Side-Effect

Sup!

I’ve really dropped the ball on posting here, but know that I’m still around. Just not doing as much online as I used to. Someday, I’ll come back to regularly posting.

This is a continuation of this piece.

Prompt: “What could I say?”

Enjoy!

---

We rode to the other safe house in uncomfortable silence.

When Nate woke up a few hours before, he didn’t want to talk, and now was no different. After I helped him check his vitals, he shut down – completely silent save for small sounds of agreement or dissent as we readied the car to leave. I didn’t push him to talk to me, knowing full well I had no real right to demand communication. Not after what I did. He could pretend he didn’t blame me all he wanted, but it was obviously not okay.

Still, the silence would drive me insane long before reaching our destination. What could I say to break the tension?

“How are you feeling?” The words tumbled out, awkward and clunky, before I could stop them.

“Exhausted.” It was more syllables than I expected.

I risked a quick glance at him, unwilling to take my eyes off the road for long. His eyes were closed, head tilted back against the headrest.

Was it a side-effect of the serum? I hadn’t expected a personality change. Any sign of the man who’d almost begged me to stay by his side was gone, replaced by someone I could only describe as cold. Literally. The only thing off about his vitals had been his body temperature.

“You can get some proper sleep when we’re safe.”

“And when will that be?” I flinched at his frustration.

“Soon.” My hands tightened on the wheel, eyes fixed on the dark road ahead.

---

Don’t forget to check out the other responses at the prompt!

As always, think happy thoughts!

Update:

I won this week! Woo!

Advertisements

Everlasting Guilt

Happy Thursday!

Today’s piece comes from the #ThursThreads prompt series.

Prompt: “You aren’t insane.”

~~~

“You aren’t insane.”

But I’m not sure that’s entirely true. The doubt looking back at me from the mirror only makes it worse. Behind my reflection, Nate is still on the couch in the other room, sleeping as his body continues to adjust to the serum. Deep down I know I gave it to him to save his life. At least, I keep telling myself that. It has to be the reason, right? Not because I was curious about what could happen – not because I still share my father’s insane ideas.

“Selah?” His voice is weak, as he struggles his way back to consciousness.

“I’m here.” Returning to his side, I push thoughts of my guilt away – I can deal with those later – and refocus on him. “Let yourself sleep. We can’t stay here for long and my other safe house is more than a day’s trip away.”

He reaches out, his face contorting in pain at the effort it takes him to move. Of course it hurts – I can’t imagine a DNA rewrite being pleasant. Despite that, his hand makes it to mine and squeezes.

“Stay.” He barely manages the word. Does he think I’ll leave him behind? Though his voice is faint, his grip is strong, unyielding. “Rest.”

Even through the haze of sleep, I make out a single emotion in his eyes – worry. If only to make sure he goes back to sleep, I sit on the floor by the couch, his hand still in mine.

“Okay.”

~~~

Be sure to check out the rest of the responses at the prompt!

As always, think happy thoughts!

Consequences

I’ll keep this short and sweet.

It’s a miracle I’ve actually typed something up today! Didn’t think I’d participate two weeks in a row, but here we are!

Prompt: “I think we pushed too far.”

It’s also a continuation of last week’s piece! I think I’ll be making a new category for it so I’ll group the posts together and treat it as another serial. Not yet, though. Need to settle into this story a bit more before I make that commitment. Enjoy!

---

I still can’t believe I managed to get him back to my bunker. Watching Nate lie on the couch, his body numb while the serum works, I can’t help but offer up a silent prayer of gratitude. Still, we aren’t out of the fire yet and it’s only a matter of time before our location is compromised.

“I think we pushed too far.” Though his body has all but shut down to recover, he can still speak, and follows my pacing with his eyes.

“You don’t say.”

“I mean, we shouldn’t have risked you being in the lab, Selah.” When I look at him again, his eyes aren’t on me anymore, but on the ceiling. “Maybe given it a few more days.”

“While you might be right, what would have happened tonight if you’d been alone? Or if no one had been there to grab a sample?” The vial, half empty after using some on Nate, is heavy in my hand, its contents looking innocent enough. Does the company know someone would try to steal it? Well, someone other than me.

Does my father know?

“For all we know, that was a reaction to you being there.” At his words and the sight of him, immobile after only an hour ago being at death’s door, guilt settles in my chest.

“Maybe.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“No. But it’s my fault you were shot. My fault you took the serum.” And whatever happens to him as a result is on me, too.

---

Be sure to check out the rest of the responses at the prompt!

As always, think happy thoughts!

Update:

Earned an honorable mention for this one!

A new serial? Maybe

Hello!

It’s been more than a while since I’ve poked around in here. In the time I’ve been MIA, things at work have gotten a bit crazy, my extracurriculars have gotten away from me, and I’ve taken up yoga! I’ve also been working on editing Secondhand Soul and continuing my rewrite of A Vampire’s Bride (still trying to come up with a new title for that one, too).

I keep meaning to at least do a prompt a week, but it just isn’t happening. So I’ll do them when I can. Thus, here I am!

A few of the recent prompt responses I’ve done have revolved around Selah and Nate, and a thing tentatively titled The Flamel Project. This is something that I’ve had on the back burner for a very long time – we’re talking years. It’s more sci-fi than fantasy, so definitely not my strong suit, hence why I haven’t worked on it. But it’s an idea that’s starting to take more and more of my attention, so I think I’ll work on it like I did on my other serials. Update when I can, and eventually I’ll have something akin to a draft.

And so here’s a snippet from that, courtesy of this week’s #ThursThreads prompt.

Prompt: “It can’t be too late.”

The struggle is real…but here we are.

Sup!

I’ve been a bad kid and haven’t written anything in what feels like ages. The new year has not been kind to my motivation or work ethic, so I’m slowly getting back into it. I told myself I would participate in #ThursThreads again, so I figured this was a good jumping start. Now that my serials are kind of in limbo, though, I won’t be using those for prompts – I’m just going to write willy-nilly. Maybe this is the start of a new one. We’ll see where the prompts take us.

Prompt: “You should come with a warning sound.”

The piece below is a continuation (kinda) of this one I wrote a while back.

Enjoy!

---

When Nate offered to help, I wasn’t sure he meant it. Now that we’re meeting for the first time since our arrangement, I only half-expect him to show. But when I round the corner of the parking garage, I spot his car at the end of the aisle. Nate leans casually against the hood, looking at his phone. Still, it could be a trap. He could have alerted my father, so I’m careful, ready my gun, and stick to the shadows, doing my best to stay quiet.

It’s midnight and dead in the parking garage – the tiniest sound would be deafening.

I come up behind him, but he doesn’t move. When I clear my throat, he nearly drops his phone. The sight of him fumbling to catch it would have made me laugh if our lives weren’t in danger.

“Christ, Selah – you should come with a warning sound.” He catches his phone before it meets the ground. “How long have you-?”

“That was my warning sound. And long enough to think this was a mistake.” I re-holster the gun and cross my arms.

“What? No – I said I’d help, so I will.” He pockets the phone. “I’m here, aren’t I?” There’s a plea in his eyes – he’s scared, but that fear makes him sincere.

I sigh. “Fine. What do you have for me?”

He walks around the car to open the trunk before reaching inside. The file he hands me is thicker than I expected.

“Enough to get us started.”

---

Be sure to check out the other stories!

As always, think happy thoughts 🙂

 

 

On the other side of #NaNoWriMo2017

Happy December!

For those of you still hanging around despite my lack of activity, I thought I’d give an update. Also – check out my new look! I got bored of the other theme, so I went for something a little more stable.

Did you participate in NaNoWriMo this year? I thought about not doing it but changed my mind at the last second – that turned out to be an awesome idea!

This year for NaNoWriMo, I decided to take on a rewrite of one of my serials, Secondhand Soul. If you’ve poked around here in the last couple of years, you might have read some of it. As of this month I’ve taken it off the site, since I’ve rewritten it and intend to polish this draft into publishable material. Instead of the full serial, I’ll just have an excerpt of the story up. It’s the first time in years that I have an actual “finished” draft of something book-length (57,283 words!!) , so I’m pretty excited! As much as I wish this was news about Withered Legacy, I’m happy to just be writing regularly again.

Eventually, I intend to do this to all the stories here. The other one in the middle of a rewrite right now is A Vampire’s Bride. This one might take a little longer, as that story isn’t quite “finished” yet on the site, and I’m re-writing it by hand to try something different. It might still get the odd update here and there on the site while I rewrite it, if inspiration strikes.

I know – my writing process is all over the place. I don’t recommend it.

So wish me luck!

As always, think happy thoughts!

Menace – a return to #ThursThreads

I live!

Sort of. Like last year, I’m participating in NaNoWriMo. My writing habits in general have also changed which means less will pop up here and more will happen behind the scenes. Alas, such is life when I have trouble keeping up with everything I want to do. Still, every once in a while I’ll throw something up here and today is one of those times!

But first, a few announcements.

If you haven’t read my serials yet, but you want to, now’s a good time. They’ll be coming down soon as I get their rewrites done. A Vampire’s Bride is four hand-written chapters in and Secondhand Soul is my NaNoWriMo project. These’ll be the first to go down as I try to make them something more. You’ve been warned!

Like I mentioned above, I’ve been doing some by-hand writing. This means stuff that won’t see the light of day for a long time. I think I’ve succeeded in what I set out to do when I started putting snippets up here. I’ve got work to do on the writing that exists on here, but if I keep holding myself to having to post it here, I don’t think I’ll ever get it done. Thus, you won’t be seeing much of my writing on here outside of what’s already there. I do want to eventually return to book reviews and movie/show commentary here, but that won’t be for a while.

Onto today’s piece!

Prompt: “I’m a danger.”

~~~

Is it bad I enjoy the feeling of bones breaking against my fist? It’s as satisfying as stepping on a particularly crunchy leaf. I don’t tell Max that – they would disapprove, despite their support of my newfound love for vigilante justice.

I drop the latest scumbag to the cement, releasing him from the collar of his shirt. Somewhere down the alleyway, his victim’s hurried footsteps echo as she struggles to run away. She hasn’t noticed he’s no longer chasing her, but I don’t bother to let her know. Max, like always, will take care of it and make sure she’s okay. When they show up a few minutes later, it’s after they’ve seen to the younger girl. Unlike the first girls I saved, this was just a kid – no older than maybe fourteen.

Max brought her back in their arms, unconscious.

“She fainted at the end of the alleyway when she realized it was a dead end. I don’t think she saw you.”

“She didn’t.” I kicked the guy on the ground, turning him over. “She was too scared of this asshole.”

Max grimaces at the state of the man’s face. It’s hardly recognizable after I got done with it. A broken nose, some missing teeth, and eyes so swollen they were shut and would be for a long time. I couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re a menace.” But they smile, too. Never thought I’d see an angel smiling at violence.

“I’m a danger only to jerks like this one.”

~~~

And so that’s how Paola spends her time now – kicking ass and taking names.

As always, think happy thoughts!