Snippet!
Okay, I'm almost definitely not going to finish the Shannon novella today as I'd hoped, but I should be able to finish over the weekend if I don't have to be, like, sociable or friendly or whatever. Here's a tiny bit of what I got done today:
“Shannon. Shannon!” A frantic hiss in my ears broke through the fog around me. I stopped thrashing as reality sank back in. I wasn’t in Paris. There was no monster attacking me, just Joyce shaking me, making my aching head throb and pound. I opened my eyes to darkness and panicked briefly, thinking I was blind. But then shapes emerged in the gloom and I realised the lights had gone out again.
“Stop it.” I pushed Joyce away feebly. My tongue felt three inches thick, my words slurred. I touched the side of my head gingerly and felt an egg-sized lump under my hair. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Something shoved me and then it went dark.” Her voice quaked but her tone was hollow, lacking something…With my head spinning so badly, I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I pushed the niggling thought aside for now.
I shoved myself to my feet, leaning against the wall for support. Something tangled around my ankles and I kicked it away with a shiver of disgust before realising it must be a towel or a blanket. I tried to remember if the lights had gone out before or after I blacked out myself. “What hit me? Where’s the torch?” I asked Joyce.
“I don’t know. What should we do?” She was whispering, which seemed to hurt my head more than if she’d been shouting. Why was she whispering? Nobody else was down here. It struck me as pointless melodrama.
“Get the lights back on and go upstairs,” I said. My tongue felt like it was shrinking back to its normal size. I’ve never had a concussion and I wondered distantly if I ought to head to the hospital, just in case.
“What if we’re locked down here?”
“Why would we be?” I groped around on the wall for the fuse box. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could just make it out, but I had no idea which switches to flip, so I just pawed at them all, hoping something would happen.
“The poltergeist.” Joyce gripped my shoulder, sinking her nails in through my thin sweater. “It must -“
“There isn’t a poltergeist, Joyce.” That much I was sure of, concussion or not. “Please try to stay calm. We just need to -“
“Then how do you explain all this?” she practically shrieked at me. “Someone attacked us! You were unconscious! The lights, the noise, my daughter…” She squeezed my shoulder harder, pulling me away from the fuse box with surprising strength.
“Shannon. Shannon!” A frantic hiss in my ears broke through the fog around me. I stopped thrashing as reality sank back in. I wasn’t in Paris. There was no monster attacking me, just Joyce shaking me, making my aching head throb and pound. I opened my eyes to darkness and panicked briefly, thinking I was blind. But then shapes emerged in the gloom and I realised the lights had gone out again.
“Stop it.” I pushed Joyce away feebly. My tongue felt three inches thick, my words slurred. I touched the side of my head gingerly and felt an egg-sized lump under my hair. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. Something shoved me and then it went dark.” Her voice quaked but her tone was hollow, lacking something…With my head spinning so badly, I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I pushed the niggling thought aside for now.
I shoved myself to my feet, leaning against the wall for support. Something tangled around my ankles and I kicked it away with a shiver of disgust before realising it must be a towel or a blanket. I tried to remember if the lights had gone out before or after I blacked out myself. “What hit me? Where’s the torch?” I asked Joyce.
“I don’t know. What should we do?” She was whispering, which seemed to hurt my head more than if she’d been shouting. Why was she whispering? Nobody else was down here. It struck me as pointless melodrama.
“Get the lights back on and go upstairs,” I said. My tongue felt like it was shrinking back to its normal size. I’ve never had a concussion and I wondered distantly if I ought to head to the hospital, just in case.
“What if we’re locked down here?”
“Why would we be?” I groped around on the wall for the fuse box. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could just make it out, but I had no idea which switches to flip, so I just pawed at them all, hoping something would happen.
“The poltergeist.” Joyce gripped my shoulder, sinking her nails in through my thin sweater. “It must -“
“There isn’t a poltergeist, Joyce.” That much I was sure of, concussion or not. “Please try to stay calm. We just need to -“
“Then how do you explain all this?” she practically shrieked at me. “Someone attacked us! You were unconscious! The lights, the noise, my daughter…” She squeezed my shoulder harder, pulling me away from the fuse box with surprising strength.