Pre-NaNo sprints
Pre-NaNo sprints o' the night! 770 words over an hour. FFFFFF. NO GOOD FOR NANO. But Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome will theoretically not play throughout the entire month of November.
The depth of the darkness was something Alan Wake admired, and always thought about as a child. He understood Alice's fear, when the pressure of it all closed in on him in these woods, along the roads, even in the buildings. Every meaningless light switch he found, he understood the presence of darkness.
Somehow, it frightened him more then the men stalking through the woods. Despite their state of /Taken,/ it was the ability of the darkness to crush their humanity, setting into motion the instinctual parts of them that really created Alan's anxiety.
He sorted through his belongings. 2 flares. A flash-bang. He was low on shells for the shotgun, but knew the revolver he carried was fully loaded. The flare-gun. He rested his hand over the pocket filled with batteries, looking over his flashlight was wondering how long this light would really stay with him.
It was worth it all for Alice.
She was lost completely to the darkness, deep in the lake and somewhere beyond the lake cabin.
Alan decided to leave the shotgun. The lake wasn't so far now, and he was confident he could reach it easily. He'd have to run, but saving Alice. Saving Alice gave him the motivation. The manuscript, he nearly crumpled the pages reaching for them so suddenly. Had they said anything about the lake? Too many times. He'd gone over them over and over, the events were impossible to keep straight any more. What had happened? What had he read? Which events lined up together, twin stars of reality versus fiction, each one pulling its own gravity through the story? His head throbbed, the bandage he'd acquired. Yesterday? Pulled at his skin as he made faces at the pain.
When this was all over, he was never leaving the apartment again. He'd have coffee shipped in by the crate, and give up sleep, darkness and having contact with any human being not named "Alice" or "Barry" ever again.
He tucked the papers back into his jacket, and ran over the mental inventory again. He was going the lake, and he was going to find Alice there. No matter who would step into his path. Hartman, the kidnapper, the Taken. They weren't important parts of his story. He would stand by that, There was no one besides Alice.
Kurt really couldn't help watching Finn. He always seemed to be moving, and those motions were always fascinating. Or, rather, Kurt found them fascinating and was pretty sure that Puck would describe his obsession with them as "super gay." Regardless, Kurt's favorite part of Glee was watching Finn wave, react, dance, sit, smile, frown and otherwise engage in the music in his own enthusiastic way. There wasn't any grace behind it. It wasn't beautiful in any way. It was just some inner aesthetic of Kurt's that connected with awkwardness, the lopsidedness, all the emotions that simply /happened/, without reasonable connection to the moment.
Kurt crossed his arms, watching another wildly flailing dance solo unfold. He knew Finn rarely saw the positive sides of these qualities in himself. He knew that Finn sought an ideal self and couldn't accept anything about his reality. /It's high school/ he thought, stretching his back, pulling himself into posture, /No one is happy, why won't you realize that? There's no point to try and pretend you've just got to change something to reach find some happiness. Just take what you get./ He didn't really mean it, in the end. It was just another lecture he gave himself, something negative in his mind to pass the time. Sometimes, everyone was happy.
The mountains were terrifying. They simply sat, filling the horizon, bringing the night too soon. She could not face them. Only when they fell behind her could she become even vaguely comfortable. She sat, huddled now against the cold and the feeling of that looming behind her. She stared into the fire waiting for the brightness of the flames to blind her in the darkness. It was beautiful. It was beautiful. She wanted to travel again. What was this place? Why was she still here. She's been given over by the Trainers, and from there had been left with only the cold. Travel always left the mind lost. She was afraid. The pirates were hard to trust, but they were the only ones left who would carry people as cargo. The had not been as tall as the Trainers, so they must have been human. They had not spoken to her. She hardly remembered them. Simply their arrival, then being here. Frightened.
There had not been mountains at home. Only here.
The depth of the darkness was something Alan Wake admired, and always thought about as a child. He understood Alice's fear, when the pressure of it all closed in on him in these woods, along the roads, even in the buildings. Every meaningless light switch he found, he understood the presence of darkness.
Somehow, it frightened him more then the men stalking through the woods. Despite their state of /Taken,/ it was the ability of the darkness to crush their humanity, setting into motion the instinctual parts of them that really created Alan's anxiety.
He sorted through his belongings. 2 flares. A flash-bang. He was low on shells for the shotgun, but knew the revolver he carried was fully loaded. The flare-gun. He rested his hand over the pocket filled with batteries, looking over his flashlight was wondering how long this light would really stay with him.
It was worth it all for Alice.
She was lost completely to the darkness, deep in the lake and somewhere beyond the lake cabin.
Alan decided to leave the shotgun. The lake wasn't so far now, and he was confident he could reach it easily. He'd have to run, but saving Alice. Saving Alice gave him the motivation. The manuscript, he nearly crumpled the pages reaching for them so suddenly. Had they said anything about the lake? Too many times. He'd gone over them over and over, the events were impossible to keep straight any more. What had happened? What had he read? Which events lined up together, twin stars of reality versus fiction, each one pulling its own gravity through the story? His head throbbed, the bandage he'd acquired. Yesterday? Pulled at his skin as he made faces at the pain.
When this was all over, he was never leaving the apartment again. He'd have coffee shipped in by the crate, and give up sleep, darkness and having contact with any human being not named "Alice" or "Barry" ever again.
He tucked the papers back into his jacket, and ran over the mental inventory again. He was going the lake, and he was going to find Alice there. No matter who would step into his path. Hartman, the kidnapper, the Taken. They weren't important parts of his story. He would stand by that, There was no one besides Alice.
Kurt really couldn't help watching Finn. He always seemed to be moving, and those motions were always fascinating. Or, rather, Kurt found them fascinating and was pretty sure that Puck would describe his obsession with them as "super gay." Regardless, Kurt's favorite part of Glee was watching Finn wave, react, dance, sit, smile, frown and otherwise engage in the music in his own enthusiastic way. There wasn't any grace behind it. It wasn't beautiful in any way. It was just some inner aesthetic of Kurt's that connected with awkwardness, the lopsidedness, all the emotions that simply /happened/, without reasonable connection to the moment.
Kurt crossed his arms, watching another wildly flailing dance solo unfold. He knew Finn rarely saw the positive sides of these qualities in himself. He knew that Finn sought an ideal self and couldn't accept anything about his reality. /It's high school/ he thought, stretching his back, pulling himself into posture, /No one is happy, why won't you realize that? There's no point to try and pretend you've just got to change something to reach find some happiness. Just take what you get./ He didn't really mean it, in the end. It was just another lecture he gave himself, something negative in his mind to pass the time. Sometimes, everyone was happy.
The mountains were terrifying. They simply sat, filling the horizon, bringing the night too soon. She could not face them. Only when they fell behind her could she become even vaguely comfortable. She sat, huddled now against the cold and the feeling of that looming behind her. She stared into the fire waiting for the brightness of the flames to blind her in the darkness. It was beautiful. It was beautiful. She wanted to travel again. What was this place? Why was she still here. She's been given over by the Trainers, and from there had been left with only the cold. Travel always left the mind lost. She was afraid. The pirates were hard to trust, but they were the only ones left who would carry people as cargo. The had not been as tall as the Trainers, so they must have been human. They had not spoken to her. She hardly remembered them. Simply their arrival, then being here. Frightened.
There had not been mountains at home. Only here.