Have I written?
DAMN! This was going to be my storming past the finish line week. Now I'll be lucky if I scrape in at the end. Still, all is not lost. I just need to rack up 2K or so and I'm there. Wish me luck.
However I have written something. I've taken my hero and heroine off to Ireland, to Inishmore, the island she was born on. It's fair to see she's having a difficult time. Still flying by the seat of my pants I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this. Bear with me.
|CC image by Alliecouture on flickr - Inishmore|
Come, they whispered. Join us. Forward
In Piper’s vision she hadn’t been scared. Here, she was gripped by a terror so pure it turned her insides to fractured ice and locked her limbs stiff.
Leave me alone, she cried in her head, trying to grip onto reality by concentrating on what was there and real, the cold stone against her shoulder, the wind clawing at her hood, the damp earth beneath her knees.
The air grew darker. All she could see was them, crowding her, pressing in, eyes like dark fire flickering in the night, gaping caverns where mouths should be.
He shook her shoulder. “Hey you. Is anyone in there?” His touch was warm, solid and human. Instinctively, she turned towards him, a moth seeking the warmth of a flame, feral as an animal. He was flesh and bone, salt and life and she wanted his touch with a hunger that tore through her stomach.She had forgotten he would be seeing a monster.