Seemingly ages ago I used to maintain a FictionPress account that I updated regularly, and I realized the other day that I really missed posting new chapters on a schedule. I created a new FictionPress account with my pen name, and it will be updated every Friday.
Fade to White
Footsteps echoed hollowly as Jerek strode quickly through the dark and empty hallway, barely stopping to throw open the large double doors that led into the lounge room of his chambers. He blinked at the light. Lying on the sofa near the large fireplace was Ramo, his eyes closed and his hand resting on a book lying open near his face. Jerek started to tiptoe across the rug to get to his bedroom door on the other side, but Ramo stirred and opened his eyes.
“Jerek!” He sounded relived. “Where were you?”
Stopping, Jerek watched Ramo sit up. “Is that a girl’s shirt?”
“Huh?” Ramo looked down at his chest at the frilly button up he was wearing, then laughed slightly. “I thought it looked good on me. Why didn’t you come home last night?”
We are madly in love with this song in my house right now.
As I’ve been reading the Fade to White chapters that I’ve been posting, I can’t help but find it jarringly jumpy — like most of what was in my head when I wrote it never actually made it into words. I want to go back and smack my 19-year-old self then tell her to stop reading so much manga.
Maybe at some point in the future I’ll rewrite it, because the story itself is cute. Or maybe I’ll be too engrossed in other projects to care.
Thank god I’m not 19 anymore.
Fade to White
During the morning Jerek and Tryne worked on small and menial jobs that felt more along the lines of busy work. Jerek couldn’t help the feeling that Tryne had turned her back on her normal routine, at least for the time being since all the things Tryne ordered him to do were directly related to their immediate needs. Just after midday, Tryne hung up her last wet apron on the clothes’ line and with a smile watched Jerek as he worked.
“Come on, let’s go have some fun,” Tryne called, waving to Jerek.
“Don’t you want me to . . . ?”
“No,” Tryne cut him off. Dropping the axe, Jerek walked over to Tryne who took him by the arm, once again leading him to the brook. Tryne hitched up her skirt, exposing her bare legs as she kicked off her shoes.
Jerek blinked. “What are you doing?”
“Haven’t you ever done this before?” Tryne asked, stepping into the water.
“No.” Jerek watched her curiously.
“What kind of rock do you live under?” Tryne kicked some water at Jerek. “Come on, it’s fun!”
Everything I experience is converted into a metaphor for my writing.
My worst fears are that someone will take the metaphors too literally.
Or worse, see through them to the truth.
Still recovering from the events of this last week, so I’m a bit of a disorganized mess with uploading this chapter.
Some bad things happened, so I’m in a dark mood.