Midnight on October 31st is often referred to in the NaNo ranks as the beginning of the end. I suppose that makes midnight of November 1st the end of the beginning! Today was rather eventful, as you will see in my weblog for today. But first, I have someone I’d like you to meet! He’s grey, fluffy, and has a mohawk. He loves talking about things he doesn’t really know much about in a British accent, and has a strange affinity for monocles. His favorite stories are filled with danger, twists, and turns. And his name is Phipps!
That’s right WriMos, the amazing Mirriam Neal gave me my very own plot bunny today! For those of you unfamiliar with them, plot bunnies are fictional pets that are there to support you and drive you forward through your crazy NaNoWriMo experience. Phipps is featured below, and I’m sure you’ll be hearing more about him in the future.
Below is my weblog for the day, with a special guest!
And finally, drum roll please! As promised, the first snippet of Breaking Shadows: Fractured! I hope you enjoy, and I’d love any feedback you have for me. To all you fellow WriMos out there, good luck, and onward to Day Two!
Bang! I wake with a start. It’s so dark, I can hardly see my hands as they come up to rub my eyes.
“Mo-” A hand covers my mouth, cutting off my call for Momma. My eyes fly open wide, my body instantly awake. I jump up, fear sending a prickly sensation up and down my arms, but something wraps around my stomach, jerking me back into a sitting position.
“Shh! Judas, be still. They’ll hear you.” My mother hisses silently in my ear. She tries to keep her voice strong and steady, but I hear the trembling undercurrent of alarm it carries. My blood turns to ice, my body stiffening. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see that we’re in the living room. I’m still on her lap, where I fell asleep. But the door is barred, the dresser leaning against it, and the curtains are drawn. The house sits pitch black and deathly silent, as though abandoned. Past the pounding of my heart in my ears, I hear shouts and gunshots outside, an ungodly ruckus unlike anything I’ve ever heard. What’s going on? Why is everyone yelling? Is there a parade? Why is Momma scared?
“Momma, what’s wrong? Are those people in trouble? Should we go help them?” I whisper as quietly as my childish voice will allow.