Step 2: Try, and fail, to read When Jesus Came, Corn Mothers Left for your history class.
Step 3: Play Sims Social on Facebook for an hour.
Step 4: Repeat step 2.
Step 5: Repeat step 3 and 4.
Step 6: Stop trying to read the book, put it off till tomorrow, and begin writing.
So more out of boredom than anything else, as you can see by my list of steps above, I decided that I wanted to write some snippets to music like we did in Mr. Park's creative writing class. Soooo I pulled up itunes and went to my soundtracks, hit shuffle, and off I went. Now, I can't put all of them up here because they're huge spoilers for my other stories, but I'll put up what I can. There's one that I wrote to the song Old Souls from the Inception soundtrack for Perfect Strangers (it's a long song, so the thing was like three pages....) that has a huge WTF ALEX?! moment in it, so we're holding that one off. I told Erin about it, and I'll tell you what I told her. When I wrote it I even went wtf. That's how major it is. It's a huge plot twist, but it makes everything make sense. I was proud of myself. Anyway, enough about that. Have some story bits. The song title is above every piece. They're not very long, but I hope you enjoy them anyway.
Escaflone
His feet pounded against the cold
cobblestone as he tore down the dark street. Fog licked his heels as
his cloak flew behind him, whipping the air, the rush of the material
echoeing with his footsteps in the empty alleyway. Directly ahead of
him loomed the spire of the chapel, the full moon making it nothing
more than a sillouhette on the horizon. He needed to get the book
there before they found it. He needed to hide it; it needed to be
safe, or all Hell would break loose. Literally. Father Lokai had
instructed him to hide the book in the basement of the chapel, there
he would find a seal to bind the book to Earth. But it had to happen
when the full moon was at it's peak in the night sky. He had only
minutes. Just as he cleared the buildings and dashed up the path to
the door, he heard the growls. They were catching up to him.
Allegro—Battlestar Galactica
There was
something almost otherworldly about the way she danced across the
floor. Her feet moved with such grace it seemed as if they never
touched the floor, her body moving fluidly, like a river. He watched
her curiously from his chair, his eyes roaming over her half exposed
figure. She was a rare jewel, and his father had bought her just for
him. Dancing into the center of the room, she tossed her head back,
black hair falling like a waterfall, her eyes were closed, taking her
to another world. He ached for her, though he had only just laid eyes
on her. He wanted to feel her body, to touch her skin. He wanted to
dance with her, be taken to her world, and never return. She twisted
and turned across the floor, making her way around the room,
entertaining the several men that sat within the tent. All the while,
her eyes remained closed as her body expressed the story of the
dance, but then, she turned, knowing exactly where he was, moving
toward him. Closer and closer she came until she stopped, her knees
touching his, and opened her eyes.
“My lord,”
she whispered breathlessly.
Orchsong Age of Wonders
Fog
floated around her ankles, a cold wind tickling the back of her neck,
chilling the metal collar. On either side of her walked a man, stone
faced, and unfeeling. They held chains that connected to the sides
of the collar, marching her up the hill. At the top she could see
dark figures waiting. They were leading her to her death. She knew
it, and they knew it, but she would not be afraid. Like so many of
her people before her, she would face death at the hands of the
fearful. They couldn't accept her gift, feared it even, and sought to
destroy any who possessed it. She would walk the same path as the
others, up the steep hill where her accusers waited to see her
executed. Reaching the crest of the hill, she felt the spirits of the
many who had died before her, their power was strong here.
“Any
last words, witch?” Spat a purple-faced townsman.
She
raised her chin, peering down at the man through narrowed eyes. “I
am not the last.” She said, her eyes clouding over with the Sight.
“In years to come, my people will flourish here, and the sight on
which we stand now will become a place of refuge for those in need.
But the descendants of the villagers now, will forever be cursed,
unable to return to this place, even when their lives depend upon
it.”
Angered,
the men holding her chains forced her to bend to the ancient
bloodstained stump, pressing her cheek against the cold wood.
“Rot
in Hell with the others.” the executioner growled, dropping the ax
onto her neck.
The Funeral—Firefly
She
was the last to leave, standing over the grave for hours after the
others had gone back to their lives. As much as she wished she could
return home, she knew she couldn't. Tears filled her eyes as she bent
to the headstone, brushing her fingers across the carved name.
Russell C. Lang. Loving
husband. 1985-2011.
“You
left,” she sobbed. “I can't believe you left me at home! I should
have died in that accident with you!” She slammed her fist against
the cold stone. “Why not me? I should have died.... I should have
died.”
The
cold fall air bit at her nose, making her tears feel like ice running
down her cheeks, blowing the leaves around her. In the whisper of the
wind, she heard his voice, one last time.
Because
I love you...
Battlestar Sonatina—Battlestar
Galactica
Georgia shuffled
across the room in her socks and short silk nightgown. It was two in
the morning, but she couldn't sleep. Rarely did she have a hard time
sleeping, and if she ever did, it was only for one reason. The
nightmares. They kept her awake at night, forcing her to relive the
awful memory of the gruesome murder of her best friend Keisha. She
hated remembering it. And so, when the nightmares came, she wandered
her apartment aimlessly in the dark, until she came to the piano by
the window overlooking the city.
She sat down, the
polished black wood was cold on her bare legs, the keys chilly
beneath her fingers. Quietly she began to play a woeful tune, swaying
in time with the music. Closing her eyes, she let the soft sounds
take her to a better place, somewhere safe where she could be with
her friends, and not worry about having the FBI on her tail. This con
on Wall Street was taking all the brain power she had. It was hard
enough to convince investors to buy into her “stock,” and now she
had to dodge the FBI poking their noses into everyone's business. She
had outsmarted the feds before, and then it had only been her and
Brittain. Now she had a whole network of people that would be caught
before her, and if one so much as disturbed a string on her web, she
would cut it off, and rebuild.
A noise behind
her startled her, her fingers mashing the keys. She turned around to
find Brittain standing near an armchair, his hands running up and
down its surface to ensure it was a chair he had just run into, and
not something else.
“You know, you
are horrible in the dark.” Georgia sighed, turning around on the
bench to face him.
He smiled. “You
rearranged on me. I hardly think that's fair."
She stood up and
walked slowly across the room, taking deliberately quiet steps until
she was inches from Brittain. “Life's not fair.”
He started, his
hand twitching at the closeness of her voice. “How did you get so
close without me hearing?”
“I'm a ninja,”
she joked.
He smirked.
“Let's see you get out of this then,” he slipped his arm around
her waist, pulling her into his chest. “Mmm. Silk. Nice, any lace?”
“Wouldn't you
like to know.” Playfully she twisted herself out of his grasp, his
fingertips still lingering on her waist, nearly out of reach. “Don't
you wish you could see me now?” She took several large steps,
again, careful to make little noise until she reached the hallway.
“I'm ninja.”
He turned on his
heel toward her voice. “When you can vanish like that around people
who can see, we'll call you a ninja. For now, you're a cheater.”
