nanowrimo_lj | 17 November: Daily Excerpt

jupitersings.livejournal.com posting in

Feel free to share an excerpt from your novel here, though we ask that you keep it to PG-13, and if there are any triggers please list them in the title of your comment for people to see.

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From:

tehexile

Username: tehexile
Any background information: okay this story is now pretty blatantly a Gynoug fanfiction... WHY? why must I write about games I'm terrified of at 1 in the morning?
Excerpt:

“Good. Prophetic dreams are an excellent battle tactic, if you can get the hang of it,” he nodded, “I'm going to take you on a practice run, so you can get the hang of flying and throwing some basic elemental attacks on the wing. I'll send a message out now to warn the guards to keep the airfields clear and not to mistake us for terrorists and shoot us down or anything.”

Scribe's practice run went fairly smoothly. No matter how stupidly he crashed it, he never managed to break the Flying Machine. He was only sick twice, and was rapidly getting used to being suspended above great heights and occasionally spun around without warning. It seemed to be featuring a great deal in his immediate future. He also managed to only crash into one pillar and three civilians, and only hit one person with an elemental attack (fortunately for him, Saint Lysander had spotted the mistake, and the bystander was protected by a shield of air seconds before a ball of lightning slammed into said shield of air). He only broke one bone, which was quickly healed by an ever-attentive Saint Lysander. The worst thing that really happened was that he made a complete fool of himself in front of a growing audience, something he had been expressedly trying to avoid back in Brokenshire and had only managed to postpone until he reached a different city. It wouldn't have been so bad, as he at least didn't know anyone in Masaya, and therefore nobody had the inside knowledge of how to most efficiently mock him, except that he now had a wife. That fact hadn't really sunken in yet. Even compared to entering a battle he had technically already lost, and having the responsibility to save the world where the person whose job it was appeared to have given up, it was still more difficult to grasp, and to realise the true import of, the fact that he was married.

He was only sixteen, and he was married. To a girl with wings. Who may or may not still exist.

From:

fenrischained.livejournal.com

Username: fenrischained/Jormandugr

Any background information: Pat was shot through the shoulder during the events of Bloody Sunday and is in hospital; his Protestant best friend Jack showed up at the hospital an hour or so later and got in a fight with Pat's father; Pat got out of his hospital bed to drag the two of them off each other, and as a result, his da stormed off in a huff.
NOW READ ON...

Excerpt: “Nobody clears a room like Jack Barry,” Jack remarked, with a strained brightness to his voice, as he limped back into the ward. Pat was supporting him, or maybe he was supporting Pat, it was hard to tell. Either way, Pat was blessedly relieved when they got back to his bed and he could collapse back onto it.

“Shut up, you great eejit,” he mumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed. His head was spinning; it had probably been a terrible idea to get up like that, but what else could he have done? It wasn’t like he could just have let them go at it, and just because he was hurt didn’t mean he was deaf. He’d clearly left it too long as it was; Jack’s face was a mess, his lip split in two places and his nose bloody. Pat should have got out there before the two of them had even come to blows. Jack was his friend, and Adam was his da... that made them both his responsibility, and he felt a sick kind of guilt that it had got this far because of him.

As if reading his mind, Jack reached out a hand to touch Pat’s leg, carefully. “It’s not your fault. You know that, yeah?”

Pat shrugged his good shoulder, gritting his teeth as even that small move jolted his already painful arm, and put his good hand on Jack’s. “Maybe not,” he said, quietly, “but it’s still because of me. So don’t start, okay?” He patted Jack’s hand, purposefully patronising, and then met his friend’s eyes. “Listen, mate, I think maybe you should go...”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jack interrupted, immediately and fiercely. “Look, Pat, I’ve been running halfway around the fucking city after you, if you think I’m just going to piss off and leave you now, you can forget it.”

“What?” Pat blinked at him, taken by surprise. “No, Jack, listen, I was just going to say you should go and wash your face, stop bleeding on my blankets.”

From:

nonky.livejournal.com

Username: nonky
Any background information: Cory has to break out of his dead end job and the distractions of his crappy band, a bunch of needy ghosts and his mother's basement to get a life.
Excerpt:"No, that's good," she said. "So we'll meet up there? Can you text me directions?"

"I can." When he googled a place and made sure it wasn't a crack den. And he probably needed some cash, plus something to wear without holes in it. Maybe his mom still had his prom suit? Cory felt some cheetos roiling back up into his throat, and winced.

"Great. I'll see you then. Bye Cory."

She was gone before he could reply, and it was probably for the best. The waves of nerves and heartburn kicked up, turning his torso into a volcanic eruption. He burped into the dial tone, and hung up.

It took a moment to realize a jazz club was supposed to mean romance. He had no plan. This was going to be dating carnage. His dry spell would last until he died. He'd live with his mother until he was imprisoned for licking people's bathroom windows or something. He would be paroled just in time to be the first male cat lady in his neighbourhood, where children would tell the legend of Cory's disastrous date as an urban legend ending in 'and to this day, if you play Thelonius Monk, Cory will send his cats to eat you!'

He gagged, spat into the toilet, and flushed it. As he let himself out of the bathroom he was met by Rip and a group of interested female ghosts. Miss Elaine looked put out by his sniffing around other women, but Viv, Mrs. Runca, and Mrs. Gilcrest were smiling.

Edited Date: 2011-11-18 01:26 am (UTC)

From:

winter-tulip.livejournal.com

Username: wintertulip
Any background information: David is Julie's ex-boyfriend, and Julie is a musician. Other than that, it's a long, convoluted story.

David had never stopped loving her, just like he said he would keep on loving. He sent flowers after many of her performances, with a polite little card. Not asking her to get back together or to contact him, but simply to say well done. Oh yes, he still loved her; the love seeped out of those little cards. He just loved her all wrong. He wanted to keep her wrapped up in a comfy little life that would have suffocated her. Julie could live without love, but she could not live with a man that did not respect her.

From:

blaze7the7cat.livejournal.com

blaze7the7cat:
Any background information:
Uraeus is the egyptian princess and heroin of the story, and Ladon is the third and current king of the Dragon Realm, Brightfire is the first king of the dragon world, Apep is the main antagonist of this story.
Excerpt:
"Wh-Why would the gods want me to have this pendant? And what does it do?" Uraeus asked.

Ladon knelt before Uraeus and said "The pendant has many important uses. One of these uses is combat...If you learn how to use it's magic properly, it can turn into a weapon. Another is amplifying magic for spells. And the third use is the most important. The pendant has a connection to the pieces of a key to where Brightfire's soul is hidden!"

"Key? To where Brightfire's soul is hidden? I thought no one knew where it was!?" Uraeus gasped.

"I guess I should've explained that earlier..." Ladon started.

Ladon pulled a piece of stone from inside his necklace and handed it to Uraeus.
"The location of Brightfire's soul is indeed hidden to keep it safe from evil, it is protected by a powerful magical barrier
that can only be broken by an object with magic powerful enough to match the power of the barrier. This object is known as the 'Soul Tablet'.
The Soul Tablet is a marble tablet showing a carving of Brightfire that was shattered by the 2nd king 99 years ago, I am currently the third king of the magical realm...These fragments were hidden across the land, and the pendant can help you find them all and restore it."

"I see..." Uraeus started, digesting all of this new information. "So, what I must do is travel across this world, battling monsters, collecting pieces of some stone artifact along the way, find the spirit of an ancient king, and return him to his body, right?"

Ladon laughed wholeheartedly. "You catch on quick!!" Ladon's expressions turned serious. "But before you embark on such a dangerous journey, I feel it would be best to learn the fighting arts to defend yourself...
Warrior trainer, you may enter now!" He declared.

A lizard-man-like dragon with shriveled, useless wings entered the room through the door, climbed up the stairs, and inspected Uraeus.