Oh bloody grief maybe I can make a post and it not go off into the interwebs never to be seen again by human! *face to palm* So frustrating.
I’m likely foolishly hoping (and expecting) to divinely make some good solid trustworthy connections somehow online in the writers community, however, God hasn’t clubbed me over the head with loads of patience. Didn’t think there be some of a writing community on Instagram of all places but there’s some I’ve been able to cyber stalk and some prompts I like to add my three cents to. Though I would like a photo prompt challenge a day for a month specifically for aspiring novelists. Got no answer when I posted a question on the nanowrimo Facebook group.
I’m not sure of my personality type, is there one for just fed up with things? *half joking*
Below is a section out of the salvaged pieces of older writing that I think will fit into what I suspect will be a prologue, though not sure the details but have some scenes I want/need to do. Writing them is the bigger challenge as they’re super fast being vampires and more so because of their bloodline and directness to the source. I’m not confident in writing fight scenes for humans, vampires or animals which will need to be done in the draft as the story unfolds.
His origins forgotten and blurred together in the dark recesses of a tall dark skin figure eons amongst the stale air cavern of his resting place. The very darkness that consumed their precious light and fused their souls to their bodies made them one, making them something other than human. Leaders come in all shapes and forms no matter the century for within this dark, barren cavern stirs one such man. Where once there were three, now there are two, one in isolation upon a remote island she remains remorseful and uninterested in the world around her waiting for the end. Her love of the world and those on it long waned as time after time she watches men do themselves in by their own greed, and faults; no longer does she try to turn the tides of faith. The second lost to the darkness and time nearly millennia ago during a horrible early morning array of lights, flashes and sweeping of mother earth that groaned and spread her arms open reaching towards the sky.
The third; this tall lanky figure skin darkened by choice, by fancy – for this moment that may change in a moment’s chance – chose any form he wished to dress in. Within the sarcophagi dressed in remnants of what was the best robs befitting the King Pharaoh of the 18 Dynasty the once male moved once since laying down upon the coldness of his crypt. His resting place from where he watched his children, those like him multiply and grow strong spreading their lethal claws throughout humanity and the other Inxieriea. Twisting the blade in the back of men and manipulating them like rats in a cage down through the eons. He saw everything, heard everything from his enclosed tomb within the Valley of the King.
Blank detached pools of blackness pierced the darkness, moving soundless. The massive sarcophagi topping rattling back as a figure, his original form – life disregarded and forgotten in the continuous wheels of evolution and time. Rising smoothly and with a refinement, cunningness of a much different world then the one that went on around him but yet not without him. For despite his seclusion from the world, he was very much familiar with the progress the humans had made; since he withdrew himself from what was becoming more and more their world and less the Inxieriea that lived amongst them without their knowledge. Folding the distance of the interior as easily as humans breath; the intimating figure with a smooth round head appeared outside the cavern where his eyes rapidly adjusted the intense humid afternoon sun blazing in the clear sky above the Valley of The Kings. Looking over the changes of his lands he made no expression of familiarity or pain from seeing the vast changes of his considerable land but saw his plans unfolding before him like a chess board made of the finest marble, sculptured by master sculptures. Plans, and goals so easily manipulate that it all verged on the hinge of being a source of boredom for the so-called man, made monster by his own body; plans and people – his own kind – how deluded and thoughtless his family had become, both with their own existence and that of which they the chose to bring into the darkness.
Feeling the warmth from the sun beating down on him, trying as it might to incinerate him like it would most of his kin, they all were far too young to bear to be within the light once again. He tried to enjoy the simple pleasure of the flesh, the gentle feel of the sun on his dark dead flesh – to revel in something that terrified so many of his family and yet left him untouched. The microscopic stones beneath his feet would have tickled him at one point if he was still receptive to such things, allowing himself to be weak like so many others on this ball of dirt and clay. The breeze flowing over the desert was like a lost soul looking for the after world as it swooped over one dune and down another, wrapping around the now naked male, discarded remnants of clothing he walked unabashed by nudity for such things were that of the human world; a world he was not a part of for well over four thousand years. Naturally within this time villages had come and gone, and he had watched them all; the one he walked towards was just but another incarnation of an earlier civilization to which there would be thousand more in the eons to come.
Amongst the Inxieriea, the Xamerenorda had long since been a figment, folklore – a thing of ancient history. Nothing more than gossip and things to strike fear through the younger generation that merely only led them to question those that brought them into the darkness; taught them the ways of the wolf, feline or avian. Always watching and becoming more removed from the very world he could easily dominate as many others of his kin had and wanted to. Young fools were to crave such things that simply were not simply logical; why dominate, destroy their very source of food and labor. Standing upon a dune looking ahead he saw Cairo and all the lovely humans shuffling around like lambs on a cosmic wheel, unaware of what truly lived amongst them as they always seemed to be. Would they ever become self aware of such things as the Inxieriea; would they merely live as a food source or if they’re lucky unevolved insignificant other to an animal? Memories of his past played out in his minds eye as he moved easily casually moving at such a rate the eldest Xamere, his only child he had ever made, would not see his maker till it was too late…
2-3 weeks I set a goal to write and finish the two MC’s profiles and a few other prep stuff and didn’t meet the goals so yesterday I simply said, just to write this week. A ugly horrible draft – just get the stinking words out in whatever order they come to. Deal with the gigantic mess of editing and all much, MUCH later! So far today I haven been putering doing errands and tomorrow afternoon I have Sign Language class.
I’m in Niagara Falls Ontario, about five minuets from the very dead Clifton Hill. Both this area and myself need activities, people and things going on!! I’m quite concerned by the time this infernal covid is vanquished I’m not going to have any sanity left!