Born with a Curse (Snippet Sunday)

Every now and then, when Sunday rolls around, I look at whatever writing I've been working on and decide whether or not it's too horrid to share. Sometimes it is. This time, it's not. So enjoy this snippet, from a currently unnamed short story that I've been working on for a while.

~~

“Hey.”

            

Don’t look up. Maybe they’ll go away.

            

“Aria?”

            

Shoot. I still don’t look up. “Yeah?”

           

“You’re good at math, right? Can you help me with this?”

            

I recognize the voice as a classmate; Michael? Or maybe it’s Mason. I raise my eyes up from my desk, just enough to see the assignment he holds in his hand. It’s the one assigned to us yesterday. Despite my situation, I smirk. “Isn’t that due today?”

            

“Uh…yeah.”

            

I drop my eyes and ruffle in my bag, before taking out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. I hand it to him. “Here, just copy mine.”

            

He doesn’t take it. “Aria?”

            

Just go away. “Yeah?”

            

“Are you okay?”

            

Shoot. “Totally, why?”

            

“You haven’t looked up once since I came over here.”

           

Shoot shoot shoot! “Uh…” I cautiously glance up, careful to keep my eyes focused on his torso, then his neck, then his chin, then his nose. I smile what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Totally.”

            

I watch as his mouth forms the words that he voices next. “Are you sure? We’ve been in the same class all semester, and you always seem a little…” He hesitates. “…Nervous. You know, like you’re scared of something.”

            

Do not move your eyes, do not move your eyes. “I’m, um, just not…really comfortable around people. Just shyness. That’s all.”

          

He shrugs and takes the crumpled up paper in my hand. Thank God. “Alright then. Thanks for the…uh, help.”

            

“No problem,” I say, my eyes already trained back on my desk. Before he can leave, I shift my arm, knocking a pencil off of my desk and onto the floor.

            

“Oh, you dropped your pencil,” my classmate says, leaning down to get it.

            

“No no, it’s fine,” I say quickly. I push my chair back and lean to the side to pick it up. “I got it.”

            

But it’s too late. He’s kneeling on the floor, his fingers brushing against my stupid number two pencil. He picks it up, lifts his head, and before I can look away, his eyes lock onto mine.

            

Time stops. His face freezes in front of me; his expression neutral, his brown eyes staring back into mine. Every sound vanishes; the chatter of the people sitting beside me, the quiet hum of the lights above my head, and the steady pounding of footsteps that pass by the open door, as students hurry to their classes. Everything frozen. Everything silent. Like we’re playing a part in a movie, and someone in the audience has just hit pause.

            

Except I’m not frozen. I blink my eyes, I flex my fingers. My heart still beats frantically against my chest.

            

Then, everything disappears from my vision. I know it’s still there, but I can’t see it. All I can see is the life of the unnamed boy in front of me, playing out at a frantic speed, my heart clenching and rising and soaring through every emotion he has ever known.

            

It’s not that bad, this time. There are no childhood traumas; no injuries or sickness or deaths in the family. My body relaxes; my clenched fingers unclenching, my static body slacking and slouching in relief.

            

But then I reach the present. This very moment passes before my eyes in a mere flash before it continues on. The remainder of his high school career passes by, with nothing more than a few broken hearts that only register as a twinge in my heart, as it flies by in mere seconds. He goes to college. He drops out. He falls in love, he gets married, and I feel my heart inflate with joy and care and the happiest feelings I’ve felt in a long while.

            

I come crashing down, however, when he catches his future wife cheating. There are screams. Arguments. My heart falls down, down, from high in the sky to the pits of my stomach. There are lawyers. Divorce papers. He moves from a gorgeous two-story house to a shabby little apartment in a busy, downtown area. He starts drinking. He loses his job. His entire life falls apart. My heart twists and clenches and I bite down on my tongue so hard that I taste blood. My throat constricts. My lungs begin clawing for air, but I can’t grant them their request. It feels like every inch of me is on fire as I’m dragged through the last few, lonely moments of his life.

            

There is pain. There is darkness. And then, with a jerk, time resumes, as though it had never stopped in the first place.

            

The boy’s brow furrows in confusion. “Woah, hey…are you okay?” he asks.

            

“Yes,” I croak. Although I can already feel the tears running down my face.

            

“But…but you’re crying,” the boy stammers. He’s still holding my pencil. He’s looking me up and down. He’s trying to figure out what happened. I can tell. They always try to do that.

            

“I’m fine,” I mumble. I keep my eyes trained on the floor as I stand up. My hands fly across my desk, shaking, as I struggle to gather everything into my arms. Stray papers fly out, drifting slowly to the floor, but I make no move to pick them up. I grab as much as I can before pushing past my classmate, dodging desks as I rush towards the door.

            

Before I can abandon the classroom and enter the diminishing crowd of students in the hall, I collide with someone at the door.

            

“Woah!” an unfamiliar voice rings out. “I’m sorry! Are you okay?”

            

“I’m fine,” I say again, automatically. I push past him and leave, not even daring to look up in fear of what I might see.

Dead or Alive (Snippet Sunday, NaNo Edition)

Every Sunday, I share a snippet of one of my many writing projects here on the blog, for your enjoyment. In the spirit of NaNoWriMo, each snippet this month will be taken from this year's NaNoWriMo novel. (In other words, expect bad grammar and poor word choices.) Enjoy!

(Just a bit of extended information: my NaNo novel this year is told from two separate points of view. Last week's snippet was from Orlena--the main character's--point of view. This weeks is from another point of view--which one it is, though, I'm not quite ready to say yet. ;] )

~~

The dark figure was still there. Same distance. Same stance. Same position.

It may not have moved, but I sure had.

I’m not sure how much time had passed since I started walking; walking towards that…that person that stood there. It almost felt like they were waiting for me, ever patiently, to reach them.

It looked like they would be waiting for quite a while, though, as I had made little to no progress in reaching them…despite the seemingly long time I had spent trying. There had to be some trick, some other way to get to them. Otherwise I never would.

“Do you need help, child?”

I jumped at the sudden voice and spun around. An aged man, his face cloaked in wrinkles and his hair stained white, stood before me. His attire was white; pure, blinding white, that covered his frail and slouched body from his collar down to the tips of his feet.

“Who are you?” I asked. “How did you get here?”

He chuckled. His voice was deep. Deep and…familiar. “That, my dear, seems to be the least of your worries. Even if I told you who I was, I’m not sure you would remember.”

Remember? “So…do I know you?”

“You did, for a time.”

I paused for a minute, waiting for him to elaborate, but instead he remained silent.

“So, um…are you going to tell me who I am, then?”

“I’m afraid I can’t, you dear. The only way for you to figure that out is to remember for yourself.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “If I could do that, I wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“Remembering isn’t as simple as you think, my dear. Especially when the past holds as much pain as yours does.”

Pain? “So…are you saying that I don’t want to remember?”

“Not necessarily.” His silver grey eyes sparkled with kindness and sincerity. “There are many memories I’m sure you would like to retrieve; ones that are much kinder and sweeter than others. The painful memories form a block. Your heart and your mind have formed a blockage; a form of self defense, to avoid reliving the pain you once experienced in life.”

The way he said “in life” sent a chill down my spine. “Am I…am I dead?”

“I’m afraid there’s only one way to find out, my dear.” He extended a weathered hand towards me. “Would you like to remember?”

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Crumbling Away (Snippet Sunday, NaNo Edition)

Every Sunday, I copy and paste a snippet of writing here, to give you a taste of what I'm working on. Since this month is NaNoWriMo, everything I post for the duration of November will be from my NaNoWriMo project. As a result, the quality will be much, much lower than normal. I hope you enjoy it, anyway!

~~

I stood in the middle of the school auditorium. My hand fit perfectly into Drake’s, my dance partner, and my silver gown swooshed easily around my legs as we glided across the dance floor. The lights sparkled and reflected off of his dark eyes, smiling down at me. I caught the gaze, for a split second, of my best friend Lia. She smiled at me; she was happy for me. My gaze quickly switched back to Drake’s eyes. I smiled, grateful for my high heels as I leaned in to kiss him.

That’s when my world shattered. Literally.

The lights, the auditorium, everything disintegrated around me. Lia stared at me in panic, her arm outstretched as she, too, crumbled into dust. All I could do was watch in horror as everything fell apart around me.

I tried to lean into Drake; to seek protection in his warmth. But instead, I stumbled forward into nothing, almost losing my balance and tumbling to the ground. I spun around frantically.

He was gone.

Instead, Lord Borna loomed over me. His wicked grin struck fear into my heart; his eyes drove panic into my mind. The floor around me continued to crumble, leaving nothing but white all around me.

I fell helplessly to the ground, Borna’s laughter shocking my eardrums and rattling my brain. My platform of safety continued to crumble away until, finally, it was nothing. And I fell.

That’s when I woke up.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Head Over Heels (Snippet Sunday)

Every Sunday I share a little snippet of writing from my vast collection with you, the people of the internet. This week's excerpt is taken from "That Damn Umbrella", the first in a collection of modern day fairy tales. Enjoy!

~~

It all started because I forgot my umbrella.

My car broke down on the side of the road, about a half a mile from my house, situated quite literally in the middle of nowhere. No neighbours, no convenience stores, not even a gas station. Just my old house, sitting amidst the trees and fields one would normally find while driving down an old dirt road in the country. My phone was dead, my car reduced to nothing but a hunk of junk, and my house was still a good fifteen or twenty minute walk down the old dirt road.

Oh, and it was raining. Just to put the icing on the cake that was my day.

It was just drizzling at first. I don`t need my umbrella, I thought. My jacket will do just fine, I thought.

You’d think I’d know better.

Lightning flashed across the night sky, and the thunder followed shortly after, rumbling through the dark emptiness around me. I shuddered as I tugged the hood of my jacket down farther over my head. Despite the fact that it was supposed to be a rain jacket, it sure as hell wasn’t doing much to protect me from the sharp droplets pelting against my body. The rain soaked through much too easily, chilling me to the bone. I ducked my head against the raging wind and trudged through the endless, muddy puddles, my feet squishing in my drenched shoes.

Why, oh why didn’t I bring my umbrella?

Another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, and I flinched at the thunder that followed. Storms have never really been my thing. Had it been this bad when I left my car, I would’ve locked myself in and stuck it out until I could walk home under sunshine the next day.

I guess Mother Nature had other plans for me.

Without the help of streetlights to guide me down the road, I was forced to use a flashlight to guide myself. My flashlight did the job well; it was the batteries, however, I was more worried about. The light emitting from my pocket-sized flashlight was beginning to flicker and waver, sending waves of uneasiness through my heart. I quickened my pace, which proved difficult along the muddy path in front of me. I prayed silently that someone would come driving by, but I held little hope.

Another flash of lightning brightened the road in front of me, and almost instantly, the beam of my flashlight went out entirely, leaving me in the darkness of the night. I cursed aloud, my voice lost in another rumble of thunder. Against my better judgement, I inched my way forward, taking a shaky breath to calm my nerves. 

I have made this trek countless times by car, but walking at night, alone, during a thunderstorm is an entirely different experience.

It happened in the blink of an eye. I stepped in a particularly muddy—and slippery—patch of road. My balance slipped slightly, and just when I thought I would steady myself and escape unscathed, a pair of hands pushed against my back. Next thing I knew, I was tumbling down the ditch at the side of the road and rolling into a patch of trees.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Floating Amnesiac (Snippet Sunday)

Every Sunday, I grab a snippet of writing hidden somewhere on my computer and post it here, for your enjoyment. Today's passage is the new-and-improved (i.e. completely rewritten) prologue from The Neutral, a story I began during NaNoWriMo 2012. Enjoy!

~~

I have no memory. Or at least, none of my own.

For as long as I can remember, I have been floating. There has never been anything around me; nothing but hot, white light. I don’t remember anything about myself; my name, my past, even what I look like is all fuzzy, like it was all a part of one big dream.

Voices echo around me sometimes. Most often they are regal voices, speaking in monotone voices that would put me to sleep--if I could sleep, that is. Sometimes, though, there are female voices; gossiping, teasing, whispering, giggling. The words are never coherent. Just a shallow buzz, muffled conversations, and laughter to jokes I could never hear.

Until finally, a voice echoes around me, her words finally becoming clear.

“Orlena! Come on, Orlena, it’s not that bad.”

Orlena? Is that my name? No, it can’t be. It doesn’t sound right.

But if I’m not Orlena…who is?

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Singin' in the Rain (Snippet Sunday)

Every Sunday, I grab a snippet of writing--new, old, or somewhere in between--and post it here, for all of you to read.  Today's passage is from "Gone", an in-progress short story I've been writing over the past few months. Enjoy!

~~

I wish I could say the sun shone brilliantly that day. I wish I could say that I knew something good was going to happen.

In reality, that was the last thing on my mind.

The wind whipped my hair around furiously, the rain stinging my skin as it pelted down onto my body. As much as I wanted to deny it, I could’ve sworn that I felt hail among the drops of water falling from the sky. With my car broken and my town lacking a much-needed bus service, I was forced to jog to school—a good twenty blocks away.

My umbrella proved useless as the wind simply pushed it, inverting it inside out and almost knocking it right out of my hands. I had long since given up on it, closing it and shoving it in the canvas bag slung over my shoulder. Wrestling with it was only slowing me down. I was already soaked and cranky—the last thing I needed was to be late, as well.

I was in such a rush to get to school and out of the rain that I almost didn’t see him. And I didn’t, not at first. It was faint, but it weaved through the sound of rain pounding against the pavement, floating gently up to my ears.

The cheerful, pleasant strumming of a guitar.

I slowed my brisk walk, temporarily forgetting about the droplets dripping from my wet clumps of hair, and looked around. Everyone was continuing on their way, seemingly oblivious of the young, good-looking man strumming his guitar; an acoustic version of the song Good Life by OneRepublic. My favourite song, I mentally noted.

His voice soon accompanied the instrument. It wavered in some bits, was totally off key in others. But you couldn’t deny that he was enjoying himself, his own dark wet locks flying around his head as he swayed and shook his head to the music. His bright blue eyes lit up the gloomy day as easily as the sun could have.

Before I really knew what I was doing, I was calling out to him, “Hey.”

He continued on, oblivious to my calls.

I approached him and stopped a couple feet away. “Hey!”

He stopped singing, but continued strumming, his smile never disappearing from his face. “Can I help you?”

“What are you doing?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard above the weather and the music.

“Playing guitar,” he said simply, his smile extending further across his face. “What are you doing?”

I shook my head. “I can see that. But why?”

He shrugged, his hand still smoothly and effortlessly flying across the strings of the guitar. “Why not?”

“It’s raining.”

“Exactly.”

I blinked. “What?”

“I like the rain. I like playing the guitar. I like singing. And I like this song.” He grinned, his eyes brightening. “So why not?”

He finished up his song, and I found myself whistling the final notes along with him. As he began to pack up his guitar, he pointed to the building behind me. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

I turned around to see a Tim Horton’s coffee shop sitting peacefully behind me. I turned back to face him. “I should be buying you a coffee; you’re soaked to the bone.”

He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. I was rather fond of that grin already. “So are you.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “How about I buy you a coffee, and you buy me a coffee.”

He snapped the buckle of his guitar case shut and lifted it off the ground as he stood up. “Deal.”

I was late for school for the first time that day.

~~

Until later,

- Justyne

Introducing Snippet Sunday! (WFMAD Day 29)

Today I'm going to start something that I've been meaning to start all month, but kept forgetting about it until now. I call it "Snippet Sunday", because it's Sunday and they both start with S and it sounds cool.

Basically what will happen is every Sunday, I'll post a little snippet of writing--it will either be something taken from an ongoing project, or something completely new, inspired by a roll of my inspiration dice. This will continue after WFMAD is over, so every Sunday you'll get an extra blog post, in addition to the one on Fridays. :)

In spirit of WFMAD, I'll roll the inspiration dice this week, instead of posting an excerpt from an ongoing project.

Genre: Fantasy
Character: Female child
Action: Explore

~~

It was dusk. The sky glowed with varying hues of pink, orange, and black, as the sun dipped below the grassy fields surrounding my home. I lay on the ground, eyes open wide as I waited.

One single, lonely star appeared above me in the sky. Then another. And another.

The sun was completely gone soon; the sky littered with thousands of tiny, twinkling lights. I identified the dozens of constellations my father had shown me over the past few years, each star placement as familiar as the layout of my house.

Except for one; one little star, whose shine dimmed and brightened inconsistently, who seemed out of place among the others. It flew in quick circles, and it was then that I realized it wasn't a star at all; it was a firefly.

I giggled and sat up immediately. It buzzed around my hea excitedly, before flying away in a flash. I jumped up and chased after it, my hair whipping behind me as the distance between me and my home lengthened.

I was simply an innocent child back then. I couldn't have known what my fun little chase would lead to; nor could I have known that what I was following wasn't truly a firefly.

Before I knew it, I was traipsing through the forest, with only the light of the tiny creature to show me the way. I hopped around tree trunks and jumped over roots like it was a game, smiling and giggling all the way.

Before long, we arrived at a meadow. Thousands of fireflies lit up my surroundings, their lights twinkling and sparkling and shedding light on the beautiful flowers around them. Excited at my appearance, and quickly gathered around me, circling around my body so fast that their lights all blurred together in one massive tornado of light. I had never seen fireflies before that night, but as one flew past my face, I realized something.

They weren't fireflies at all. They were faeries.

~~

I hope you enjoyed it!

Until later,

- Justyne