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Kristin recently put up a thing:
If you happen to be working on some creative writing project, fanfiction or NaNoWriMo or what have you, post exactly one sentence from each of your current work(s) in progress in your journal. It should probably be your favorite or most intriguing sentence so far, but what you choose is entirely your discretion. Mention the title (and genre) if you like, but don't mention anything else. This is merely to whet the general appetite for your forthcoming work(s).
I'm not sure I've ever mentioned the process by which I write, but thanks to the short form I get to work with I primarily write in all or nothing spurts. Nine times out of ten whatever I'm writing is finished when I step away from the keyboard. The upside to this is that I can turn out a 1500 to 3000 word article in a few hours reliably and (at this point I *think*) decently. The downside to this is that I have about 15 short stories with roughly 500 to 3000 words in them, started in one session, never finished and never returned to.
So, since I know that I haven't displayed almost any creative writing in quite a while, I'll toss what I have of one of em' up here.
I don't even remember what this one is about, and I'm not going to reread it till I post it. Otherwise, I won't post it.
So, here we go:
Hooding
The last thing Clarissa Daystrom expected to see when she woke up was a spirit. And yet, there he was, sitting quietly by the cot she had traded three cartons of cigarettes for last month. Pulling her dirty jacket closer around her, she winced at the inhuman gaze the flickering flame-creature was casting in her direction.
"Who sent you?" she inquired through a cottony mouth. The fire elemental regarded her silently. She'd seen a few of them since The Wall went down, but never one this unformed. Most of them she'd seen resembled people or animals. The creature hunched on the overturned crate looked more like a candle flame that had been blown up like a balloon. Two harsh red beads danced in the "face" it presented to her, over a line-thin slit that could be called a mouth.
"Pi. Needs help." The flame-thing shivered on it's perch. "Bugs." This last word was stated in the hissing whisper of it's first statements, but with a disdain that gave the creature a humanity she hadn't attributed to it.
'Daze', as she was known to her friends, sighed and sat up on the cot. She pulled her knees up under her chin and asked the elemental "You going to escort me back, or am I hiking all the way to Dearborn on my own?"
"Escort." came the crackling, whispering reply.
Daze nodded and stood/rolled off of the cot. She slid a rubber band out of one of the many pockets in her jacket and pulled her hair back into a pony tail. She twisted the rubber band over her 'do while she stepped first one foot, then the other into a pair of combat boots. The jacket, and the boots she bent to tie, had been presents from a chivalrous Eagle Security officer who'd attempted to help her at some point during the containment zone situation. He'd been a nice enough guy, never tried anything with her, and kept mostly to himself. He'd been part of a small band of ex-cops who staked out part of a neighborhood during the coldest months of the first year in the Zone. By that point she'd been so hungry and tired she'd have slept in a ghoul's larder if it had meant five minutes of sleep. Straightening up, she checked herself out in the broken mirror propped against one wall of the pipe room she laughingly called "home". A hard face looked back at her around the cracks. That had been the last time she'd stayed with a large group of people for long.
Gesturing with one hand, she slung her pack off the floor with the other. The fire elemental lifted off of the crate and moved to the foot of the staircase heading up. Casting her eyes across the small space, she made sure she wasn't leaving behind any belongings she could live without. Satisfied, she grabbed her last and most important piece of gear out from underneath the cot - A well oiled and maintained Colt Manhunter. Flipping the safety on, she slid the piece into the waistband of her cargo pants in the small of her back. She straightened her jacket, squared her shoulders beneath her pack, and quickly ascended the stairs two at a time.
She didn't look back, but when she stopped at the door she knew the elemental had followed because of the warmth she felt on the backs of her knees. She paused, listening at the door for a full three count before disengaging the deadbolt and pulling open the door.
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