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Wrote some last night and nearly gave up in despair. Then I had the idea for a framework and just about rescued it though the end neds way loads of work. And so does the middle. The beginning is fine though...
This is so hard! ::whines:: It's good for me though. Discipline and all that. Writing to a set limit of words, time and subject. It just feels like an exam and I'm panicking. Like that A level maths one when I looked at the questions, looked at them again and sat there with a blank mind for two hours before sneaking out. That was a nightmare. I'm usually pretty good with exams but that one, hoo boy.
Anyway, this story has Angel in it. Angel. Never ever had him in a story. He was sort of in one as the villain but never actually appeared. That was 'The One That Got Away'. Snicker. I like that story, if I can say that about one I wrote. In fact, I'll feature it in a cut for those of you who haven't read it. It's tiny, practically a drabble, set during 'Passion'
The One That Got Away
He can sense impending danger. It clouds the day, it makes him panic. His friends seem oblivious; they go about their business placidly, as if today is like yesterday, as if tomorrow will be the same as today.
No. It won't. And he knows that he has to escape.
He sees her approach, drawn by his agitation.
"Aren’t you feeling good?" she asks, her eyes large in her face, her voice concerned.
In an instant, a strategy forms in his mind. He allows himself to relax, go into a trance like state that mimics death. She gasps in horror and he feels distantly sad that she has to mourn him when they've only known each other such a short time. She was good to him.
She takes him, holding him close for a moment and he feels her warm breath caress him. With every ounce of control he has, he remains still.
She takes him away, away from danger, away from death approaching and his heart sings with relief, tinged with guilt about his doomed friends.
As she drops him into the toilet and flushes him to safety, he sends an urgent message back to the bowl, back to his fellow, less sensitive, fish brothers, but it is too late.
They swim and swim, around and around, until Angelus comes for them and they swim no more.
This is so hard! ::whines:: It's good for me though. Discipline and all that. Writing to a set limit of words, time and subject. It just feels like an exam and I'm panicking. Like that A level maths one when I looked at the questions, looked at them again and sat there with a blank mind for two hours before sneaking out. That was a nightmare. I'm usually pretty good with exams but that one, hoo boy.
Anyway, this story has Angel in it. Angel. Never ever had him in a story. He was sort of in one as the villain but never actually appeared. That was 'The One That Got Away'. Snicker. I like that story, if I can say that about one I wrote. In fact, I'll feature it in a cut for those of you who haven't read it. It's tiny, practically a drabble, set during 'Passion'
The One That Got Away
He can sense impending danger. It clouds the day, it makes him panic. His friends seem oblivious; they go about their business placidly, as if today is like yesterday, as if tomorrow will be the same as today.
No. It won't. And he knows that he has to escape.
He sees her approach, drawn by his agitation.
"Aren’t you feeling good?" she asks, her eyes large in her face, her voice concerned.
In an instant, a strategy forms in his mind. He allows himself to relax, go into a trance like state that mimics death. She gasps in horror and he feels distantly sad that she has to mourn him when they've only known each other such a short time. She was good to him.
She takes him, holding him close for a moment and he feels her warm breath caress him. With every ounce of control he has, he remains still.
She takes him away, away from danger, away from death approaching and his heart sings with relief, tinged with guilt about his doomed friends.
As she drops him into the toilet and flushes him to safety, he sends an urgent message back to the bowl, back to his fellow, less sensitive, fish brothers, but it is too late.
They swim and swim, around and around, until Angelus comes for them and they swim no more.