Author Journey: August 26th, 2022 - Just Keep Writing
Welcome back! I'm happy you're here. It's been something of an uphill battle in my writing life lately. I keep hearing Clint Eastwood in Heartbreak Ridge saying, "Take this hill!"
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Author Journey: Writing Update
There's not much to say here except that the writing prompt from last Friday sparked a story. If I complete it before this post goes live, I'll share the whole thing. If not, I'll share the first couple of chapters which are still pretty raw, just so you know.
The Tale of Outh'n Durr still sits, waiting patiently for the moment when publishing becomes possible. Yes, I could possibly have a Patreon page, or perhaps a Twitch channel, but I have no clue what I'd offer subscribers. I don't write exclusively and my offerings would be sporadic at best, since I'd want them to be pristine work. It takes time to write, refine, and line-edit a piece of any length. The longer the work, the more time it takes. And, I'm going to be honest, you still miss things. That bit drives me nuts!
Another hindrance is the way Louisiana squashes small businesses like an ornery kid squashing ants. I won't even say more than that, but know that I'm kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Writing prompt posts are a go now. I posted my first one dedicated to a writing prompt yesterday. If you missed it, you can go here to check it out. Here's my post title lineup for dedicated word prompt posts:
- Sunday Shorts
- Monday Musings
- Tuesday Tracts
- Thursday Threads
- Wednesday Wordsmiths
- Friday Fascicles (I learned something new, btw. Fascicle means 'a short installment of a printed work.')
Writer's Life
Spartacus & Dusk
The kittens are growing and thriving. We've recently started the transition from small litter pans to the larger litter box. I think Dusk may be afraid to be in an enclosed litter box while Spartacus seems to prefer it. 😅 What a hoot, eh? So now we are trying to figure things out and hopefully help them transition to the larger litter box without stressing either of them.
We have one by Tidy Cat which takes pellet litter and has a pee pad tray under those. I love them because they eliminate the smell better than any other litter box I've ever seen. It's got a domed cover with a front piece that slides back for easy scooping. I'm thinking if we just keep the front piece open or off, the half-dome might suffice for Spartacus, but it won't be too closed in for Dusk. I'm praying for success because Ms. Dusk really prefers to pee in a bad spot when she won't go in the litter box.
Also, neither of them like the large travel kennel, so much so that they won't even drink water if its inside the box, even with the door of it open. So I have to figure out a way to leave water for them which won't draw ants. 😕 We live in a rural area and no matter how much we spray the outside of the house, we still fight ants and roaches. It's disappointing, but you learn to deal with it.
So now I'm having to rethink their set-up in the room we keep them in at night. Otherwise, Spartacus will keep on cherishing the water bowl. (They each have a bowl, but we usually keep one in the room where they stay at night and one in the kitchen.) In any case, we're going to work at it 'til we figure it all out. They're sweet cats, just doing what cats do.
Writing Prompt Results: Words - Proposal, Lamp, Knock
Story Title: Knock, Breathe, Shine
Chapter 1: A Knock at the Door
The knock at the door rattled sharply, jolting Merili out of her project. She blinked a few times, trying to rid her eyes of the gritty burn as she rose to berate the disturbance. Before she could reach for the pull, the irritating visitor pounded against the wooden barrier again. This time, Merili noticed the odd rhythm. The windows on either side of her door reflected the dim light of her cabin back at her. How long had she been working?
“May I help you?” she asked as she pulled the door open.
A jumbled heap of tattered rags and metal tumbled and clattered across her humble threshold. No one visited Merili. Ever. The only people she saw were those who delivered supplies for her projects. To have this lump of a person invading her home was a shock.
Shaking herself, she left the lump where it lay and lit a lamp near the door. With better lighting, she determined a drawn, lean face surrounded by dingy brown fabric, and gray eyes glassy with pain. The jawline and prominent brow denoted her visitor was male. The lack of a brand on his cheek meant he wasn’t a wandering exile.
Reaching out a hand, which she was proud to see wasn’t shaking with the fear which threatened to overwhelm her, she offered to help him up.
“Let’s get you up and through the door, eiya?”
Her visitor shook his head and struggled to rise on his own. “Thank you,” he rasped in a near whisper. “I’m weakened, but not so much I can’t stand.” With nail-biting slowness, he finally stood, his head nearly touching her low, beamed ceiling, even with his slumped stature. He was tall enough to be Genzetti, but his hair was dark. Lighter streaks ran through the bits she could see. His skin almost matched his eyes, but that, she knew, was due more to his strained health.
Her eyes locked on his, Merili nodded once and turned to close the door. “What brings you to my home, traveler?” It was time to figure out why he’d invaded her space.
“I need a place to hide.” The rasp of his voice spoke of either illness, long exposure to smoke, or his obvious physical strain, but unless she could get him to tell his tale, she’d never know which.
“That’s all?” she prompted. “A place to hide? Nothing for your throat?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her and shook his head, one corner of his lips twitching. Was he laughing?
“Is there something funny about you needing to hide and invading my home? Is it so humorous that you’ve disrupted my work? I could just turn you back out and leave you to the whim of Tugansol.” She propped her fists on her hips and glared up at him.
He smiled fully then, and a vague memory stirred. “You won’t do that, Merili. I knew you would help. That’s why I came to you.”
As the door snicked shut, she spun. “Do I know you, traveler?”
“You could say that. We haven’t been formally introduced but we have met before.” He surveyed her receiving room and gestured toward a bench near the door. “May I sit?”
Still puzzling over his revelation, she nodded absently. When he moved toward the bench, she protested. “Not there. Come this way.”
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Chapter 2: Breathe Again
She still had the same effect on him, even after two tsimikin had passed. All the chaos he’d stumbled into stilled when he looked into her eyes. As fiery as Merili was, she hit him like the eye of a storm and he felt he could finally take a full breath.
As she sped through an arched opening, he noted the bare walls and floor of her cabin. The only decoration were shiny wooden window sills, door frames, and ceiling beams. He kept his shoulders slumped so he wouldn’t knock his throbbing head. Stepping through door frames meant he had to bend lower, which quickened the thumping rhythm. How would she respond to his plea for help?
“You can rest there,” she glanced up at him and waved toward a padded bench near a window.
He grimaced, but headed to the bench. Instead of soiling the upholstery, he nestled into the corner nearest the bench and sat on the floor. If he hadn’t lost his pursuers, they wouldn’t be able to see him through the window.
When he looked up at Merili, she was shaking her head and frowning. Before she could protest, he raised a palm and halted her. “I can’t sit by the window. I was followed. Besides,” he shrugged and winced, “I don’t want to ruin your cushions.
Shaking her head, she asked, “What is it you need from me, traveler? And how is it you know me?” A few wispy, dark curls had come loose from her simple, short braid and danced at her temples, flashing blue.
“I just need a place to stay for a few hesps.” He deliberately avoided her second question. She wouldn’t thank him for the reminder of that regrettable dawning.
“Why are you hiding? And don’t think you’re going to get out of telling me how you know me. Honesty, please, or I’ll call your pursuers and point them directly to you.” The fire flashing in her eyes stoked his admiration for the woman.
“I haven’t lied to you, Merili. As a matter of fact, I’m being hunted because I tell the truth to many people. As for our first and only meeting,” he sighed, “it’s not the most pleasant tale. But I remember you well. I knew from that dawning you were a person who could be trusted. A true Child.”
“A true Child?” She was perplexed and it bothered him. How many had forgotten the old ways, the ancient truths?
“A Child of Y’Dahnndrya, a follower of Tugansol,” he murmured to explain. How badly was he bleeding to be suddenly so exhausted?
Merili’s vibrant blue eyes widened. “I haven’t heard it in so long. The last time was,” she paused and looked up at the low ceiling, tapping her chin with a finger. Remembrance and recognition swept over her face. His heart pounded in his chest and a knot burned in his throat. He forced the knot down. Closing his eyes. He willed his heartbeat to slow and focused on breathing.
“Yes. You were there, reminding us who we are, whose we are.” The soft reverence in her tone drew his gaze. Tears threatened to spill through her dark, thick eyelashes. She blinked rapidly and they cleared.
“They failed that dawning.” His statement brought her focus back.
“So they tried again?” He wanted to laugh at the shock in her tone, but it wasn’t funny in the least.
“That wasn’t the first time. And there will probably be many more times.” He sighed and closed his eyes again, leaning his head back against the wall, thankful for its solid support. “At least, I believe that’s the way it’ll be until Tugansol reclaims the breath in my body.”
A cool touch on his brow startled him. “I’m sorry,” she rushed, but continued her inspection. “You’re bleeding. I need to find it if I’m going to help you.”
He nodded acceptance but grimaced all the same. An arrow had grazed his side, leaving an awful sting. One also pierced his arm just below his right shoulder. He told her as much.
Shaking her head, she replied, “It would seem Tugansol has little pity on the Messenger of the Life-Giver. Why is this treatment allowed?”
He grinned at her, though he knew sadness tainted it. Her concern restored ease to his breathing and he succumbed to her ministrations.
I hope to have a word prompt for you on Sunday or Monday. Do check back if you're looking for a jump-start writing exercise, or just for a fun one.
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