The Chant of the Sibyl

[And so it begins again. For NaNo this year, I'm writing more chunks of last year's story, and chunks of its sequel, called True Life. This is from the kickoff last night, between midnight and 3 AM; picking up where I left off before. Fragments. It is not spellchecked.]


Jadany sat on her knees, feeling her feet go numb against the cold concrete floor of the compound. The stone, the air, all felt warmer than Witch's gaze curiously down at her from where he sat across her, their knees only a hand's bredth apart in the half-darkened room. She breathed in once, laboured, and breathed out again.

“You don't have to,” his voice came, as if from beyond a great distance, the low rumble of thunder that might call one's attention to a stormy horizon.

“No,” Jadany breathed slowly out, letting her eyes fall finally shut to the heaviness that pressed them. “I do.”

( ...like the thunder that might call one's eyes to a stormy horizon... )

WHAT!

One extremely excellent kick-off write in later, and just shy of 3800 words.

This is going to be a very social NaNo for me and I think that's going to make all the difference (in a LOT of things).

Anyone know what's up with the author search on the site disappearing?

Writing in.

My local NaNo group seems pretty nice, hosts 4-times weekly events so I won't be saddled at work wishing I could do one. Programmed them all into my phone along with the Monday evening write club as hosted by alaskanmermaid which I'm also excited about.

I love this particular psychosis more every year. Fills me with a sense of purpose!

Now, to battle.