Subaru stared up at the slowly brightening sky, the ground cold against his back. His throat clogged with the heavy mix of blood and rot in each breath, and his chest was burning but it was too hard to move. He couldn’t feel his face. Continue reading “Night Parade Part 9”
The allies, so named in the tale remained seated in their spots in the circle just as their surrounding youkai burst in a sudden geyser of blood and limbs. The Fox chuckled while the Tanuki sighed of waste. The remaining youkai retaliated in outrage and several immediately raced to the Onmyouji, but were brought down by the Tengu and his whirlwinds, allowing Subaru time to summon his Shikigami.
Back to my original piece of work. This is my first attempt at writing a short story, and confirmed my suspicions that I’m too long-winded to carry out short stories.
It was meant to be a prequel to the Onmyouji Chronicles that I’ve tentatively named the Night Parade. Those who wonder what that refers to should check out my post on the Hyakki Yako.
The writing is rougher than I like and I’ll probably re-haul it again, but here it is:
“To restore the Kanda name, you have but one purpose: destroy the Night Parade.”
When I look back to previous work, one of the things I notice is the personality traits my MCs seem to share.
It’s funny what kind of aspects of your own character come out when you’re writing. I always expected I would write something light-hearted, funny, easy, but my characters, no matter how hard I try, always seem to come out cynical and at least a little sarcastic.
Some say writers should let flow what feels natural, let their characters do their own thing. And I’ve read about writers who describe their characters’ stories as a journey of discovery both for them and the character. Just as you can’t know everything about a person, it’s impossible to really know everything about a character you’ve created and where they end up may surprise even you.
But I wonder, if it feels like your story is slipping out of your control and perhaps, veering off route and into a ditch, isn’t it time to step on the brakes and take a few steps back? Discipline or flow, that is the question.
Anyway, this chapter ended up longer than I thought, most likely because I have yet to process it through an intense editing session, but here’s the last part of chapter 3.
Sighing, she gave up the pretence of dignity and sat herself on a chair. “How long have we known each other, Mr. Arden?” Continue reading “Victorian Lapidary Chapter 3-4”
I came back out with the watch. “This brings back memories. His clothes in the picture remind me of the ones we wore when we were younger, when we had to help around the shop. The ones with the itchy collars.”
I could almost hear Kenneth’s mind working. Continue reading “Victorian Lapidary Chapter 3-3”
Murders made all sorts of sensational news, but that boy at the harbor – my crystals hadn’t guided me there and I’d paid him little mind, deeming it unnecessary.
“When was the boy in the harbor found again?” I asked casually.
“The tenth. Just a few days ago.” He finished the tea in two large swallows. Continue reading “Victorian Lapidary Chapter 3-2”
My modest venue in Clerkenwell was located between a milliner and a printing shop. A small bricked block with hundreds upon thousands worth of pounds in gemstones and jewelry behind the casing of glass and drapes. A bell tingled lightly as I pushed the doors open. Through this opening was a world of riches. The glass counter featured some of the more contemporary pieces, brooches, necklaces, rings, cufflinks with scarabs and flowers, pendants and some chokers. I had everything from semi-precious stones at an affordable price and diamonds and fancies for the extravagant.