Hope Deferred

We had staked a lot of our hopes on a job offer that would have more than covered our expenses and given me the freedom to actually spend my time on writing instead of work.

It was turned down at the eleventh hour.

Now we are struggling to decide what to do and where to go. For now I'm trapped at work the same as I have been. Eventually I hope to escape.
Hope for now is deferred in favor of survival. For now I need what energy I have just to get through each day. For now all I can do is pray that the next step in the dark is illumined before my feet. For now... all I can do is keep placing the next foot forward, and trust that there will be solid ground beneath it.

-Matthew

Bladed Mind

The three of them--Trace, Hethir, and the Archbishop--were in a tiny room lit by a single torch. On a bare table before them rested the strange sword. They had run hard, hoping to get the sword out of influence of anyone else. The Archbishop had pulled them aside into a hidden passage, and finally into the cell they now occupied. Buried beneath at least ten feet of stone in each direction, Hethir figured it should block the sword from controlling anyone--at least that's what he hoped.

Additional Posts Pending

I'm making another go at Nanowrimo, historically it has been a good time for me to get some actual progress made on something, so I'm dumping pretty much everything into it. Because of that I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep Hethir's story flowing steadily. I'm hoping to keep a post coming every week, but if I slide, that's why.

Bloodstains in the Temple

Hethir and the Archbishop sprinted right on the heels of Trace and a few other knights as they wound through the temple. "They're trying to break through to the vaults!" Shouted a knight ahead of them. He clutched at his sword arm, trying to staunch the blood that poured around his fingers. For a moment the Archbishop began to slow, reaching a hand out towards the man, but the knight gestured forward with his chin. "They need you more than me, I'll live! Go!"
Hethir wasn't sure he believed the knight--there was a good-sized pool of blood beneath him--but didn't feel like arguing, the man wouldn't be able to help them anyhow. Turning a corner, Hethir gets his first sight of the combatants. It was definitely not what he expected.

Nightmare Reality

When you lie in bed at night, and your mind seems to run wild over uncharted fields of imagination, there inevitably arise those patches that shock, horrify, and terrify. Nightmares we call them, and mature individuals are told to shrug them off, they don't mean anything anyway.
But what if that advice is wrong?

Circles in Circles

The Archbishop led Hethir to a small chamber, only the two of them were admitted in. Mary, Garius and Val were brought chairs--Hethir was honestly surprised to see that they were padded and looked rather comfortable; he had expected differently. Inside, the room was bare to a fault. The walls looked to be rough stone crudely scraped smooth, the floor only improved by thousands of footfalls having worn it smooth. There were no ornaments or furnishings; and the room's only other notable feature was a round stone table set in the exact center of the room.
That was merely the physical appearance of the chamber.

Lack of Update This Week: Explanation

This week I've taken the time I would have spent writing another update or two, and started writing basic outlines for the next half dozen posts for the Dust serial. In previous posts I only had a vague idea of where I was going with the story--even within the post itself, I sometimes surprised myself with how it ended. While it's sometimes enjoyable, I think overall the quality was suffering for it. So I sat down and started to figure out exactly where I was going to take things and write it all down.

Patience grasshopper... regular posting will resume, once I start to figure out what I'm doing.
-Matthew