Saturday, April 28, 2018

Fanfic: Twinepathy

I was cleaning up some writing things, and came across this: a bit of fanfiction for C.B. Cook's Twinepathy!

The featured character is a minor one--The Finch--but for whatever reason I connected with him right away, then there was an RP group and I wanted to play him, then I wrote this. This version is a little different from when I first posted it on my closed blog, in that it's cleaned up a bit.
Enjoy! And don't forget to check out C.B. Cook's blog.
The Finch wandered the park, hoping to distract himself. Why couldn’t he remember anything? It hurt almost as bad as getting hit with a truck. Not that he remembered having any such experience…
“Mathis?” The lightly accented voice sent a shiver through him. He turned. A lady with long hair and a surprised expression timidly approached. She had a death grip on the lapels of her jacket. “Mathis, is that you?”
He blinked. “Yes.”
“Oh, thank goodness! Where have you been?” She rushed up and bear-hugged him.
The Finch just stood there, arms awkwardly by his side. “I’m…I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you.”
The lady drew back but kept her hands on his arms. Her expression varied between cold shock and…was that fear?
“Don’t remember me?”
“No, I don’t. What’s your name?”
She took a few steps back, her hand to her mouth. Tears brimmed in her dark eyes. “Oh, oh, oh…”
The Finch wanted to cry himself. “Who are you?”
“I’m, I’m…” She choked, and the tears fell. Through a muffle of emotion, he heard her say, “Eva.”
He held his breath for half a second, hoping. No memories, or even feeling, surfaced. He exhaled his earlier apology.
Eva cleared her throat, laying her hand at its base. “You don’t remember me? At all?”
He shook his head. He must have some previous connection to her, though; he wanted to cry with her, hug her, something. “Do you want to talk?”
Eva nodded furiously, pulling her coat tight. She sniffled. “There’s a bench there.”
The Finch instinctively put his arm out. Eva gave a gasping laugh. “At least you’re still you.”
He helped her to the bench and winced. It was so cold. That didn’t seem to bother Eva. She leaned back and glanced at him nervously. “I…I’m not sure where to start…but, I’m your girlfriend.”
The Finch nodded. He could see that, even if he couldn’t remember it.
She relaxed a little bit. “We didn’t do everything together, but quite a few things. Skating, collecting, your usual hobbies…and a few weeks ago, you stopped responding. I was worried sick, literally. My mother had to come over and stay with me for a few days. Then I got a text from you—or your phone, at least—saying to come to the park.”
The Finch put his elbows on his knees. “It wasn’t me who sent the text.” It might have been Jen…
What should he say next? What could he say next?
Eva laid a hand on his arm. “You wouldn’t happen to remember what it was you wanted to tell me before you…vanished?”
He shook his head.
“What happened?”
He half-opened his mouth, then stopped. What could he tell her? IDIA hadn’t told him much, about either the accident or his relations. They had said it was too soon. “I got into an accident at work.”
“But I checked the hospitals! And how can you get amnesia from unloading produce?!” Eva gripped his arm and gave him a little shake. He must have given her a negative look, because she abruptly let go and hunched over. “Sorry.”
He was going to say, “It’s alright,” but stopped himself. It wasn’t alright. Not at all.
Eva stood. “Maybe it would help if…if we went for a  walk? Where we usually do?”
The Finch rose. He supposedly had the afternoon off. May as well make the best of it. “Yes, please. I’m afraid you’ll have to lead the way.”
Eva looked like she was going to cry again.
The Finch wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “But don’t worry. I should remember soon enough.” He hoped. It was going to kill him if he couldn’t.

Saturday, April 21, 2018


So, it’s week three of Camp Nanowrimo. A plot bunny latched onto me while I was at work, and stayed with me throughout the day. It didn’t even have anything to do with my task at hand (frying chicken). I was just thinking about dryads, then I thought about Rapunzel, and then I thought about the Arista Challenge.

Hosted by Kendra Ardnek over at Giraffe Crafts.

A purpose to rebellion! :D

I’m trying so very hard not to let this rebellion take over my other projects, doing a smidgen of words here, half a scene there...but, my planned MC for Dead in Sleep has fallen silent, and my endeavors of writing Convoluted Chronicles stories are increasingly frustrating... :P

Here’s a bit about this rebellion project, tentatively titled Renewal of Spirit. Characters first, because characters are awesome. I’ll do another post within the month (or early next month) about the world it’s set in.

Corinna—the “prince” figure. An Earth Child. Is a bit of a loner, due to her crippled right arm (an encounter with a forest beast). Everyone except her family began ignoring her once it was clear her arm wouldn’t be healing. Who wants to watch a one-armed girl when they're busy hunting and preparing for the Turning?
Daughter of a disinherited princess, she just wants…well, she isn’t sure, but she knows she'll have to brave the Turning eventually. One can't grow cooped up in a castle, after all.

Laburnum Notah—the “Rapunzel” figure. A Wind Child. He’s been stuck in a mountain his whole life, and educated by a hag named Kamilla. He would love to have someone other than her to talk to, but Kamilla has convinced him (through proper education, of course) that he has no place in the outside world. He’s too reclusive for his boisterous people, and too rowdy for any others. So, he stays in the mountain, cooking, cleaning, and secretly resenting his name of “Laburnum.” Has the habit of singing when he’s lonely.

Kamilla—the witch figure. An Earth Child. She was outcast so long ago that even she doesn’t remember why. In her old age, sometimes slips into dementia. Always wanted to have a child, but was barren. Surprisingly proficient with a kitchen knife, oddly deficient in magic. She does things like make little lights and bind people in curses with ease, but ask her to enchant something to be sturdy, and it might just end up turning into a toad.

Notah’s Parents (currently unnamed)—the parental figures. Children of the Wind. The father’s a weaver, the mother’s a dye maker. Notah was her first son, and while she learned not to covet, she is currently learning not to brag, especially about something as important as being able to weave flying carpets from grass. The father's learned that trying to keep his wife out of trouble is pointless, so he's settled for trying to get her out of trouble. Which may also be pointless.

Friday, April 6, 2018

Camp Nanowrimo

Participant 2018 - Twitter Header

I'm participating in Camp Nanowrimo!
I've done it before (love it!), but not while I had a blog. Okay, I had a blog but never got around to posting...
My projects this session:
Dead in Sleep:The two factions—Human and Imp—have always fought. The Humans, with their magic and knack for invention, have always had the upper hand. But their magic has been growing weaker to the point of vanishing altogether. The Imps with their vampire mounts have gained the upper hand, and it doesn’t help matters that their automaton have begun to turn on them. The Human cities are close to falling. Where has their magic gone?
Fayte Hargreave and her two friends--Eldon Rattlebag and Shania Darknoll--do their best to survive the downfall of their city and gain a lead on what is happening to their magic.
Goal: 3K-ish, counting attempts of prose for a scrapbook version

I'd Kill for a Bath:Pearl does her best to aid her friend, Snow--an overworked secretary of Castle Hematite--in winning the right to be queen for a day. In the process, Pearl tries to sort out her life--a life that her supposed father reveals to be a sham.
Set in Convoluted Chronicles.
Although, now I want to try my hand at literary fiction; so I may be exploring just Pearl's relationship to her uncle and father, and having the fantastic elements of fantasy as background props instead of spotlight items...
In which case a title change is imminent. Probably something along the lines of: You did What?!, Who are you?, or So my Father's a Dragon.
Goal: 5K-ish
Here are small excerpts from each. The excerpt from Dead in Sleep isn't from the main POV; it's the start of a dare (Writer's Truth or Dare is so much more fun than regular T/D), because I read over my starting scene and...well, there are a few unique qualities in this world that I'm having difficulty showing in character.

Dead in Sleep:
Eldon couldn’t wait to visit the Inner ring of the city—there were so many hoity-toities to have fun with.

“The fact that they manufacture the guns you use to keep Imps out means nothing?”
Eldon glared at Fayte, a female soldier who seemed to be favored by the CO. “The mind meld is over. Why are you loitering in my head?”
Fayte shrugged. She adjusted her goggles so that the eye beams dimmed. “Sorry.”
“Upstart little…” Muttering derogatory comments, Eldon leapt aboard a departing tram. He glanced back at Fayte, flicked his goggles so that the eye-beams flashed. When she looked up, he did his best snarling grin. That’s what makes things interesting, pet.
Guns always made things interesting.

I'd Kill for a Bath:
Pearl took solace in the last few moments spent in her organized office. Notepads stacked on the edge of the desk; sparkling filing cabinets (their contents alphabetized and categorized by urgency); the trash can emptied. She took a picture in her mind, sucked a deep breath, and stepped out.

Luckily for her, her office was adjacent the castle’s lobby, so she didn’t have to wade through several levels of bureaucrats. A poster on the notice pillar outside caught her attention. The laminated, purple and orange and black poster reflected the moonlight garishly.
Contest: Queen for a Day.
The modern equivalent of a coliseum. She sneered in disgust, glad she wouldn’t be participating.
“Oh, Pearl!” A girl with the figure and looks of a vampire queen rushed over, her high heels clicking frantically against the concrete.
“Snow. What is it?”
The distraught secretary babbled incoherently. Frantic gestures, bleeding mascara…
Pearl looked at the poster again, took note of the date, and sighed. “You decided to participate?”
Snow latched onto Pearl’s arm, sobbing. “I’ve been stalked, threatened, work piled on my desk…” She paused, swiped at her face with her elbow. Black eyeliner stained the white sleeves. “They even laced my latte!”
Pearl led Snow to the curb. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to get involved. Especially not after an extended weekend.”
“It’s okay.” Snow sniffed. “It’s not like…like…oh, I just can’t be sarcastic! Pearl, I’m not alright and I need help!”