My sister and I are both trying to write a scene a day (in my case a scene or poem a day). Sometime this week I wrote a scene and fell in love with multiple aspects of it, and today I wrote a scene from a different part of the same story.
Here's the first scene (I haven't edited, so it's kinda rough):
The desert traders pressed in close around her. Holding their sputtering torches away from their bodies like swords, they stared in fear tat the shimmering, angry mass before them.
The blood locusts were patient, but hungry They tried to smother the fire with collective wing beats, and the men had no choice by to bring their fire away and try to preserve the last guttering flames.
Ali was afraid. Of all the desert creatures, she knew that blood locust were the most vicious. No one ventured in the desert but merchants and sand pirates. They knew that underneath the golden dunes were millions of tiny monsters, sleeping until someone stepped on their nest. It didn't take much to wake them.
Ali hit the man in front of her, crying, "Keep them away! Keep them away! Dear God, keep them away!" She fell to the ground, shaking, hiding behind the merchants circling her.
"Ali," Gareth's gruff, even voice said. "We're doing the best we can. Don't worry, we will protect you with our lives."
Ali grabbed her knees and rocked back and forth.
How long will those lives last?
Pressing her face against her knees, Ali tried to tell herself that she would live to see nightfall. She comforted herself with the thought of what lay beyond the desert and why she was crossing it.
A yell. A scream. Ali opened her eyes. One of the torches was gone. So was one of the men. The circle tightened.
Ali's breath shortened. She screamed and clawed at the sand, hoping for a miracle. Two more torches went out. Two more men were eaten.
"Ali," Gareth said. He tept his eyes on the locust, threatening them with the last few flames dancing on the wood and singing his fingers. "Hold my hand." his arm reached backwards. Ali hugged it tightly, focusing on the warm, comforting feel of a friendly hand.
Three more lights died. Only three men were left. Ali bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows. She could hardly breathe. The pressure suffocated her. She was going to die. There was no escaping it. But she could escape this sad excuse of life.
She stood up, stepping outside the human barrier. "Just kill me already!" she screamed.
The locust stopped. For the first time in hours, the air was still and silent. The blood locust left, deserting the four wanderers to the mercy of the sun and sand.
Ali stared after them in awe.
"What just-" she felt a hand snatch hers and pull her around.
Dirk lifted her arm and pulled her hand backwards, staring at Ali,s wrist. A pulsing tatoo covered her soft skin. Dirk looked up, smiling at her the way he might smile at a ruby from Darcia's mines, or a golden vase crafted by Garralon's finest artist. "Faerie," he said.
THE END
Somethings that made me write this next scene:
Sand pirates
Blood locust
The names (EPIC)
The world.
The thing about this fantasy world is that, so far, I have three plots in it. I keep saying to myself, "that story would fit perfectly in that world". I love this fantasy world. It's species are EPIC. Soul Suckers, Blood locust, Faeries, Humans (oh, wait).
I love the names Gareth, Ali, Dirk, and, oh yeah, SAND PIRATES.
The other scene I wrote, not the next scene:
Ali pressed against the rough walls of the tent, putting as much distance between the Balruk and herself as possible. The Balruk sat down cross-legged on the floor, pouring wine into two fine goblets on a low table.
"Sit," he said. Ali obediently approached, keeping her eyes on the goblets. They had belonged to Bran. She turned her head away quickly, letting her hair fall over her tear-stained face. Bran ad been so kind, so young.
This man had killed him.
Ali stopped the tears and glared into the Balruk's eyes. "What do you want with me?"
"I want to show you a better life," he answered.
Ali bared her teeth. "As a slave," she spat.
"As a free faerie." Ali wanted to punch him. The liar! Why did he play with her like this?
"How do you think sand pirates survive the desert?" Ali shrugged. Why should she care? They probably used faerie slaves as guards.
The Balruk laughed, unwrapping one of his sand-colored wristbands. He poured wine into his palm and tossed it into the air.
It didn't fall. The wine floated above his goblet as if waiting for a command.
The Balruk's glinting eyes turned purple as he lifted his hand. The writ was coated with a dark Faeran tattoo.
"We're all faeries here," he said, leaning forward. "We steal from merchants to find our own and hide from humans in this glorious desert to live in freedom."
"But...you killed them!" Ali argued, horrified.
"And they would've killed you for money, just because you aren't like them." With a twist of his fingers, the Balruk formed the wine into the shape of a man. It was Gareth.
"Did you care for the merchants? Did you? Did you treasure those brave and noble men who gave their lives to protect you from the evil sand pirates?" Ali's eyes were locked onto the image of Gareth fighting against dark silhouettes. One of them ran a sword through his side and he fell to the ground, twitching in his death throes.
The Balruk punched through the wine and it fell back into the goblet. "They were protecting merchandise," he sneered.
THE END
THAT GUY IS CREEPY!
