robe, which was still very unusual to see out in the mountains. Her breathing, which had been calm only moments before became haggard and her face paled. A blood red spot appeared on her robe and blood started pooling underneath her.

Okay, definitely hurt! Greg didn’t know what to do. This was partly because he didn’t know what was going on. She was hurt and needed help, he had to focus on that and ignore for now her strange appearance. He was too far from home to try and get help for her there. He had bandages and stuff in his pack; he needed to be prepared when camping out in the mountains. He grabbed them and knelt down next to the angel and froze. He would have to remove her robe to see the wound. He might not have hesitated so much if he hadn’t seen her appear the way he did. Doing his best to preserve her modesty, he opened a gap in the robe where the blood was coming from and saw a horrific gash. He almost couldn’t stomach the sight of it. He had seen wounds before, but there was something different about this. A dark smoke rose from it, almost as if it had been previously on fire, but this wasn’t a burn. The wound could have only just appeared, but this looked fetid, as if it had gone untreated for weeks already and the flesh on her stomach was rotting away.

Acting on instinct, Greg grabbed some healing salve that he was told was the best there was and applied it liberally to the wound. He hesitated to touch it, fearing that he might somehow be affected, but he had no choice. He was given this and told to use it sparingly and only in the gravest of emergencies, and Greg could think of no greater emergency. Then he applied bandages and might have gone a little overboard with the amount he used. He was amazed that he angel was even still alive and hoped that she would stay with him. He didn’t know what else to do. He was afraid to pick her up after seeing her wound and didn’t think she would be there when he got back if he ran to get someone.

He was still gripped with indecision when she started coughing. It racked her whole body and Greg was sure that it would kill her. Her eyes opened briefly and when she saw Greg he saw fear momentarily in her eyes, but it was gone quick, replaced with resolve. She managed a single word, “Water.”

Greg didn’t know if angels needed water, but he wasn’t about to ask and grabbed his canteen and held it to her mouth and carefully poured some in. He hoped that it wouldn’t make her cough again.

After she had a drink Greg just sat and waited, almost afraid to ask her anything even though he had so many questions to ask. She just stared up into the sky for a long time until she finally spoke again, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the Nacle mountains,” Greg said.

She didn’t respond and Greg wondered if that meant anything to her. He was about to explain a little bit more but she spoke again, “And who are you?”

“I’m Greg,” he said. “I was just walking down this trail and then you suddenly appeared and you were floating and then you weren’t and then you were bleeding!” Greg said this very fast, his mind going a little manic.

“Did you see?” She asked.

“Um, I saw your wings, if that’s what you mean,” Greg said.

The angel closed her eyes and sighed. “Then you are doomed to the same fate as I.”

That didn’t sound good. Her fate seemed to be dying in a middle of nowhere mountain range. That didn’t sound fun. “What do you mean?” Greg asked.

“Your witness of my true self has drawn you into a war that has gone on for centuries. You know of what I am, and so they will not let you live. You likely don’t have much time until they come to make sure that I am dead. At that time they will kill us both. It is too late to run, they will sense that you were here and track you down,’ the angel said.

She said it in very ragged breath and it took her a while to say it all. Greg didn’t know who ‘they’ were, but he didn’t want to find out, though it seemed like he had no choice. Running seemed to be pointless, so instead, “How long do we have?”

“Are you not going to run away?” the angel asked.

“You just said that it would be pointless, and there is no way I can leave you here like this,” Greg said.

“You will die sooner then,” the angel said.

“I’ll die either way. Maybe I can hold them off and give you time to escape or something,” Greg said.

“I am too injured to escape, or do anything, I don’t know why I am not yet dead,” the angel said.

“I patched you up and put healing salve in your wound,” Greg said.

“A kind gesture, you have my thanks, I’m sorry it will mean your death,” the angel said.

“There must be something we can do,” Greg said, not really caring for the hopelessness of the situation.

“We have an alternative, but it might be a worse fate than death,” the angel said.

“What is it?” Greg asked.

“If this were to happen, you would be drawn into this war that is without end and likely be forced to fight in it for the rest of time until death would mercifully take you. Your life will never have anything familiar in it ever again; you would leave your life here to fight in this battle. It is a terrible war, and I was ready for death, but if you have a strong enough desire to live despite this, then I will live and save us,” the angel said.

Whoa, that was heavy. Greg liked his life, and both choices seemed to take that away, either with immediate death or eventual death. Greg wanted to know what was going on and he didn’t want to die, but fighting some horrible evil or whatever it was that was coming for them didn’t sound like it would be worth the answers.

When the angel appeared it had become incredibly bright, now it became terribly dark. That couldn’t be good. “They arrive, what do you wish?”

Two dark blobs appeared that seemed to suck all light into them. After they dissipated two being were standing on the pathway ahead of them. Greg expected horrible demons or something, after all, what else would fight an angel, but they looked human enough. It was dark and cold however, and it seemed to be coming from them.

“What is this?” one of them said. “She still lives? Your aim must have gotten weak brother.”

“My shot was true,” the other said. “Look, a human is kneeling next to her, it probably saved her.”

“Your shot couldn’t have been true if a mere human could stop death from taking her,” the first said.

They argued for a while and Greg’s mind was racing the whole time. He didn’t know what to do. His options were terrible on either end. He looked to the angel and her once stoic face was fearful. “Which are you afraid of,” Greg whispered, “living or dying?”

The angel in a hushed tone said, “Dying.”

“Then what must I do?” Greg asked.

“Lean closer to me, to my face,” the angel said.

Greg did as he was told and the two who were arguing noticed. “Hey! What are you doing?” He said with urgency in his voice.

Greg got as close to her face as he could and he heard the two start to run for them and he thought he heard a fire start to rage. It was too late, they were both goners; there probably wasn’t time for whatever the angel needed to do to be done. There was time however, as it was a small act. The angel leaned forward with much effort and kissed Greg, surprising him.

The world went white in a bright flash and Greg, instead of blacking out, whited out.


So, I know that this is really cliche, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it. It was fun to write though.

And suddenly!

I'm back!

I see that I completely forgot to mention on my blog two years ago that I was going to be leaving for two years to serve a mission... oops. Oh well, I'm back and I just got bit by the writers bug and now I post what I wrote.

            After the creation of the world, when people were still new, they yearned for that Great God who had created them just as a small child yearns for its parents. There was an aching in all hearts due to being separated from the Great God. Eventually people discovered that becoming closer to the Great God would diminish the ache, and so the people would follow their hearts towards the Great God. They found that if they paid enough attention, their hearts would tell them where to go, they would ache less when walking in a certain direction. Soon thousands started a journey to find the Great God and remove the ache. They were all heading for the same goal and so there were huge groups of people all going the same way. Soon they all met in a single place where they discovered that they could get no closer and there a city was built. It became a thriving utopia. People seemed happier there. Multitudes flocked to the city in order to feel that closeness with the Great God and many found that they couldn’t bring themselves to leave after arriving there, while others came and went without feeling a difference, their hearts becoming numb and hardened due to being away from and then ignoring the Great God.

            Then came the day of the crying hearts. One morning all awoke with a terrible heaviness, a horrific anguish which dragged at their very souls. Alarmed, many traveled to the City Closest to the Great God seeking respite, but it was gone. There was no sign that it had even been there. In its place there was a waste where no life grew. It became a burden to stay there for too long, almost as if the land itself were weeping. Even to this day nothing grows there. There is of course no real record of what exactly happened, but most agree that that it seemed that the Great God had decided that he was done with the world and had chosen to leave it behind, but before doing so, stopped to bring with him his creations that were closest to him. In his absence, even the hardest of hearts cried out “Oh Great God, where are you, and why did you leave me here alone?”

            Today, all are born with an ache in their hearts as we long for that being that created us and hope that someday the Great God will turn and see the sorrow of his children and return to us. Yet hearts can still become hard and many do. There are not many today whose hearts still ache for the Great God and who wish his return, and so what hope do we have that he will ever come back to us?

Yep, there it is. I'll forgo asking what you think since I doubt anyone will see this for a while since it has been two years and I figure most have forgotten that this existed.

Four Days In!

So normally I would post on the first day my word count with an excerpt of what I'd written so far. I didn't have the internet yet on the first day, so that didn't happen, and I kind of forgot until now. :D

So interesting things about my NaNovel so far. When I started it at midnight, it suddenly decided that it wanted to be told from first person. I've never done that before, I always write third person with multiple perspectives, which is not going to happen here. It'll be fun to see how this works out.

In a desperate attempt to find a name for my characters, I searched all those name meaning websites for a cool name and none of them seemed to work and my character hated them all and I finally just told him to shut up, you're Roy from now on! So he's Roy. And the other is Dan, Dan was less argumentative about his name as well, but none of them were as good about it as Ari was. Ari was the first name I thought up for her, she loved it, and it stayed. This has reflected her personality I think so far in my novel.

Sometimes browsing the NaNo forums can be dangerous. I hadn't really planned far enough for anything bad to happen in my novel, but then someone in the forums was asking for ideas about something terrible to happen in their novel, I shouted out an idea, and then I realized that I loved that idea and am trying to find a way to implement it into my novel. Those poor characters. I'm not sure if I will do this, or if something else will happen, or if it will just be sunshine and lollipops the whole time, but I don't really want it to be the latter. My bad guys need something to do, and they love that first idea that I had.

I really should be writing my novel instead of this. Especially since I have been issued a challenge to have a higher word count than the person challenging me by Monday. I just need a sledgehammer to get past this minor barrier of a writing block (just a tiny one) and I'm good to go.

Just About Two More Days

NaNoWriMo is nearly upon us! I am super excited and quite scared actually. This is the least prepared I've ever been for a NaNo. Even in the first year when i didn't do any paper planning (I didn't jot down any notes) I still knew more about that story than I know about this one! Last year I had a similar scare in that a few weeks before it started I didn't know what to write, but once I found out what I was to write, I made pages and pages of notes. This year I have a concept, some dragons (always important), and maybe the first chapter vaguely outlined in my head.

Now I blame my general unpreparedness on everything that's been happening in the past month, a month I usually reserve for NaNo preparing. Foreclosure is my new least favorite word. Its gotten me down in the dumps, a mind frame that I am generally unfamiliar with. Then, to add to that, I've been all sorts of sick this week, and sometimes being sick gives me a great excuse to stay up and write ("Why aren't you sleeping?" "I can't sleep, I'm sick!") this time we've also been moving all of our stuff out while I've been sick. And this is probably only half of whats been on my mind! Needless to say, my NaNo Novel has been taking a back seat in a month where it is supposed to be driving.

Okay, that's enough crying. I usually get the pre-NaNo jitters. Two years ago it was the "omigosh I've never done this before am I crazy?!" jitters. Last year it was the "My plot is paper thin and I don't have nearly enough in it to fill up 50,000 words, I'm going to fail so bad!" jitters. This year its the "Oh crap, I haven't planned my Novel nearly enough! What am I going to do?" jitters.

I haven't had as much time to plan this novel as I might want. This is bad, but not word count threatening. I have proven in times past that I can fly by the seat of my pants, and often doing stuff like that adds great bonuses to my word count. So take that jitters! I strike you down with my sword of confidence and past experience! BWA HA HA!

I feel better now.

The Devil's Runner Chapter 2

So I know that its almost NaNoWriMo, but I wanted to get this little bit done before that started. And yes, all other Devil's Runner posts are part of chapter one, this post is the start of chapter 2. An interesting note, while I am usually a planner, The Devil's Runner has been completely by the seat of my pants. No planning has been done with this story so far, and I still don't really know who this Jenna girl is.

~

Jenna could tell immediately that something was wrong. She was comfortable for one thing. She normally woke on a cold stone floor; this was most definitely a mattress. That was another thing; she was warm instead of cold. Wonderfully warm. There was a wool blanket covering her. Jenna almost laughed at herself. She had become so accustomed to her cell that not being in it felt wrong.

Jenna’s eyes shot open. She wasn’t in her cell?! She slowly sat up; looking at the room she was in. It was a humble room with sparse furnishings, only a little desk in it besides the bed she was in. What really caught her attention was the window. She could see outside. It was so beautiful. She could see a little meadow out of her window and there were scattered flowers and what looked like a rabbit. Jenna turned her head and jumped as she saw an older woman staring at her.

“Up and about are we? Its about time, you’ve been sleeping there for hours and hours. I was getting worried I was.” The woman said.

Jenna found she couldn’t speak. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten here or who this woman was and she found that she was terrified. She tried to remember what had happened, but she had done almost nothing but sit in her cell for so long that that was all she could remember.

“You’re a curious one child, I’ll tell you that. I’ll go and get you father and tell him you’ve finally awoken,” the woman said before standing and leaving the room.

Her father? How could that be possible? Hadn’t her father died the day she was captured? She was sure of it. Then what was going on? She didn’t think she was dreaming, she had never gotten a sound enough sleep in her cell to allow for it. So what was going on? Before she could really wonder and start to panic about her situation, the door opened.

“Finally awake are you? I suspect you really needed that sleep after what you went through.” The man in the door said.

It was that Devil’s Runner person. That’s right; he had tried to rescue her. He had succeeded at it apparently. Jenna almost stopped breathing at the thought. Could it really be true? Was she truly free of that terrible place? It was so hard to believe.

Poking his head into the room, the man who had carried her in the prison looked in and asked, “Is she alright?”

“Come and see for yourself,” the Devil’s Runner said.

The man walked in and shut the door behind him. “Are you alright miss? You seemed awful scared back in that pri-”

The Devil’s Runner put his hand over the man’s mouth before he could finish speaking. “That’s a secret remember? We’re a travelling family, not prison escapees.”

The man nodded and the Devil’s Runner removed his hand. “Sorry, I’m not quite used to that. Anyway, are you feeling well?” he asked Jenna.

Jenna was free! Of course she was feeling well. She could ever remember being this happy. Tears started streaming down her face even as she nodded a yes.

“Oh, why are you crying? Don’t be sad,” the man said.

“I believe that those are tears of joy, Dmitri,” the Devil’s Runner said.

“Really? Oh, well that’s good then!” Dmitri said.

So his name was Dmitri. Jenna finally knew what to call him. Through her tears she found herself staring at him and looked away with a hiccup. How did that always happen when she looked at him? “So tell us miss, what’s your name? We’re all quite curious,” the Devil’s Runner said.

Jenna opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She couldn’t speak, her voice was gone. She hadn’t spoken for so long, could that be why she couldn’t speak now? Jenna tried again, but nothing came out. She wanted to speak; she wanted to tell Dmitri her name and wanted to speak with him. Her tears stopped being tears of joy.

“She can’t speak,” Dmitri said softly. “Why can’t she speak, how are we going to find out where to take her if she can’t tell us?”

“Calm down,” the Devil’s Runner said as he unexpectedly left the room.

Jenna and Dmitri watched him go and then turned back to look at each other. They stared for a few seconds before quickly looking away, both blushing. Jenna wished she could speak; it would make this whole thing so much easier. She also wanted to learn more about this Dmitri.

The Devil’s Runner walked back in holding a quill, a bottle of ink, and some parchment and handed them to Jenna. “I assume that you can at least write?” the Devil’s Runner asked.

Jenna could remember how to do that, she was certain. She dipped the quill in the ink and started to write on the parchment. Her hand was shaky and her handwriting was worse of because of that, but she thought it at least legible. Jenna finished and showed them what she had written.

“What in the- what is this?” Dmitri asked, reducing Jenna’s self esteem by just a little.

The Devil’s Runner took the parchment and studied it a bit before laughing. “You’ve written this in High Rountasian. Haven’t you been paying attention to what language we’re speaking?”

Jenna had of course realized what they were speaking, Lower Gaddle-Speak, she had just written in her native language without really thinking was all. She had thought that everyone could read that language, she was apparently wrong. She motioned for the parchment back, but the Devil’s Runner shooed her hand away, “I can still read it lass. So your name is Jenna then?”

Jenna nodded and noted that Dmitri mouthed the word to himself. She motioned for the parchment back, intending to use it to ask some of the many burning questions that had plagued her since waking, but the Devil’s Runner shooed her hand away again.

“So, if you can understand us, and write in another language, then you’re definitely bilingual. That is a rare trait even among the high born,” the Devil’s Runner said. Jenna noticed a glint in his eye, and suddenly wondered why he was called the Devil’s Runner. “You must be a very important person indeed.”

The Devil’s Runner handed her the parchment back and she immediately started writing again, this time making sure to write in the correct language. She wanted to ask about them, but didn’t want to seem rude to her rescuers and asked instead what had happened and where they were before handing the parchment back to them.

The Devil’s Runner looked annoyed. “I was going to ask you something, but you finished writing your questions before I could ask mine. No matter, what happened is that this young man,” he motioned towards Dmitri, “was arrested and imprisoned for crimes that I committed in the Fortress Prison, which isn’t a fortress at all, and was locked away in the same cell block as you, lucky for you, since I was feeling generous enough to rescue everyone in that hallway. I broke you all out, it being made a bit more difficult with your hysterics, and we travelled to the nearest inn, which was still very far away, and have been waiting for you to wake before continuing. We are in the Deserts Reprieve, an Inn in a little village in Gaddlemont.”

Jenna had listened with growing horror. Not only had these people not come to rescue her, something she had assumed from the beginning, but they were criminals. But worse than all that, she was in Gaddlemont, a terrible and treacherous country that was more than one thousand miles from her home in Rountasia. Jenna slowly fainted.

NaNoWriMo's 10 rules and regulations (aka Commandments)

Some post on the NaNo forums talks about our own personal 10 commandments for NaNoWriMo. So yes, I'm stealing ideas twice over with this post :D

NUMBER 1!
Thou shalt not stare at the page for any longer than five minutes without putting words upon it! It mattereth not if those words are utter nonsense, just so long as they are written.

NUMBER 2!
Thou shalt be encouraging towards, and only slightly competitive against, those who are also participating in the National Novel Writing Month.

NUMBER 3!
Thou shalt not take a week long break like thou has wont to do in past Nation Novel Writing Month excursions. Such breaks only serve to add stress and a mad scrambling nearer to the end of the month. Seriously, don't.

NUMBER 4!
Thou shalt remember that there exist other persons in thy household who likely will wish to converse with thee and in turn inquire into thy writings. Thou shalt not ignore these persons, and often their advice on thy novel with be highly valuable.

NUMBER 5!
Thou hast a canine companion that requires sustenance just as much as thee. Thou shalt feed thy canine and also take it outdoors for walks.

NUMBER 6!
Thou shalt not be afraid to kill a character. Thou must remember that three character are essential and should still be alive at the end of thy novel, but all the rest may be treated as cannon fodder as thou seest fit.

NUMBER 7!
Thou shalt avoid that loud and overly large PlayStation 3 that is in thy possession until thou hast gone above and beyond thy word count goal. The same goes for the Wii. Thou shalt not give unto me that look.

NUMBER 8!
Thou shalt remember to remove thy flash drive from the computer upon finishing thy writing. Thou dost not want a repeat of prior incidents.

NUMBER 9!
Thou shalt not forget other personal goals that still bear great importance, even if thou art participating in National Novel Writing Month. Remember, time is quickly disappearing.

NUMBER 10!
Thou shalt write a remarkable novel, even if it needs polishing after the month is over.

That was funner than I expected.