My head hurts badly (surely that had NOTHING to do with the somersaults I was turning a couple hours ago *angel halo*), the computer monitor stings my eyes, and I am exhausted (and have been since about ten o clock) BUT I have done it. I have written something. The past hour and a half have been spent laboring over the beginnings of some sort of story. I don't understand it yet, but so far it is 5 notebook pages long... I am not quite sure where it is going now, so perhaps something will come to me in my sleep. I would like to finish this story. Although the beginning was hardly such. It almost seems like it will be an event in a much longer story. I don't know entirely sure how it will work though. All I know is a black haired, green eyed girl, just followed an ominious dark cloaked figure across a wasteland, through a ruined city, up a flight of stairs, and into a tower. Far be it from me to say where she came from, and what is going to happen next. I will work on the past later, for now, I will have to finish up this part of the story. Ideas are bubbling inside of me already.
But I just had to come and express my pleasure. That I have written something. Something good. Something promising. Something I truly like. And it is a something. A story. Finally. I probably should work on others (such as The Woman In The Well which I LOVE a lot, and it kills me that I still haven't finished a first draft yet...its a goal though) but first things first. I will get this story done, or this "event", a first draft done, then work on a complete first draft of The Woman In The Well.
Woo. Wow. Its nice to get things done and written! I suppose you may have a short excerpt. Details and explanations aren't so good yet, but this is just a first first draft.
She grew ever more weary as she stumbled across the parched wasteland. There wasn't a living creature in sight to comfort her. Not even a pale, slimy lizard to scuttle across her calloused feet. Only the blood red sun. The huge, glaring disc, hung in perpetual sunset, blistering the sulfurous yellow sky with its piercing rays.A cold wind stirred up and blew the girl's raven hair into her clouded green eyes and she shivered violently. She wrapped her goosebumped bare arms about her skinny, battered frame and dropped to the ground behind a rock in tears.
As she sobbed, a tall figure enwrapped in a coarse black cloack brushed past her, moving quickly in a westwardly direction. She felt the cloak brush one of her arms and she stared after the figure. In a moment she was wiping her tears away and stumbling to follow. She cried out hoarsely and desperately for the figure to stop and help her, but the figure never turned or hesitated in its fast, gliding gait. She ran after it quickly but couldn't seem to get any closer and the figure never seemed to hear her or be aware of her presence. Surely though, the figure was going somewhere. She would follow it there.
Woo. Take that as you will...In closing, here is a bit of my crappy poetry written on a whim about half an hour before I started the story
Far stretching meadows
With chattering streams
Which carry an echo
Of all my lost dreams
A revised version was started and the first four lines became
Wading through meadows
Of ill spoken words
Gazing in murky pools
Echoing my lost dreams
But...meh...really, I felt like those attempts bombed and I abandoned them. So you can study them instead. Ha! Children, these are examples of the kind of poetry you DON'T want to be writing...
*shrugs* At least I have my story *smiles contently*