Tuesday, June 9, 2015

A bit of this, a bit of that

So, I promised snippets of a fairy tale. This fairy tale is distantly related to The Glass Coffin, but only distantly, mind. The Land Where Time Was Torn Asunder acknowledges the relationship, but as Lady Dalrymple acknowledges Sir Walter, not as Sir Walter acknowledges Lady Dalrymple.
Well, you're not going to get any.

… Just kidding. That'd be unfair of me after so expressly promising them. So here is one measly sentence:
There were huge leaves the size of her face, small leaves clustered alongside the dirt path, and little brown plant like things with no leaves at all and smooth caps like the underside of an acorn.

I picked that completely randomly from the story. And that's all you're going to get, for now. Because this little story is barely 2000 words (this post is already almost 100 words) and if I shared much more I'd be giving you 10% of the story, and that seems a little much.

… Oh, alright. If I MUST.

She opened the lid.

You must excuse me, this being my first real post in SUCH a long time, I'm having a lot of fun with it (being ovvvverrrrllllyyy dramatic gives me waaaayyyy to much amusement).
For real now:
When she had gotten over her initial hour of mute shock, Jesen announced (rather verbosely) that she found the whole affair to be unjust, unwise, and unfair, not to mention rude. She marched to her mother’s chambers, entered unbidden, and began talking as soon as she sighted her mother, who was sitting at her dressing table having her hair done by one of her maids. She pleaded, wheedled, and appealed to her better nature by turns. She argued fiercely against the wisdom of such an alliance, produced mostly true facts concerning the defects of the Prince of Veris’s character, and even threatened to run away.

However unable to provide you with satisfactory amounts of snippets from my grand fairy tale escapade, I am quite able to produce some satisfactory examples of little ol' Arthur. I am quite pleased with myself for having written 4 words short of 2000 words yesterday. The change of scene and pace which took the form of a 2-week trip seems to have had goo (oh my, not goo, good – where are my words going to? Perhaps it has something to do with my cold. Don't worry, germs don't go through computers. Honest!) effects on my creative powers. I left with little motivation or inspiration; I come back with words pouring from my fingers. It's quite pleasing.
Sniff sniff, Arthur's getting so old now (I just have a cold, honestly, it's not that emotional). I started writing on January 7, 2012 – I wasn't yet thirteen. And now I am sixteen ("It cannot be!" spoken in the voice of Queen Genevieve from you-should-know-what).
This is really much more than a snippet – I should be correct and call it a scene. I know most people share only a few sentences at a time when doing snippets, but if I'm going to share something I think is actually good I want to share the whole thing.

He had taken a break at lunch and rode through Thyme-Sage with Galilea. He had seen that he was taller, and far more richly dressed than the beardless boy who had carried buckets to that stream. He had seemed to see shadows of himself: one was coming out of that boarded up house and walking with swinging step into the forest; and there was the boy, holding his first sword with such pride, though it was a heavy, awkward thing; there he trained Galilea in that meadow, and dug potatoes in that plot for his mother.
Arthur had swallowed a lump in his throat as he had stepped back from the window he had been peering in. He had swung up on Galilea and surveyed the town. However changed he was, the town had seemed untouched by time. The baker had been selling a roll to the cobbler; they had not recognized Arthur. Well, I hardly recognize myself, Arthur thought to himself, bringing himself out of the remembrance of his ride by shuffling the papers on his desk.

He stood up, and looked in a little mirror that hung in his study. Where had that stubble come from? His eyes were hazel green, like his brothers, but they did not crinkle like Kay’s or have the wisdom of Rayfus’s; they were more serious than he had remembered them. Funny that I never noticed how unlike Virgil and Anna I am. That straight nose is nothing like Virgil’s bulbous one; it is Igraine’s. My hair is lighter than either Kay or Rayfus’s, but isn’t nearly as light as Anna’s is – was.

That almost makes me cry. Not really. It's just moooooving.

Do you think he’s a criminal in disguise?” Kay said in a low voice. Arthur started a little. Kay smiled. “I don’t much like the man either, Arthur,” he added in normal tones, “but if there’s one thing you should learn about court, it’s to keep your real thoughts to yourself.”

That's all for today. I've got dinner to eat, you know.
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P.S. Thanks to the Author for her tutorial on To Write or Not To Write on adding borders to posts!

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