What Took Me Three Weeks to Write
Apr. 14th, 2005 08:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cinaedOkay, here it is. The beginning of my novel, "Whispered Awakening." I have all these great scenes in my head, but I couldn't write them down until I'd written the first page of my novel. I wrote the beginning (or at least what I think will be the beginning -- I'm gonna chat with a couple friends for suggestions). Anyways, here it is.
Whispered Awakening
Prologue
Inness Tadleigh sighed as gentle hands smoothed away the strand that had been tickling his cheek, and turned a grateful smile upon his master even as he inwardly despaired. Just the fact that his master had had to do such a simple thing for him was testimony to his present worthlessness.
Once, Inness had been fit and able to perform any task that his master had required of him. After his ninetieth year of life, however, his fingers had begun to twist and grow gnarled, and now that he was past his hundredth year, his hands were utterly useless.
As though listening to his servant’s pessimistic thoughts, his master spoke. “How old are you now?” The inquiry was said slowly, and Inness knew that his lord was trying to force himself to care.
The attempt made him smile a little. After over ten thousand years of living, no one could only escape either insanity or lethargy, not both, and his master had succumbed to the latter. Even a slight effort to do more than recline on his throne was a burdensome task, and Inness appreciated even a simple question wrenched from his master’s throat.
Inness answered, unsurprised at the old-man quality of his voice with all its hoarseness and whispery frailty. “One…one hundred and four, milord; I turned one hundred and four about two weeks ago.” As he spoke, each year weighed heavily upon him—it felt as though the years had become weights that pressed down on his slumped shoulders and made his knobby knees buckle. “Do…do you need me to go to the village, Master?”
He knew it was a pointless question; his master had had enough mortal servants to know that Inness was too old and worn-out to survive the three-week long journey from the ancient castle to the village that had given his master supplies for millennia upon millennia. Still, he had to ask, as though his master’s unlikely consent would make him feel useful for the first time in years.
His master was silent for a moment, and then said, “Not today, Inness. I wish to have company today, and I would not have you leave my side for three weeks. Tell me of your childhood instead, of your island.”
....And that's it, so far. All 375 words.... But at least it's written, finally. ^_^;; Any comments would be appreciated -- are the adjectives overdone, does it not grab your attention, anything at all! Thanks!
Whispered Awakening
Prologue
Inness Tadleigh sighed as gentle hands smoothed away the strand that had been tickling his cheek, and turned a grateful smile upon his master even as he inwardly despaired. Just the fact that his master had had to do such a simple thing for him was testimony to his present worthlessness.
Once, Inness had been fit and able to perform any task that his master had required of him. After his ninetieth year of life, however, his fingers had begun to twist and grow gnarled, and now that he was past his hundredth year, his hands were utterly useless.
As though listening to his servant’s pessimistic thoughts, his master spoke. “How old are you now?” The inquiry was said slowly, and Inness knew that his lord was trying to force himself to care.
The attempt made him smile a little. After over ten thousand years of living, no one could only escape either insanity or lethargy, not both, and his master had succumbed to the latter. Even a slight effort to do more than recline on his throne was a burdensome task, and Inness appreciated even a simple question wrenched from his master’s throat.
Inness answered, unsurprised at the old-man quality of his voice with all its hoarseness and whispery frailty. “One…one hundred and four, milord; I turned one hundred and four about two weeks ago.” As he spoke, each year weighed heavily upon him—it felt as though the years had become weights that pressed down on his slumped shoulders and made his knobby knees buckle. “Do…do you need me to go to the village, Master?”
He knew it was a pointless question; his master had had enough mortal servants to know that Inness was too old and worn-out to survive the three-week long journey from the ancient castle to the village that had given his master supplies for millennia upon millennia. Still, he had to ask, as though his master’s unlikely consent would make him feel useful for the first time in years.
His master was silent for a moment, and then said, “Not today, Inness. I wish to have company today, and I would not have you leave my side for three weeks. Tell me of your childhood instead, of your island.”
....And that's it, so far. All 375 words.... But at least it's written, finally. ^_^;; Any comments would be appreciated -- are the adjectives overdone, does it not grab your attention, anything at all! Thanks!
