Daily Excerpt Post: Day Two

[writingvixen.livejournal.com]

Daily Excerpt Post

Post an excerpt of your novel here!
Please try to keep it under 1500 words. Thanks!

Comments

[mymorphine.livejournal.com]

My pocket vibrates, and my fingers get a quick but thorough lick down before I stuff my hand in to retrieve the phone. The massive, shiny grand piano sticker I slapped on the back when I first bought this cell is starting to peel, and it sticks to my fingertips when I check my text.

It’s Jacey’s new Canadian phone number. Have a good flight, dahling <3 say adieu to the pacific for me one last time?

Have to smile at that. She and the ocean share a deep and inexplicable bond. They have long conversations in the summers, Jacey and the sea, and that’s where she gets her intermittent moments of clarity and wisdom, I’d bet my thumbs.

I consult the breeze through the cracked open car window – at this distance from the ocean most locals forget the smell of the sea already, as there’s always a little salt to the air, but it’s something I’ve become attuned to for Jacey’s sake. She’s much easier to understand this way, I’ve found.

She says she’ll miss you, and will be vair vair upset if you don’t come back afore she gets chilly, I text back. ilu madly.

[ink-kee.livejournal.com]

aww, this is so cute.

[mymorphine.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :D

[fenrischained.livejournal.com]

<3

[mymorphine.livejournal.com]

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

[novelized.livejournal.com]

The crappy rap music is already blaring when they walk up the pathway towards the Tau Kappa house, empty beer cans scattered around their feet, the walls themselves pulsing with the heavily autotuned bass. Scott sends an empty bottle rolling with the toe of his shoe, and three guys come bursting through the door, clearly plastered out of their minds.

“Miller!” the first one shouts in recognition. It's Elijah Dowell, his next-door neighbor freshman year, although tonight he's Dracula. Or maybe Edward Cullen. He's not entirely sure. “I didn't think you'd actually show up.”

“And miss out on this fine entertainment?” Scott scoffs. He's being reminded of exactly why he didn't want to come in the first place. Drunk people were only entertaining when he was drunk too, and right now, he wasn't even close.

Elijah looks over his shoulder. “Where's Ben?”

Like they can't go anywhere without the other. Okay, so they hang out more often than not. But he can count on one hand the number of times he's seen him outside of class in the entire month of October. They've been busy.

“Hey,” Charlie says, interjecting herself into the conversation, “where is Ben? You called him, didn't you?”

Scott had completely forgotten, what with getting ready, digging through a mountain of dirty laundry, and polishing off another two candy bars. But he knows that's not the answer Charlie wants, so he shrugs. “Yeah, he's busy. He's at home.”

Charlie blinks. “Really? He didn't say he was going home.”

“He decided last minute. His parents gave him crap.”

“Bummer,” says Elijah. He's apparently double-fisting tonight, both cans unopened, and when Scott looks at one pointedly, he holds them to his chest. “Get your own, Miller. Check the fridge in the basement. It's stocked.”

Scott looks at Charlie.

“Go ahead,” she says, waving him on. She's never been big on drinking at parties. She says it makes her stupid, but really, Scott thinks, it just makes her lonely. There's a reason he would never do the long-distance thing. Her Ivy League boyfriend only made it down to Brumley twice a semester at best, and she couldn't exactly make the drive every week. Scott secretly thinks it'd just be easier to dump him, but she's got a picture of the two of them as the background on her phone, and she calls him every night before bed, so he keeps his opinion to himself. It's easier that way on him, too, because he doesn't have to worry about beating the crap out of any guys on campus if they tried to mess around with her. He'd do it, for her, but he'd prefer not to. Ben would too.

“Oh my God!” some girl shouts from an upstairs window. She's wobbling, her head poking out, and Scott prays she doesn't lose balance and fall. “My Little Pony!”

“You're being beckoned,” Scott laughs, nudging Charlie in the side, and because he really doesn't want to bear witness to a sorority girl falling to her drunken death, he makes his way into the house, bound and determined to find the stocked fridge in the basement.


One of the advantages of going to a tiny school in the middle of nowhere was that you knew pretty much everyone. Tonight, this is a major disadvantage. He can't move five feet without being roped into another conversation, about his costume, his organic chemistry grade, his thoughts on last week's football game. He just wants to drink. This would all be more bearable with alcohol in his system.

He wishes Ben were there. Ben is a champion deflector. Ben can get out of conversations without an ounce of effort. Ben would laugh at his joke about the guy dressed as a fisherman being a 'master baiter,' even though no one else did.

Scott breaks away from three junior girls in Spice Girls costumes after a fifteen minute conversation discussing the merit of Smirnoff Ice and tugs his phone out of his pocket, typing out a quick message: Where you at, BJ? Come save my ass but before he can press send, Tyrone, from the basketball team, stumbles into him and spills half his drink down the front of his jersey. Of course. Scott repockets the phone, forgetting about the text, and tries to find a bathroom to wash off the sticky liquid before it has the chance to dry.

[tapeta.livejournal.com]

I am so curious as to what the story arc/plot of your novel is.

[acid-gloss.livejournal.com]

The words become clear, “Maintain hope” it says. A pithy phrase of ambiguity does me no service.
I scramble – that’s it?! Scouring through the pages, my finger brush against every fiber, searching but no idea what for. And then it is found, a hard spot. A mere few centimeters from where my ring finger first landed – near the blood – there is what seems to be a disk. Inside the “o” of “Hope” is where it is, so then I carve the paper with the most potent fingernail in my possession. And finally, it is mine. I instantly clutch it to my chest. It is not as my first impression gathered a disk but rather it is a collapsible portable computer – the most one I have ever seen. Can I find Wynn? I unhinge its fixtures and the device expands to its full size. I turn it on. A simple word-processing document appears:

“1. Conscious.gbl”

[handlebars19.livejournal.com]

But the prophecy said he was going to save her, so save her he would, and even if they were outnumbered, he knew he would survive. How could he become king if he didn’t? Embril however... Edric glanced at his younger brother, would he survive? His father and mother hadn’t mentioned what his future held when they had left. Had they even bothered, when Edric was bound to turn out so famous? He would have to make sure that Embril survived this day so he could take part in the glory. He would make sure to set him up as a lord, or one of his advisers.

Edric glanced up at the trees around them. Most of them were conifers, which could provide good cover and since they were taller they would give a good vantage point of the surrounding area. However their lowest branches where well out of his reach, but if he were to boost Embril up...

“Come,” He clapped his brother on the shoulder. “I have an idea.”

[reynardo.livejournal.com]

"I think he's more of an embarrasment than a danger." Enid's brow furrowed. "You don't want the prospective suitors to your family finding out there's a madman hanging in the wings. And at least here he's got a nice garden to walk in and lots of lovely views, and the food's pretty decent too. If you're going to hide away a crazy uncle, you could do a lot worse. Deep in the dungeons, locked in the attic with Mrs Poole..."

[fenrischained.livejournal.com]

I have to say, based on this and yesterday's installment, I am curious.

[reynardo.livejournal.com]

Why thank you! Considering that I'll have to somehow eventually entice a publisher to read further, that I've made you curious means I'm heading in the right direction :-)

[ms-king.livejournal.com]

In my twenty eight years there had been exactly three moments in which I witnessed something that could as well have been a scene straight out of “The Exorcist.” Today would be the fourth.

The ceiling of the room was vaulted in a way that made it feel much larger than it actually was, and added a certain kind of old German-esque look to the outer architecture of the house, it also meant I had to crane my neck to see her. It wasn’t just the fact that she was on the ceiling, which wouldn’t have been all that bad by itself, but she had done that revolting, bone chilling Exorcist crab walk up the wall to get there. Blood smeared over her hands and feet from where her nails had turned into two inch long talons that allowed her to grab the drywall and latch herself to the corner space between ceiling and wall.

...

I waited a few seconds to make sure the activity had stopped, at least for the moment, and looked over at Mrs. Denton wholly surprised that she was still conscious, much less that other than her rather pale expression, she looked perfectly fine, if not strained, and she was already looking at me, either unable to look at her daughter any longer or, “That’s Cindy,” she introduced with much more tact than I imagined possible in such a situation. She took a breath, taking the moment to settle whatever thoughts she was hiding behind her rather muted expression, “She hasn’t been herself for some time, though…” she glanced up at her daughter on the ceiling just for a moment before looking back to me, “this hasn’t happened before.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s good.”

[pet-lunatic.livejournal.com]

Her smile was radiant. “I'm pleased to meet you, Theo. My name is Natsumi.”

“Nice to meet you too, Natsumi. Hey, I hope you don't mind my saying this, but the fine muscle control in your face is amazing. Beautiful work. Looks totally natural.”

Her head dipped shyly. “Thank you, Theo. You also are very attractive.”

Theo smiled wryly to himself as he took the elevator to Stephens' suite, carrying his small overnight bag. He'd just pulled – with a hostess gynoid. Story of his life.

[twistedprince.livejournal.com]

The robin smiled.

[ink-kee.livejournal.com]

Blank canvases leaned against the walls, silent and empty, as if they were staring at me and laughing at my inability to produce any worthwhile art.

"Fuck you," I spat without thinking. I immediately felt bad afterwards, as if I had just yelled at one of my unborn children.

[greenwillow27.livejournal.com]

At the top of the narrow trail the boys had stopped at the mouth of the cave. Rimmed with broken brush and granite it arched twenty feet overhead, dark and forbidding, facing the south bank of the river. Cool air rolled out from within the shadowed walls.

“Hey Claire!” said Tyler. “Guess what we found in the cave today?”

Claire grinned as she joined them. “The cave where you’re not supposed to be? I’m afraid to guess.”

“A coffin!” said Mason.

[subitoburrito.livejournal.com]

Manny pushed herself to her feet and grabbed at the clock. Swiftly turning it over, she scraped at the bottom, trying to unlock the battery cover. Shit, why wouldn’t it stop ringing? Now would have been a good time to have fingernails. The clock managed to ring six more ear splitting times before Manny teared the cover open and managed to remove the AAAs. Her body just couldn’t take that alarm anymore, she’d have to find a new clock later. Its clangor made her hands shake and her breath stop, enough to automatically start her day on the wrong side of the bed each morning. It was like being steamrolled into the waking the world.

Manny slid the three batteries into her night stand drawer, dropping one onto the ground in the process. She left it there, already feeling frustrated that her hands simply could not stop shaking. When she had first bought that alarm and first heard its jolted ring, she had experimented. Every morning her body seemed to wake itself up only minutes before the alarm. She’d stare at the clock, counting down to the exact moment when it would go off. Yet even with such preparation, it scared her to her very core. Manny now had enough and threw it maliciously into her trash.

The clang that it made when hitting the bottom of the metal can felt spiteful.

[fluffygremlin.livejournal.com]

“I can’t believe I’m stuck out in a storm because of some silly little…” Deacon threw up his hands in disgust as the rain reached them.

“Don’t finish that thought,” Melli said with a growl. “Do you think I wanted you to come?”

“I think I never should have agreed.” Deacon began pacing on the wet path. “Agne knows no punishment Nico could have come up with would be worse than this. Stuck in the rain with some stupid Grey who doesn’t even know the way to her own house; I’d rather be stuck in the scroll room during Long Day.”

“You aren’t helping,” Melli chastised him. The rain fell heavier, obscuring her view of the woods. She couldn’t see any light from the village and wasn’t sure how much further they needed to walk to reach safety.

“There’s only one path and it leads to Lihe. I’m not lost.” Melli turned and began to walk down the muddy road. She stopped after a short way once she realized that Deacon was no longer at her side. Turning, she found him still standing in the same spot she had left him.

“Are you sure that’s the way?” he called to her. “I thought Lihe was to the south.”

“It is,” Melli said, looking at the dark skinned man in annoyance.

“That’s not south.” Deacon pointed in the opposite direction. “That is.”

Melli looked around, brushing wet hair away from her face. Without the moon or sun she wasn’t able to be sure which direction she was going. She refused to admit such a thing to Deacon, however, and placed her hands firmly on her hips.

“I think I know how to get to my home,” she said firmly.

“And I know how to get to mine,” Deacon said, walking casually towards her. Melli was annoyed to see that his hair remained perfectly away from his face despite the wind and rain.

“You’re going towards mine,” he continued as he stopped right in front of her. He leaned close to her, causing Melli to hold her breath involuntarily. “Trust me.”

Melli took one step back, impatiently brushing her hair back again.

“I wouldn’t trust you unless I…” Her words trailed off as her eyes focused on something just behind the tall man. Suddenly the rain wasn’t such a concern.

“Dark Child.”

[ayumidah.livejournal.com]

She finally stops cleaning, tossing the red stained rags in the sink. Once she's standing in front of him once more, the stains on her clothing the only sign of her mishap, she points at him. "Remind me not to touch anything again while I'm here. And how much do you think a bottle of red wine would go for in a place like this?" At his dumbfounded glance, she looks uncomfortable. "I'm not just going to leave after spilling their stock... I should at least pay for it."

"You mean you don't work here?" he demands, standing up straighter. "Then why are you here after hours?" He casts a curious look around the deserted bar, suddenly seeing it in a new light. "You don't want me to help you rob the place, do you?" He still thinks it's a dream but just in case it isn't, well, he's not going to get himself tossed in jail. Somehow I doubt police would believe if I told them I thought I was asleep in my apartment, anyway... he thinks despondently.

She scoffs, shaking her head forcefully. Writers, geez. "Of course not! I told you, I'm here to meet you. This place is where I was told to wait... it was abandoned when I arrived, but the door was open. So I decided to come inside because standing outside in some alleyway while I wait for a perfect stranger didn't sound that appealing to me, let me tell ya."

He watches as she shifts, placing her hands on her hips. Oh hell, he thinks. Why not. I wanted something different to do anyway... even if this is my subconscious having a fit, I may get some idea for my story if this dream goes somewhere crazy. "Ok," he says out loud. "Let's say I choose to believe you. What happens then?"

[lmeighmy.livejournal.com]

“So, what's this all about? What's got you and Jagger so freaked out that you won't talk about it over the phone?”

“Man, Josh, I don't know if I can tell you without sounding like a paranoid freak.”

“Hey, I'm an investigative reporter. Nothing you say will shock me.”

“No? What about ghosts? Demons? The paranormal?”

“It's...a little out of my league, I'll admit, but I can listen with an open mind. What's been going on?”

“Well, I can only speak for myself. Jagger will have to tell you his own stories.”

“Fine, so tell me what's been going on with you, then,” I said patiently.

“Alright,” Jett said, leaning over the table. He lowered his voice so that only I could hear. “You know Hunter...from the accident?”

“Yeah, I remember him. Is he involved?”

“Well, sort of, I guess. At least, it all started after Lisa and the baby died.”

“Lisa...you mean his wife?”

Jett nodded. “First thing that happened, I wasn't sure it really happened. I thought it was my imagination. I was looking out the window. It was actually snowing, and you know we hardly ever have snow in New Temp.”

“Yeah, and...?” I asked. I was used to Jett prattling on, but I was getting anxious for him to get to the good part so I could finally know what had him so agitated.

“It was night time, and the snow was swirling around. The window kept fogging up, and I kept having to wipe it off.” He looked down at the drink in his cup, and I could almost see the gears working in his brain before he looked up again and continued. “I saw a woman. At least, I thought I did.”

“What did she look like?” I asked, wondering where this was going.

“That's just it. I could have sworn it was Lisa. I only saw her for a split second, and in that second, her face looked angry, like the cold anger of someone who wants to get even for something. But...Lisa's dead. It couldn't be her, right?”

I could have sworn I saw fear in his eyes, but it wasn't like Jett to be afraid. Out of the three of us, Jett was the quickest to defy his fear, to rush in with no thought of the consequences. If there was a child trapped in a burning building, Jett would be the first to rush in and try to save him or her with no consideration for his own safety or the fact that he could die. Jett was fearless. Surely, he couldn't be afraid of what might only have been an illusion, a trick of the swirling snow in the darkness and the moisture on the fogged up window.

There had to be more, and I urged him to tell me.

“Yeah, there's more. That was just the beginning,” he told me. I watched him, and I saw him shiver slightly—or thought I did. I shook off the feeling that maybe Jett really was paranoid. I had to keep an open mind, like I'd promised I would. With that in mind, I listened to what he had to tell me.

[fenrischained.livejournal.com]

I found it hard to believe that the three sisters, at least, had shared those sentiments, but I kept it to myself, turning my hand over with a wince and exploring the inside of my wrist now. “I just...” I began, and sighed. “I was overwhelmed. I can hardly... no, I cannot believe that this is real. The skyship without a balloon, the ship full of women, the...” I trailed off, aware that to go into the details of my discomfiture would be more than a little insulting, and simply shrugged instead. “It’s simply unbelievable... And, Ari, this is astonishing!”

For further examination had only served to confirm what I had thought – my wrist was broken, and badly (the bones had twisted apart)... but it felt no worse than a sprain! Whatever paste the Egyptian woman had smeared onto the skin was nothing short of a miracle. I regretted having doubted her.

Ari’s look, however, was cool in the extreme. “Many things are. If you decide to believe in them.”

“I didn’t mean...!” I flustered, trying blindly to rescue a situation I didn’t understand.

“I’m sure you didn’t.” She stood up, tilting her chin. “I’ll let you get back to your beauty sleep, Dr. Wells.”

“Ari!” I called after her, then cursed under my breath and threw the covers to one side, halfway to my feet before I so much as remembered how I had twisted my leg. But before I could hobble after her, the door slammed closed. She was gone.

Blast.

[kayadore82.livejournal.com]

Their eyes meet in the mirror, and she is stony in her resoluteness. “Do you love me?” she says finally. It’s so shocking and so absurd to Milo that he laughs.
“Love you?” It sounds so strange. “Should I?” He laughs again.
“Well I love you, you son of a bitch.”

[tehexile]

“And as for Ulrich, he was the one who first summoned me back into existence. That means he's already made a pact with me. At the very least, I owe him a favour. He freed me from my prison so I should free him from his.”

“If its not a personal question, lass...”

“Spatula.” she corrected Oswald, “Or Lady. Lady Spatula.”

“Why were you in prison? Were you captured?”

“I'm not easily taken captive these days. I'm too good at it.” she said, “To tell you the truth, I don't... I don't remember. That's what worries me. I might have gone into stasis from existential weakness, but I... I kind of feel like someone did this deliberately. Or did something, at least. I usually know if someone's mistreated someone when they were helpless. Its something I have to sort out a lot.”

“Its dishonourable to attack someone weaker than you.” agreed Oswald. He didn't understand about 'stasis' or 'existential weakness' and still didn't quite comprehend why Gods had to apply for a visa but he understood that last fact. It was part of his Knight's Code. And so is 'never abandon your post', he thought glumly.

“Well, its also dishonourable not to repay a debt and to disobey divine commands from your own patron deity.” she told him firmly, “Rest assured, this will not lead to your ruin. Only minor loss. I'm too tired for total ruination today.”

“You should stop drinking that Jagermeister then.” suggested Gregorio. She had finished the first bottle and somehow – he didn't remember how, but guessed it was something to do with her magical powers of making him utterly fail as a barman – had acquired a second.

“Ah, barkeep.” she fixed him with a jet-black titanium glare that made him certain she was anything but drunk, “My business may take me late into the night. I have need of a room.”

“Fifty groats.” he told her, “Or make Lionel sing another song.”

[fenrischained.livejournal.com]

This looks awesome.

And I lol'd.

[ravenlowe.livejournal.com]

Damien took another puff of his cigarette and looked at the tied up form on the ground in front of him. There were a lot of things that pissed him off these days, and wannabe goth punks just so happened to be one of them. Emo, he thought he heard someone call them. He bet this one couldn't even tell him when the Gothic Period was.

The vampire pushed himself off the desk that he was sitting on and casually circled his prey. Another bloody teenager. Just peachy. The little asswipe was crying like the pathetic bag of bones that he was and struggling ever so delightfully against his restraints. At least the smell of fear would make this sweet.

“You know, if I were a kinder person I'd be telling you how to learn from this experience and turn your life around before letting you go,” Damien lectured casually as he shook the ash from the end of the cigarette. “Unfortunately for you, I'm really not very nice, and ironically enough I'm not big on second chances. So, I'll tell you what's going to happen instead of all that rot. I'm going to finish this cigarette while you think about how you've wasted your life, and then, I'm going to kill you. Sound fair?”

His captive screamed around his gag.

“Yeah. I thought so too.”

[reynardo.livejournal.com]

And...????

I'll be looking out for more of your work.

[starsandauras]

“’Tis only so much teachin’ I can be doin’ with a student who’ll nay listen t’me! Th’lad has an obsession with th’musket, always has! Why be stabbin’ when ye can be shootin’?!” Alfred winced slightly. He wasn’t hiding, was he? It was a good thing, the shock on Arthur’s troops’ faces when his men came screaming out of the trees just like his auntie and his natives had taught them, wasn’t it?

“It’s because you treat him like some weak pansy-ass child! You’re backing down with him!” Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, dislodging until then unnoticed snowflakes. “Coddling, that’s the fastest way to make boys go soft. It’s a good thing he’s not Mattie, kicking the British Empire in the shins, he’d have been beat to hell within a week!”

The reverberating crack of flesh hitting flesh rang through the cold winter air long before anyone registered the flat of Brigid’s hand making bruising contact with Gilbert’s cheek. Even from where he was hiding Alfred could see the fury his aunt was well known for flash in her eyes. “Don’t ye e’er be talkin’ ‘bout me Maitiú like that e’er again, Gilbert Beilschmidt, Kingdom o’Prussia! That wee lad has th’potiental t’be th’best fighter ou’o’all o’us, aye e’en better than ye!”