When you adopt the persona of a Karen whose mother got beaten to death in Newcastle by a group of teens for your English language practise and now everyone thinks you're a comedian
Ironically I was probably least excited for this day because while every word of my WIP is on this blog (I write to post) nothing stands out to me that I was super excited to share. But I will participate and put my most recent post below the cut. I make short posts for people like me who struggle to focus on longer posts. Then for people who like to read a lot at once, all my posts have next and previous links so they can be binged easily.
(first post if anyone is interested in catching up but just a warning I think there's 24 posts at this point)
Donar spied the emerald as soon as Kireen did. He stepped forward and scooped it up unceremoniously.
“This is it, let us return to the elf man and get our pay.” Even as he said it, he began to transfer the coins into his pack. He only stopped when he heard the hiss of a sword coming out of a scabbard.
Kireen stood behind him, a sword at his back. “Put the coins down,” her voice trembled with barely restrained rage. “Why,” he said flatly but his hands were still, a few coins motionless in his palm.
“Because I don’t trust you. Sadie dies and you have nothing to say about it? All you care about is the money. How do I know you didn’t kill Sadie yourself just so you could take her share?” the tip of Kireen’s sword wobbles in the air.
“You saw her wounds. They were done by leeches not me. I had my own wounds from the leeches,” he slowly continued to put coins into his pack “just because someone died does not mean these coins lose their value.”
Kireen bared her teeth but his logic was sound “fine but I carry the emerald.”
Wordlessly, Donar removed the stone from his pack and held it on an outstretched palm. As Kireen took it she looked up and saw K’lai’a’la slowly lowering her bow which she had knocked and pointed at Donar’s back. Kireen gave her a nod which K’lai’a’la returned. When Donar was finally finished with the coins the three of them left the corpses and took a slow march through the forest, which seemed a lot less bright than when they first entered as a group of four.
That’s an easy one! Twisted Teeth was my most edited story, in part because I was really proud of it and wanted to make it look especially good, and partly because I wrote most of that at three AM and my grammar was, frankly, terrible.