Camp Nanowrimo Update

It feels like only yesterday when I started my first Camp Nanowrimo on 1 April. Now, with less than a week to go, I am thrilled to say that I finished early!

I gave myself a word count of 10 000 words, and today the figure stands at some 12 000 words. This weekend is a long weekend in South Africa (it’s Freedom Day on 27 April), so I’m going to push myself to hit at least 15 000 on my word count.

I tried out some new software*

In other news, I started using Scrivener this month, and I’m finding it a really, really helpful tool. While I’ve heard of it before, I’ve never really given it a lot of attention. But I can highly recommend it even though I’ve only been using it for a few weeks. I am still making use of WikidPad for some parts of the worldbuilding, though, but then put the exported wiki in Scrivener.

Here’s a short introduction video of Scrivener for those wondering how the software works:

Flash Fiction: Fairy Cakes

"Fairy Cakes" was written for the 17 April Flash!Friday competition and received a special mention for the best use of the supernatural. The prompts were the  photo and the setting "kitchen".

Fairy Cakes

When I recognise the man in the shadow coloured coat, I realise that more than a decade have passed on his side of the wall since he was told he had to leave. It feels like centuries have disappeared. 

At the kitchen window I wave at him and can see the haze of blue and grey glass buildings on his side of the world. But he doesn’t see me.

The oven dings and I rush over to remove a new tray of cakes. Now that I know he’s here, I start on a new batch of batter; all golden eggs and silver apples. His childhood favourite. I make snow white frosting flavoured with summer roses. Flakes of crayon-yellow sunshine glitter on top.

An apprehensive hand grips my heart. Almost none return here. They disbelieve every memory of magic. They start believing none of this matter. They become hollow.

Clutching hope in my chest, I put the tray of frosted cakes by the open window and let the fresh smell drift into the air.

I wait, hands trembling. Fidgeting. Every second stretches to a year.

Then he looks around at the familiar smell and smiles like a child; released from the glass and smog world for a while.

Prison Guard, 1910. Public domain photo.

Favourite Music Thursday - "In the End" by Linkin Park

This is still one of my favourites - not to mention the absolutely awesome music video.

So... Where's the Map?

At the beginning of April, I promised the new map I drew of Airtha. Well, I found out that some of my other maps I had posted, was being misused.

Needles to say, I was not amused when I found out.*

So I decided not to post the whole map at this time. And I will also be sure to put the correct attribution licence on the future posts as well. Lesson. Learned.


*The whole creative commons and fan fiction discussion can be left for another day - it's a bit too long for this post.

Flash Fiction: Twisted Time

This piece was written for the 10 April Flash!Friday competition. The prompts were “spy” and the photo. In this one I also experimented a bit with formatting. 

The Beggar. CC2.0 photo by Foto_Michel.

Twisted Time

I don’t know where I am. The place looks familiar in a time-twisted sort of way. The shop over there should be the bakery. The sweet shop across from me. But they’re gone, suddenly, disappeared overnight. Someone came to change everything. 

“Crazy crone,” someone mutters as they walk past.

Why is the sweet shop selling gambling tickets? 

I want to play, but I feel drained. My mind feels strange. Someone changed everything. 

Something clicks. 

I wonder why I’m sitting on the cobbles. I should be at home where it’s warm. In my hand is a piece of chalk. Next to me, in a cup, more pieces. There’s a picture on the cobbles of a house with a tree and a family. It looks like it was drawn by a child, but I don’t see any children close by. 

My fingers are covered in coloured chalk dust.

What on Earth am I doing here?

I don’t know where I am. The sweet shop is gone, but I have chalk to draw with. None of the other kids want to play with me. 

A beautiful lady in a silver dress comes to sit next to me. 

Something clicks. 

“Time,” I ask. “What have you done to me?”

View image | gettyimages.com

Flash Fiction: We’ll Be Free

This flash piece was also written for the 10 April Flash!Friday competition. For once this is a more upbeat piece! 

The world in which it takes place is Airtha – with a bit of the Ruon and Nithin thrown in. 

We’ll Be Free

I know the Nithin can see me where I’m sitting on the corner of the street. It was foolishly stupid of me to sneak so close when I know they can spot me - even though the shadow cloak worked with charms of invisibility hides me from other eyes. But it was my ticket to learn the truth. Now I know how they make their poison. Now I know that my best friend has been helping them. I’d recognise the Dragon’s Bane plant anywhere. Her family’s safety bought with a bunch of thorny leaves, berries, and roots at the expense of ours. I want to throw myself at her. Claw at her. Curse her for being a traitor and murderer.  

The Nithin steps closer in order to see my face, but a mask of white clay hides my features. A ball of paper wrapped around a dragon tear buys me time as I throw it on the cobbles and let it pour forth a veil of acrid smoke. Panic grips the closest people and I run with the knowledge of how to save my people. No longer will people accept the Nithin and their magical hold on life and death here in Agraver.  

We’ll be free. 

The Beggar. CC2.0 photo by Foto_Michel.

Flash Fiction: We’ll Be Free

This flash piece was also written for the 10 April Flash!Friday competition. For once this is a more upbeat piece! 

The world in which it takes place is Airtha – with a bit of the Ruon and Nithin thrown in. 

We’ll Be Free

I know the Nithin can see me where I’m sitting on the corner of the street. It was foolishly stupid of me to sneak so close when I know they can spot me - even though the shadow cloak worked with charms of invisibility hides me from other eyes. But it was my ticket to learn the truth. Now I know how they make their poison. Now I know that my best friend has been helping them. I’d recognise the Dragon’s Bane plant anywhere. Her family’s safety bought with a bunch of thorny leaves, berries, and roots at the expense of ours. I want to throw myself at her. Claw at her. Curse her for being a traitor and murderer.  

The Nithin steps closer in order to see my face, but a mask of white clay hides my features. A ball of paper wrapped around a dragon tear buys me time as I throw it on the cobbles and let it pour forth a veil of acrid smoke. Panic grips the closest people and I run with the knowledge of how to save my people. No longer will people accept the Nithin and their magical hold on life and death here in Agraver.  

We’ll be free. 

The Beggar. CC2.0 photo by Foto_Michel.