The pursuit had entered a stretch of empty tunnel devoid of stalled trains. Silently, Venn passed a set of instructions to Bede, and the truck began to decelerate. The remaining patroller swept in close behind the truck, decelerating in tandem, and aimed its EM beam at the rear motor well. Fixing velocity for less than a second, the truck accelerated again, opening a broadening space between the truck and the patroller – at that moment a catch field sprang up between the two vehicles. The patroller was caught as if by a rubber tether, decelerating to a standstill and then accelerating back to a point before the catch field origin. As the truck sped away, the patroller drifted to a stop at an oblique angle to the side of the main maglev track.
“That was dangerous,” said the truck. “Catch fields are made for low-velocity runaways, not for high-velocity low-mass vehicles. The occupants are injured.”
Venn nodded. “Not severely. They will recover. Continue following my instructions.”
The truck approached a flying junction, taking the lower track, descending into the third underspace level. Soon the tunnel bifurcated again, and then again, the truck bearing left each time. Ahead, another flying junction – this time the lower track was blocked by a closed gate. The truck slowed to a stop a dozen meters away.
Monday, November 30, 2009
71,691 words!!! (Okay actually 8000 for Nov. 09)
Okay I never had a chance to really get started (cue little hand violins) First I have a new baby. Second 16 days out of the month I have either my mom and sister visit or Becky's sister. And lastly, I had to reread 40 pages to my story in order to really add something meaningful to it. But I am happy to get back in the swing of things and I added over 8000 words to my story and I am proud of that. I hope everybody met their goals this NaNoWriMo year. Here is a sample:
Even for Fall, the early evening air was almost too cold as the breath of the pending storm broke against the black onyx tower standing high above the rolling plains below. The tower was so tall that it seemed to preside over the whole field of ripened havala plants tucked in the tower’s shadow. Each plant’s fully peeled back husk revealed a midnight blue kernel shining and sucking the energy of the crimson lunar eclipse above. Clouds blanketed the majority of the night sky except for where they passed around an great invisible circle overhead that allowed the moon’s luminescence to shower through the otherwise cloud filled sky.
A tall man, almost dangerously thin, stood at the top, near tower’s edge, soaking in his creation. Almost every plant was in bloom in the field below. It was like thousands of blue eyes staring in worship from below the tower. The havala’s were ripe and that meant that it was only a matter of time before everything was his; before he could chant the final incantation and seal the spell with the sacrifice of blood.
Even for Fall, the early evening air was almost too cold as the breath of the pending storm broke against the black onyx tower standing high above the rolling plains below. The tower was so tall that it seemed to preside over the whole field of ripened havala plants tucked in the tower’s shadow. Each plant’s fully peeled back husk revealed a midnight blue kernel shining and sucking the energy of the crimson lunar eclipse above. Clouds blanketed the majority of the night sky except for where they passed around an great invisible circle overhead that allowed the moon’s luminescence to shower through the otherwise cloud filled sky.
A tall man, almost dangerously thin, stood at the top, near tower’s edge, soaking in his creation. Almost every plant was in bloom in the field below. It was like thousands of blue eyes staring in worship from below the tower. The havala’s were ripe and that meant that it was only a matter of time before everything was his; before he could chant the final incantation and seal the spell with the sacrifice of blood.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Michael A. Day 22 - 36,819
On a side not, I have 14k words to go, but I think I'm roughly halfway through the story that's developing. I can't tell if my pacing is slow, or my intentions have grown...
Felix tried the large brass door knob. “Locked,” he announced, and moved to peer into one of the grimy front windows. With his sleeve, he rubbed away dirt, leaving a clear porthole in the glass through which he could see an expanse of hardwood floor and the edge of a rug. The dim shapes of furniture crouched in the gloom beyond like artifacts in an undisturbed tomb.
“This is a might creepy,” Clarence said. “I don’t care for houses so quiet.”
Alexa was on the porch, moving with ease over the creaking boards. “Let me open the door for you,” she said brightly.
“Can you pick locks or something?” Felix asked, impressed.
“Of course,” she answered, and heaved a brick through one of the front windows.
The shattering glass tore at the quiet forest, thunderous and final; silence rushed in as the stunned birds fell mute, and then the noises of the forest returned; within a moment it was as if nothing had occurred.
Alexa stood, hands on her hips, looking quite pleased at the gaping window. “Lock pick,” she smiled, then frowned. “However, I’m sorry to report that I do not climb through dangerous-looking broken windows.”
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I do not think I can win this contest, unless I write more than 3000 words per day from now on, which I don't think I can do! But this is fun!
[[here is an example of a paragraph with several sentences packed together. i try to avoid these generally]]
“Stop,” said Wili. The truck stopped, Wili opened the right-hand door and hopped out. He approached one of the potentially accessible doors and touched its com panel. There was no response. He touched it again, pressing hard against the panel surface. Nothing. He walked across the track to the other door. As he did so, he noticed something in the distance, in the tunnel ahead of the magtruck, colors standing out against the dim concrete and metallic grays of the tunnel and station. He opened his eyes wider, and it was as he had hoped: another patch of painted symbols and characters. He ran to it. It was poorly lit, being a dozen meters from the lights of the magtruck, but as he stood just a meter away he could read it clearly through all the grime and cobwebs and dust: “Access Station 8-64, Medna 15 km, Tug Day, Fivemonth 5, 837,” and then, “BURY THE GUNS, SINK THE SHIPS, OPEN THE CITIES.”
Wili repeated the final lines under his breath. A Mountain Hero song, an especially heroic and portentous one, was playing across his mind, and he began to hum along. He skipped back to the magtruck and climbed inside. He pulled the door shut. “Keep going,” he said.
The magtruck slipped forward, away from station 8-64.
“Stop,” said Wili. The truck stopped, Wili opened the right-hand door and hopped out. He approached one of the potentially accessible doors and touched its com panel. There was no response. He touched it again, pressing hard against the panel surface. Nothing. He walked across the track to the other door. As he did so, he noticed something in the distance, in the tunnel ahead of the magtruck, colors standing out against the dim concrete and metallic grays of the tunnel and station. He opened his eyes wider, and it was as he had hoped: another patch of painted symbols and characters. He ran to it. It was poorly lit, being a dozen meters from the lights of the magtruck, but as he stood just a meter away he could read it clearly through all the grime and cobwebs and dust: “Access Station 8-64, Medna 15 km, Tug Day, Fivemonth 5, 837,” and then, “BURY THE GUNS, SINK THE SHIPS, OPEN THE CITIES.”
Wili repeated the final lines under his breath. A Mountain Hero song, an especially heroic and portentous one, was playing across his mind, and he began to hum along. He skipped back to the magtruck and climbed inside. He pulled the door shut. “Keep going,” he said.
The magtruck slipped forward, away from station 8-64.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Michael A. Day 17 - 28,498
The Mirror - The mirror is a member of a curious class of objects (all with negative effects) wherein the effects of each object are initiated by an event. In the case of the mirror, the triggering event is the breaking of the mirror. The person who breaks the mirror experiences seven years of pervasive negative effects on his or her life. The mirror regenerates after seven years, and may then be broken again.
The Ladder - The ladder causes approximately twenty-four hours of negative effects on those who walk under it. Negative effects can range from mild to extreme.
The Black Cat - The cat generally causes a single, localized negative effect on whomever's path it crosses, generally within thirteen hours of the crossing. The bad luck is usually constrained to a single severe instance, a car crash, for example, or some catastrophic event. While death is not a common end result, it has been reported.
The Umbrella - The umbrella's negative effects only occur if the holder of the object opens it while inside a man-made structure (no data exists for opening it in a cave). The effect is variable in length and intensity, seemingly at random. It is considered an unreliable object.
The Hat - The Hat is a handsome dark gray fedora of brushed felt, with a black hat band. It is reminiscent of Prohibition era fedoras, and is generally considered stylish, in a timeless way. It causes mildly unpleasant bad luck if worn to bed. The negative effects are generally short in duration, seldom lasting more than ten to twelve hours. Curiously, the hat seems to be one-size-fits-all, as men and women of varying head sizes all report a most pleasing fit.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Alert
I just realized that to make my story work, I'm going to have to contort the timeline! So, it's either going to be fun to read because it will be kind of tricky, or it's going to be impossible to understand because it's so confusing!
*edit*
Oh wait, I just thought of a way to fix the problem without making it so confusing, nevermind.
This is just a warning.
Here is a sentence I wrote last night:
“I never finished my coffee,” said Gil, standing and twisting his body in an attempt to stretch despite his restraints. “Can I get some coffee?”
*edit*
Oh wait, I just thought of a way to fix the problem without making it so confusing, nevermind.
This is just a warning.
Here is a sentence I wrote last night:
“I never finished my coffee,” said Gil, standing and twisting his body in an attempt to stretch despite his restraints. “Can I get some coffee?”
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Michael A. Day 12 - 21,202
The next day every freshman student but one in Miss Henry's English class failed a quiz on The Scarlet Letter. Even kids who had read the stupid book. Even straight-A students. They all bombed. Bombed. No one could even be sure why they failed. They just did. They walked into class; the quiz started, and they wrote down the dumbest bunch of garbage ever committed to paper. Quite a few pencils broke and a number of pens bled ink everywhere and Sheena Flint's glasses spontaneously broke, the lenses dropping from the frames and hitting her desk and ricocheting onto the floor, rolling like little crystal wheels. It was as if the class was destined to fail. Miss Henry read the tests in shock and decided it must be some sort of organized protest on the students' part. They always hated Hawthorne.
"The Scarlet Letter is a book about a crazy man who writes the alphabet every day, and every day one of the letters turns red, and he doesn't know why," began Susan Eck's answer.
"Hester Prynne's scarlet A symbolized her membership in the Avengers," wrote Clarence Dobbs, the big kid who always wore overalls and carried his books in a grocery bag.
When Felix's quiz was handed back to him, he stared at it in wonder. He hadn't read the book, but his answer made him look like a psychotic moron. "The Scarlet Letter is about a young actress name Scarlet, who is so awesome she wears the letter A on her shirt. She is killed near the end of the book by a pack of dogs controlled by an evil priest, who happens to be a failed film critic and a master of animal hypnotism."
Alexa thumped her head dully on the desk, embarrassed that a teacher had read her test. "Scarlet, a plucky teenage scientist, invents her own letter. The letter comes after Z and is shaped like a cross between an R and a D and is pronounced with a sound similar to a frog choking on a sunflower seed. Scarlet's letter has magical powers."
"The Scarlet Letter is a book about a crazy man who writes the alphabet every day, and every day one of the letters turns red, and he doesn't know why," began Susan Eck's answer.
"Hester Prynne's scarlet A symbolized her membership in the Avengers," wrote Clarence Dobbs, the big kid who always wore overalls and carried his books in a grocery bag.
When Felix's quiz was handed back to him, he stared at it in wonder. He hadn't read the book, but his answer made him look like a psychotic moron. "The Scarlet Letter is about a young actress name Scarlet, who is so awesome she wears the letter A on her shirt. She is killed near the end of the book by a pack of dogs controlled by an evil priest, who happens to be a failed film critic and a master of animal hypnotism."
Alexa thumped her head dully on the desk, embarrassed that a teacher had read her test. "Scarlet, a plucky teenage scientist, invents her own letter. The letter comes after Z and is shaped like a cross between an R and a D and is pronounced with a sound similar to a frog choking on a sunflower seed. Scarlet's letter has magical powers."
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