I’m sure most of you can understand what it’s like to be a writer. Jotting down silly notions when you have free time, writing pieces that will never see the light of day, changing your story lines a million different times before you finally settle on something good…you know…being a sporadic eccentric human meat bag that doesn’t have the patience to write a 50 to 70k word novel. That type of writer.
I have a billion different ideas for amazing stories that I want to share with the world, but sometimes all of that gets lost in translation. I always start something brilliant and then life happens to get in the way or I can’t seem to find the fortitude to finish what I started. It’s probably the latter of the two…but that doesn’t mean I stop writing out my ideas. So for this evening I thought I would share two little snippets of a novel I have had in the works for a very long time. I hope you guys can enjoy them as much as I do! Let me know in the comments what you think or if you would like some more sneak peeks 🙂
“What do you write about?” I ask him curiously. “I write about snow colored girls, ghost, and death.” He replies, his eyes never leaving his journal. “Why death?” I say trying to see his words more closely. “Because death is a beautiful thing. It’s peaceful. What else in this world is peaceful? Nothing. Life is too busy, too complicated, too demanding. It never slows down and it never lets up. At least death is simple. Simple and peaceful. And I like peaceful.” “You’re a strange boy.” I say. “And you’re a strange girl.” He says finally looking at me. His pen has stopped, and so have the delicate letters that flow from it.
My lungs claw at their first breath of arctic air, my chest heaving heavily at a rapid pace. The blizzard is roaring all around me, whipping my waist length white hair in every direction possible. My translucent kimono does little to keep my body from being bitten by the wintry cold. My bare feet are numb from the snow on the forest floor. Were they numb or was my body finally adjusting to the below zero temperature? I had done this so many times that I was starting to lose track. My gaze follows the barren trees up to the murky sapphire skyline. The moon is full, just as I suspected. My hair is being blown in and out of my vision. This god forsaken flurry of ice, snow, and wind. I always disdained emerging to life in the middle of a blizzard, but it was inescapable. This was simply me.
I walk towards a young sapling that doesn’t look like it’s going to make it through the night. I turn my head slightly and peek at the ground. No footprints. This was still something that perplexed me. I had two feet just like a normal human being, and yet I never left any footprints. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t made of flesh and blood. As I stand in front of this sad, pathetic, lonely tree I start to remember my home. I remember…him. My heart wrenches at the thought of him. If I am here then so is he.