For my Eye Candy entry, click here.
For my 100 Words entry, click here.
DISCLAIMER: I haven’t touched this since NaNo. I’ve made no attempt to edit, revise, polish, whatever. What you’re getting is pure first draft. So, considered yourself warned.
This for the Show Me Yours Blogfest, host by Hannah @ Musings of a Palindrome. I signed up for it before I remembered my NaNo novel kind of blows. Well, it’s not that bad, but it needs a lot of work, as most first drafts do. So I’ll show your mine, just promise not to giggle.
The setup: This is from Kids Eat Free, a YA horror novel. Sixteen-year-old Wendy died when the bus she was on crash into a lake. She died saving others. Wendy’s boyfriend Doug couldn’t handle the grief, and made a pack with a mysterious figure who promised to give him Wendy back. Unfortunately, he didn’t say anything about “alive”. Wendy comes back, but as a revenant, basically a zombie with a brains and a personality.
Despite the creep factor, things go well at first with both Doug and her family a accepting of her new status. But when Wendy starts give in to new urges, everything falls apart.
The setup for this scene is that Wendy has killed a fifteen-year-old girl, Cami, and Doug has finally realized how dangerous she is and tried to kill her…or whatever. Feeling hurt and betrayed, she pays a visit to Doug’s house.
Remember: Rough Draft. Very, very rough.
She can’t feel the pain, but Wendy knows something’s wrong. She must have broken something. He must have broke something. Doug. The boy of her dreams. The love of her life. Well, her life’s over, isn’t it? And her dreams are as dead she is. She had to stand there and listen to him as he tore her apart with his words, murdering her with hate. He called her a monster, and his “mess”. He dragged her across the ground to the bridge as she begged him to stop, begged him to just talk to her, but he wouldn’t. He didn’t give her a chance. She was good enough for a cheap fuck in the stockroom, but when things got tough and she needed him the most, he turned on her.
It’s good that she can’t cry anymore, because the tears would never stop. She doesn’t need tears. There are other, better ways to express grief, and she can’t wait to try them out. They want a monster, guess what?
The door opens and derails her train of thought. This is her first visit to the Stanton home; she’d never yet been invited, big surprise. Behind the door stands a blond girl about seven years old with wide blue eyes: Doug’s sister. She wears a pink cotton nightgown and clutches a white stuffed bunny to her chest.
“Well, you’re up late, Cutie Pie,” Wendy says, though she knows the girl will hear nothing but a sick moan. “Aren’t you afraid the monsters’ll get you?” The girl slices the air with a scream that hangs in Wendy’s ears as the girl gets a good look at her. She doesn’t blame the little thing. She’s young; she doesn’t know what else to do. She doesn’t know that it won’t do her any good.
Remember, it’s a very rough draft. Just saying.