I managed approximately 1,838 words on day 1, which is slightly over the daily target of 1,667 words per day.
Highlights for the day:
I kind of figured out the basic plot of the story, and decided on some names. Deciding on names is a definite plus point, considering that for 2009's piece, I went all the way to the middle of the story before finally naming the main character. Then again, that was semi-intentional (names are helpful, though).
Excerpt (approx 500 words):
It was his funeral. He was sure of it, though he couldn't recall dying.
The last thing he remembered was peering into the Forbidden Orb, something every boy around his age did on the sly, when his vision had suddenly blurred. He had rubbed his eyes to clear them and when he could see again, he was here, standing beside his own casket, looking down at his body.
It was a fine body, if he could say so himself; somewhat on the short side, but well-built and toned. The hours he had spent buffing at the gym to impress girls had paid off quite well. He wondered how he would survive without it. Bodies were rather comfortable things, now that he had the time to think about it. It lent a lot of weight to one. He wondered that he didn't float away.
The boy peered at his own face, impressed at the good job the makeup artists had done. They had managed to conceal all the outbreaks he had been having recently, the red, peeling, pimply skin. They hadn't covered up a long thin scar that ran from his left ear to his cheek though, and he wondered what that was. He was quite sure he hadn't had that scar before he died. Was it something the Orb had done? Subconsciously, he touched his face and was surprised when he found that he could. Was he actually still solid, or was he only solid to himself? He tried to grasp at the edge of the casket, but found that his hand went through the hardwood.
It was puzzling. Was he a ghost, or a shade, or something else altogether?
He could see Xanthia now, her eyes narrowing as she came into the canopied area. She’d had her eyes on him, he knew, aiming to sink her claws into him as an eligible mate. Her schemes would come to naught now. He chuckled, wondering what she would do if she had to end up with that fool, Luth. Probably go into hysterics and pretend to be suicidal, he guessed. Luth was approaching her now, saying something that he couldn’t quite hear. He watched Xanthia’s mouth move, the look of disdain on her face, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. He took a step closer, concentrating on her lips.
“If you boys didn’t have that ridiculous bet, he wouldn’t be dead,” she seemed to be saying.
“It wasn’t me, it was –“
“I don’t care. It’s all your fault anyway. You could have stopped him.”
“How? By dragging him away by his hair? You know he doesn’t listen to me.”
“Oh, stop being pathetic and go away. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
His attention was caught by a frantic movement near his body, and he turned away from Xanthia to find that his mother was wailing over his body – or seemed to be wailing. He couldn’t hear a word she was saying. A frown furrowed his brow.
I'm considering putting this up on smashwords under the Nanowrimo program. This basically means that I'll be uploading the WIP probably once in two days as it progresses. This is potentially embarrassing as it will be full of plot holes and awkward scenes, though probably not many typos or grammatical errors (because I always do a proof read at the end of the day). Then again, it would be fun as well. What are your thoughts on this?
If I get at least 5 yes-es, I'll go ahead.
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