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Artsy Coffee-Stains on Your Jeans, or Day Three

November 4, 2010

Today’s NaNo started off with typing up some peculiar scene I’d scribbled down in the early hours of the morning, and trying to make it into coherent English (questionable results). It was Teresa trying to sort out in her head the idea of the ‘untouchable’ caste, and lying awake at night thinking about ‘the ones who came before’ – whatever that prophetic twaddle is supposed to mean.

Then today’s task was the start the first of the short stories. These go in the middle of the narrative as flashbacks to explain all the bits that would be boring if we did them chronologically. They also mean I can play with first-person perspective of Teresa some more, which I am beginning to really love.

The short story was The Water-demon, which is how Teresa fought the water-demon somewhat vaguely referenced to in the chapter before, and is mostly her revulsion at fighting such a human-shaped creature, and feeling uncomfortable about hurting a ‘woman’.

With that done, I can start on what is rather pompusly named Part Two – which skips forward six months and is actually interesting – involving blood, deaths and entrails. That’ll all be inifinitely more fun. I hope.

Until then, some extracts.

Extract One
I don’t think I realised the implication of it. Of the demon being female, a woman. Times are supposed to have changed, but sometimes you can’t help linking woman to mother. The two are synonymous – your mother is the first woman you meet, she is the prime example of one.

Even though the demon was a blueish-green, mottled to grey during her time in captivity, with long teeth and claw-like nails, and swathes of hair like seaweed (not fertile bands of seaweed; straggly suffocating seaweed that clings to your ankles and slowly kills you in the river bed) – all I could think was ‘mother’. It was momentary. She did not, after all, look like my mother. She was too thin, too bony, with skin stretched painfully over each individual rib.

Extract Two
I reached into my belt-pocket and drew out a thick piece of red card, with a black sign scrawled heavily into it. It was fire magic – infused into the seal for those of us who don’t have it naturally.

I dropped the card to the ground triumphantly – I’d outsmarted the test, with minimum injury and in record time. It floated downwards at an agonisingly slow rate, and sank under the water, card curling. It was already getting saturated, ready to break apart into individual fibres. The symbol of fire glowed for an instant, a bright orange light, shining and refracting under the water’s surface – and then it went out. The water cooled it, the sign was dull. It lay on the floor, soggy and useless.

The demon had paused in the creation of swirling water spheres, just to watch me. First she had been cautious, curious – but now she held an expression of victorious amusement. The blue lips pulled back even further. This was a grin.

She was fucking sneering at me.

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. November 4, 2010 12:29 am

    lululul you been had, Teresa-babes. I’m really looking forward to reading the water demon fight. You talk about it all the time. Have done, rather, for years. You describe things so well, too T_T It makes me weep. I am not worthy!

    Keep chugging, onee. I have BBS if you want a break :D

    • November 4, 2010 2:46 am

      I…was not aware how often I mentioned the damn thing.
      Although, you know. I seem to spend my life repeating the same stories to people who listen tolerantly. Which is the kind of shit I would never put up with myself.

      Thank you~!

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