It’s become harder and harder to try and maintain my daily quota of words. In between my odd full time working hours and the inability to let my words flow with as much ease as most writing veterans, I’m left with struggling to finish off the simplest of scenes (at one point, I actually had to ask people what word I should use because I couldn’t remember the word “terrified”). Of course though, it all boils back down to the one extreme measure I have left to make it Nanowrimo workable and completing, compensating or even surpassing my daily quota. That would be drinking.
As long as I’m bordering tipsy, the words flow out with relative ease and comprehension. While there might be more than a handful of spelling errors in a system that has no automated spellchecks, I don’t seem to mind it at all. Editing my work does come in December and all we need for the month of November is to put it all down into one coherent whole. The result of which is a 6250+ word count and the completion of chapter 2 at the end of the third day of Nanowrimo. Hope you like some of the excerpts I’m putting up. Please do comment/encourage/suggest. I would really appreciate some constructive feedback.
Emma’s eyes snapped open as she was awakened by Trevor’s gentle shake. Even in the dim light, she could see that his eyes reflecting a deep worry, his mind on the other hand was resounding with a fear she had never felt before.
“What’s wrong?” Emma’s voice shook with the intensity of Trevor’s hidden emotions.
“It’s time to go. They are coming”
Emma suddenly bolted upwards, nearly knocking Trevor over. Her face now wide eyed in sheer terror and her heart probably going a million beats a minute.
“Whoa whoa, easy there Em. They are coming, but they aren’t here yet. In fact, it’ll be a while before they even reach this part of town.”
“Then…then how do you know?” her voice still quivering with fear. Trevor sat beside Emma, putting his arms around her.
“Is your brain still asleep or haven’t you figure out after all this time?” Trevor spoke slowly and calmly like a parent teaching a particularly slow child “I’m a hunter of the night remember? I sense things that human beings probably lost the abilty to sense a million years ago.”
Emma leaned against Trevor burying herself in his cold, dead scent. It always felt warm to her.
“It’s in the air. The smell of blood, death and beans. It’s very faint, but it’s growing more and more intense with each passing minute. That’s why we have to go. Now.”
“Yeah for some reason, whatever is coming has this smell that reminds me of beans and Sleepy Haven doesn’t grow beans. Don’t ask me how or why. It’s the first zombie outbreak I’ve ever faced.”
“Seriously. Beans?” Emma didn’t know whether to scream at Trevor or laugh till tears came out and her stomach hurt.
“Alright, if you can be pedantic and amused about my sense of smell, you can bloody well get ready.” Trevor lifted Emma upright and put her down on the floor. “I don’t know how far away they are, but we have to leave this moment.”
Emma looked at the time and then turned back to Trevor with renewed hysteria. “But it’s almost daybreak! You can’t stay up! You’ll be weak! You might burn. I don’t want you to burn!”
Trevor put his fingers on Emma’s lips. “Shhh. It’s alright. We knew this might happen remember? Why did you think I bought all that stuff that’s sitting in the truck? I’m going to be fine. We’re going to survive this.” His voice slipped to an almost hypnotic melody. “Now go, companion of mine. We need to be ready. I have left your outfit in the bathroom.”
Emma closed her eyes, took a deep breath, nooded then walked to the bathroom to get ready. A vampire’s suggestive words may not work on their human servants, but like the odd sources of comforts Emma got from Trevor’s unnatural state, he knew she felt more at ease when he did something relatively inhuman. Emma was more than odd, she was broken inside and no matter how much people would have tried to put her back together again, they could never return her to the normal person whe once was.
In some odd way, Trevor felt a kind of connection to Emma’s state. Even though he accepted a long time ago what he had become, there was some part of Trevor that still clung on to the remnants of his human self. Emma was the closest thing to a bridge between both worlds. Not a monster, but not quite human either. Trevor would never let go of the one good thing in his existence. Not even until the end of the world. Little did he know that his conviction was about to be put to the test.
This is another scene after they have made their way out of the house. It’s incomplete because the original scene was too long to just put in.
His thoughts were suddenly inturrupted when he turned a corner and almost hit a girl that was running across the street. Her face was drenched in blood, her hair tangled mess of what looked like bits and pieces of…something stuck to it. She was screaming. Her face turned towards whatever it was she was trying to run away from. Emma jerked back in surprise, gasping at the sight of it.
The girl saw the truck and immedietly ran towards Trevor and Emma. She slammed herself against the driver’s door. Trevor barely making out her blood stained features against the barred windows and the dim light.
“LET ME IN! OH GOD! LET ME IN! THEY ARE COMING! DON’T LET THEM EAT ME! OH GOD! DON’T LET THEM EAT MEEE!” Cried the girl in panicked hysteria, banging repeatedly against the bars.
Emma suddenly recognised the girl’s voice. She was Justine Headly, daughter of one of the regular customers that came into the store. Recently, Justine had been coming into the store to buy groceries because her mother had not been feeling well. She was a good customer and a good daughter. Bright and bubbly too, she wanted to be a journalist. Now she was covered in blood and gore, begging for her life.
Emma instinctively reached to open the door, but Trevor had locked it shut.
“Trevor, what are you doing? Open the door!”
Trevor could only glance at Emma. Shaking his head. Justine was over at his end banging on the window so Emma couldn’t see what Trevor saw. There was a vicious, bloody bite mark on Justine’s arm. If she wasn’t torn apart and fed upon by the zombies, she would eventually expire and rise up as a ravenous walking unlife herself. Fat lot of good an armoured truck would do if you invited the zombies in. Trevour wouldn’t have that. So he did the next best thing in a situation like this.
He hit the gas, and left Justine behind.