Ten Words

Penny Arcade is having a contest where you have to write a short short set in World of Warcraft in only ten words. Just thought I'd post my entries since this kind of counts as writing fiction...right?

1) My life for the horde? How about some HOT instead?

2) My life for the horde? Let's not be too hasty.

3) Lich King? More like Bitch...King.......please don't immolate me.

4) Dupers (and non-dupers) beware! GM Gabriel will "confiscate" your loot.

5) Eat your vegetables or I'll tell Scarlet Crusaders you're undead.

New story!

Good Lord, I haven't updated in forever! To remedy that, here's a tidbit from my newest story. I think it establishes the main character's personality pretty well in just a few paragraphs. It will grow more and more supernatural.

The note read:

George-

Don’t forget to take your pills. I’ll be back late tonight.
-Teresa

Next to it was a small paper cup containing his medication. George frowned, crumpled up the little piece of paper, and tossed it into the garbage. He hated taking his pills, and she knew it, which was why there was always some variation on this note left neatly next to a cup of pills waiting for him every morning. Just once, he thought, I would like her to trust that I’ll do it without leaving some inane note. He immediately felt regretful for thinking something so uncharitable about the woman he loved, and who loved him so much that she was sticking around like this.

George threw together a breakfast of bacon and fried eggs, his favorite. He ate slowly, savoring his last few moments of clarity before he’d have to give into duty and take the goddamn pills. On those days when Teresa was at home, he often used the excuse that he hadn’t eaten yet, and thus could not take the pills least they reacted adversely to his empty stomach. Her usual response was to throw a protein bar at him. Despite her irritation, or maybe because of it, her reaction always made him laugh. Just thinking about it know brought a small smile to George’s face, though it slipped away before long.

The last bite came far too soon. Best to do it like a Band-Aid, George thought. He picked up the cup, tossed back the pills, and chased them with shot of orange juice. His duty to God and country complete, George went to the living room and sat on the couch to await the blurry onset of existence as he now knew it. The pills prevented him from doing anything worthwhile; they robbed him of his ambitions, desires, and motivations. He couldn’t work, couldn’t read, couldn’t write, and could barely have a conversation with someone. All day George sat in the same spot, hardly noticing the passing time, only feeling the oppressive weight of medicated chemicals coursing relentlessly through his veins. But if he didn’t take the pills, he started to see things he didn’t want to see. He’d rather sit blankly on a couch for days than see those things.

George turned on the TV as he always did, but it was more for Teresa’s benefit when she came home rather than an actual desire to watch something. It disturbed her to find him sitting alone in a room staring out into nothing, so he pretended to be interested in the news or pro wrestling or this week’s made-for-TV movie.

A few hours later, he realized that he was paying attention to the TV. At first, the recognition of that awareness was so shocking that it took him a few minutes to even register his shock. He shouldn’t be feeling anything right now. In fact, he should be a virtual vegetable, completely unaware of his surroundings. But when he thought back to the past couple of hours of the programs he’d been watching, he remembered all of it. First there’d been some news about a shooting at a local mall, and then there’d been a talk show with political pundits discussing White House affairs. After that, a courtroom drama about a mother suing her son had come on, and the son had won the case on a technicality. The knowledge that he’d been aware this whole time amazed him, but it also made his gut harden into a knot of worry. Did this mean that his medication was no longer effective? Would he start to hallucinate again? Maybe it was a sign that he was getting better, that he’d adapted to the side-effects of the drugs. George wanted nothing more than to believe that, yet somehow he didn’t think that was the case. After two years of taking those meds, nothing had changed in his behavior and the way he reacted to them. It was too much to hope that such a sudden change marked anything but a potential problem.

New Beginning

I started a new beginning for my novel in an attempt to liven things up and add a little more motivation and action.  I think it's pretty good for a first draft:

    Nacoma ran through the forest in a desperate gambit to escape with her life.  If she had been alone, she might have tried to make a stand, but there were too many men for her to fend off herself and protect Alayne at the same time.  Low hanging branches and brush slapped her in the face and scratched her bare arms.  Her breeches threatened to get caught on a bush every other step, but Nacoma forced her legs forward, not daring to slow down in the slightest.  While her left arm pumped up and down as she ran, her right arm hung out behind her, Alayne's hand grasped tightly in her own.  She heard Alayne's panicked breathing, her gasps every time a branch hit her, but her friend never cried out.  Despite the danger of their situation, Nacoma couldn't help but feel a little proud at Alayne's courage.  She was used to studying in quiet libraries and never going outdoors except for a refreshing walk; but with the threat of the men behind them, Alayne's feet were just as swift and sure as Nacoma's.
    The two girls ran in silence, weaving through trees and jumping over fallen logs.  If either stumbled, the other would steady her, and they would continue on in their flight.  Nacoma tried to listen for sounds of pursuit over the beating of her heart and the rapid breaths through her lungs, but it was nearly impossible to hear anything except for the frantic noises she and Alayne made.  She still had enough energy and stamina to continue for at least fifteen or twenty minutes, but Nacoma noticed the subtle change in Alayne's breathing that said she would soon reach her breaking point.  Nacoma squeezed her friend's hand, trying to send strength and reassurance through the pressure of their palms, silently begging Alayne to hold out just a little while longer.  How long, Nacoma didn't know, and she began to despair that they would ever find someplace to hide.
    Their original hiding place, between the giant boulders of the foothills, had seemed the perfect spot to rest for the day.  She and Alayne had been traveling hard from their home at the monastery, and Alayne wanted to rest for a few hours.  Though Nacoma was reluctant to stop in such a forlorn place, she reluctantly agreed after Alayne's persistent urging.  While they nibbled on travel biscuits and talked of the bright future that lay ahead of them at the University, brigands attacked them.  Nacoma was up in an instant, pulling Alayne behind her and running out of the foothills into the forest below.  She had appraised the threat within seconds and knew immediately that she could not bring down all five men on her own.  Alayne was no help at all, the shock of the attack had dulled her wits, so the next best thing was to run.
    Keeping her eyes ahead of them, Nacoma scanned the forest for any bush or mound or ravine that could possibly hide them from the men who followed them.  She tried to listen again for signs of pursuit, and cursed the brigands for their silence.  Most roughnecks would be taunting the two girls, out in the forest alone, but these men were holding their piece.  Nacoma tried to glance back to see if she could catch a glimpse of their pursuers, but all she could see was Alayne's frightened face and the streaming banner of her blond hair in the wind.  She cursed inwardly again—that hair was probably visible from dozens of feet away.
    Gasping, Nacoma pulled Alayne closer as they ran, and as quietly as she could, said, "Look behind you and tell me if you see them."
    Without a word, Alayne turned back and scanned the forest.  She looked back at Nacoma and shook her head.  Nacoma nodded once, but did not slacken their pace.  She still hadn't found a safe place for them to stop, and even if something did present itself, they would have to try and cover their tracks first if they wanted to get away unfound.  They had to assume that the men were trackers too, so even if they'd lost sight of the girls, their frantic running was leaving enough of a trail for anyone to follow.
    Finally, Nacoma heard a sound that made her heart sing with relief.  In the distance was the bubbling flow of water—their salvation.  A break in the trees revealed a stream that flowed with the spring melt coming down from the mountains.  Nacoma veered to the right to follow the stream, making sure that their footprints clearly showed in the dirt the direction they were headed.  When she and Alayne plunged into the water, she jerked her friend to abruptly to the left and started running in the opposite direction.  The icy water filled her boots and cut straight to the bone, but Nacoma did not let her legs slow down.  Alayne didn't speak a word, though Nacoma was sure that the other girl was wondering what on earth they were doing.  What Nacoma was doing was hoping against hope that the water would mask their trail, and that the brigands would follow the false footprints.
    Running the water was harder, and made more noise, but Nacoma prayed that they had enough time to cross their initial path out of the woods and get far enough downstream that the brigands would not see them before they broke the cover of the trees as well.  Unfortunately, they were not so lucky.  When she and Alayne were about twenty feet downstream from where they had come out of the trees, she heard the grunts and curses of the men following them.  Stopping immediately, Nacoma pulled Alayne further out into the water where it was deeper, then pulled her friend under.  Alayne spluttered at first, but she heard the men coming too, and quickly quieted down.  They were fortunate that there were a few large rocks in the middle of the stream, and so they carefully flowed with the water to the nearest rock where they could hang on and keep themselves hidden.
    Five men came out of the trees, searching up and down the stream for their quarry.  One of them pointed to the tracks that Nacoma had made, and the men followed them into the water.  When the footprints disappeared, the men stopped and stood in a circle, conferring with each other.  Nacoma watched them with bated breath, praying that they would take the bait and go upstream, in the direction that the footprints led.  At first she thought that they were surely saved when the men continued to look in that direction, but then they turned around and headed straight towards her and Alayne.  Groaning inwardly, Nacoma pushed Alayne away from the rock and the two began swimming with the current.  They had nothing with them except for their clothes, having left all their supplies and bags back at the rocky outcrop, and the only thing weighing down Nacoma were the knives in her boots and strapped to her waist.  Still, they were made of light steel, so they didn't cut her buoyancy too much.  It was kind of a blessing, really, because the weight kept her body underwater where the men couldn't see her.
    She and Alayne swam quickly but quietly, neither girl looking back in case the sudden movement alerted the men behind.  Each movement became a more and more arduous effort, though, as the biting chill of the snowmelt penetrated their bodies.  Nacoma could clearly see that Alayne was slowing down, and she swam up to her friend to help her alone.  When Alayne felt Nacoma's touch, she seemed to take comfort from it and redoubled her efforts.  The water began to flow faster, and their swimming became a little easier, but the increase in speed worried Nacoma.  If it got too fast, they might not be able to control their progress anymore, and then they would be in just as much danger from rocks in the streambed as the men following them.  Weighing the dangers, Nacoma started to nudge Alayne towards the opposite bank.  Alayne understood and swam to the shore, careful to keep as much of her body in the water as possible.  They had almost reached the bank when they heard a shout from behind.  Nacoma whirled around and saw that the brigands had spotted them.  She grabbed Alayne's arm and pulled her out of the water, practically dragging her.  Their limbs were too numb from the cold, though, and Nacoma could hardly make her arms and legs do what she wanted.  She and Alayne had to crawl from the stream to dry land, trying to warm their bodies enough to continue their flight.
    Nacoma stumbled to her feet first, urging Alayne up.  Taking one of Alayne's arms, Nacoma threw it over her shoulder and supported her friend as they continued to run.  But it was now a losing battle because neither of them could regain their previous speed and desperation.  Lethargy and stiffness had invaded their muscles from the cold of the stream, and Nacoma began to lose hope.  She was supposed to protect Alayne; they were supposed to protect each other.  Now neither of them could even put one foot in front of the other in order to escape the danger that came ever closer.
    Unable to stand it any longer, Nacoma collapsed against a nearby tree, taking Alayne down with her.  They gasped together, their eyes tightly shut in the pain they felt together, and the anguish that seeped into their hearts made them cling to each other in fright.
    Alayne opened her eyes and said, "You should go on without me."
    "No, don't even say things like that to me," Nacoma said furiously.  "I am never leaving you, sister."
    "I can hold them off, at least for a little while.  You have to get away, for the both of us."
    "No!  It would make me nothing but a coward," Nacoma said, trying to block out Alayne's pleas.
    "Nacoma, you must.  One of us has to make the journey.  I've been thinking about what to do, and I think I can cast a spell that will hold them back for a little while."
    "Then cast it now," Nacoma said through clenched teeth.  She reached for the knives at her waist and pulled one free.  "You hold them off and I'll take them out."
    Alayne shook her head.  "It's too dangerous.  You need to run."
    Looking into Alayne's clear blue eyes, seeing the fear and love in them, only hardened Nacoma's resolve.  She would not leave her best friend to those wolves.  Determination settling over her face, Nacoma carefully pushed herself up to her feet and turned back towards the stream, back towards their pursuers.
    She glanced down at Alayne and said, "Whatever it is you were thinking of doing, you better do it now.  I'm going after them."
    Nacoma hardly heard Alayne's cry as she ran back to the stream.  Immediately, she was set upon by one of the men.  He was large and burly, the muscle of his arms bigger almost than her thighs.  A few years ago, she might have been intimidated beyond belief by this man, but Nacoma knew enough about the human body now to make it work for her.  She would turn this man's strength against him and make it a liability instead of an asset.  He charged her, his face contorted in a nasty snarl.  Nacoma could see the rotting teeth in his mouth, the dirt on his nose, and the filthy mess of his hair as if she stood mere inches from him.  She let her mind float free and observe the man's movement's dispassionately.  When brought his arm up to slash her with the dagger he held in his fist, Nacoma darted quickly beneath his defenses and slashed upward with her knife, slicing through his throat and cutting the carotid artery.  Hot blood gushed forth, and the man's limp fingers let go his knife and flew to the wound, trying uselessly to keep the life from escaping his body.
     Before the body had even hit the ground, another of the brigands attacked Nacoma.  He was wiry and thin, and far more cautious after seeing his comrade so easily dispatched.  Rather than rush her, he circled Nacoma carefully, sizing her up.  She took the opportunity to do the same, and noted with dismay that he held a sword.  It would be far more difficult to get close enough to use her knives on this man, but fortunately she had other avenues open to her.  Without warning, Nacoma turned and fled downstream, away from the wiry brigand.  He shouted out in surprise, but followed closely on her heels in no time.  That was exactly what Nacoma wanted.  Looking over her shoulder, Nacoma lined up the target in her mind, flipped her knife in her hand, then threw it back in one powerful motion.  The man never knew what caused him to fall so suddenly.  Not wasting any time, Nacoma turned his body over, retrieved her knife, and then relieved him of his sword.  She scanned the area for the other three men, but saw no one.  Icy tendrils of dread gripped her heart, and Nacoma was off in a second.
    Running furiously, she prayed that she was not too late to protect Alayne, but the cries of her friend told her she was.  Though the distance wasn't far, it felt like a lifetime before Nacoma burst in on the three men holding Alayne down on the ground.  She was struggling and crying against them, but they only laughed at her and continued to paw at her clothing.  Nacoma screamed out in rage and charge forward, swearing that she would kill all three for what they were planning on doing to her and Alayne.  Only one man bothered to turn towards Nacoma, he was fat and paunchy and gave her a lecherous grin.  His self-satisfied smirk faltered slightly when he saw the blood covering her, but he recovered quickly when he realized that she knew how to hold a sword.  The fat man unsheathed his own weapon, meeting Nacoma's two inches in front of his face.  He was strong, but Nacoma was fast, and she jabbed, parried, and thrust in quick succession, trying to throw him off.  Within seconds she found her opening and stabbed the fat man in the gut.  As he cried out in pain, Nacoma twisted the blade to make sure the damage she did was lethal before pulling her weapon free.
    Nacoma swung around towards Alayne, ready to fight the other two, but Alayne's urgent shout stopped her.  Without thinking, Nacoma dropped to the ground, hugging the dirt.  It wasn't moments too soon, and she felt a gust of wind swish over her head.  Blood curdling screams cut through the air.  When Nacoma looked up, she saw the remaining two men, now in four pieces, their bodies cut cleanly in half.  They lived long enough to see their insides before dying in front of her eyes.
    The sight of the blood and guts would have reduced Nacoma to a violent bout of sickness if not for her concern for Alayne.  She scrambled over to where her friend lay panting on the ground.  Gently touching Alayne's arm, Nacoma said, "Are you alright?"
    Alayne nodded, her eyes closed tightly.  "I don't want to see it.  Can you help me up so that I don't have to see it?"
    "Of course," Nacoma said, slipped her arm through Alayne's and bringing her to her feet.  The two girls walked back to the stream where Nacoma washed the blood off her face and clothes.  Since they didn't how far they had run, or even where they had come from, they gave up on trying to find their lost possessions, and instead began following the flow of the stream, hopefully to civilization.

NaNoWriMo excerpt

It is the end of November and I managed to write 50,000+ words this month. Hooray! Below is an excerpt from my novel. It's not a complete novel, but it's a start, and I had a blast doing it. I can't wait til next year!

Nacoma woke up before the sunrise, unable to maintain a deep sleep since taking the second watch broke up the night’s rest for her. Despite the restless night, she didn’t feel too out of sorts, nothing a hot cup of tea couldn’t help.

She sat up and squinted through the dark, trying to find Steven’s outline in the gloom. He was nowhere to be seen, though, so she got up to her feet to take a look around. Thinking that he was probably doing a perimeter watch, Nacoma started circling the outside of their camp, gradually widening the circle as she walked around and around. The trees were rather thick in this area, one of the reasons why they chose to sleep there for the night, so she couldn’t see very far in any direction, especially since it was getting to that time of day when the light was somewhere between shadow and illumination, obscuring everything more than if it were total night or day.

On her third circuit, Nacoma started to feel a tingling sensation in the middle of her back. It wasn’t actually something physical, but more of a sixth sense. As she continued walking, she examined the feeling closely, trying to determine what was causing it. Judging by the reaction she felt, it was a foreign presence that was making the alarm go off in her mind. Nacoma decided to try a little trick she had learned from having to fend off irritating boys half her life. Picking up the pace, she began to step more and more carefully, ensuring that her movements made as little sound as possible. She also watched the tracks she made, doing her best to leave no traces behind her, or to erase the ones that she couldn’t avoid making.

Once she was sure that she had obscured her progress enough, Nacoma began to circle around, trying to position herself so that she could sneak up behind whoever was following her. Even though she wasn’t pushing herself hard or quickly, the tension in her shoulders made her muscles ache painfully, threatening to break her concentration and stealth. After about fifteen minutes, her hard work paid off when she began to hear a faint rustling in the brush ahead of her. Finally, she was approaching her pursuer. The forest was still shrouded in dark despite the light coming over the horizon, so she couldn’t get a good look at who it was. All Nacoma could see was a dark form crouching in the trees, searching back and forth at the ground in front of it.
Ever so slowly, Nacoma crept even closer to the figure, carefully sliding a knife out from her boot since it was the one part of her armory that was least likely to make noise. When she was two feet away, Nacoma lunged forward suddenly but silently, bringing up her arm to catch the figure, and her knife to threaten its neck. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been careful enough because the man was ready for her attack. He quickly unsheathed the sword belted at his waist and swiftly blocked her knife thrust.

Their blades locked together tightly, Nacoma stared straight into the clear blue eyes before her and said, “Damn, how did you know I was there?”

Steven laughed, but didn’t let up the pressure on her blade. “I heard the sound of your knife against your boot leather. It was subtle, and I probably wouldn’t have heard it if I hadn’t been crouching down like that trying to listen for some movement.”

Nacoma smiled back, nodding to him in acknowledgment of his prowess. “So, who’s going to give in first here?”

“I’d say you better give in first. After all, that little blade isn’t going to hold up very long against my sword.”

Twisting her lips in frustration, Nacoma pushed off of Steven’s swords and stood back from him, granting defeat. “Why so eager to stalk me?” she asked, letting a little smile play on the edge of her lips as she bent to sheath her knife.

“Just thought I’d put your abilities to the test,” Steven said, putting his blade back in its scabbard as well, “and I must say that I’m thoroughly in awe.”

“Why’s that?” Nacoma said with a laugh.

“I completely lost you before I heard you unsheathe your knife. Whoever taught you must have been incredibly good.”

The smile slipped off Nacoma’s face as she remembered her early lessons at the monastery. “I guess they were,” she said.

Steven cocked his head to the side, his eyes silently asking if she wanted to elaborate. But Nacoma didn’t want to elaborate, so she changed the subject instead.

“Tell me where you learned how to track like that,” she said, starting to head back to the camp. “And how to fight. From the look of those scars, you’ve seen quite a lot.”

Steven followed her. “Yes, well, I wasn’t exactly sociable in my younger years, so when Clopin left for the University, I didn’t really have any friends.”

“Wasn’t Clopin sent there when he was eight? What could you have done at eight?”

“Well I didn’t do anything right away,” Steven said. “Clopin would come back home from time to time because his mother wanted him to, though by the time we were sixteen or so, he was old enough and far enough along in his studies that coming all the way back to our backwater village was more of a chore than it was worth.” He smiled in reminiscence. “We both liked to talk about the great things we’d do when we were old enough to be on our own, but I think Clopin is the only one who actually has”

“What do you mean?” Nacoma asked. “I don’t believe that whatever caused those scars was boring, or anything less than great.”

“That’s only because you’ve never been in a real fight,” Steven said, no longer smiling.

Nacoma walked next to him in silence for a few moments, but finally had to ask, “How did you become a mercenary?”

He stared up into the trees, his eyes tracking the gaps in the canopy where the early morning light shone through. “I guess it was just a sort of desperation. I wanted to get away from home, but I didn’t know how to do it. One day, I just wrapped up some clothes, grabbed my father’s old sword, put all the money I had in my pocket, and walked to the nearest town. It took me a couple days to get there, and I found a merchant who looking to hire hands to help with his caravan. Everything kind of grew from there.”

“Sounds like the life I’d like to lead,” Nacoma said wistfully.

“You’d rather travel constantly and always be in danger of attack than live comfortably at the University?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, excitement flooding her. “That’s what I was born to do. I’m supposed to be a warrior; I’ve been trained for it since I was a child. But everyone in my life has sheltered me from the moment I began that training. What’s the point of it?”

“You assume there has to be a point?”

“Yes,” Nacoma said. “There has to be a point to my life.”

They were back at the camp now, and Clopin was already up, getting breakfast ready and packing things back into the saddlebags.

“Where did you two go?” he asked when they walked out of the trees. “I thought someone was supposed to be keeping watch?”

“I thought you were a University trained Master who could take care of himself,” Steven said flippantly.

“Not when I’m asleep,” Clopin replied. “So where were you?”

“I woke up early and went looking for Steven,” Nacoma answered.

“Did you know this woman can virtually disappear in the forest?” Steven said.

Clopin grinned. “Unfortunately, I do, as I’ve had to track her down in the University grounds quite a few times.”

“And he always has to use magic to find me,” Nacoma said, chin held high.

They sat around the small fire Clopin had made and broke their fast with tea and hard biscuits. It wasn’t filling or appetizing, but Nacoma comforted herself with the thought that they would soon be in a large city where she could finally get a real meal and a bath. Her fantasies about food and cleanliness almost made her forget that they were walking into an extremely dangerous situation, but Clopin was kind enough to bring that subject back up again.

“We need a plan for when we arrive in Seaport,” he said.

“Well, we should establish our roles first,” said Steven. “I know they probably have more information on us than we think, but it could still be beneficial for us to assume certain roles and maintain them throughout.”

“Then Clopin is in charge,” Nacoma said. “He plays the leader role, and we play the followers. Everyone will be looking at him, and we can get around unnoticed.”

Clopin shook his head. “That’s only half of it. All three of us will be watched, so we need to go further.”

“Like Tiend said, Brevier is going to separate us the first chance he gets,” said Steven. “So what do we do if we’re being watched constantly?”

“We watch them in return,” Clopin said. “I’ll keep tabs on Brevier and Tiend, make sure that they can’t make a move against us without us finding out immediately.”

“But won’t the Duke be sending Tiend on any number of errands?” Nacoma asked. “I can watch him. I’m probably in the best position to do so.”

“How’s that?” Clopin said. “I know him, I know the kind of person he is. I think I’m best equipped to handle him.”

Nacoma shook her head. “You said yourself that he always resented you. He’s setting us up, I don’t care what he says about owing you. I’m best equipped to handle him because I’m a woman.”

Clopin gaped at her in astonishment. He was silent so long that Steven had to fill in for him.
“So you’re saying that you’re going to, what, seduce him?”

“I don’t think it’ll have to go that far,” Nacoma answered. “But he’s less likely to see me as a threat as opposed to the two of you.” She looked at Clopin questioningly. “Are you alright with this?”

He still seemed a little dumbfounded by her declaration, and it took him a few more minutes before he finally said, “I just worry. Tiend is dangerous in his own right. This is a risky thing to do.”

“Granted all I’ve known is the monastery and the University, but I also know everything there is to know about men. I’ve been surrounded by them my whole life after all.”

“We aren't that difficult to understand," Clopin said with a laugh. "The difficult part is knowing how to be a woman, Nacoma. You haven’t really done a lot of that.”

It was slightly amusing how naïve he thought she was, but at the same time it irked her. The University was definitely a sheltered place to live, but she had been around men and boys enough to know how to deal with them. After seeing what Tiend was like, she was confident that she could handle him. Rather than argue with Clopin, though, she changed the subject. “You’re forgetting about the Duke’s daughter, and since you were so close to her, he’s probably going to use her against you. You’ll need to concentrate all your effort on watching the both of them.”

Clopin looked to Steven, seemingly for support, but Nacoma could tell that he wasn’t getting what he wanted from his friend. Steven didn’t make any movements of assent or dissent, but Clopin seemed to find an answer. Turning back to Nacoma, he said, “Alright, you keep an eye on Tiend. Steven, I think you should concentrate on the staff. I know for a fact that the Duke abuses them in one way or another, so if you can winnow out any information or assistance, it could help us in the long run.”

“No problem,” Steven said.

“Alright, we better head out now,” Clopin said. “Our warm welcome is awaiting us.”

The Death Card - Final Part

Hey, sorry about the long wait. I just started a new job last week, and I've also decided to participate in this year's NaNoWriMo, so I've been preoccupied with that. But, I do have the end to this story, so I'm posting that before I move on to other things with this blog. I think I'll start posting excerpts from my NaNoWriMo novel soon, so keep a look out for that. Or you can check it out at the link in my profile to the left.

I know the formatting is all screwed up, but ignore it. Without further ado, we finally get to see what goes on in the wacky mind of George:

I could not believe that she handed me the Death Card. She was treating me like a ten year old. Not like she’s the only one, though. Everyone treats me like a ten year old most of the time. But I kind of expected more from Alice. Hearing her talk to me like a kid just set me off, especially the way she told me to leave, so superior, as if I couldn’t possibly understand the meaning of “please leave.”

“I told you that your boyfriend was an asshole because I would’ve treated you a thousand times better than he did. He may be my friend, but he never deserved you.”

That’s what I wanted to say.

I didn’t say that.

“Fine, whatever,” that’s all I could force out of my stupid mouth. So I just left.

After the door closed behind me, I stood on their front stoop for a while. It sucked to have Alice say stuff like that to me; I always thought she was super nice and cool. Freddie definitely didn’t deserve a girl like that. He’s my friend and all, but I know him well, and I knew from the beginning that he’d eventually mistreat Alice. Shelley trying to get rid of me made sense, I knew she didn’t like me, but I sort of thought Alice saw me differently.

The Death Card. Fuck, where the hell did she find that? I checked it out, turning the card over in my hand. It was kind of weird how it was a red Bicycle card; didn’t I give Jake the same brand? Whatever, Bicycle decks were pretty common.

Even though I knew Jake was kind of pissed, I figured he’d be able to put up with me a little better now that I was pissed too, so I left Shelley and Alice’s porch and started walking towards Jake’s place. It was kind of far, so the walk gave me plenty of time to freeze my ass off.

I was two blocks from Jake’s house when he pulled up next to me.

He rolled down the window. “Dude, what are you doing around here?”

“Looking for you, man,” I said, putting on my cheery “no worries” face.

“I thought you had shit to take care of?”

“Change of plans. How come you aren’t home? Didn’t you leave my place like an hour ago?”

“Went for a drive.”

“Well, duh, I can see that. So you gonna let me in the damn car or do I have to stand out here and risk my boys freezing up on me? I do want to have children one day.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry man.” I got in the car and started fiddling with the heater, trying to keep moving so I didn’t have to think about Alice.

Jake made a three point turn and started driving away. “We’re not going to your place?” I asked.

“No, I just feel like driving around. Don’t really want to stay in one place.”

“You gonna tell me what’s up?”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s up? Alice called and told me that you were at their place. What’s going on there?”

Crap, cover your tracks George. “Oh, nothing. Was in the neighborhood, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. You went to talk to Shelley.” Damn he knew me too well.

“Ok ok, but only because you wouldn’t tell me anything.”

He was kind of quiet for a while, and I thought for sure he was pissed at me again and getting ready to kick me out of the car. When he pulled off the road and parked in the nearest spot, I braced myself for getting shoved head-first onto the pavement. Instead, Jake turned the car off and said, “She’s a cheater, George, that’s what. And she decided to tell me about it on my birthday.”

He said it so calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. What do you say to a guy who’s so dead inside that he can’t even muster up some anger against his cheating girlfriend? I didn’t get angry for him, though, just calmly said, “Shit, that’s so low. Who else knows?”

“Just Max, apparently.”

“Max? Gross. That guy is so pompous.”

“Pompous? Have you been reading a dictionary or something?”

“I’m not stupid, man. People just think I am.”

He sighed and said, “I know, George. I’m sorry.”

He did sound sorry, and even though I felt like being a punk, I remembered that the guy was no better off than me at that moment. “No prob. Come on, dude, it’s your birthday. Let's go get trashed or something.”

“But it’s only four in the afternoon.”

“Oh come on, you know what I say whenever someone tries to tell me it’s too early.”

Jake laughed. “Yeah, I know. ‘Somewhere in the world, it’s after six.’” He started up the car again.

“When I’m drunk enough, I’ll tell you my rejection story,” I said.

“You mean you’ve got a new one? I thought I heard them all already.”

“Nope, this one’s hot off the presses. It’s pretty killer, too, though I don’t know if it rivals Shelley.”

“Whatever. We’ll wallow together.”

“Yeah, let’s go get our wallow on!”

Too bad it wasn’t after six. Then we could’ve driven off into the sunset.