I’m including links to music that I feel would enhance the reading of the selections. The links will open in new windows, so while the music plays, read the selection. I hope this experiment does make it better. Let me know in the comments below?
The punches of the Chronomancer rained down on Carter. He paid them no heed, too numb by what he’d done. A distinct crack as his jaw gave way under the other man’s heavy hits. Her screams, and begging echoed through his mind. Though she pleaded with him to stop, he did not. He’d given into his baser urges like an animal. He deserved this. Everything. His eyes gushed water when his nose was broken.
Sera ran over and grabbed Robilar’s arm. “Stop hitting him!” He growled and shook her off. “I mean it, he’s not responsible for what happened to Dearbhaile! Look at him!”
“He makes me fucking sick. To think I looked up to the bastard.” He whirled on the smaller woman. “And how dare you try to defend him! I caught him!”
“Would the Carter Blake you know rape his beloved? Would he just stand there and take the beating you’re giving him?”
Both men turned to look at her. “Speak sense, girl,” the Chronomancer growled.
“Look, I don’t know my brother as well as you do, Robilar, but I do know he’s not the type to rape.”
“There’s the slight problem of I caught him in the fucking act!”
“Maybe he wasn’t in control,” she said.
“Stop trying to defend him, Sera! His actions are inexcusable and indefensible.”
“What if Drago used a spell to control his body and mind? Will you condemn Carter for what is entirely plausible?”
“Check,” Carter mumbled. The pain of the shattered jaw was excruciating, but he could deal with it.
Robilar growled, not willing to give them the satisfaction of trying to excuse the bastard, yet there was a small feeling wiggling at the back of his mind. ‘What if she’s right?’
“I’ll call Dearbhaile.” A big hand on her shoulder stopped Sera. She glanced up to her big brother shaking his head. “No? I don’t know of anyone else who has the kind of power to tell.” Carter slapped Robilar’s chest, driving him back a couple of steps. “Robilar? Do you know of someone?”
He rubbed his sore sternum. ‘Shit. I forgot how strong the Walker really is. Sera wasn’t kidding about him allowing me to hit him. That slap felt like he was smacking the back of my ribs from the inside. Ow.’
“Yeah,” he croaked.
Robilar concentrated, and pulled on the time stream. A sparkling orange portal appeared. He reached into it and, with a mighty heave, withdrew a wizened Snebbli. He collapsed against the stone wall, breathing hard. The Snebbli glared up at the Chronomancer.
“What do you want, Time Mage?” he squeaked. He could only point at Sera and Carter. The Snebbli’s eyes widened when he saw the Walker of World’s, and he knelt.
“We need something done for us,” Sera said.
He shook his head. “I cannot. If I do it, bad things wil-”
Carter yanked him up by the collar and held him there. “Do it.”
The little being blanched, then nodded his head. Carter set him gently on the floor. Eyes closed, he touched the big human’s hand. A crackle of electricity echoed through the room. He slowly looked up at the Walker. Carter’s insides turned to ice. His heart pounded in his ears. His body shook. The elderly wizard nodded. “He used the Fist of Ra.”
Sera held her breath, bracing for the explosion. Her hands felt clammy. The room tilted crazily as she trembled. ‘I should get out of here before he loses control. Move, feet!’ Sweat broke out on her brow as she watched her brother.
His veins popped out in his neck. His throat worked, trying to release the feelings building within him. His big hands bunched to fists, knuckles crackling and veins popping out. Carter’s chest heaved like bellows building a fire. He shook his head side-to-side. His eyes showed the sclera clearly before they turned a glowing electric blue and he bellowed, a primal scream. With an explosion that knocked dust from the ceiling, he vanished. Goosebumps raced over her body.
Dearbhaile ran in. “Do nae tell Carter what happened,” she yelled.
“Too late,” said Robilar. “He’s gone.”
“Oh, shit.”
I blinked and a man dressed in green and dark brownleather armor stood before me. He had a lean and muscular build to him. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. A sword with a blue crystalline blade was held in his right hand. He looked over his shoulder at me. Coffee colored eyes sparkled with mischievous humor. The Lyxo that had been about to kill me drew up in surprise. Three heads sniffed the air, then with swung a massive paw at the newcomer. Without taking his eyes from me, he casually cut off the incoming limb. The demon bellowed in pain, then swiped at the mystery man again.
He turned to the attack, leaped on to the arm, raced up and stabbed the demon’s dragon throat. He then flipped through the air sliced the lion muzzle off, and then stabbed the goat between the eyes. As the Lyxo collapsed, he pulled the blade free, ran along it’s chest and flung himself through the air at the Lyxo that had Adora on the defensive.
Her flanged mace glowed with an eldritch violet light. Each time it collided with the tiger paw of her demon, black sparks leaped into the air. The three headed demon Lady Orwen battled had heads like a bull, the torso of a tiger, and the lower body of a goat. It threw its fists at her just as the man in leather arrived. As she blocked the strikes, he grabbed the outer horn of the right bull head, twisted it downward, flipped under it and snapped the neck. Continuing his motion, the man stabbed the center bull head between the horns, pulled the blade free, and flipped over to the last one, stabbing it between the horns as well. The man gracefully hit the ground in a tuck and roll.
His flashy appearance caught the attention of one of the Lyxos. The demon tried to stomp the man with its goat-hooved frog leg. He rolled under the assault, came to his feet and sliced the four legs off with a quick figure eight flourish. The ground shuddered under the impact of the demon’s collapse.
A rain of arrows came his way. My jaw dropped when I saw him either cut the arrows down, block them with his sword, or dance passed. He caught one and threw it back on almost the same trajectory. ‘Why the hell did he do that? There’s no way it- Oh.’ The arrow accelerated to the point of invisibility. Several demons in a row blew apart in chunks and sprays of blood.
An enormous bipedal beetle with a muscular brown body covered by a shiny, green-black carapace erupted from the ground. Its eyes were silver and bulbous, and its vertically-aligned teeth gleamed with a greenish-black saliva. Keratin spikes grew around the monster’s legs and shoulders, and its forearms were covered by two-foot-long curved blades. With the exception of its coloration, it was identical to the bug I fought in the arena. It leaped for me. Without thinking, I brought by foot up. The bug’s jump carried it face first into the bottom of my foot. As I went back from the force, it crashed to the ground.
As I regained my balance, the beetle-creature sprang to its feet. I cocked my sword over my shoulder like it was a baseball bat.
“Azerith, metrenome Zinthos!”
I was splattered with silvery ichor as I registered Lady Orwen’s voice. The beetle, its skull crush by a powerful blow from behind, toppled forward. I wiped the sticky, yet sweet-smelling fluid from my face and peered at the princess. “Did you really have to splatter the contents of its cranium on my face?”
She shrugged, and wiped blood and grime from her cheek. “You were just standing there.” I grabbed her arm, yanked her against me and whipped my sword up. She planted her hands on my chest and pushed away. “Carter, you’re attached.” I rolled my eyes down to her, then back up. She turned and saw an ape-like demon with yellow horns curving from where its eyes would be impaled on my weapon.
“You’re welcome.” I pulled my sword from the fiend’s chest while she stepped away from me. I drew the back of the sword along the crook of my elbow, removing majority of the ichor that had collected on it, flipped it through a series of show-offy motions, then sheathed it.
She quirked her grimy eyebrows at me. “Was that necessary?”
“Not at all. But it looked awesome, didn’t it?” That earned me a tired sounding chuckle. I looked around. The battle was winding down. The man in leather finished off the last Lyxo and sheathed his sword after a similar flourish to mine. “I like that guy. Whoever he is.”
“I wonder why.”
I jogged over to Dearbhaile and swept her into my arms. “I’m so glad you are safe, Rishka.”
“And I, ye.” She slanted her mouth over mine and gave me a deep kiss.
One of my friends will dress up as the Grim Reaper, stand at the head of my coffin and say nothing. Another friend will have rigged my coffin with a semi catapult so that half way through the eulogy, my corpse will suddenly sit up and point at the front row. At the same time, a recording of my voice will play, “You’re next, feckers.” After the funeral, my friends will dress me in a Superman costume, take me up in a C-135
DC Comics’ casts pays tribute to The Man of Steel. Art by Tom Grummett. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
transport, and at 50,000 feet, chuck me out the back. That will be epically awesome.
Two days ago, I posted an excerpt from R.S.Guthrie’s writing help book Ink. Yesterday, I shared a section of one of my Works In Progress. Today, I break it down, and I hope you tell me whether you think I succeeded in showing you what happened, or if I told you what happened.
I stole along the hallway that lead to my former cell as I had when I escaped. I still didn’t know why it had been switched from the one closer to the arena, but didn’t really care either. Cool air from an unseen opening to the outside blew gently across my face. I soon found myself at the intersection from my previous journey through here. I wondered if I should continue forward towards the source of the breeze, or to my left and into the darkness. After several moments of indecisiveness, I resorted to eenie-meenie-miney-moe. I went left, into the darkness, with some trepidation. I had no idea what was down here. I was bothered by the fact that I hadn’t heard anything since I left Weijia on the elevator, and the dark silence was kind of spooky the way it seemed to lay heavily on me. As I walked, the air seemed to grow thicker, heavier and more ominous. Oddly enough, even though there was no light in the hallway, it appeared to get gradually darker. Just ahead of me, I heard a little boy giggle suddenly. I froze, the hairs on my body all standing at attention, goose bumps running over my body. The sound stopped with no echoes. I drew the sword I had gotten from a clan Silverhame smith. I was glad to have its weight in my hand.
I wanted to show Carter’s worry, and nervousness about being in this location again. I also wanted to show something was hunting him.
I resumed walking, and then I heard footsteps behind me. I whirled around, bringing the longsword up in a defensive posture. When I halted, the footsteps also stopped. I held my breath, straining my ears for any sounds, but there were none. I reluctantly began to walk again, but this time I heard nothing except my own heartbeat which had ramped up remarkably. The silence didn’t remain for long, however. Just ahead of me, I heard a baby begin to cry. I began to hurry, the fear in that young voice spurring my steps. The crying baby changed to a young girl shrieking, then a young woman screaming, then an old woman choking, then stopped. I admit, my nerves were now completely shot. I stumbled to a halt again, and simply leaned against a stone wall, trembling like I had a cold.
Here, I wanted to show that though Carter is scared, he’s willing to push past to help someone in need. And, I wanted to build the tension.
After I had caught my breath again, and regained my composure, I pushed against the wall, intending to go upright. Instead, I felt the hardness of the stone give way to the soft yielding of flesh. At the same time, I felt a long, wet tongue slide up the side of my face. I screamed in revulsion and disgust and thrust my sword at who, or whatever had just licked me. The only resistance my sword felt was when it impacted the far wall of the hallway. Malevolent laughter echoed through the darkness.
Here, I wanted to show his hunter’s power, and ability to get into Carter’s head.
A sinister voice whispered near my right ear, “If you do not study…”
Then, it moved to just in front of me and thundered,
“YOU! SHALL NOT!! PAAASSSSS!!!!”
As the booming of the abrupt shout died away, I started laughing aloud.
“Really?” I said, wiping tears of mirth from my eyes. “Are you really misquoting Lord of the Rings at me?!”
Here, I wanted to give the reader a small break from the tension with a little humor. I also wanted the reader and Carter to relax a bit.
There was no response. Still chuckling a bit, I resumed walking. I gradually became aware that I could faintly see the stone walls and floor of the hallway again. I walked further, and the light grew only a little brighter. I soon realized it was due to a mist that somehow hung in the air. After another five minutes of travel, it was like I was in an ethereal realm. I moved to touch the wall on my right hand so I wouldn’t get turned around, and my hand met nothing. I stumbled forward into the mist and landed on my stomach, knocking the wind from myself.
I took a couple of minutes to recover, not fully noticing the moisture that was sinking into my clothing. I finally stood, and when my clothing clung to me, swore. ‘Just what I fucking need: my clothes to be wet,’ I thought. I trudged across the sodden, muddy ground, grimacing with disgust with each step. I really hated the feel of wet deerskin against my flesh. Thunder rumbled off to my right, causing me to wonder if I had wandered outside somehow. A warm rain began to fall on me. Finding it infinitely better than the cold dampness that had already surrounded me, I paused to enjoy it. I tilted my head back to better enjoy the feel of the rain. I soon caught whiff of a familiar, coppery scent. I opened my eyes. Sure enough, blood was falling from the sky like rain. I heaved a sigh and trudged onwards. Ten feet later, I tripped over a stone block. I rolled onto my back, clutching my injured shin and swearing like a sailor.
With this section, I wanted to build the tension up in a hurry. At the same time, I wanted to gross out the reader a bit.
Something made me roll rapidly to my right. The world imploded around me. I smelled ozone an instant before a shockwave sent me rolling further away. When the world ceased spinning, I sat up and opened my eyes. The mist cleared enough for me to see a blackened crater where I had been laying just moments before. ‘Okay, somebody doesn’t want me to continue. I must be going the right way,’ I thought. Curiosity had me check out the stone I tripped over earlier. I picked up my dropped sword as I approached it.
The stone looked to be ordinary granite. It was largely white with striations of grey and black. It was also polished to a high sheen. From the angle I approached it from, I couldn’t make anything else out. I walked around and froze, my heart in my throat. Claws had gouged out a name and two dates.
CARTER MARCUS BLAKE
10/9/20XX – 5/6/20XX
I must admit: seeing that freaked me out. For one, I never use my middle name. I can’t stand it. For another, I had an inkling that the second date was today. I heard a sliding step as if someone was attempting to sneak up on me. I whirled, sword up in a ready defensive position. There was no one there. I cautiously made my way passed the stone with my name on it and began to move faster, something telling me that time was running out.
With this section, I wanted to show the demon hunting Carter was a master of psychological warfare. I want it to seem like the demon has a way in the reader’s mind, too.
A large dark shape plummeted to the ground in front of me. I leaped backward instinctively. Lightning flashed rapidly, illuminating the newcomer in staccato bursts. It was one of the largest demons I had ever seen. It was crouched in front of me, black wings furled over its massive muscled back. It had four long, thick arms, the lower two of which were planted on the ground and two hugely muscled legs, coiled and ready to launch it into action. It had long and sharp looking horns sticking out of its skull-like head. An elongated, heavy tail swished back and forth like a cat’s. It watched me with glowing silvery orange eyes, licking its face occasionally. Its wings unfurled and began to lazily flap, stirring up a surprisingly pleasant breeze. The wings were black near the demon’s shoulders and gradually faded to red near the primary feathers. There was a stripe of yellow at delineating the covert feathers. Keeping its eyes on me, the demon slowly raised one of its arms from the ground, carefully moved it forward, and then lowered it. This movement was followed promptly by a matching step forward by its opposite leg. ‘This thing is stalking me,’ I thought with wonder.
Trying to show that I wouldn’t be intimidated, I twirled my sword before me, then snapped it down to my right. Outwardly, I was bold, ready to fight. Inwardly, I was nervous and scared as hell. The demon lowered its body, ready to pounce. I dropped my right foot behind me, turning to that I would present a smaller target and so that I could put more power behind my first swing. I brought my sword up into my left hand and gripped it lightly, yet firmly. The demon took another slow step forward, this time moving the opposite arm and leg from last time.
The demon launched into its attack. My swinging sword was tore from my grasp. Sword flew in one direction, I in another. I rolled a few feet, and lunged upright. The demon was on me in an instant, ripping and clawing at my flesh. I frantically threw up my forearms and knees to block its unrelenting assault. After four frantic minutes, I saw an opening and took ruthless advantage. It swung both of its right arms at my head. I ducked under the upper fist, blocked the lower one with my forearms and launched my right knee up into its jaw, staggering the monster. It roared in frustration and swung both its left arms. I landed in a crouch. When both left fists whistled through the air over my head, I slammed my left elbow into its right knee. The demon’s knee buckled as it bellowed in pain. It crashed to the ground. I rose to my feet and raced for my sword.
I want to show that just because Carter knows how to fight, due to his time in the arena, he’s not invincible.
I reached it, and took it gladly into my hands once more. I turned to the demon, ready to resume the battle on more equal terms. Moving faster that I thought possible, the demon charged. When it reached me, I found myself lifted in the air. The demon had each of my limbs in one of its colossal hands. It roared in my face and then flung me. I flew on a short, hard trajectory and crashed into a wall. My skull bounced against it, sending sparkles of light shooting across my sight. The impact knocked the wind from me and caused my vision to go blurry. My ears rang, and I felt nauseous. I wasn’t sure of where I was, or what had happened to me. I slowly pushed myself upright and saw two four-armed demons charging at me. I tried to get to my feet, but couldn’t seem to get my limbs to work together. The demon yanked me up and slammed me against the wall again. It began to batter me with its free fists. My body twitched and swung from the thud of its fists. It was interesting: I was able to feel the impacts, but I felt no pain.
I wanted the reader to know that Carter’s skull bouncing off the wall gave him a concussion.
The demon flung me away from it again. My flight was once more short, and remarkably, pleasant. The landing, a lot less so. Fortunately, the jarring landing served to clear the cobwebs from my mind. I rolled to my feet just as the demon landed hard where I had just been lying. Instinct had me rocketing my fist up to explode against its jaw as I shoved my feet against the ground to provide extra force. The demon’s head snapped back, and it crashed to the ground. Pain raced up from my damaged hand, grabbed a dance partner in my shoulder and did the tango in my skull to the tune of a throbbing headache. I tasted copper in my mouth and spat to one side. Blood and a tooth hit the ground.
“You bastard,” I said.
I looked at the demon which was just getting to its hands and knees. I ran up and punted the demon in its head as if I were trying to kick the winning fifty yard field goal at the Super Bowl with the entire New England Patriots defensive line attempting to stop me. The arch of my foot caught it on its jaw. My knee caught the side of its horn. The demon collapsed, semi-conscious. I collapsed, clutching my knee. I rolled around for a couple of minutes until the demon let out a gasping snore, reminding me of its presence. I got up, hobbled over to where I last saw my sword and picked it up, swearing under my breath. I balanced on my non-bruised leg and kicked the other one out a few times, trying to work the pain out. I gingerly set my foot back down and tested my weight on it. When it held up, I turned and limped back to where the demon was just beginning to stir.
In this section, I wanted this to show that sometimes, an act of desperation can win a fight.
‘Hey, I’m Dr. Gregory House,’ I thought randomly. The demon had pushed itself back up to it hands and knees once more. I poised near its shoulders, my sword held tightly in my hands. I held it above its neck and paused, waiting for it to come further up. As it did, I brought the sharp blade down with all my might. A scream of fury issued from my lungs as the longsword impacted, then sliced through, the demons thick neck. Crimson blood shot up from the stump like a geyser. It slashed against me, hot and delicious. I stood over the demon corpse, savoring my victory. My chest heaved as I thrust my bloody sword in the air and bellowed my triumph to the sky.
With this section, I wanted a bit of humor to give the reader a break from the tension, and at the same time, to show that Carter’s still affected by the head injury. With the last three lines, I want the reader to feel the same exhilaration that he did.
Well, folks, did I succeed here? Let me know in the comments below. If I did, thank R.S.Guthrie by purchasing his book over at Amazon, or Barnes & Noble. If I didn’t, blame me.
Yesterday, I posted an excerpt from R.S.Guthrie’s book Ink. The section I chose was about Showing the reader the events of the story, rather han telling them what happened. When you show the events, it serves to draw your reader further into your story. Conversely, when you tell, you pull them out. I think I learned the lesson (am probably wrong), and I’m going to use a scene from my Work In Progress Into the Realm: The Chronicles of Carter Blake, Book I to illustrate. I’ll post the section, then tomorrow, I’ll break down what I was trying to show. It’s up to you to decide whether I showed you, or if I told you. Let me know in the comments below.
I stole along the hallway that lead to my former cell as I had when I escaped. I still didn’t know why it had been switched from the one closer to the arena, but didn’t really care either. Cool air from an unseen opening to the outside blew gently across my face. I soon found myself at the intersection from my previous journey through here. I wondered if I should continue forward towards the source of the breeze, or to my left and into the darkness. After several moments of indecisiveness, I resorted to eenie-meenie-miney-moe. I went left, into the darkness, with some trepidation. I had no idea what was down here. I was bothered by the fact that I hadn’t heard anything since I left Weijia on the elevator, and the dark silence was kind of spooky the way it seemed to lay heavily on me. As I walked, the air seemed to grow thicker, heavier and more ominous. Oddly enough, even though there was no light in the hallway, it appeared to get gradually darker. Just ahead of me, I heard a little boy giggle suddenly. I froze, the hairs on my body all standing at attention, goose bumps running over my body. The sound stopped with no echoes. I drew the sword I had gotten from a clan Silverhame smith. I was glad to have its weight in my hand.
I resumed walking, and then I heard footsteps behind me. I whirled around, bringing the longsword up in a defensive posture. When I halted, the footsteps also stopped. I held my breath, straining my ears for any sounds, but there were none. I reluctantly began to walk again, but this time I heard nothing except my own heartbeat which had ramped up remarkably. The silence didn’t remain for long, however. Just ahead of me, I heard a baby begin to cry. I began to hurry, the fear in that young voice spurring my steps. The crying baby changed to a young girl shrieking, then a young woman screaming, then an old woman choking, then stopped. I admit, my nerves were now completely shot. I stumbled to a halt again, and simply leaned against a stone wall, trembling like I had a cold.
After I had caught my breath again, and regained my composure, I pushed against the wall, intending to go upright. Instead, I felt the hardness of the stone give way to the soft yielding of flesh. At the same time, I felt a long, wet tongue slide up the side of my face. I screamed in revulsion and disgust and thrust my sword at who, or whatever had just licked me. The only resistance my sword felt was went it impacted the far wall of the hallway. Malevolent laughter echoed through the darkness.
A sinister voice whispered near my right ear, “If you do not study…”
Then, it moved to just in front of me and thundered,
“YOU! SHALL NOT!! PAAASSSSS!!!!”
As the booming of the abrupt shout died away, I started laughing aloud.
“Really?” I said, wiping tears of mirth from my eyes. “Are you really misquoting Lord of the Rings at me?!”
There was no response. Still chuckling a bit, I resumed walking. I gradually became aware that I could faintly see the stone walls and floor of the hallway again. I walked further, and the light grew only a little brighter. I soon realized it was due to a mist that somehow hung in the air. After another five minutes of travel, it was like I was in an ethereal realm. I moved to touch the wall on my right hand so I wouldn’t get turned around, and my hand met nothing. I stumbled forward into the mist and landed on my stomach, knocking the wind from myself.
I took a couple of minutes to recover, not fully noticing the moisture that was sinking into my clothing. I finally stood, and when my clothing clung to me, swore. ‘Just what I fucking need: my clothes to be wet,’ I thought. I trudged across the sodden, muddy ground, grimacing with disgust with each step. I really hated the feel of wet deerskin against my flesh. Thunder rumbled off to my right, causing me to wonder if I had wandered outside somehow. A warm rain began to fall on me. Finding it infinitely better than the cold dampness that had already surrounded me, I paused to enjoy it. I tilted my head back to better enjoy the feel of the rain. I soon caught whiff of a familiar, coppery scent. I opened my eyes. Sure enough, blood was falling from the sky like rain. I heaved a sigh and trudged onwards. Ten feet later, I tripped over a stone block. I rolled onto my back, clutching my injured shin and swearing like a sailor.
Something made me roll rapidly to my right. The world imploded around me. I smelled ozone an instant before a shockwave sent me rolling further away. When the world ceased spinning, I sat up and opened my eyes. The mist cleared enough for me to see a blackened crater where I had been laying just moments before. ‘Okay, somebody doesn’t want me to continue. I must be going the right way,’ I thought. Curiosity had me check out the stone I tripped over earlier. I picked up my dropped sword as I approached it.
The stone looked to be ordinary granite. It was largely white with striations of grey and black. It was also polished to a high sheen. From the angle I approached it from, I couldn’t make anything else out. I walked around and froze, my heart in my throat. Claws had gouged out a name and two dates.
CARTER MARCUS BLAKE
10/9/20XX – 5/6/20XX
I must admit: seeing that freaked me out. For one, I never use my middle name. I can’t stand it. For another, I had an inkling that the second date was today. I heard a sliding step as if someone was attempting to sneak up on me. I whirled, sword up in a ready defensive position. There was no one there. I cautiously made my way passed the stone with my name on it and began to move faster, something telling me that time was running out.
A large dark shape plummeted to the ground in front of me. I leaped backward instinctively. Lightning flashed rapidly, illuminating the newcomer in staccato bursts. It was one of the largest demons I had ever seen. It was crouched in front of me, black wings furled over its massive muscled back. It had four long, thick arms, the lower two of which were planted on the ground and two hugely muscled legs, coiled and ready to launch it into action. It had long and sharp looking horns sticking out of its skull-like head. An elongated, heavy tail swished back and forth like a cat’s. It watched me with glowing silvery orange eyes, licking its face occasionally. Its wings unfurled and began to lazily flap, stirring up a surprisingly pleasant breeze. The wings were black near the demon’s shoulders and gradually faded to red near the primary feathers. There was a stripe of yellow at delineating the covert feathers. Keeping its eyes on me, the demon slowly raised one of its arms from the ground, carefully moved it forward, and then lowered it. This movement was followed promptly by a matching step forward by its opposite leg. ‘This thing is stalking me,’ I thought with wonder.
Trying to show that I wouldn’t be intimidated, I twirled my sword before me, then snapped it down to my right. Outwardly, I was bold, ready to fight. Inwardly, I was nervous and scared as hell. The demon lowered its body, ready to pounce. I dropped my right foot behind me, turning to that I would present a smaller target and so that I could put more power behind my first swing. I brought my sword up into my left hand and gripped it lightly, yet firmly. The demon took another slow step forward, this time moving the opposite arm and leg from last time.
The demon launched into its attack. My swinging sword was tore from my grasp. Sword flew in one direction, I in another. I rolled a few feet, and lunged upright. The demon was on me in an instant, ripping and clawing at my flesh. I frantically threw up my forearms and knees to block its unrelenting assault. After four frantic minutes, I saw an opening and took ruthless advantage. It swung both of its right arms at my head. I ducked under the upper fist, blocked the lower one with my forearms and launched my right knee up into its jaw, staggering the monster. It roared in frustration and swung both its left arms. I landed in a crouch. When both left fists whistled through the air over my head, I slammed my left elbow into its right knee. The demon’s knee buckled as it bellowed in pain. It crashed to the ground. I rose to my feet and raced for my sword.
I reached it, and took it gladly into my hands once more. I turned to the demon, ready to resume the battle on more equal terms. Moving faster that I thought possible, the demon charged. When it reached me, I found myself lifted in the air. The demon had each of my limbs in one of its colossal hands. It roared in my face and then flung me. I flew on a short, hard trajectory and crashed into a wall. My skull bounced against it, sending sparkles of light shooting across my sight. The impact knocked the wind from me and caused my vision to go blurry. My ears rang, and I felt nauseous. I wasn’t sure of where I was, or what had happened to me. I slowly pushed myself upright and saw two four-armed demons charging at me. I tried to get to my feet, but couldn’t seem to get my limbs to work together. The demon yanked me up and slammed me against the wall again. It began to batter me with its free fists. My body twitched and swung from the thud of its fists. It was interesting: I was able to feel the impacts, but I felt no pain.
The demon flung me away from it again. My flight was once more short, and remarkably, pleasant. The landing, a lot less so. Fortunately, the jarring landing served to clear the cobwebs from my mind. I rolled to my feet just as the demon landed hard where I had just been lying. Instinct had me rocketing my fist up to explode against its jaw as I shoved my feet against the ground to provide extra force. The demon’s head snapped back, and it crashed to the ground. Pain raced up from my damaged hand, grabbed a dance partner in my shoulder and did the tango in my skull to the tune of a throbbing headache. I tasted copper in my mouth and spat to one side. Blood and a tooth hit the ground.
“You bastard,” I said.
I looked at the demon which was just getting to its hands and knees. I ran up and punted the demon in its head as if I were trying to kick the winning fifty yard field goal at the Super Bowl with the entire New England Patriots defensive line attempting to stop me. The arch of my foot caught it on its jaw. My knee caught the side of its horn. The demon collapsed, semi-conscious. I collapsed, clutching my knee. I rolled around for a couple of minutes until the demon let out a gasping snore, reminding me of its presence. I got up, hobbled over to where I last saw my sword and picked it up, swearing under my breath. I balanced on my non-bruised leg and kicked the other one out a few times, trying to work the pain out. I gingerly set my foot back down and tested my weight on it. When it held up, I turned and limped back to where the demon was just beginning to stir.
‘Hey, I’m Dr. Gregory House,’ I thought randomly. The demon had pushed itself back up to it hands and knees once more. I poised near its shoulders, my sword held tightly in my hands. I held it above its neck and paused, waiting for it to come further up. As it did, I brought the sharp blade down with all my might. A scream of fury issued from my lungs as the longsword impacted, then sliced though, the demons thick neck. Crimson blood shot up from the stump like a geyser. It slashed against me, hot and delicious. I stood over the demon corpse, savoring my victory. My chest heaved as I thrust my bloody sword in the air and bellowed my triumph to the sky.
Not too long ago, R.S.Guthrie released a new book called Ink. It’s about the craft of writing, and how to get better at it. I wrote a review about it here. Look for “R.w.Foster”.
I got in touch with Rob the other day and requested to post an excerpt from it and, using my writing, demonstrate what I learned from it. Why am I wanting to do this, you ask? A couple of reasons. One, I like Rob Guthrie and want to promote his stuff. I promote what I like. 2) I want to help others become better writers, as I struggle with the same (it’s in the blog tagline). The more writing we have in the world, the better the world is, in my opinion. But, enough of me blathering. You want the excerpt. It follows the jump.
This is THE RULE. All the other rules are subservient to this one. The other rules are tools to help your writing show the reader. Here’s an exercise: Remember “Show and Tell” in grammar school? You know, once a week or once a month each student would bring in something about which they could show AND tell. Now I want you to imagine this simple scene. Little Susie Frockmaker has just walked into a hushed classroom of twenty-something first-graders. She’s wearing her cutest pink dress; her mother has done her blonde hair all especially curly before she went to school; she is smiling like the goat that ate the tractor tire. And she’s carrying, in a meshed-metal cage, a huge white rabbit. Its alive, you Horror writers. Twitching, munching on some carrots. The bottom of the cage has cardboard and there’s fresh grass Susie’s dad put in there just for such an occasion. Little Susie Frockmaker takes the cage and, still smiling wide ( you didn’t know that goats that finish off tires are irrepressibly happy creatures), places the caged, gorgeous rabbit on a small table at the front of the room. There is an audible, “ooooh” as she does so, little Susie Frockmaker, nor the teacher, nor any other student having said a single word. Has Susie shown anything yet? Oh, I know the point of the “Show” part for little persons is when the rabbit is let out of the cage and they get to hold him and feel the soft tufts of fur and worry about him biting them and all manner of enjoyment, but my question still stands: Has Susie shown anything yet? I say she has, without one single word. Remember the smile and the fresh-laid grass and the cage itself? I’ll give you three choices as to what the other young children might be thinking they’ve already seen, without being told a thing:
1. It’s rabbit stew for lunch.
2. Little Susie Frockmaker just gave birth to a clean, live rabbit in the hallway just before class.
3. On the way to school, the rabbits that rule the world played a cruel trick on one of their own and caged him, forcing him to attend Show and Tell at Mockery Elementary School.
4. Susie Frockmaker has a new pet rabbit.
Now I’ll admit, I’ve grown up in some pretty small places like Iowa or Wyoming where there probably was some kid in the back happy as frog excrement that they were having rabbit for lunch (and in fact did end up having rabbit for dinner. Again.). But with that smile, beaming of pride, her nicest dress, the curls her mother did special for this day? Yeah, it’s corny (no Iowa pun intended), but it’s also true, isn’t it? Now that doesn’t mean Tell is off the books altogether. She can tell us his name. But that brat-shit Tommy Dipstick could blurt out, “RASCAL. You got him for your birthday.” (Because Tommy, of course, was an unwanted guest at the farm when Susie received her present—just as Tommy’s an unwanted guest most everywhere he shows up.) You could argue, but I’d call Tommy’s outburst showing. In fact, I didn’t even have to Tell you that Tommy was there because you likely already figured out something to that effect—and the story can later confirm or deny what guess you made, but either way, you didn’t have to be told anything. You see, that’s how you have to start thinking. In what ways can I deliver information to the reader through interesting twists in the story? Imagine how loudly little Susie Frockmaker is going to BAWL in horror when she realizes the whole surprise she’s been practically wetting herself over has been ruined by that little Dipstick. That is the simplest example of showing and not telling I could come up with. Apologies all around for making it more of a children’s tale, but I tried to give it legs just a small bit. Not very Chekhovian.
It’s been a while since I posted anything about my upcoming first novel. So, here is an excerpt:
I ran from the room, debris falling from the ceiling as another resounding boom shook the fortress. I encountered Lady Orwen running towards me. I shook my head before she could ask me any questions. She skidded to a stop and hurried after me. I felt her warm hand take my icy one. The images I’d seen flickered past my mind’s eye as the two of us raced to catch up with Durrgedenn and Weijia.
I saw the two straining to open the heavy door, and decided not to slow. Adora’s feet in perfect time with me, as she too, must have decided not to slow. Durrgedenn glanced over his shoulder in time to see first me, and then the Princess slam into the heavy portal. The sudden impact knocked the air from my chest, but I continued to push at the door, and soon we made it out. The stone slab closed behind us with an echoing thud.
The four of us pounded down the dirt tunnel, swinging through twists and turns until we at last drew to a halt at the bottom of the ladder which lead to the surface. We leaned over to catch our breath. Durrgedenn slumped against the bottommost rung of the ladder, his face streaked with tear tracks. His beard, was missed swatches. Trickles of blood oozed from the raw places where he’d torn his facial hair out. Lady Orwen slide down the wall to sit with her head resting on her knees. Weijia was bent at the waist, her hands on her mid-thighs. I squatted, my hands resting on top of my head. Sweat rolled down my cheeks as I tried to slow my breathing.
A few minutes later, I rose, and beckoned for the others to come upright as well. “We can’t rest for long. We need to find some allies, and avenge our fallen.”
“Avenge? Have you become a Dwarf, then?”
“No, Your Highness. I’ve always been a believer in vengeance. I never had cause for it before.”
Lady Orwen’s cute nose wrinkled. “Always?”
I nodded. “Indeed. I think it stems from my childhood.”
“Would you speak more of this?” She leaned forward.
“Perhaps later, Milady. As I said earlier, we can’t stop for long.” I glanced to Durrgedenn. “You should take the lead. You’re stronger than me, so you’ll be able to better aid the ladies.”
Weijia cleared her throat. “Are you forgetting that I am half dragon, Carter? I think I’m stronger than the Dwarf.”
Durrgedenn straightened, ready to object.
“Ordinarily, I might agree with you, Weijia. However, he has not been physically tortured for the last few months. I don’t want to risk your safety, nor that of anyone else if you’re not fully healed. Alright?”
“Yes.” Her voice was subdued.
“I don’t think less of you for what you went through.” I tapped my collar. “I went through the same thing.”
Lady Orwen came over and examined it. “Carter, what is this?”
“It’s a shock collar. It was placed on me by L’Arc demons. It was used to control and punish me.”
“Why isn’t it being used now?”
“I don’t know. It worries me. Belial is up to something, but I don’t know what.”
“He’s probably tracking you,” Durrgedenn growled.
“That’s comforting.”
He snorted laughter at my words, turned, and scrambled up the ladder.
Danielle: You guys remember how Jason broke my heart?
Elise: (rolls her eyes) Oh my god, yes! I thought you’d never shut up about him.
Jean: Elise! Swats her shoulder. Tact! it is our friend.
Danielle: She’s right, Jeanie.
Elise: See? (disbelieving) Wait, what?
Danielle (chuckles): Yeah, I was too hung up on the guy that took my virginity. Or, rather, that I gave it to.
Jean: Don’t let Elise fool you. She and I went through the same thing.
Elise (impatient): Yeah, yeah, old news. Tell us about Emma. Where’d y’all meet?
Danielle: We met in Tampa last month when I was down there for work. After a stressful round of meetings, I decided to hit a club. I was also hoping for a one-nighter to see if that would push Jason out of my mind. None of the guys that night caught my interest. Just as I was about to give up, she walked in. Her flame red hair caught my attention from the moment she entered the place.
Elise (impatient): Tell us: How is she as a lover?
Danielle (laughs): She’s between your guys, ladies. Our first two times together, it was slow, and tender. Our third, was wild and intense.
Jean: More details, please?
Danielle: No. I’d rather not.
Elise: Why not?
Danielle I’m shy. And it’s private.
Jean: Fair enough.
Elise (incredulous) What? How is that, Jeannie? She got to hear our tales, but we don’t get to hear hers?
Jean: That’s right. We respect each other’s choices, remember?
Elise (sighs): Yes. I’m sorry, Danni.
Danielle: It’s okay. Do you want to hear about our first date?
Jean & Elise: Yes!
Danielle: It was fun, and romantic. She handed me a present and said that it was for our date. It was too soft for jewelry, and too small for an outfit. I tore open the paper to discover a bag of balloons. Emma then told me I had five minutes to “ammo up”. We had ourselves a fun little water balloon fight. It’s a lot of hard work picking up the remnants of a thousand balloons.
Elise and Jean laugh and share a glance, causing them to laugh harder.
Danielle: We then went to De Grassi’s for a candlelight dinner. Between the appetizer, and entrée, she paid the pianist to play Clair de lune, then she pulled me to my feet for a dance. After dinner, we walked through the surf in the moonlight. (smiles)
Elise: Awwww. That’s so awesome.
Jean: I’m envious.
Danielle: Your turn, Elise. Tell us about your first date.
Jean: (laughs) Yes, indeed. So, will you tell us about her?
Danielle: (softly) You don’t hate me?
Elise: Why the hell would we hate you, silly?
Danielle: Because I’m attracted to women.
Jean: News flash, Danni: Elise and I were college lovers.
Elise: Yeah. Only thing you have to worry about is if my little brother finds out.
Danielle: (puzzled) Why is that?
Elise: The worm already has a crush on you. If he learns you are attracted to women too, he’d probably be asking you to marry him. (laughs)
Danielle: I’m not promiscuous. Nor am I into three ways.
Jean: Hey, no knocking the three-way. They are awesome. Drains her glass And no one said anything about you being promiscuous. Elise just said her brother might want to marry you. Anyway, you’re dodging the question. Don’t you want to tell us about your new lover?
Danielle: Not particularly.
Elise: Awww.
Jean: Fair enough. I guess it falls to me to keep the convo going. Matt is simply the greatest lover I’ve never had full sex with.
Danielle gets up and gets another bottle of wine. Elise gets a handful of cheese curls and offers the rest to Jean. Jean shakes her head.
Elise: What does that mean?
Jean: (deep breath) It means we’ve not had actual sex. You know, his dick in me?
Danielle: Why the hell not?
Jean: He says that anticipation makes it so much better.
Elise: It does.
Danielle: (nods) Yes, indeed. How has he built the anticipation?
Jean: Well, he teases me.
Elise: (loudly) Details, wench!
Jean: (laughs) Well- A text comes through her cell. She looks at it. Take this for example: He just sent me a text saying, “Imagine me trailing feathery kisses over your belly and down to your waist.” I read that, and felt myself get a little moist.
Danielle: Really? What else?
Jean: He sent me an e-mail this morning describing how he’d slowly peel my clothes off, kissing every part of me that is revealed. When I was nude, he’d trail his fingertips down my body, then kiss his way back up. Finishes her wine, and refills her glass. Her hands are unsteady. He knows I have a vampire kink, and in that e-mail said that he’d also bite my neck like he needed my blood.
Danielle: (Hand to her throat) Oh my.
Elise: (shifts in her seat) That’s hot.
Jean: It continues. He said that he wants me to imagine him tracing the outline of my sex through my panties. And then, he will slide his finger up, over me, and then slip it into my underwear.
Elise: Are you willing to loan him out on occasion, Jeannie?
Jean: (laughs) What about your “masterful” guy?
Elise: (grins) He’s great for hard & fast, but sometimes, slow and tender is the way to go.
