I’ve been doing the impossible, at least in my mind. Never would I have thought that I would have the ability to write so many words in so little time. Even with work which gives me a constantly shifting roster, I’m already so close to my goal of 50,000 words. It even amazed me that the words had no problem flowing day after day until I realised that I wrote 12 thousand words in the space of 3 days. So why is this so amazing? Because unlike most people who have done NaNoWriMo and have written countless works in the past from fan fiction to short stories to even their own novels, this is the first time I’m actually writing, creatively speaking.
I think in many ways, I don’t realise just what a feat I’ve accomplished as those that I’ve come to know over NaNoWriMo have told me. To me, I’m simply trying to write a story regardless of the word count and time limit. As it stands, I know my novel is going to be more than just 50,000 words. It’ll probably be at least another 50 thousand or even another 100 thousand depending on how far I let my imagination go, but thanks to NaNoWriMo, the ball is already rolling and it won’t stop rolling until the end of the road.
That being said, with less than 1500 words to go, I’ve sort of hit a dry spell which is agonizingly frustrating since I know I’m capable of writing 4000 words a day. Still, I know I’ll push through this. For now though, let me regale you of more excerpts from the next chapter since no one really said anything about wanting more actions scenes or that little erotica I managed to write in between. You know the drill. Comment, feedback, encourage.
Part of the main character’s origin story, inclusive of how he became a vampire. It was a little easier to write compared to the rest because it was all done in first person.
“So for the second time in my life, I left everything I once knew for a world I no understand off. I died that night, both metaphorically and literally as she took my blood within an inch of my life and then she fed me her own blood. I didn’t know how the funeral was like, but I suppose I didn’t care. All I cared about was avenging my sister. A week later, I rose from my grave, born again as a creature of the night. My beautiful and terrible maker took me in, she fed me my first victim. I didn’t remember my first feed either, but I remember it was her that we put back into my grave that night. I had drained the life out of her to feed my now immortal existence.
It wasn’t long until I hunted those men down. They didn’t live to see the end of the following week. There were 5 of them. I killed each one consecutively every night. If only to instill fear in the remaining ones, then at least to drain one each night to feed my hunger. I killed them, you have to understand this. Vengence wasn’t just the reason anymore, it had become a justified excuse. I took their lives to feed my own and they had begged for mercy, I showed them the same mercy they had showed my sister. There was just no one there to save them.
After the last person was killed, and my sister was avenged. I went to visit my family. I was actually forbidden to do so by my maker, but I had to anyway. I had to at least see them. The doctors had said she would never walk or if she would ever be the same person again. She just sat there in a wheelchair staring blankly into space. When I talked to her, she looked at me impassively like she didn’t recognise me. It broke my heart to know my sister who was once full of life was reduced to an empty husk of her former self. I told her I found the people that did this to her and made them pay for it. I told her that I could never see her or the rest of our family again. I came to say my goodbyes, but I didn’t know if she understood. But she did say something to me when I was about to leave, the last words I would ever hear her say and the words that I would remember for the rest of my life. Before I left, she asked if I could help her with her homework. I kept my word, I never saw her again.”
I was wondering if my story was becoming a little too emo for people’s tastes until I realised along the way that those people aren’t as well read as I thought they were. I don’t think I write emo stories, or happy ones either. I write them melancholic if not a little sad. Definitely not your usual Twilight/Teen angst emo as you can see.
Emma understood what Trevor meant. He was cursed to forever be alone, doomed to watch eternity pass him by. For as long as he was the immortal undead, he could never connect with anyone. How long had Trevor wanted to share his secret with someone he felt a connection with? How long could he withstand this open isolation? It was no wonder Trevor painted the elder vampires as inhuman monsters. No one could live that kind of life for centuries and retain some shred of their former humanity. As his human servant, Emma was more than just human proxy, she was his only shield against that eventual madness. For Trevor, Emma would be the only person in the world that Trevor could ever share his life, his world with. For her master, she represented a bright ray of hope in the the darkness in which he lived.
“When you saved me all those years ago, was it because I reminded you of your sister?”
The question surprised Trevor. He never really thought of it that way. In some ways, the brutal events that brought Trevor and Emma together was unlike that of his sister. He reacted without thinking that night. Emma had brought something out of Trevor. It was more than just a memory of his sister, it was the reason of his being.
“Maybe. Probably. I don’t know. You reminded me of the choices I had to make to get here. My family is long gone, that much I have learned to accept, but they aren’t what made me who I am. It’s what I did in the moments with them that defined me. As I did in the moments that lead up to you. You reminded me, of all things that if I had a chance to do it all over again, even knowing the consequence of what I know now, I would still make those same choices.”