Welcome, one and all to the twenty-fifth day of “No Fear NaNoWriMo” - a daily mission to send a message of encouragement to all those participating in National Novel Writing Month for November 2020!
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Today’s Encouragement: One word is progress. One sentence is progress. One paragraph, one page, one chapter - each and every change you make to that project.
Never compare the progress you have made to that of another’s because the product is different, the purpose is different, the pains along the way are different for each and every participant in this challenge. Do not feel insignificant for seemingly having or doing less than another, any more than you would feel superior were the roles reversed.
Take pride in your progress and tarry forth to the finish line. Rally others to follow your lead, no matter how far back or far forward they are from you. Any and all progress will be worth the effort soon!
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Want to join in on the “No Fear NaNoWriMo” project? ➵ Follow the tag “#no fear nano 2020″! ➵ Follow this blog, @homesteadchronicles, for daily updates! ➵ Share this post, and all those to come, with all your fellow participants! ➵ Join our Discord server of like-minded creatives striving to complete another year of Nano! For the invite link, please respond through comments/reblogs/DM ➵ Spread the positivity on your own blog with encouraging messages to your followers!
why is it that when i’m in english i can write 2 pages of waffling with writers block but then as soon as i get home to try and write my fanfic, writers block is like “hey, i know i let you write about a novel earlier but i’m not going to let you write hp stuff now :( sorry bitch bye 😐”.
This is a novella kind of a story. I hope you guys enjoy reading this.
Comment share love.
STORY
I walk up the stairs of my dorm campus. The building is quite old obviously the university is old and quite prestigious.
It’s all new for me, a new university, a new city hell it’s even a new country. I feel a little nauseated. Not even a single known face. As I near the dorm room my thoughts become blurred by the adrenaline. I am the first one to arrive. I am sharing this room with three more people. The common room is quite huge. There’s one door at the other end of the hall thad closes and another arch way that leads towards a door and one more archway on the left hand. The archway leads to the kitchen and the two doors two our rooms.
I see my name written on a thin rectangular paper on the door that’s after the archway and I enter the room.
The room is spacious if you know how to manage the space and one thing that growing up in india teaches you is makeing the most of the smallest spaces.
On the farthest corner near the window Is a bed and the other one is somewhere a little towards the door. There are two desk one on the foot of the bed near the window and other one is in the middle. There are two dresser adjacent to each other on the door wall in the middle of the room. I guess we have to rearrange the room so I do, at least my part.
I first arrange the dresser which is surprisingly light to the dark corner for which I had to move the bed a little next to the dresser and directly under the window I place my desk and on the other dark corner I place the bed. Then I arranged all my belongings which were not much cause I figured I’d go shopping once I am settled.
Then I moved the other desk below the other window on the adjacent wall on the other corner and left the bed and dresser as they are.
I went to the common room and saw a girl with bright green eyes, dark hairs standing there.
“Hi.” I started “ I am Y/N L/N.”
She gives me huge smile. “Hi Y/N” she says in a posh accent and I can easily see that she is British by the way she said my name. “I am Annette Pitt. But call me Anni.”
I in return nod with a smile that matches hers. Suddenly the door opens with a huge bang and a girl, her hairs colored purple on the ends, tattooed arms, enters.
“Yo peeps. Meet your new roommate Alexandera Rose Sanderson.” -“Thats a mouth full”- Anni whispers- “A.K.A Loxi”.
“She is a handful.” I play fully say. “I m so liking it.”
Alexandera smirks at me. She makes her way to the door direct in the corner and smiles widely.
“Which one of you has the pleasure to share this with me.” She says and me both laugh
“Me your highness.” Anni says.
“See you in a bit. Toodles.”
“Okay she is the most inconsistent person I’ve ever met.” I announced
“Well you haven’t met the girl next door then I assume. ” Anni says
I shrugged In answer.
All three of us sat in a circle and talked about ourselves for hour. Alexa is from Virginia which 4 hours drive from here. She has 3 brothers all older she hasn’t decided on her major yet which I think is not surprising at all. Anni on the other hand is majoring in sociology. She is from a small town near London and her mom was american and studied here.
I am majoring in Studio Arts. And I am form a small town in south india.
My roommate has still not arrived. Its almost noon so we order lunch which was pizza. As soon as we finished pizza a small timid girl arrived her hair were neatly tied up in a french braid she looked asian but with her a little girls entered with a man who both look quite american. “Hi um…” she hesitated for a moment “I am Harumi Jo smith.”
We all introduce ourselves and her dad and her sister help’s her move in and so do we.
She went down to say down to both.
“Let’s go shop for our dorm.” Alexa suggests.
“Mumm…” Anni says
“Okay.” I say “I was gonna do shopping any way. ..come on anni it will be fun.”
“Plus I have a car we can go in.” Alexa adds.
“Fine” Anni sighs out.
We all make our way out after closing up and getting everything we need. We met Harumi on the way and she agreed to join us too.
After shopping and getting everything we need and many things we didn’t, we found a place to have dinner, which was a maxican restaurant right down the alley from the campus.
We ordered and started talking when a loud group of boys. Around our age enter. There were six of them and all them were quite good looking. As they came closer I could see them even better. One of them caught my eyes. He had blonde hairs blue eyes and was built quite well.
One of the guys catches the eye of alexa and his eyes widen “Lexi” he says and Lexi smiles wide “Brady.” She sequels
“You finally decided to join huh.” The Brady guys says and alexa nods but shrugged.
“Well these are my mates, this is.” He points at a guy who looked asian I notice 3 out of them did. “Park jimin.”
“Hey” he says with a little nod and a wave.
“This is ” he pointed at the blonde guy “James Brown.”
“Hello.” James says with a flirty smile. I know his type play boy
“This one.” He points at another of asian guy quite tall dark hair he was quite beautiful I mean I cant explained how he looked he had intense eyes and tight jaw but relaxed and open posture “Kim taehyung.”
He just nods softly with a smile.
Then Brady points at the guy next to this kim guy and say “this is Kim Namjoon.”
“Hi.” He says with a nod
And then he points at the guy to his right “this is John miller.”
Then Alexa introduced us girls and by the time food had arrived. And they ordered.
“See you in classes if we do.” Alexa says as we leave.
Charlotte could see through the skin of the fox as it bounded over mossy logs and made imprints between blades of grass. It moved like water, perfectly clear and marked only by its own refractions. You would be forgiven for thinking it was a hallucination.
With careful steps, Charlotte descended from her rocky throne, and she didn’t mind her feet getting caked in rain-soaked mud. She slipped a little, but she wouldn’t take her eyes off of the fox.
She gripped her bow tight, and her quiver was bound even tighter around her back. Chances are scant, she reminded herself. She had to make the most of the environment, keeping herself away and hidden behind trees, yet finding herself a spot from where her loosed arrow can cut the air and pierce the colourless beast.
The fox stopped to sip at the lake. Charlotte wondered if the fox could see any reflection of itself in the water. She kept her mind thus occupied, because focusing too much on her task had cost her in the past. Think too much, and you end up doing too little.
With flattened fingertips, she felt the feathery arrows. Which of these arrows would do it? One by one, her fingers sifted through the contents of her quiver. Quietly.
The fox was alerted by something, and it looked up into the forest. Charlotte squinted.
Is it there?, she asked herself.
It was.
Inside the fox, refracted and blown out of shape, the scroll that she had lost, a long time ago, a more careless time ago. Every time the fox moved, so did the scroll.
Charlotte’s arrow—picked without thought—was in her hand. She committed it to the bowstring, and paid attention to her breathing.
The fox’s head was bent low, to sip on the water. Its skull was exposed. The letter from Charlotte’s lover was in the belly, and she had to be careful not to damage it with the arrowhead.
The tip of the arrow wavered. A million possibilities floated up in front of her eyes, like sprites emerging from the lake. Only one of those possibilities allowed Charlotte the scroll.
She pulled the bowstring taut. She blinked, over and over, taking longer each time to open her eyes. Each time her eyes closed, she asked herself an all-too-familiar question.
“Is it better to go on like this? To never take the shot, to never miss, to keep on tracking that fox and the scroll it had within it?”
Don’t think, Charlotte.
She loosed the arrow.
For the next few moments, it was as if nothing had changed in the world at all. She values these moments the most. In these few, scant drips of sand in the clock, she neither waits for victory, nor does she suffer defeat.
It’s the closest to victory that she can get to, and it’s over all too soon.
The fox lay dead. It was hard to see on the mud, in the brown all around it, but the scroll was right there now, unsullied and undamaged.
She laid her quiver and bow down next to the fox, and she cried over the carcass.
Cant wait til I die and go to the Good Place because you can have literly anything.
There is going to be a library full of fics that were uncompleted or on hiatus on earth that are now completed and I’m going to read them ALL. Or I’m gonna complete them by having my daydreams transcribed into actually writing using magic or Janet.
Then I’m going to send a handmade quilt to all the fanfic writers who’s works I read and enjoyed for free on Earth. And it will have all my compliments for thier fics and the emotions and reactions I had when reading them and how much it meant to be to escape life for a minute.
Outside, the snow bleaches the scenery, stealing color from anything it can. I was walking home, my eyes turned up to the sky, wondering how I’m supposed to believe that existence is not futile, when even the sky looks like a gradient rendering.
I always thought there was a certain beauty to snow. It seems to cover everything in a layer of innocence, no matter how temporary. It obscures the decaying leaves, black roads, and dirty side walks. It steals our voices directly from our mouths, begging for us to hesitate and listen, as if the secrets the wind brings can only be heard if we surrender our voices. But perhaps that in itself is malevolent. What else does the snow cover? The deadly plagues marooned under the permafrost? Does it conceal the bodies of those who dared to fight for a change until their oppressors dyed the ground with blood? Does it fill the mouths of those screaming for a savior as their body slowly freezes?
There’s a certain duality to it. It reveals our truest selves, and yet covers our sins in shame.
I think I died last night, maybe not altogether, maybe not completely, but a little bit, a little bit more than I should have. The universe pressed down on my shoulders, tempting me to break under the weight of its karmic resonance. I reached a point where I wasn’t sad anymore, I didn’t want to cry, and while I didn’t want to slit my wrists over the shimmering snow, I didn’t want anything. I was so empty. So hollow. Not even the Arctic wind screaming between the suburban houses could compare to my coldness.
My mind was deathly quiet. I wasn’t thinking anything. I wasn’t feeling anything. I was existing and nothing more.
It’s a pitiful existence. To be breathing, but half alive.
Avete mai provato la sensazione di paura nel perdere qualcuno? Che domanda stupida direste voi o ancora “Certo ogni giorno”… Si la paura di perdere un amico, la paura di perdere un familiare, la paura di perdere la persona che si ama… Ecco, a proposito di ciò io non pensavo di poter provare tanto per una persona, una persona che inizialmente neanche consideravo, che mi stava sulle palle. Quella paura costante che ti fa morire sempre un po’ dentro, che ti rende apatica alle volte, ecco io l'ho già persa tante volte quella persona, e poi l'ho ritrovata, ma forse non del tutto… E ora che lo guardo di nuovo davanti a me mentre dorme o mentre si mangia un biscotto, provo quella paura che mi uccide un po’ dentro e che mi rende impotente… Quel pensiero che mi fa dire “ e se non fossi tu il suo destino?”
He came back and shot. He shot him. When he came back, he shot, and he fell, stumbling, past the shadow wood, down, shot, dying, dead, to full halt.
At the bottom, bleeding, shot dead. He died then, there after the fall, the speeding bullet, tore his face and blood sprayed fine over the killer and the grey light.
Pictures of the dead man, are everywhere. And his spirit sucks up the light. But he died in darkness darker than his soul and everything tumbled blindly with him dying
down the stairs.
We have no word
on the killer, except he came back, from somewhere to do what he did. And shot only once into his victim’s stare, and left him quickly when the blood ran out. We know
the killer was skillful, quick, and silent, and that the victim probably knew him. Other than that, aside from the caked sourness of the dead man’s expression, and the cool surprise in the fixture
