December 1, 2013

The Fiction Shorts of November

Hello! Yes, I am back to blogging. I have decided early-on that my next NaNo break will not be in April this year, but will be in July, based on how my schedule looks now. More information regarding that will come around February/March. This year, I didn't even come CLOSE to winning NaNoWriMo, but I got to have a great time writing my novel. I found that whatever I did write came out to be some of my best work, in comparison to other "just write it" NaNo events. I would like to extend thanks to Emma Dawnrider for being there for support and plot-rambling, as mentioned in her post was nonetheless a wonderful journey.  
Over the month, however, I got to stretch my writing style even more regarding setting and character, if not necessarily composition-book-long plot. On Twitter, I took fan-fiction prompts by others and dedicated short bits of fan-fiction prose to them over Twitlonger. While I prepare posts to really kick off my return to blogging, here are a few of the best fiction "shorts", with links to the rest. Enjoy!
For Cedric Young, a piece on Miranda:

"This is the place?" Rotting wood gates creaked back and forth in their chains. Destiny turned
away and licked her thumb; The wood blew in the opposite direction that the wind would push it in. Around her ankles, a foul-smelling fog crossed the docks, fleeing the bulldozing qualities of the ghost ships.
"No less than the caves, Captain." Just paces behind Destiny, a rooster officer unsheathed his pistols. The glint in his irises defied his confident tone, thus explaining the stetson brim covering his eyes. "Haunted as the Bison Camps and whatever the snake on the dead island sings at -"
"That's enough, Cogburn," Destiny warned, unsheathing her own weapons and eyeing the rusty lock binding the main gate, "Prose banishes no phantom that I've known." Scowling, Officer Cogburn followed Destiny closely, looking more and more dwarfed by the darkened cliffs. She picked at the lock with tools conjured from her coat, using techniques that Cogburn hadn't ever seen.
"Where have you been, Captain?" Cogburn chuckled, "You've got a cantrip for everything." Destiny grinned to herself, removing her stovepipe with one hand and setting it down as she finished final pickings at the lock. She stood, holding her hat.
"Flotsam." She paused, as if honest, "Scrimshaw, too." After a few moments, the lock fell, the gate swinging wide open. Bits of dust and crinkled debris blew in with a draft that sent Cogburn's stetson halfway across the docks. Destiny covered her eyes with her elbow, waiting for the ten-second wind to die down. When the dust cleared, there in the gateway stood a single person. He was a pirate, having created a trail of dropped coins. His eyes were wide, and he said nothing. What were at one point crisp, local garments were smudged and tattered, worn from uncharacteristic running.
"Pirate," Destiny observed, walking carefully around the still person, "Musketeer, but you're unarmed, anyways." Destiny looked up and sighed, shaking her head. "Cogburn, you might as well go in." She stepped back in front, watching how the pirate's eyes followed her gaze to the setting sun, "You're Marleybonian, recently discharged from the Navy. A daredevil of sorts. You didn't get discharged at all, did you?"
"M'name is Cedric," the pirate muttered, bearing an accent familiar to those from the Marleybonian isles, "There is -"
"Cedric Young, by the looks of you," Destiny concluded, "Your brother sold me skarakeet feathers. Odd fellow." She looked out towards Miranda, gritting her teeth. "You can come back, Cogburn. When you wish." The return only took minutes.
"Let's get this kid back to the fort," she sighed, "There's Yum in the galley." Where Cedric walked, the fog receded. Cogburn kept to the back, casting glances back at Miranda with the passing seconds. The gates closed on their own. 
For Cass Lifeblossom, a short on my pirate before the Armada capture:

Destiny Devereaux inhaled the salty port air, never tired of the fishy fumes and clouds of sticky, black exhaust. Marleybone hadn't looked so bright since she had first arrived there. Of course, this meant that the sun was only partially covered by the pollution. On Destiny's waist was her best weapon, a wooden blade sanded to a point. The other one had been lost in a mugging earlier that week, though Destiny had full intentions to fix it.
As Destiny rounded the street corner, she picked up the sound of metal on metal. Picking up her pace, the ex-stowaway squeezed her way into a crowd of Marleybonian passerby, all reeking of oil and sweat. Pinstriped dogs leaned on dark canes while Albion foxes stood all together, arms folded over dusty work attire. Small enough to squeeze her head through the last few in the front, Destiny's eyes widened with her smile. Lieutenant Springer wielded his shining blade, fending off a single Armada clockwork. Destiny had only heard of such beings.
"Oi! Let me through!" An orphan, accent thick with port-based pronunciation, pushed past Destiny, lifting wallets from all unsuspecting others. The runt had effectively clipped her heel, however, and Destiny landed on her chin at the feet of the clockwork. She unsheathed her wooden weapon. This is my chance, she thought to herself, grinning, Nobody will hurt me after this. Destiny took a swing at the clockwork, rolling to the side. To any trained swashbuckler, Destiny lacked the fluidity and flair of a true fencer, and it showed as the clockwork struck back, sending Destiny flying. Expecting to hit the ground, she braced, closing her eyes. However, she hit even more metal. Gazing up in shock, Destiny stared into the masks of three more clockworks. The crowd had dispersed.  
For Merciless Morgrim, on the Commodore
For Merciless Morgrim, on Moo Manchu
A Mystery at Delphi
For Merciless Morgrim, on Annie Devine
A Halloween Prompt for Wesley Xavier, on Frankenstein's Clockwork
Returning to Marleybone
Meeting Meowiarty 

Keep Traveling!

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