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  • taraskelt 12:06 am on October 31, 2011 Permalink | Reply  

    Hey everyone, NaNoWriMo is mere hours away, and I hope that we can all welcome in the month as a group, and begin our stories as a result! Looking forward to more activity in Querk and so much writing and coffee and exhaustion that I feel like I’m going to collapse, but my fingers are burning for a keyboard and my mind racing, so it will be worth it. See you all soon!

     
  • theinkling 7:57 pm on October 4, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags:   

    Diti and Hema

    This is another character pairing that I’m growing very fond of, and I thought I could maybe discuss it.

    Hindu mythology says that the Devas — demigods — and the Asuras — demons — each came from two women. The mother of the devas was Aditi. The mother of the asuras is Diti. (Diti means chaos, Aditi means “resolution of chaos”)

    When the Devas took the elixir of immortality after the churning of Vishnu’s ocean, they fed some to their mother. Aditi, agonizing over the decision, fed some to Diti. She and her sister were dear to each other, though Aditi’s frivolity often annoyed Diti. Diti, now immortal, now gets to watch her mortal sons die — and each generation of descendants. She grows to hate her sister for cursing her to see these generations die. What she really wants is to be killed

    Hema’s weapon, given to her by the goddess Parvati, is the only thing that can kill Diti. When Hema visits the underworld, she goes to see Diti, as Diti has the point of access to the Heavens and a way to rescue Nilam. Diti says she will help her get to heaven and conquer death in the process so that she can go to Amaravati without harming herself.

    Hema and Diti are joined by the grief they feel for their children. They bond over motherhood, a common and intangibly powerful connection that give them unintended power and consequence. They get to know each other, and Hema feels unable to kill Diti when they’ve grown to love and respect each other so much. And those quiet scenes where they talk and grow to understand each other, while death hangs over their head, constitute some of the favorite scenes I have to write.

     
  • Zekkass 2:21 pm on September 26, 2011 Permalink | Reply  

    For the prompt of ‘a cat is haunted by a ghost’.

    Warning: This is not a nice story. Violence against animals.

    It kills the first of them. It croutches over the litter, paw raised, and treats them like mice. Broken backs, strength in its paw, and it spares none. It smiles as it kills.

    There’s howling from behind. Angry, loud howling. A paw on its back, teeth in its neck. Growling. It closes its eyes and waits to die, shaking in sudden fear. It knows what is coming.

    Abruptly the paw is gone, and it relaxes, expecting it to be over. Wasn’t so bad. It can leave now. But then there is pain in its legs, and it yowls in pain, drags itself away from the litter with broken legs.

    It looks back at its attacker, expecting to see a wolf, a dog, a beast with fangs and a paw the size of a mountain, expecting to see what pinned it, but no –

    Just the litter’s dam, with death and grief in her eyes.

     
  • theinkling 2:20 pm on September 26, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: conceptualizing   

    This is also a summary of my favorite scene of my upcoming NaNo novel, Adrishta. It may not make any sense at all; it comes somewhere deep within the novel — and I got excited because I’m using a character I used to write about extensively a few years ago — but I had a lot of fun writing it.

    **

    Hema and Mani, from Timepass.
    Finally meeting.

    They meet in the airport, and Hema is drenched with sweat from an uncomfortable flight. She still looks young, even though she is worried. It’s that vulnerability, that wretched loneliness. She’s unused to being back in India, her Telugu is very rusty. She’s holding a battered suitcase with a change of clothes because that’s all she can manage. Every waking moment is occupied with thinking about her daughter, the diamond token from Parvati buried in her blouse piece between her breasts. She feels the guilt pierce her throughout, because she thinks about her nephew, Mani, as someone she neglected. She knows that even though she never got along with her sister, estrangement from her nephew is unforgivable.

    But Hema, still shaking, leaves the Hyderabad airport and, waiting for her in the dark, is Mani. Mani is tall — six feet three inches — and has a rounded face and a  sturdy, youthful body.(He’s not lanky, is what I mean; his black t-shirt hangs on him just so, and the beginnings of powerful arms. He is only eighteen after all.) It is at least thirty five degrees celsius outside, and Hema is unused to that kind of heat, but when she sets eyes on her nephew, she walks up to him and says her name. Just Hema. And Mani holds her hand. Grips it, not shaking it. There is that inexplicable connection, because they are bound by a common loss. But that shake means her mind is no longer so fragmented. She no longer thinks about the past. There is only love, and fear for what will come ahead.

     
  • Zekkass 7:29 am on September 25, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: preview   

    Because NaNoWriMo is coming up, and because the chat is active, I wrote a little preview from my upcoming novel. Dunno if I’ll use this exactly in it, and it’s set halfway through, but anyways…

    …ruined world. He stares. The second the word was out he knew something would happen, but this – his memory is still hazy on exactly what happened, and he has the feeling he blinked and missed it, but –

    There is no world.

    There is ruin, spread out before him. There is ruined, rusted metal spread in every direction, grinding together and surging as the water – was the ocean filled with these wrecks – as the water moves and sways with the tides. There is an endless shriek in the air as infinite pieces of metal are ground and dragged against each other, and he covers his ears as he looks. He sees the remnants of a car, of buildings, but Earth never had this much metal, this metal ocean is too vast for everything humanity made to fill it. And yet it’s filled, and if this –

    What has he done to the world by giving her that name?

     
  • taraskelt 7:27 am on September 25, 2011 Permalink | Reply  

    Hello everyone, and welcome back as we draw ever-closer to National Novel Writing Month!

     
  • amerryunbirthday 4:10 am on January 31, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: secret agent man!   

    There was a small buzzing noise on the sidewalk one Saturday evening in Manhattan. A few freaked out civilians gasped and jumped as a small remote control car drove over their feet. One woman accidentally spilled her coffee on the little thing, but it kept on driving by. It was made to handle such conditions. No matter what it kept on driving until it reached the lower, more grungey parts of the city. In the camera’s vision that was built under the windshield there was a long line of adults and older teens alike, waiting to enter a metal club where the sounds of drums and wailing guitars would pass through the outside world whenever the doors would open to let people in or out. A man with many piercings on his face picked up the small car and showed it to his friends. “Hey look.. Some kid left their toy outside! Dudes we should totally bring this in”, he said. Little did his friends know that he was working for me. His mission was to get this little car into club to spy on Mr. Anderson. He was the head of the new Mafia and was a frequent visitor to this club. The man with the piercing’s real name was Marcus, but his friends called him Sid V. See Mr. Anderson wasn’t there for the music or any of that crap. He was a sick man who flashed around his guns to draw the ladies in. There were plenty of clubs and bars around New York to grab ladies at, but no one could roll better than the girls at The Cafe. Sid V took the car over to the room that Mr. Anderson was in. Before he brought it inside, he said to the camera “Look, i’ve got the car inside.” he pointed the car in the direction of Mr. Anderson. He was sitting on a couch with a girl in each arm. He had a martini in one hand and a cigar in the other. Typical. He was laughing about some joke and the girls, like the good little golddiggers they were, giggles with him with their hands on his chest, waiting for something to fall out of his pocket and into their cleavages. He was dressed like a stereotypical Italian Mafia man. the black suit, the tie, his hair slicked back, and even his cologne stinking of money. Sid V rested the rcc on the ground. He knew what to do. If something were to go wrong with the car, he would be there to investigate so I could finally find out what his plans are so I could finally stop him and put his crime to an end. For now all we need to do is sit here and wait. Sid V stood near by with a beer in his hand, nodding his head to the music. He was into this metal stuff but he was a good kid. It was handy to have him around for undercover work. Mr. Anderson played with a girl’s hair and caressed another girl’s shoulder.

    “You know i work for a weapon company..”, he said to them, clearly intoxicated. They gasped and wowed him just to please him. It was clear that they weren’t interested in what he did. They were only interested in what he had to give. “Yeah… It’s friggen huge. I’ve buildings and franchises all around the country… But where I really make my money..” he chuckled, waving his cigar “Is by eliminating my competition…”. He laughed again. He looked up at someone who could easily be his henchman. “Ey, You remember old Frank from that gun store?”

    “Yeah boss, we took him out a few weeks ago”, he said stupidly eating an olive from his own martini. It was funny how the news paper said that “Old Frank” went missing only a few weeks ago. So he had the government wrapped around his finger eh? Sid, who was standing outside the door heard this and stood a little closer to the room to get a better hear.

    “Hey, sir.”, he said over his bluetooth. “Did you hear that?”

    I nodded and responded “Yes I did. Just stand your ground and wait. I’m recording the conversation as we speak”.

    “You got it, Sir.” he said. I heard shifting over his end and assumed that he was getting back to his position. I told you he’s a good kid. There was more laughter on the criminals’ end. The camera in the rcc saw an olive fall on the floor. The stupid henchman poked his head under the table to reach for the olive and saw the car.

    “Hey… What’s this?”, he asked, picking up the car. “Hey boss, There’s a toy car under the table!” he said.

    Mr. Anderson laughed again and said to one of his girlfriends, “Would you hear this schmuck? A toy car, gimme a break!”.

    The other girlfriend cleared her throat and said “Sir… Look at what Phil’s holding” and pointed at him. The girls stifled their giggles as he saw the car and stood up.

    “Well…. What do we have here?”, he said smiling goofily at it. “It’s a little toy! Would ya look at that!… Wait a second…”, His face looked as if it were concentrating on something. “Ey, Phil! There’s a camera in this crap!”, he yelled. “Someone’s listening to our conversations!”, he looked at the camera. “Well Isn’t that rude?”, he said, snickering. “Oh don’t worry, Mr. Evans, you’ll get your evidence someday. Not today though!” he laughed at this, dropped the car to the floor and proceeded to stomp on it with his foot. The screen on my end went fuzzy and went out. I sat back in my chair and smiled. I still had Marcus. His bluetooth had an automatic voice recorder built into it. That was evidence enough for now. The chase wasn’t over though and it won’t be over any time soon…

     
  • withkeylymes 6:36 am on January 28, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Agent, Corner, Salt, Socks, Softer   

    ‘Softer… sooofter…’

    Nouăsprezece held his breath as he snuck as quietly as he could through the house. His feet, their hard soles normally giving him away against the hardwood floor of their small apartment, were cushioned by a pair of socks that… he wasn’t sure were his. If he were given a chance to guess, they were the socks that he’d gotten his wife a year or two earlier, for either Mother’s Day or her birthday. After all, he would never own a pair of thick, rubber-soled, bright pink socks.

    …at least, that’s what he liked to pretend; he was well aware that even strangers knew about his acute femininity – intimately.

    Nouă kept his feet pressed flat to the floor, trying to slide them smoothly across the floor. As matched his typical unluckiness, the rubber soles kept him from being able to do this. Gripping the edges of the tray he was holding a bit tighter, he softly stepped around the corner, eyes peeled for his adopted son. The boy was a sweetheart, and he always had been, but the little snow bee was a secret agent for his mother, always reporting back to the woman about anything that Nouă did, no matter how small.

    Taking a deep breath, Nouă puuushed the door open slowly and quietly, bright blue eyes glancing around the room. Coriander was curled up against his mother’s chest, who was curled up fast asleep around their child. The man paused where he stood, tipping his head softly to the side and causing his antlers to click gently on the door. A sigh passed his lips as he watched the two of them, smiling faintly as he pictured every step that had gotten him to where he was today.

    The man’s intention was to step forward, place the tray on the bedside table, and awaken the both of them to breakfast in bed. His luck decided otherwise. Somehow, the Nouă’s foot got caught on the back of his ankle, pulling him forward and sending him sprawling to the ground. The tray of food went everywhere, of course shattering the entire salt shaker (just his luck, right?), and sending eggs, toast, and juice in all directions, much of which ended up on his head. As the two sat up in bed, surprised by the noise, Nouă smiled awkwardly and sheepishly.

    “U-uhm… Ha-ha-happy V-V-Vale-ent-tine’s D-Day…?”

     
    • Zekkass 6:39 am on January 28, 2011 Permalink | Reply

      Awwww, he’s adorable! :3

  • taraskelt 4:35 am on January 26, 2011 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Caterpillar   

    As the poor creature’s orange innards spilled over the tarmac, all I could remember was how you used to stomp on caterpillars when we were children just to make sure they didn’t become butterflies, and that my ugly, fat little body was still boudn in my own chrysallus, shuttered off from the world and yet still not nearly as safe as I thought behind my wall of silk, and that any day you could come along and pluck me down, and my armor would crackle under the immense weight of your converse sneaker.

     
  • taraskelt 4:46 am on January 25, 2011 Permalink | Reply  

    “I kissed him during South Park.”

    “Don’t cut wrists and blame me.”

    “I learned to see with eyes closed.”

    “Everywhere I look are more friends.”

    “I find enemies when not looking.”

    “My pen’s ink full, words empty.”

    “When will I get a job?”

    “Technicolor screens eat all my time.”

    “Why do art supplies empty wallet?”

    “I just busted my wallet today.”

    “They took loans, debt for life.”

    “Every word thought burns my fingers.”

    “Every little kiss makes me smile.”

    “Home doesn’t feel like home anymore.”

    “Looking forward to days spent here.”

    “Six words say so much today.”

    “I wish he would ask me.”

    “I want to have wild parties.”

    “Not looking forward to being 21.”

    “He smiles and I shine brighter.”

    “Being in love makes others bitter.”

    “You cannot stop me from singing.”

    “I wish to have exceptional writing.”

    “Will I ever be good enough?”

    “There is no lie like perfection.”

    “Quiet nights make my mind wander.”

    “Won’t be sane unless book’s finished.”

    “I fell behind, didn’t finish nano.”

    “Querk has brought happiness, amusement, inspiration.”

    “I didn’t think the pizza was edible.”

    “Cafeteria food sucks, order wonton instead.”

    “Word wars: a battle of numbers.”

    “I could do this all night.”

    “Reading manga wastes time. Still fun.”

    “Girl’s night on querk. Good memories.”

    “Cross-dressing and Rocky Horror? BRILLIANT!”

    “Lake-effect is making my toes cold.”

    “NEGATIVE six ddxegrees. Really, Jack Frost?”

    “Miss high-five, and look really dorky.”

    “It is good to be nerdy.”

    “Don’t light bonfires on windy days.”

    “Watch where stepping, beware of snakes.”

    “Good books are better than television.”

    “Reality shows kill people’s brain cells.”

    “Some people only have their pride.”

    “You remembered sledding, but not me.”

     
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