NaNoWriMo // Week Three

Over half way there, guys.

Image result for panicking gif

This was a pretty much no writing week. Literally nothing happened. Except I did get really behind on school work and watched a lot of Celtic Thunder videos… And I refuse to believe that the last had anything to do with the first…

ALSO I SAW FANTASTIC BEASTS AND IT WAS AMAZING AND EVERYTHING WAS BEAUTIFUL. Seriously, it was so cool. I want to go back and see it in 3D.

Image result for fantastic beasts and where to find them gifs

Image result for fantastic beasts and where to find them gifs

Image result for fantastic beasts and where to find them gifs

Related imageImage result for fantastic beasts and where to find them gifs

Alright, so the last wasn’t actually from the movie. But it’s appropriate. Anyway, I shall stop fangirling now.

So, like I said at the beginning of the post, I haven’t actually written much this week, the grand total being 1, 862. And most of that was written today. I am currently at 22,605 words, and have 27,395 to go. In nine days. The next week should be interesting. Hopefully I shall make up a lot over Thanksgiving break.

Speaking of Thanksgiving… HAPPY EARLY THANKSGIVING!

Okay, since there’s not much to say in terms of word count, and the majority of this post has until now been taken up by gifs, I think I shall use the remainder to finally tell you what on earth I’m actually writing, and maybe share some snippets (if I can find any that are actually readable without much editing).

Clara has no memories. Well, not exactly. She can remember everything quite clearly… so long as it happened after May 17th. From May 16th back, everything is blank. Her family tells her it’s because of a nasty fall, and she accepts that. Then, one day, she bumps into a stranger in the park, a stranger who calls her by a different name. 
Clara is introduced to a whole world living under the city she calls home. A world of people who live out their lives in secret, all because they worship someone called “God”. A world of people who seem to know who Clara is.
Will she willingly forget them, willingly go back to her comfortable existence above ground? Or will she stay and remember? And if she stays… what happens then?

Not the greatest summary, I’m afraid, but it suits the purpose. Basically, it’s Christian Dystopian.

Now for the completely unedited snippets.

Snippet One

The waitress blinked, and looked a little confused, but then smiled and went on her way. I snatched my backpack up from the floor, almost spilling everything out again because I forgot to zip it closed. This corrected, I made my way out of the café. The sun was setting, and it was almost dark. The streets were practically deserted. The houses cast long shadows on the pavement, and dark shapes seemed to lurk in the corners.
My feet hitting the pavement sounded incredibly loud in the silence of a town closing down. A door shut, the sound, while quite, coming out like a… a… a firecracker. I jumped, and walked quickly towards the sub.

Snippet Two

The dim golden light cast the page of my paper in a warm hue, glinting slightly at the still-wet ink trails. My nose traveled closer and closer to the paper as my head drooped. With a start I yanked it up and rubbed at my blurry eyes. A barely perceptible pressure in my temple now came to the fore and I rubbed the skin with my inky palm. The tip of my pen snagged on my hair and I yanked it out irritably. I leaned my head back against the back of the chair and closed my eyes to rest them. Just for a second, just a moment, I’ll open them, I’ll get back to work…

The next thing I knew I was blinking in the sunlight streaming in the window. I jumped up from my chair, my book spilling out of my lap and the pen inking an unsightly line across the page. In a panic, I searched for the clock. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it. It was only 8. No one else was even up yet.

Then the panic returned. My train would be leaving! I snatched the half-finished essay from where it lay and shoved it in my backpack, along with the book and the outline for the next essay that I had to write. The pen followed this, and another book. I shoved the black Holy Bible under the couch cushions, paused, and pulled it out again and shoved it into my bag, in a separate pocket. I crammed my socked feet into my shoes without bothering to tie them, dashed to the kitchen,grabbed a slice of bread and a hard boiled egg, and was out the door as my father came down the stairs.

Once at the sub entrance I stood waiting in the long line, juggling bookbag, toast, and unpealed egg. With a great deal of effort I managed to peal the egg into the trash can standing near by. The line moved, I was on the train.

Finally seated, I was faced with the unappetizing prospect of whole hard boiled and and white bread. Untoasted. Wrinkling my nose I forced it down, licking my lips to try and alleviate my parched mouth. It didn’t work.

Snippet Three

The best friend in question had wandered over to the coffee maker sitting on the counter and pressed a button on it.

“You’re in luck,” he told me as he did this. “Someone’s left some in here, all we have to do is heat it up.” He flashed me a grin. Despite myself, I found my lips quirked up into a smile answering him. If anything, his grin got wider.

“Alright,” he said. “I’m going to run up and get the family. I won’t be very long, make yourself at home.” With that he was gone, back up the hall.

I sat at the kitchen table, the noise of the coffee maker bubbling the only sound in the room. It felt good to sit, and the chair wasn’t uncomfortable, either.

The photos on the wall caught my eye, and I stood up to get a closer look. There was a small boy with Patrick’s face giving a tall woman a hug. Five children with their arms around their shoulders laughing at the camera. A man and a woman kissing each other rather passionately. And, there, the last one.

I froze. It was Patrick and…

At that moment there was a thundering on the stairs and a family, with Patrick at the head, piled into the room. All stopped short in the kitchen doorway, those behind them slamming to a stop. I was surprised that they didn’t fall over. They stared at me as if they had seen a ghost.

And that’s that. I shall now vanish into the mists and try to get some sleep. Goodnight!

Has anyone else seen Fantastic Beasts yet? What did you think? Also, if you randomly found my novel on a bookstore or library shelf, would you pick it up and read it?



One thought on “NaNoWriMo // Week Three

  1. I know another writer who’s doing a story with the same general idea behind it, but it looks like you’re taking them in two different directions — which is great. I like when that happens, like when a bunch of people are given the same prompt and write all kinds of stories from them. I’d probably read your book if I happened to find it on a shelf.

    Liked by 1 person

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