I've been working on Vol 1 & 2 the past few nights, and while I don't want to post anything substantial, here's some (obviously unedited/unrefined) tidbits of what I've been up to.
Vol 1. - Faster Than A Speeding... Oh Wait, No.
Therianthropes, even in their human form, are fast. I launched forward with a snarl, a single bound closing more than half of the distance between us. But therians are not faster than bullets. The man’s eyes opened wide with surprise, but he leveled his handgun and pulled the trigger. He fired only one shot, that certain that he could kill me. The bang resonated through our small kitchen, deafening, and my forward momentum simply… stopped. I think Estelle was screaming, but the sound was almost completely drowned out by the ringing in my ears. I stood dumbly, not even feeling the bullet yet, and like every asshole in a made-for-TV movie, I stared down at my chest with surprise. Watched, like I had all of the time in the world, as the tiny hole in my shirt became wreathed in red.
I looked up, my field of vision already narrowing, and staggered a few clumsy steps forward. The handgun discharged again, and this time I felt it; as the bullet ripped through my abdomen and out my lower back, it felt as though it was simultaneously stabbing, beating, and burning its way through my insides. I yelped like a wounded animal, my legs giving out as I teetered on the brink of unconsciousness from the shock of the pain. Crumpling against the kitchen floor, I begged every god I didn’t believe in to please, please not let me lose consciousness without ensuring that Estelle was safe.
Vol. 2 - Lost Dog
Scrape, scrape scrape. A high pitched whine. The clatter of claws as a tight circle was paced. I sniffed the air and stood in dumb shock for a beat; Elise? And one moment later, I caught another scent: my neighbor Mrs. Roberts. Shit. Her Pomeranian erupted into a rapid-fire series of high pitched, territorial barking. God damnit. I opened the door to see Elise looking over her shoulder in a startled crouch, ears pinned and hackles rising. This could get ugly fast.
"What should I do, should I call animal control?" gasped Mrs. Roberts, eyes wide and wrinkled lips pulled back in a fearful grimace.
"I think it's just a lost dog," I bluffed. "She was clawing at my door to come in."
"Come in to eat you maybe. By God Mr. Wiktor, I've lived in Montana long enough to know a wolf when I see one!"
I did my best to muster an insulted frown to mask my growing dread.
"M'am, I am a wildlife biologist. I think I'd know a wolf if I saw one." I crouched down to Elise's level. "Hey girl, you lost? It's ok, c'mon." I silently willed Elise to wag her tail and play along. She only looked at me uncertainly.
"It's ok girl," I urged. "Good dog, do you want to come inside for treat?" My voice lilted at 'treat' for effect, but I'd emphasized 'come inside' as well, and she finally got the picture. Tail lowered and wagging, she licked my outstretched palm and whined, then curled in a sit leaning against my side. It was an applause-worthy performance. Mrs. Roberts breathed an audible sigh of relief as I scratched behind her ears then rose to open the door. Elise padded through the doorway.
"See, no problem. I'll call around and see if anyone reported a missing dog; if not I'm sure someone will give her a good home." I faked a noble and compassionate smile then fought every urge to hurriedly slam the door shut behind me as I returned inside.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
You Could Stay.
I officially suck. Not only have I failed to produce ONE finished novel, but I have been dashing back and fourth between Volumes 1-3 of Raze. I worked out an entire plotline from Trent's poorly constructed character background for Vol 1 and began writing it, only to think "Man, Vol 3 is going to be SO MUCH FUN. So, here's some Volume 3, towards the end of the novel no less.
"You could stay," she said, squeezing my hand. Her finger tips looked so pale and dainty across my knuckles. I remembered how her hand looked in mine the day I'd slipped the ring over her finger, the day she said "yes."
"I can't, Estelle." I stroked my thumb across her skin then raised my eyes to meet hers. "I'm not the same person you once... knew." Saying "loved" may have been more accurate, but it stung too much to verbalize.
"Trent.. back then, I was young and stupid and scared, and I'm sorry, I truly am. But I don't care what you are."
I cracked a small, sad smile.
"What I am isn't the problem. It's who I am, who I've become... the things I've seen, the things I've done..." I got to my feet, pulling my hand gently from hers.
"What could you possibly have done?" She folded her arms over her chest, stubborn and insecure all at once. "Despite all this talk, when I look in your eyes I still see you. You look sad, you look confused, you look desperate, but you still look like the man I fell in love with."
I flinched at hearing her say that word.
"Looks can be deceiving," I replied quietly. "Estelle... you have a good life here. You have a steady job, a beautiful home, an ambitious future. I have..." I looked down the hallway, towards the bedroom where Gabe and the others were resting or at least politely pretending to. "I'm not part of the world you live in any more."
"You could be," she said. "Or I could be part of your world."
I let out a bark of incredulous laughter and for a moment was angry at her, irritated that she could be stupid enough to think it that simple.
"Part of my world? My world? The last time I dragged you into my world, a man nearly killed you. Or have you forgotten that already?"
Estelle went very still, and her eyes revealed that her mind was somewhere else, a darker place. When she returned, she looked me very squarely in the eye.
"I haven't forgotten. Not a day goes by that I don't remember that night," she took a step forward, defiant. "But even when he was tearing my clothing off, even when he had that gun pressed to my temple, do you want to know what I was thinking about? I was thinking about you, lying on the floor, dying. The thought of losing you was scarier than anything he could have done to me." Her eyes dropped. "The sick irony is, he didn't take you away from me that night. I sent you away. And ever since that day, I've wondered how things could have been different if I could have just accepted you."
The look on her face was strong, but her voice was faltering. I reached out to gently brush her cheek, then tilted her chin up to face me. She looked at me with those clear, beautiful blue eyes, her expression almost begging.
"Oh Estelle." I smiled. "How could you, how could anyone possibly accept me? I don't accept myself."
"You could stay," she said, squeezing my hand. Her finger tips looked so pale and dainty across my knuckles. I remembered how her hand looked in mine the day I'd slipped the ring over her finger, the day she said "yes."
"I can't, Estelle." I stroked my thumb across her skin then raised my eyes to meet hers. "I'm not the same person you once... knew." Saying "loved" may have been more accurate, but it stung too much to verbalize.
"Trent.. back then, I was young and stupid and scared, and I'm sorry, I truly am. But I don't care what you are."
I cracked a small, sad smile.
"What I am isn't the problem. It's who I am, who I've become... the things I've seen, the things I've done..." I got to my feet, pulling my hand gently from hers.
"What could you possibly have done?" She folded her arms over her chest, stubborn and insecure all at once. "Despite all this talk, when I look in your eyes I still see you. You look sad, you look confused, you look desperate, but you still look like the man I fell in love with."
I flinched at hearing her say that word.
"Looks can be deceiving," I replied quietly. "Estelle... you have a good life here. You have a steady job, a beautiful home, an ambitious future. I have..." I looked down the hallway, towards the bedroom where Gabe and the others were resting or at least politely pretending to. "I'm not part of the world you live in any more."
"You could be," she said. "Or I could be part of your world."
I let out a bark of incredulous laughter and for a moment was angry at her, irritated that she could be stupid enough to think it that simple.
"Part of my world? My world? The last time I dragged you into my world, a man nearly killed you. Or have you forgotten that already?"
Estelle went very still, and her eyes revealed that her mind was somewhere else, a darker place. When she returned, she looked me very squarely in the eye.
"I haven't forgotten. Not a day goes by that I don't remember that night," she took a step forward, defiant. "But even when he was tearing my clothing off, even when he had that gun pressed to my temple, do you want to know what I was thinking about? I was thinking about you, lying on the floor, dying. The thought of losing you was scarier than anything he could have done to me." Her eyes dropped. "The sick irony is, he didn't take you away from me that night. I sent you away. And ever since that day, I've wondered how things could have been different if I could have just accepted you."
The look on her face was strong, but her voice was faltering. I reached out to gently brush her cheek, then tilted her chin up to face me. She looked at me with those clear, beautiful blue eyes, her expression almost begging.
"Oh Estelle." I smiled. "How could you, how could anyone possibly accept me? I don't accept myself."
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Powder Kegs
Oooh, well this is rare. I'm posting something from an actual book in progress. Fancy, huh? This is from Raze Vol 3, enjoy.
I find that most old flames are suited only for lighting powder kegs. So it was probably stupid of me to come here at all. And yet...
It almost looked as though time had stopped when I'd left. She hadn't moved out of our old place. The simple one story building hunched in the shadows of the ancient oaks towering above, a perfect image of the way I'd left it. I'd half expected the gutters to be full, the lawn overgrown, her small Dodge in the driveway to be growing rusted. But everything was maintained to perfection, and I suppose I should have expected no less from her.
This was not to say that things were no different, only that they looked the same. She had gotten another dog since Rhett had died. It must have been indoors, but I could smell its territorial pissings from the tree line. The scent of the place was different; it didn't smell like "us" anymore. I doubted she had a stable companion, but there were old traces, masculine wans lingering behind. A stupid part of me felt jealous about this, like it couldn't remember the nearly seven years that had passed since I'd left.
One window was illuminated an incandescent gold, a rectangular beam of light stretching across the lawn outside. This used to be our dining room. If I craned my neck, I could see that she had replaced our large mahogany dining table with a more personal, modern-style table for two. With her parents having moved out of state while we were together, and mine estranged by my disappearance, she didn't need a seating for family gatherings any longer.
The quiet house suddenly came to life with movement. First, a big, bounding dog - some kind of shepherd mix - bounced enthusiastically past the window in the direction of our - her -kitchen. If I strained, I could faintly hear her laughter and the soft, cooing tones she used to address the dog. I smiled, tail thumping between my legs; she'd always had a way with animals. The jangle of a leash, however, swept the smile from my face. Many dogs reacted to therians the way they would to any large predator: territorial, aggressive, warning. Up a tree for a good vantage point, I was a sitting duck.
Frantically, I began to scrabble down the trunk, only to hear the front door creak open. Almost immediately, the loud, booming barks of the dog filled the silence of the night air.
"What's wrong, Boomer?"
What an amusingly apt name.
"Boomer, no! Hey! Get back here!"
Pounding paws, jangling metal, and the slithering of something dragging through the leaves: that would be the sound of a dog yanking its leash from its owner's hand and dashing off in pursuit of a werewolf. I jumped to the ground just in time for the dog to reach the tree line and erupt into furious, rapid-fire barking as it closed in on its target. I realized with a growing sense of dread that with the dog already at a full run and me just regaining my footing, I couldn't run away fast enough. If the dog attacked me as I fully suspected it would by the familiar aggressive tone to its vocalizations, I was going to end up killing it in order to defend myself and escape. I sighed, then began the undignified climb back up the tree trunk, where I hunkered in the densest boughs that would hold my weight.
The dog stood at the base of the tree, neck craned upwards, teeth bared and pelt standing on edge. He barked, one loud, sharp note after the other. I imagined in dog he was saying something to the tune of "Hey, Estelle! I've got your ex up a tree! Come and look!" which was of course precisely what was going to happen as I heard her clumsy human footfalls drawing ever nearer. Finally, her pale skin was visible through the trees, and she addressed the dog in a stern, scolding voice that made me want to submit.
"That is very bad, Boomer! Very bad!"
The dog let out a low whine, ears drooping and tail hanging slack, but didn't move from the base of the tree nor remove his fixated gaze from me.
Estelle stopped a few feet away.
"Come here."
The dog's eyes flicked her way and he whimpered, sitting down, but continued staring upwards.
"Boomer! I am talking to you, now you come here. You're a very bad dog!"
Boomer stood up, prancing from paw to paw and groaning. He looked over his shoulder at her, then back up the tree, and let out a whiny bark. Estelle heaved a great sigh.
"Ok, what have you got up there? Raccoon again?"
Not quite.
She strode over, squinting upwards in the darkness. Her weak human vision couldn't spot me, and I held still, barely daring to breathe. Perhaps she would lose interest and take the dog back inside... nope, there was the flashlight. Well, fuck. The beam of light snaked up the tree trunk, and I attempted to hunch lower among the branches, vanish into the bark. It was a futile effort; the light bounced off of my feline pupils, and Estelle let out a short gasp. Her brow furrowed deeply as the small circle of light offered tiny pieces of a larger puzzle: a long, canine snout, a thick striped pelt, a humanoid forearm garbed in fur. When the light finally caught the dense mat of dangling dreadlocks at my nape, however, her eyes widened and her lip trembled.
"Trent?" She called out softly, her voice barely a whisper.
My pulse began to race; I hadn't heard her speak my name in so long. Did I dare to reply?
"Trent, is that you?" she said a little louder, focusing the flashlight on my face. I squinted at the brightness and turned away with a huffing sigh.
"Well this is embarrassing," I finally replied, aiming for mirth but a distinct sadness tainting each gruff, barely human syllable.
Estelle let out a long, rattling breath. Her dog let out a confused whine; I heard his tongue lapping against the palm of her hand in a gesture of comfort.
"I'm going to take Boomer back inside... promise me you won't leave?"
I didn't respond.
"Trent, please. I think you owe me as much."
I sighed, ears drooping.
"I won't leave."
But Christ, did I ever want to.
I find that most old flames are suited only for lighting powder kegs. So it was probably stupid of me to come here at all. And yet...
It almost looked as though time had stopped when I'd left. She hadn't moved out of our old place. The simple one story building hunched in the shadows of the ancient oaks towering above, a perfect image of the way I'd left it. I'd half expected the gutters to be full, the lawn overgrown, her small Dodge in the driveway to be growing rusted. But everything was maintained to perfection, and I suppose I should have expected no less from her.
This was not to say that things were no different, only that they looked the same. She had gotten another dog since Rhett had died. It must have been indoors, but I could smell its territorial pissings from the tree line. The scent of the place was different; it didn't smell like "us" anymore. I doubted she had a stable companion, but there were old traces, masculine wans lingering behind. A stupid part of me felt jealous about this, like it couldn't remember the nearly seven years that had passed since I'd left.
One window was illuminated an incandescent gold, a rectangular beam of light stretching across the lawn outside. This used to be our dining room. If I craned my neck, I could see that she had replaced our large mahogany dining table with a more personal, modern-style table for two. With her parents having moved out of state while we were together, and mine estranged by my disappearance, she didn't need a seating for family gatherings any longer.
The quiet house suddenly came to life with movement. First, a big, bounding dog - some kind of shepherd mix - bounced enthusiastically past the window in the direction of our - her -kitchen. If I strained, I could faintly hear her laughter and the soft, cooing tones she used to address the dog. I smiled, tail thumping between my legs; she'd always had a way with animals. The jangle of a leash, however, swept the smile from my face. Many dogs reacted to therians the way they would to any large predator: territorial, aggressive, warning. Up a tree for a good vantage point, I was a sitting duck.
Frantically, I began to scrabble down the trunk, only to hear the front door creak open. Almost immediately, the loud, booming barks of the dog filled the silence of the night air.
"What's wrong, Boomer?"
What an amusingly apt name.
"Boomer, no! Hey! Get back here!"
Pounding paws, jangling metal, and the slithering of something dragging through the leaves: that would be the sound of a dog yanking its leash from its owner's hand and dashing off in pursuit of a werewolf. I jumped to the ground just in time for the dog to reach the tree line and erupt into furious, rapid-fire barking as it closed in on its target. I realized with a growing sense of dread that with the dog already at a full run and me just regaining my footing, I couldn't run away fast enough. If the dog attacked me as I fully suspected it would by the familiar aggressive tone to its vocalizations, I was going to end up killing it in order to defend myself and escape. I sighed, then began the undignified climb back up the tree trunk, where I hunkered in the densest boughs that would hold my weight.
The dog stood at the base of the tree, neck craned upwards, teeth bared and pelt standing on edge. He barked, one loud, sharp note after the other. I imagined in dog he was saying something to the tune of "Hey, Estelle! I've got your ex up a tree! Come and look!" which was of course precisely what was going to happen as I heard her clumsy human footfalls drawing ever nearer. Finally, her pale skin was visible through the trees, and she addressed the dog in a stern, scolding voice that made me want to submit.
"That is very bad, Boomer! Very bad!"
The dog let out a low whine, ears drooping and tail hanging slack, but didn't move from the base of the tree nor remove his fixated gaze from me.
Estelle stopped a few feet away.
"Come here."
The dog's eyes flicked her way and he whimpered, sitting down, but continued staring upwards.
"Boomer! I am talking to you, now you come here. You're a very bad dog!"
Boomer stood up, prancing from paw to paw and groaning. He looked over his shoulder at her, then back up the tree, and let out a whiny bark. Estelle heaved a great sigh.
"Ok, what have you got up there? Raccoon again?"
Not quite.
She strode over, squinting upwards in the darkness. Her weak human vision couldn't spot me, and I held still, barely daring to breathe. Perhaps she would lose interest and take the dog back inside... nope, there was the flashlight. Well, fuck. The beam of light snaked up the tree trunk, and I attempted to hunch lower among the branches, vanish into the bark. It was a futile effort; the light bounced off of my feline pupils, and Estelle let out a short gasp. Her brow furrowed deeply as the small circle of light offered tiny pieces of a larger puzzle: a long, canine snout, a thick striped pelt, a humanoid forearm garbed in fur. When the light finally caught the dense mat of dangling dreadlocks at my nape, however, her eyes widened and her lip trembled.
"Trent?" She called out softly, her voice barely a whisper.
My pulse began to race; I hadn't heard her speak my name in so long. Did I dare to reply?
"Trent, is that you?" she said a little louder, focusing the flashlight on my face. I squinted at the brightness and turned away with a huffing sigh.
"Well this is embarrassing," I finally replied, aiming for mirth but a distinct sadness tainting each gruff, barely human syllable.
Estelle let out a long, rattling breath. Her dog let out a confused whine; I heard his tongue lapping against the palm of her hand in a gesture of comfort.
"I'm going to take Boomer back inside... promise me you won't leave?"
I didn't respond.
"Trent, please. I think you owe me as much."
I sighed, ears drooping.
"I won't leave."
But Christ, did I ever want to.
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