18 of 40 – Another scene

Migraine Fairy is swooping in for a visit. I haven’t had any water today (the first in two, maybe three weeks I didn’t have any water, the third in two weeks that I didn’t get 64 full ounces). There’s also a tropical storm a’brewing in the Atlantic. Doesn’t take much, just the flap of those butterfly wings in Costa Rica and next thing you know, my head’s trying to blow up.

But that’s not what I’m here to share. Nope, I’m here because the voices came back today. Sitting in traffic on two separate occasions today, my characters rose up and spoke three scenes in my head.  Those scenes were on repeat and that’s how I knew it was real. Through the pain building in my head, they acted out the scenes with only minimal variations – their subtle insistence that I get the imagery and dialog committed to the draft. I felt whole – a sensation I haven’t had in a long time it seems.

I was able to capture the majority of the one scene tonight. It’s difficult to write through the pain, but write I must.  It is good, or at least I think so. I’d like to share it if I may…

     “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh, I bet you have.”
“Let me guess. You’ve come to exact your revenge for the death of your master.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Were you expecting this to be easy? That your righteous anger would give you the tools you need to defeat me?”
“No, I was thinking this sword and my excellent fighting skills would be all I needed to kick your sorry demon ass all the way back to hell.”
“Oh, language. You are speaking to an elder who happens to be your father. There should be a certain amount of respect in your tone and word choice.”
“Sorry, so not going to happen. I don’t respect you and as far as I’m concerned, Warner was more my father than you’ll ever be.”
“Little girl, your education is sorely lacking. Has no one told you how powerful I am?”
Victoria thought just briefly about the conversation she’d so hastily ended with Zanthia. Was she really serious about Victoria not being ready? So be it. She’d do the best she could or die trying. “Fuck you and your power.”

Victoria raised her sword, the movement so swift the blade left light trails in her vision. And then, the world went black. It was as if all the light was suddenly gone. She had the sensation of her eyes being open, but that was all. She thought for no apparent reason, “I’ve slipped between.” She was somehow no longer in her body, but she wasn’t outside of it either. She was for all intents and purposes, nowhere. It was an unsettling feeling, she wished she could feel something, anything, but there was just infinite black. Her thoughts, without the confines of her flesh and bone to hold them began to drift further and further away. Bits of her psyche, just casually floating into the the nothing. She couldn’t call them back but only sense them as they went on their way.
Then just as suddenly, she felt slammed back into her body as all sensation flooded back at once. She experienced vertigo and staggered, the weight of her body causing her surprised legs to react with muscle spasms and shudders.
“Uh oh. Look at what you’ve done.”
Victoria opened her eyes. Tiny’s body lay bloodied at her feet. Her hands were soaked in fur and flesh.
“I had meant for you to kill the child, but your damn brute of a hound got in the way. Oh well, murder is as a murderer does. That makes no sense, but it sure sounded poetic, didn’t it?”
Victoria consciously left her body, her vision taking in the scene from a foot or so above her head. She took in the room around her, a baby’s nursery in some upscale townhouse, who knew where in the city. The baby thankfully lay sleeping in its crib, chubby fist tucked into its mouth, clearly, beautifully breathing. This time, a bird’s eye view of Tiny’s huge Rottweiler frame, now with chunks missing, blood soaking into the decorative throw rug in front of the crib. Victoria’s father, Darian sat in a rocking chair by the window. Left leg casually slung over the arm of the chair, foot slowly swinging back and forth as if he’d had not a care in the world.
“You see little girl, you are flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood so if I want to ride you like a Harley on a warm spring day, I am powerful enough to do so without your consent or even knowledge. I hadn’t done so up to this point because I didn’t think you were foolish enough to ever come for me. I thought surely Zanthia and what’s left of her precious do-gooders would have taught you more about me. But since they were remiss in that portion of your studies, let this be your first, and hopefully only lesson.” He stood up and walked the few short paces between them. Victoria was still observing things from above, so when Darian bent down, slid his fingers through one of the raw openings in Tiny’s body, Victoria could do nothing to stop him from wiping the blood across her lips.

“You are my only child, but don’t think for a moment I won’t drive you mad, torture you for years, before finally killing you in order to prove my point. You are no match for me. You will never defeat me and you will never have the throne. Oh, look at the time. I must be going before the babysitter comes to check on the little hellion. Good bye Victoria. I hope we never meet again.” And with that, he was gone.

Okay, so there you go. Not a boat load of wordage, but considering I’ve felt so not in the mood to work on my Camp NaNo project, this felt like manna from Heaven.

Sending Love and Light,

Dana