You folks are complaining that I do not update regularly and you have every right to complain. I am sorry, I am terrible at updating because I feel the need to impress you and I haven’t done anything impressive lately. I write a paragraph, get stuck, berate myself using colorful language, then give up and watch Here Comes Honey Boo Boo (or the equivalent).
To prove that I have become a terrible writer, here is a collection of what I’ve been doing since my last update. Some of these are the beginnings of stories, while others are just random pieces of writing that bear no substance and will amount to nothing:
Her laugh broke the silence. It reverberated across the room, cutting into the hearts of everyone there. She was mad, her head rolled back, her eyes were shining, and her tongue lolled out like a dog. The captain’s face, usually a statue of unfaltering grimness broke for half a second before her ordered her to be gagged. Two uneasy officers walked forward and stuffed a wad of cloth into her mouth with shaking hands, trying not to look her in the eyes. She stared at them, following their every move with a wild look in her eyes. She was one woman, one small, unarmed and heavily restrained woman in a room with about fifteen specially trained king’s guards who were shaking in their breeches. They were under orders to take her from the dungeon where she had spent the past fortnight surviving on the rats and roaches she could catch to face a farce of a trial that would surely end with her death sentence. She and her companions were convicted of treason, and while that was a crime punishable by death, her friends were probably only going to be hanged, while she, a caste magus, would have to look forward to a long, drawn out, public death.
This has an interesting backstory in my head, but I don’t have the time to translate it to words, yet.
When he saw me I expected him to look at me with rage, with disbelief, or at least with cruel coldness. I never expected to see such soft sadness in his eyes. A genuine sort of misery that I have never before witnessed in another being. It was almost as if I could hear the tinkling music the pieces of his heart made as they shattered and fell to the floor. I realized that he finally saw the truth of me, saw beyond the silk and feathers, beyond the smooth skin that he had once caressed so lovingly. He saw the ugly, misshapen demon that I truly was, and would never see again the woman he once loved. A woman once, I became a vile excrement fermented in the bowels of hell. A monster I was, yes that I would not deny, the heartless, spiteful monster I was later said to be. But if that were true, and I being that damned hag of later Moralities, then what was it that thundered a thousand times between my ribs when he set his broken eyes on me? What magic caused unimaginable pain to crash through my chest, pain if I undertook into words would befoul the most dreadful creature into tears? An agony, such that if I could die a hundred cruel deaths through the most cunning and unmerciful human devices, it would not have compared. Alas, my suffering is too human for me to have the comfort of being named a monster … Although my insides danced some savage dance of despair, not a single tear escaped my eyes nor did a single sound fall from my lips. I had too much misery to be enclosed in tears or enunciated in crude words. The door slammed open and I faintly remember seeing the viziers face shining with unrepressed delight at my capture in the midst of a cacophony of shouts and movement. It was as if the seams of time had erupted and
And what? AND WHAT? I do not know. This was partly a prelude to what I’d written before, from a different perspective but I have no idea where I want things to go. Yet.
Also, vizier? Seriously, past Eman?
I’ll post some more tomorrow, no need to overwhelm you with mediocrity!