Reflection Ruesday
Thanks for the tag, @serialsforbellara!
Instructions: Go through your WIP folder and find something unfinished to share! It could be something you’re not planning on working on again, or something you’ll continue later, but share whatever you have!
I don't generally maintain too many WIPs at a time, mostly to keep me from starting things and then abandoning them for the next shiny thing, and all 2.5 of my active WIPs are active, not abandoned or back-burnered, but I can still share something from one of them.
(No shade to anyone who does keep a lot of WIPs or regularly jumps from project to project, btw; this is entirely me managing myself.)
I've shared a bunch of Dragon Age stuff lately, so let's shift gears a little and instead show off part of my Sonic 2 novelization instead. This is the beginning of chapter 1, so the stuff meant to hook the reader in.
A star fell from the sky early in the morning of the last day of August.
Miles crouched beneath the sheltering branches of a scraggly bush and watched the bright streak of light as it cut across the star-dusted sky. Brief. Just a wink of blue-green and white, there and gone like a single heartbeat. He was lucky to have seen it.
Not a star, his dad said. Space debris burning up on contact with the atmosphere.
Make a wish, his mom murmured.
Miles flicked his ears at the voices and ignored them as he padded into the village.
His breath fogged out in front of his muzzle. The crisp air at the tail-end of winter nipped at the tips of his ears and his bare little fingers. He tried to tuck them into the ends of his tattered scarf, but his claws caught on the frayed threads, and he muttered something he’d heard some of the village adults say as he disentangled his hands again.
He needed to find food. There was no time for wishes or stargazing.
A wish lodged itself traitorously behind his ribs regardless, clinging to his soul like a burr. Tiny, half-formed, given weight by the innocence he’d thought long-beaten out of him. He didn’t name it. To put words to the wish would give it too much form, a shape that would stay and grow and sink in claws and teeth, and ultimately tear another hole in him. He didn’t know if he could survive it again. When did the empty spaces become too much to hold together?
But like a bird aloft too long, he wanted a soft place to land, and that idea wouldn’t wiggle loose no matter how hard he shook his head.
Stars can’t grant wishes, he reminded himself harshly, and it wasn’t a real star anyway.
Tag, you're it! ;) @lermisv4, @jadeandroses, @mama-qwerty, @dags-over-caravans, and @himluv, just for a few, but anyone else who sees this and wants to be tagged, you're tagged too! (No pressure to anyone who's tagged.)
