Day 5 - 8,569 Words

Writing is going much more smoothly than it was at first. My book, as it turns out, has it's own ideas about where it wants to go. And as long as I don't fight it, it will allow me to write relatively quickly and relatively easily.

I have written the first part of my novel which attempts to be scary. Not sure how well it turned out, but I don't really care. It is done, and that is really all that matters. I will post a short excerpt of this scary scene for your perusal.

 He closed his eyes, struggling to remember his father’s handsomeness, warmth and the cheeky grin he always wore on his face; struggling to remember his mother’s beautiful smile, her vitality and her kindness. When he opened his eyes, the gruesome monstrosities were both before him, his mother lying in the bed, his father by her side in the chair, their decaying hands linked together in a horrific sign of what would have been companionship in less grisly subjects. These things stole all happy memories he had with his parents out of his mind. He had only one thought: get away.

“Hello, Mark,” the thing in the chair hissed at him, an awful gurgling voice escaping from what Mark imagined must once have been a throat. That voice had a terrible hold on him. It drew him closer though he knew he should not move nearer to it. He knew he had to get away, but his treacherous legs threatened to bring him closer, did bring him closer. As if possessed, he took one wooden step, then another, moving further into the gravitational field of these demons who were pretending to be the parents he had loved and lost.

He tried to snap himself out of it, when his mother started to cackle with that same strange, gurgling tone he had heard his father speak in moments before. Mark instantly broke out into a cold sweat and thought for the second time that day that his legs were going to give out on him. He used his considerable effort and will-power to remain standing and not walk closer to the things on the bed.

“It’s been so long since you visited us, Mark. A good son would visit his parents,” the thing pretending to be his father continued. “But you will be with us soon enough, Mark. Oh yes, you will. Whether you like it or not, you will be with us soon enough.”

“You are not real,” Mark said, voice quivering uncontrollably, his usual calm composure had left him completely. With that, he turned back to the door, grabbed the icy cold knob and as he opened the door he felt a wave of relief wash over him. Until he heard what the thing masquerading as his father had to say next.

“I am more real than you think, son. Your mother and I will see you soon.”

I am so happy to finally be caught up in my word counts.  Things didn't go very smoothly at the beginning, and I have already taken two days off. But from now on, at least on week days, I will be chipping away regularly at the word count. I am already sensing that my novel will go quite a bit longer than 50,000, but we will see as I get closer to that number how I feel about that.

Until next time, faithul readers.