777 Challenge

I’m delighted to see that the 777 challenge appears to be making a come-back.  I used to enjoy reading this one from other bloggers, before I had a blog of my own, and I’ve always wanted to try it.   So when I saw the 777 challenge on Deborah’s blog, and also on Madeline’s, I couldn’t help myself -I just had to steal it.

For those unfamiliar with the idea, the challenge is so named because it requires going to the seventh page of a WIP and sharing seven paragraphs (or so) after the seventh sentence.

I will be sharing snippets from the two projects I plan to focus on this year.  They’ve been put aside for other projects, and sharing them here is my way of reacquainting myself with these old stories and welcoming them back to the action.

This first story, ‘Tah’s Story” is an old one close to my heart.  I plan on making a lot of changes, however.  First thing that needs redoing is the opening.  The snippet below may or may not be included by the time I’m through.

Tah portrait
This is Tah

  Suddenly the boy’s head shot up.  His face was attentive, though his alert eyes still glistened.

“Do you hear that?” He gasped.

“Hear what, Hym?”

“Someone’s shouting.  I don’t know what they’re saying, but it’s strange…and sad.  Oh!  Do you see that?”

The Chieftain followed the direction of Hym’s pointing finger, and looked across the ocean.  At first there was nothing but darkness, but then his sharp eyes caught a flicker of light.

“That is not the fire of a volcano.  Wait for me, Hym.  I must fetch our swiftest flyers to investigate this.  I will return as soon as I can.”

The boy hardly noticed as the Chieftain brushed a hand over his head in farewell.  His wide eyes remained fixed on the distant glimmer, and his long ears were tuned to the voice only he seemed to hear, a voice speaking in a language unknown to his mind, but known to his heart.

***

   The Captain froze, his torch held just above a barrel packed with oil-soaked sheets.  He tilted his head, trying to discern whether he had heard a voice, or if it was only the wind.

“Is anyone there?  Where are you?”  He called out, his voice severe with desperation.  There was no answer.  The Captain swallowed and bowed his head.  Aside from the sleeping child, whom he still held close, he was alone.

 

The second snippet comes from my space opera, which also needs a lot of ‘renovation’.  I’ve decided a few of my characters must be cut from the story, but my eccentric artist Kinni and her father must stay.

 

 

img_20170119_0001kinnrieve
This is Kinn

“You haven’t shown me this one yet.” He remarked.

“Well, I only just made it.”

“Who’s it for?”

“It’s another one going to the Council’s business room.  I’m taking it as soon as I can tomorrow.”  Kinn shrugged.

She was sculpting her words and actions to be as normal as possible.  She knew her façade was working, but she still half expected her father to turn around at any moment and say something like: ‘What’s going on Kinni?  You don’t show me things like you used to, not since the Council began ordering your art.’

But he didn’t.

Instead he smiled, and pulled her into a quick hug.

“Look at you, turning the Keremian Council into your gallery.  Most artists don’t get that kind of honour ‘til they’re dead.  I’m proud of you, Kinni.”

Kinn’s returned smile was also an act.  Horen never asked any questions, even when Kinn desperately wished that he would.   Keeping secrets from him and telling him little white lies felt like sand in her teeth.

“Love you too, dad.” She whispered.

 

Welcome back, old friends!  The adventure may be a little more difficult this time ’round, but I look forward to exploring your worlds again.

 

 

(As for the progress of the Dreams and Disasters comic, I’m about a third of the way through the artwork. ) 

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