I did it…I finally started a new story!!! After finishing edits for Lacrimosa and deciding that my NaNo novel wasn’t quite ready to be born, I was beginning to think I would never find my muse and a new story.
But, I did it…I started something new last weekend.
The story, tentatively called Moira’s Daughter, draws on the mythology of the Fates and the Furies in a good versus evil battle with huge consequences for mankind. I spent the last few weekends working on the plot arc and character arcs, fleshing out some of the details and researching…A LOT.
This past weekend I wrote shiny new words. Like Lacrimosa, this is a slow and arduous process for me. I don’t slam out that rough draft in a month as some are able to. It takes me a bit longer. But I do fully immerse myself in it while I am writing – thinking and dreaming about the characters until the story bubbles up and onto the page.
My MC in this story, Chloe, is different than my other MCs – so she is taking a little bit of getting used to…her voice and demeanor. But I guess it is a good thing that she is not a carbon copy of Nesy or any of my other characters.
I thought I’d give you a tiny teaser. Remember, this is really rough draft stuff…
The visions twine around me again. This time I hear sounds, words that begin to take meaning.
…get her out of here…too late…the baby, save the baby…mortal…don’t let them find her…
Something grips me with fear, and although I know I’m asleep, I can’t help what I feel. My mind latches onto the words. Roots them into my memory so I can write them down later.
My fear grows into terror and I try to pull myself out of the dream, make myself wake. Another voice, my own I think, screams at me to open my eyes. I want to comply – I’m desperate to.
With all the strength I can forge, I force myself out of the vision and away from the voices. My eyes pop open in time to see flames engulf the train. Smoke invades my nostrils and I struggle to draw breath. Screams echo through the boxcar as I hear the district sound of metal scrapping against metal.
The train continues forward as the car leaps from the tracks. Bodies fly through the flames and my mind can’t keep up with the scene. The only thing I can think about is getting out.
My own body tumbles forward. I reach for something – anything – to grab onto and prevent my fall. My fingers wrap around a hand. But it doesn’t stop my fall. It isn’t attached to a person.
Immediately my stomach flops and I fight the urge to empty its contents. I crash into the door at the end of the car as the train stops moving. Muffled screams, burning flesh and screeching metal continue to surround me.
My brains attempts to pull the scene together. I force myself to stand. Ignore the pain shooting up my leg. My ankle is twisted – maybe broken. The adrenaline coursing through my veins allows me to endure each step as I try to make my escape.
Blinding smoke confuses me and I cannot find a way out. Flames lick the space around me, eating the oxygen I need and threatening to consume me. I’m almost out of time.
I know I’m going to die but I shove that thought aside. I can’t give up so easily. So, I push through the mangled mass of bodies and debris. Unfamiliar sounds filter through my thoughts. They rise above the sounds of the dying, cut through everything else.
“Hello,” I scream as the smoke invades my lungs. I cough. My eyes weep. “I’m in here. Help me.”
The sounds continue, something that sounds like footsteps. Too slow, steady, for a rescue party. Too calm for the scene of destruction around me.
“Who’s there,” I call again. I walk towards the footsteps. Perhaps they point the way out.
“We are,” a trio of cold voices reply. “And we aren’t here to save you.”
There you go…a little hint.
This week, I need to write a little more of Moira’s Daughter, as well as finish up the things I owe my agent for a new nonfiction project.
What have you guys been up to?© Christine Fonseca. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited