Everyone’s filling the blog-waves with their New Year’s resolutions — so here’s my writing resolution.
5 pages a week on That Thing. Rain or shine. Hell or high water.
I started a schedule for myself just before Christmas, and I’m pleased that I’m every-so-slightly ahead of schedule. As of last week I was supposed to be at 55 pages — and I’m sitting pretty at 57. By the end of this week, I need to be sitting on 60.
I’m hoping to get ahead of schedule and stay ahead — but my creative and professional life has a way of throwing me curveballs consistently.
Writing Spirit Animal
Compared to a lot of other ‘Pressers, I know this is a really conservative resolution. I’m looking at you Quill Wielder. But I’m hoping it’s something I can stick to it, and be cruising into 100+ pages by March — which should be very close to novel size, and something I can get serious about editing.
Izus Torossian walked through the empty streets, with a bundle in his arms. The raw sound of a baby crying battered at the air.
The dark things – the once-men stayed far away from him, he strode across the wet cobblestones unopposed.
Izus wished something would attack. Something he could fight.
The inside of him felt wide and vast, as if he had stumbled through a door in his house and discovered a vast concert hall; the orchestra tuning their instruments and waiting for the maestro’s baton.
He was smarter, faster, more. He was more.
Izus looked down at last to the crying child in his arms. The rain had slowed, but a few drops still fell on the babe’s unprotected face. He pulled the edge of his cloak up, and covered her carefully.
“Shhhh, little one. Everything’s going to be okay.”
The child stopped crying at the sound of his voice, and dropped off into an uneasy sleep — rocked by the motion of his strides.
“Everything’s going to be okay.” he said again, and found no comfort in the words.
He felt his ribs shatter, leaving his heart exposed. A breath of cool air on his beating heart.
“Ah, yes – plenty of room. Room for five.” Fairchild purred.
Blood poured out of the squire’s empty eyes and his fingers slid along the stone. His body arched backward, and there was pain.
There was so much pain.
Then he saw them.
A hound with blue eyes.
A snake with green scales.
A knight with brown armor.
A lady in white.
A crow with yellow talons.
They were gone, but they weren’t.
Fairchild slid a long green hand down his chest, and the wound closed. A jet of purple and green fire cauterized the wound, and left the flesh smooth and unbroken. The green creature cocked his head, and laid an appraising finger aside of his pursed lips. He nodded with satisfaction.
” There…we’re done! Now get up.” he stood and moved back towards the throne. “You have lots and lots of work to do.”
The man stood up. He realized that his hands were clenched in the folds of his brown cloak. The fingers slowly released, and he saw they were coated thick with blood. On the floor surrounding him was a wide pool of blood.
It’s mine. The thought seemed to echo inside the wide cavern of his mind, like a marble dropped in a basin. The last blood that I will ever shed.
“And now — the name!” Fairchild clapped his hands like a stage magician. “It has waited for you here — for so long. Hovering at the end of your road, waiting for you to wear it like a crown. The name whispered in the dark. The name promised. Oh…you don’t seem very excited…”
The creature actually managed to sound petulant. The man said nothing.
“Very well, then. You are Izus Torossian. Take your payment and go.”
Think it through, boy. Think about all the moves, the avenues of attack, the consequences. What are your options? What tools do you have?
“Oh…oh my. You’re actually considering it.” Fairchild chortled. ” I can see it in your eyes. Just as was foretold – but I must admit I’m actually shocked. That it could be so simple to sway you.”
No, Jonas. No! You’re not thinking far enough ahead – don’t just think about this move, think about the fifth move from now. Take your damn hand off that piece, boy — and think!
“Thousands of corpses litter the city around us, but one mewling child has worth to you? Amazing.” the creature said.
Is that really the move you want to make, squire? Are you certain? Bone-certain?
“Every life has worth.” Jonas said. ” And dead, I’m no good to anyone.”
The squire gave up trying to push his sword tip towards his enemy. Instead, he pulled the sword back to his side. Fairchild seemed to allow this movement, his face that was not rapt with curiosity. Jonas set the point of the blade in front of him, and closed his hands around the hilt and crossguard. He leaned on the sword for a moment, feeling the good steel beneath his fingertips.
“For the child’s life, I will give you my sword. ”
Are you certain? Bone-certain?
“Well, about that…” Fairchild smirked. “One day she must die, ever leaf and stem of the tree must be cut. Every drop of blood spilled on the dry sand.”
“Then promise me — only I can do it. When I’ve hunted down every single one of the others, she will die by my hand. By my hand, or by none. And then I’ll be the last blood of Gilead, and you can do what you wish with me.” the squire said.
The words came out of his mouth steadily, with no emotion. Jonas heard the words, but couldn’t remember thinking them. It was quick thinking, logical and clean — not the way his mind usually worked.
“Your blood won’t be an issue, my friend. Entering my service is going to change you a great deal.” Fairchild laid the child down on the empty throne, and came slowly down the steps. “For the better, of course. A marked improvement upon your current state. I accept your terms. Are we agreed.?”
Fairchild kneeled, the illusion dropping away. Green and gaunt, he spread his hands on either side of the squire’s blade — fingers splayed wide, palms up.
Is that really the move you want to make, squire?
Jonas took his hand off the piece, and the sword tumbled forward into Fairchild’s waiting hands.
Hmmmm….I’m hitting a mental snag. To me it’s completely obvious how Jonas is going to act in this situation, but within the context of this piece — I’ve really done very little to establish his motivations, morality, etc.
Thoughts? Read a la carte how well is this piece holding together for you?
“This child is the last. The last beating heart in all of Gilead. Except for yours, of course.” Fairchild smiled.
The bundle hung, inches from the squire’s nose. Jonas stared.
The baby appeared healthy, a patch of yellow fuzz on its head, dried tears and mucus covering the face. Jonas felt a sudden desire to reach into his pocket and find a clean hanky. The sudden image of standing in this room of green fire , piled high with corpses in a city of death — wiping the snot off of a baby’s face; the image slid through his battered mind, and he found himself grinning. A quiet huh left his lips as he almost-chuckled.
Alone by Chris Polasko
The tip of his sword moved two inches along the floor. He was still held by the power of the creature Fairchild, but he felt looser. Like a frog in a child’s palm, he couldn’t escape but had room to wriggle.
“Do you know this child? I found her in the back of a baker’s shop, just popped her in my pocket like a day-old muffin, and brought her here.” Fairchild pulled the child close into the crook of his left arm, and waved towards Jonas with his right.
The squire found he could speak. ” No. I don’t know who she is. ”
“No matter. Princess or pauper, whoreson or maid. You. Her. It doesn’t really matter. It’s the blood. The blood, you see?” Fairchild sat down again on the mound of corpses, cradling the child to his breast.
“I don’t…”
“..understand? That doesn’t matter, either.” the man who was not waggled a long finger. “You came here to find out what had happened to your people, to learn the truth — to save them? Quite a grand quest, I applaud you — or would. I don’t want to drop the baby!”
Shattersteel-laughter rang in the throne room. Jonas glimpsed again Fairchild’s true form — gaunt flesh stretched on a tall frame – naked, green and merry.
“I came here to purge this world of Gilead’s blood, and I’ve succeeded. Almost.” the creature rose. “There is still you, and this child — and a few wandering remnants scattered across the world.”
Jonas felt a sudden heat in his heart. This creature was right, there were others out there – the Legion, travellers, families that had settled elsewhere. Gilead could live on, an army could gather and make justice for the fallen.
“Ah, hope. A foolish thing, there flickering in your eyes.” Fairchild idly ran his thumb across the baby’s cheek.
The child screamed as if his touch was acid.
“My time is limited, so let us speak plain. I need an..agent. Someone to hunt down your remaining kinsmen. It is going to be you. But, I need you to consent. So, enter my service or….” Fairchild held out the crying child. “…or I kill this child. Right here. Right now. And then you.”
Arg. Recovering from holiday weekend at day job , plus two of my co-workers are out. If I get a chance to breathe in the next few hours, I’ll crank out the next chunk of The Cost.
The squire’s sword moved, swinging in a high arc towards the man’s face.
Fairchild tucked the book under his arm, and casually caught the blade in his left hand.
A burst of light. Jonas saw a bone-thin hand with too-long fingers holding his blade. The skin was green and smooth — or did it only appear so in the emerald corpse illumination?
The flash was gone. The man pushed the squire’s blade aside.
“Now, now.” the man smiled. “No need to be so forward. There will be plenty of time later for that sort of thing. Now, have a seat, young
Artist - Daniel Danger
man.”
Jonas felt his knees buckle, and his knuckles hit the marble floor. He still clutched the hilt of his good steel, but it felt heavier than a millstone.
Fairchild sat calmly on the pile of corpses, and pulled the book into his lap. He drummed his fingers on it for a moment.
“I knew someone would come, but I didn’t know who. A hero? A prince? Who are you, son of Gilead?”
Jonas said nothing. He tried to move, but his arms and legs refused.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter.”, the smiling man mused. “You are the one who was promised. You will be my hunter.”
I will be nothing for you, the squire thought. I will find a way to make you pay.
“Oho! Your mortal eyes blaze so fiercely. It must be hard.” Fairchild said sympathetically. “To crawl on your belly through the ruin of your home — to find all that you knew destroyed. Everyone you ever knew. Dead. How you must thirst for vengeance….”
The tip of his sword blade moved a quiet inch. Jonas focused on the feel of the hilt in his hands, and tried to make the sword move again. He kept his eyes on the smiling man, on his green throne.
Fairchild clapped his hands.
“Enough of that. It is time to speak, you and I. I must pull you from thoughts of the past, so let us speak simply. Yes, it was I that did all that you have seen. Every living creature in the land of Gilead is dead. Dead and worse, by my hands.”
Jonas saw the man’s hands change — fingers too long, and green, green, green. The squire choked with horror and grief.
” Well, not quite.” Fairchild leaned forward. “There is one survivor. Would you like to see her?”
The squire nodded, and fought back tears. And managed to move the sword tip another quiet inch.
The man who was not turned slightly, and pushed the arm of a corpse aside. Nestled within was a small, cloth bundle. It moved slightly as Fairchild pulled it free, and then it began to cry.
A baby, held in a prison of green spider-hands.
Fairchild held it forth, and smiled.
“Now, let us talk about the terms of our covenant.”
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