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[nephthyswrites-blog]

I made these as a way to compile all the geographical vocabulary that I thought was useful and interesting for writers. Some descriptors share categories, and some are simplified, but for the most part everything is in its proper place. Not all the words are as useable as others, and some might take tricky wording to pull off, but I hope these prove useful to all you writers out there!

(save the images to zoom in on the pics)

[nephthyswrites-blog]

Black Out Days.

Chapter 1:

London Falling, 7 months ago.

What was her social worker thinking? Sending her of all people to a place like this. Sure, originally it had seemed like the perfect home; nice people, nice house, nice neighbourhood and not too far from her old house, all pluses. She knew it wasn’t going to last but that was a given in these situations, after a couple of weeks she knew the rose-tinted shade would lift and it did. It always did. The picture perfectness shattered like a sledge hammer had hit it; the people weren’t nice but strict, the neighbourhood was filled with snobs and those who would look down on her for coming from a care home, the house; well it was actually alright, one of the nicest she’d stayed in. It didn’t make her dislike her foster parents any less. No big house with four bedrooms and a massive garden could get rid of the underlying disapproval of everything she so happened to do. Like now for instance.

“Hey, get off, you’re hurting me!” A pair of worn trainers were being dragged out the door by a pair of well-kept slippers. “The social will hear about this, I swear!”

“Go ahead Lucy, who would listen to you? If you want to dress like a whore, then go be on the streets like one.” Said her foster dad, he was gruff looking and slightly balding and currently slamming the door in her face.

Lucy stared at it and could help thinking back to how she had gotten herself kicked out her eighth foster home, all she had done was get a bit dressed up for a party and the Harrisons had hit the roof about it. Oh well, it was inevitable, right? but she did make sure to give the door a good forceful kick before she left. At least they’ll remember her shoe size.

She strolled out of their front garden, which was sickeningly tidy, every plant in its place, no exceptions. Lucy had arrived late August and as soon as autumn hit her free time had been taken up by protecting it from the fallen leaves that had dared to cross its pristine threshold. It was mid-November now so she’d lasted longer than her care worker had thought; winter had settled upon London with its lingering chill that refused to leave like a stubborn toddler, and try as she might, even Mrs Harrison knew to cease in her efforts as the cold killed off her passion.

On the corner of the next street over stood a huddled group of scantily clad teenagers defying the cold in favour of alcohol, a hush fell over them as Lucy neared and their leader; discernible by the bottle she was holding to her follower’s cups, stood to meet her.

“Bit late for you to be out init?” Her inquiring tone dripping in attitude and distaste.

“Ain’t you a bit young to be drinking that? Isn’t it a school night?” Lucy bit back in matching demeanour, the tipsy giggles from the gang indicated who had won.

“I thought you weren’t going to come Luce, you took your time.” The leader dropped her facade, all pretense vanished.

“You wish Cathy, I just had a few things to sort before I got my party on, that’s all.” Laughter followed her statement.

“Well then let’s get our party on, come on its fucking freezing.” With that Cathy linked arms with Lucy and all but dragged her down the street, she knew the others would follow. They weren’t here for her, God no; it was Cathy, she was the type of girl you wanted to hang with, she fit in easily and made many friends in passing, unlike Lucy who had had the same one friend since she was seven and didn’t bother to make any more.

“So, what really happened?” Cathy whispered, Lucy shrugged so she elbowed her.

“I had an argument with Mr Harrison. He didn’t like the way I dressed and so I said I didn’t like him, probably shouldn’t have and well I’m most likely going back to the care home tomorrow.”

With a meaningful look, she un-linked their arms and signed with her hands you are an idiot, Lucy gasped in mock hurt.

“Look it doesn’t matter, I’m fine. Didn’t like them much anyway, too strange.” She said finally.

“Says you.” Cathy commented earning a huff in reply and they re-linked arms.

 They passed a myriad of your typical London council houses, clustered rows of terraces standing shoulder to shoulder in sepia scale. Carelessly dishevelled the pattern was broken in random places by sizeable, steadfast tower blocks of council flats. It was one these that the group where headed to, one anxious lift journey later they piled out and tried not to let the dark morbid hallway worry them, the constant buzz of the fluorescent lights was comforting not unsettling and the dirty beige – wait cream walls weren’t off putting at all.

It was the bass of the obnoxiously loud music, that could probably be heard a fair few floors away in either direction that told them they were in the right place. That and the past out partier next to the front door.

“I take back what I said before, this party looks epic.” Lucy stated nodding to the man haphazardly strewn next to flat 37c, clothes askew and chin resting on his chest.

They had to claw their way through the door as upon opening a very passionate couple almost toppled onto them, walls were lined with partiers all in varying degrees of drunkenness and revelry, swaying to songs they probably didn’t recognise blasting from the speakers being manned by most likely the owner of the apartment. Cathy said something to her over the music.

“What? I can’t hear you.” She shouted, Cathy got closer.

“Do you want a drink?”

“What?” She shouted back even louder.

“Shut up Luce, you want a drink or not?” she looked slightly annoyed.

“Yeah sure why didn’t you say?” Cathy just shoved her away, Lucy managed to weave her way into a wall position in what could have been the living room or a mosh pit at Wembley. She ignored the shouts and insults thrown her way while she bumped into people. Cathy returned in the same fashion as she did, stepping on toes and ducking arms, she had in her hands two red cups.

“What’s in it?” Lucy asked taking hers and inspecting it.

“Cider? All these people are way older than us. You see him over there? That’s Tony Cooke; he left our school like five years ago,” Her friend was half awed, half worried.

“You mean the one currently grinding on that poor girl? He’s still hanging around house parties? Sad.” She was unimpressed and so knocked back the whole cup. Cathy watching, took a precautionary mouthful and grimaced.

“That was not cider” Lucy stated, staring at the empty cup.

“No, it was not.” They shared a look and burst into uncontainable laughter.

Either the room was spinning or Lucy was spinning, she didn’t quite mind it which way. The mixtures of colours and people bled together like water colours in a blur, the music seemed louder now and she wanted to be a part of it. The dancing, the singing, the chatting, the night’s previous events had left her mind and she had no worries. She was swaying slowly and Cathy beside her looked concerned if not also a bit dazed herself.

“I want to dance.” Lucy grabbed her hand. “Come on don’t make me dance by myself!”

“Fine, but I feel kind of sick.” She caved when Lucy pouted, the pale girl let herself be dragged into the crowd by her friend.

“Light weight!” Lucy called her as a new song burst from the speakers, the DJ had dug up what some would call party ‘classics’ and soon both were singing along with the rest.

It was about two hours later? Or was it three? It could have been six for all she cared because at this moment she was beginning to crash. Hard. She was dizzy and confused, she wanted so bad to be sick right there but some bloke was in front of her. Where did he come from?

He was talking to her but she couldn’t hear him, where the hell was Cath? She turned around in search of her and saw only the same bloke, what the hell? She didn’t have time for this where was Cathy? She needed to find Cathy. Someone grabbed her arm hard and she looked at the man who was yelling at her, his pale hand gripping her upper arm, what was happening?

“Gerroff me!” She slurred her words.

It took her seconds realise she was talking to a shoulder, Cathy’s to be precise. She was standing protectively in front of her, shouting at the man who no longer had a hold of her. Lucy smiled, she had found Cathy and now she was going to help her. She reached up to tap her on the shoulder and Cathy suddenly fell back into her, she tried her best to support her under her arms but they both slowly fell to the floor.  She was shaking, paler than before, red liquid spewed from her chest and Lucy couldn’t understand why.

Above her two blurry figures that after a moment melded to form the same man who had grabbed her, only now his hand was bloody and he dropped what he was holding, it landed on Cathy and rolled away. Horrified screaming filled Lucy’s head as she was jostled by panicked, fleeing people on the makeshift dance floor. She still held Cathy rigidly in her arms, the girl’s eyes had gone glassy and her mouth hung open. Looking up the man was no longer there, over whelming dread pooled in her stomach as realisation took over, she moved out from under her friend and backed away in fear, the sea of desperate people met her and she was swept away with the current.

No, this is not happening. That did not just happen, I’m still high. She was verging on a breakdown. No no no no NO.

Lucy made it all the way to the door, where they had arrived hours ago, together, the frantic crowd were forcing her forward as she stumbled helplessly over numbed legs, she tripped on the door mat and was knocked to her knees by a guy, Tony bloody Cooke, climbing over her to get out. She swiped at her face to clear the tears from her vision and stopped when her face become more wet. She pulled back her trembling hands to see them dripping in the same red as the man’s were when he- to her right lay the unconscious partier, the one they had both laughed at, his throat was torn open and he wasn’t sleeping off a hangover, he was dead and had been for a while. The scream that had been clawing its way out since she held Cathy in her arms, tore from her as she crawled to the opposing flats door, no one escaping took any notice in her and her cries were cut short by the same pale man, the psycho who had killed Cathy, grabbed her arm again and dragged her to the stairs next to the lift.

It seemed to be the choice exit for every sane person, but they were going down away from danger, the man forced her upwards. One pale claw destroyed the lock to the roof entrance, she tried to fight back, to get away but her attempts were futile, it only made him angrier. Snarling his face contorted, the last thing she saw that night was a demon pushing her off a building.

 Dull phosphorescent torture was what she woke up to, she groaned and rolled away from the antique lamp next to her, the silken sheets she was lying down in glided over her as she wriggled back to the safety of the dark. The door to the room opened and she reluctantly let the covers drop, she kept her eyes closed for fear of the migraine she could feel lying in wait for her, this is worse than the time we robbed the McKinley’s red wine.

“Cath, that you?” She grunted.

“Excuse me Miss but you’re rather exposed.” Came her reply in an accented, masculine voice. Lucy’s eyes flew open and saw a boy around her age blushing furiously and looking anywhere else but at her, he stood rather awkwardly at the foot of the four-poster bed she was in. Correction that she was lying in her underwear in, sheets at her waist.

“Jesus! What the hell?” She shouted despite the head pain.

“I wouldn’t go saying that name here, Miss.” With that boy dropped the towels he was carrying on the foot of the bed and with his eyes firmly averted left the room.

So, last night happened, but that meant Cathy was dead, not possible. Some nut job had spiked her drink, sent her on the biggest trip ever and someone had taken her home. And undressed her. Filthy pervert. Oh, she felt sick now, leaning over next to the wooden bedside table she vomited up everything she had eaten yesterday, or was that today? Resting her head in her hands to block out the faint yet glaring light, she had to control her thoughts.

“Are you not well, my Amelia?” Lucy’s head shot up and grabbed the cover to her chin, she hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“You needn’t hide yourself from me; I have known you all your lives.” The voice said, it was coming from the corner to her right but she couldn’t see who it was.

“What? -Lives? -Who the fuck are you?” Lucy was angry now, she was scared, worried and not feeling well and this psycho was pushing it, she scowled into the darkness the best she could whilst probably looking like an idiot shaking in a bed sheet.

“You will not use such language in my home. As to my personage I thought it would be quite obvious who I am.” Sighing with impatience, “I am the ninth of Lord Salem. Are you not aware of what is happening?” It sounded concerned, it was a man standing in the shadows, it could have been him from last night but she hadn’t heard him speak.

“You bet I am, you freak! Who the fuck kidnaps someone and kills…you killed her?” The anger in her voice tapered off.

The man was now at the bottom of her bed, how the hell did he get there? He was wearing the same clothes from the previous night, dark blood stains on his sleeves and shirt front where still there from when he ripped her heart out of her chest. Lucy jumped so high from fright she left the bed, the man face dropped in concern and he leaned in closer, she brought her knees up in protection.

“Oh no, I’ve frightened you. That will be may last warning, you will show me respect. Oh, now don’t cry.” He sounded caring and worried. “No offence but you don’t have a pleasant crying face and I hate hysterical women: ‘Oh, no don’t kill me, I have a family, Ahhh!” he mimicked, trying to lighten the mood and failing much to her disbelief.

“Why did you kill her?” She fully asked, he shrugged.

“Killed who, my dear?”

 She liked stained glass windows; they reminded her of this old church she once visited with her Aunt Jane before she died. She couldn’t remember exactly why they were there; Jane herself wasn’t particularly religious and they never went on Sundays. Lucy could remember pulling tongues back at Jane when she caught her watching her conversation with the priest from the pew she waited in. Another thing that stayed with her though was how on the outside these giant windows looked dingy and ugly when inside they were beautiful stained depictions of Saints and biblical tales. Looking at the vibrant glass window in front of her now, she had no such thoughts. She thought later that the window looked better when the chair in her hands shattered it.

“Where the fuck am I?” She snapped the leg off the busted chair and used it to clear the shards left in the pane, allowing her to climb onto the ledge to get a better look at the picturesque scene. Before her lay a green sloping land full of forests and woods, with here and there steep hills, crowned with clumps of trees. Dawn’s early glow creeped over the sharp edges of the harsh mountains casting them in shadow from where they sat behind it all. Craning her neck out; her stomach did back flips, her legs felt weak, she was impossibly high up looking down to a courtyard no less. This was insane, vast daunting stone walls encircled the crumbling stone keep, faint blue light flashing from somewhere behind her tower, with the sky’s pink hue cast odd shadows upon the different structures amassed within, in her immediate view was another tower; superior in its size, it gave her vertigo to just imagine how high it was, she remembered falling off the roof, he pushed her. Off a building. How did she get here? Where was here? Closest castle near where she lived was Buckingham, though that was a palace. Rich people and their fancy titles. Now she just had to find a possible route of escape and everything should be-

She was viciously pulled back into the room from behind. Her thoughts of leaving cut off with a scream. Lucy hit the dusty carpet and scrambled away, she had no idea what she was scrambling from but she scrambled all the same. A woman stood over her, her eyes were a glowing red if that was possible, her gaze dropped to the cut opening on her arm, she followed the look and back to her face to see fangs protruding from her snarling mouth.

“And what do you think you are doing? Do you know how old that art work was? Even in this form you are still pathetic and self-centred Amelia! There can be no greater honour than to be at his side yet- ” She seemed to get angrier or it could have been hungrier with each shout.

“I don’t know who you are. I just want to go home.”

The next moment was a blur until her mind caught up with her body to noticed that the woman had lifted her off the ground by the neck, she started to walk forward, Lucy squawked in protest.

“Home? Let’s see how you wanted to get home.” She pushed her back through the broken window so that she was dangling freely now instead of clawing at her arm she was clinging for her life.

“How could I have been cast aside for someone like you? A child? I doubt you even possess any power at all. My lord will realise this soon, little imposter and then you’re going to regret this little game you’re playing.” She ended it bitterly and shook her slightly; Lucy face was red from the exertion. The sun peaked over the Carpathian’s, its warm rays like acid on the woman’s exposed skin, something flickered in her eyes and Lucy was sure that this was how she was going to die, stuck in one of those bad vampire flicks on the horror channel. Before she could say her Hail Mary’s, she was pulled back in again, she wished she’d make up her mind. Lucy was once again on the floor as the woman hissed at her burnt hand and blew away the smoke.

“What are you?”

The woman growled and left the room.

[nephthyswrites-blog]

Meet My New Roommate...

His knock on the door shouldn’t have had me as nervous as it did. It was only Neville for God’s sake. My best friend since college and colleague of some years now. Sure, his career was finally taking off and he was living out my dreams travelling, whilst I’m still stuck in the museum but that wasn’t his fault. That blame lied squarely at the feet of Richard, my boss, he’d never been fussed on me and like everyone else it seemed, just loved Nev. I stumbled around the apartment, mentally checking items off list. Kitchen: clean. Living room: tidy. Carpet: hoovered. Roommate: out. Hair: looking good. I opened the door.

“Adele, wow, you look great." He’d changed slightly since she had last saw him a few months ago, thinner, more worn, maybe it was just his new tan.

“Thanks, it’s so good to see you!” She hugged him, “Oh you shouldn’t have Nev.” He looked at her confused before remembering the bottle in his hand. She led him over to the kitchen counter.

“Only the best. Got this while I was away, had to trade half my share of the treasure for it.” He joked, “But before I get to that, how’ve you been? What was all the stories I heard about that mummy that went missing?” She was about to lie through her teeth when the apartment door slammed opened and Tamenuit stormed in.

“I swear to the gods I shall have my vengeance on those who test me. May Sekhmet’s rage fall just.” She froze when she saw us.

“Nev this is my roommate Tammy. Tammy, this is my good friend Neville, the one I told you about.” She was supposed to job hunting. “What happened to you?”

“You told me to do something I am good at. So, I went to the nearest temple to offer my services and did you know that women are not allowed as priests? Back in my country we had words for people like him, ser—”

“Tammy!”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you,” Nev stood up to greet her, “How exactly did you two meet?”

“I put out an ad.”

 Actually, I first met Tammy one day last spring, when I was about to do a routine scan on her 3000-year-old mummy. I was reading the results of the MRI scan we had just taken whilst my assistant prepped the next sarcophagus. I looked up when the idiot yelped, his glove was ripped from the splintering wood and blood was dripping on to the body inside. After that, some things were said. Mostly by me and none of them kind to him. Once I had sent him running, I went back to see what damage had been done to it, only it wasn’t there anymore. The mummy had just vanished.

I know that sounded dramatic. But believe me we were all stumped. Richard had called the cops who were equally as clueless. The surveillance tapes were just static as if they’d been fried and there was no evidence of a break in. I came to understand later that the mummy had simply just rose from the sarcophagus and went for a walk about. Tammy says she can’t remember much except for a shouty little man attacking her in an alley before she accidentally drained the life force from him. She likes to call it heka, which is some magical energy that sustains her. Whatever actually happened there, I think it scared her.

Not long after the police left I was cleaning up the lab- on my own, when she returned. Well it was more like stumbled in lost, she was still wrapped in the old cloth bandages she’d been buried in, along with a beaded necklace hanging from her neck. Her leathery skin only added to the gauntness of her exposed face. I’ll be honest, I screamed a little. It had been a long day.

To cut a long story short, there was no putting her back in the box, so I took her home with me. It hasn’t been easy. I mean the language barrier for one thing and don’t get me started on the cultural and age differences. Electricity wasn’t a simple thing to explain to someone new to the 21st century.

Back in the old days, my roommate had been a priestess to the great pharaoh Hatshepsut in the temple of Amun. Meaning she constantly sings and makes offerings of food and stuff to the gods all over my apartment. One time in June I found her down at the Hudson river, where she threw an offering to the god Hapi into the water, asking him for a good flood to bring fertile land. I then had to drag her away from fighting an angry tourist about pollution.

To put it plainly, she’s a nightmare. I’ve caught her on more than one occasion writing hieroglyphs on the wall of my spare room. I made the mistake of introducing her to the television, in my defence I thought it would help her assimilate better but now I can’t drag her away from her day time talk shows. And not to mention the death glare she gives me when I try to move my cat out of my favourite chair. My chair! She’s already cursed me and my future descendants for doing this sacrilegious act. I think she’s messing with me but I still sit on the floor, it’s less hassle.

 She could also be the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know why I never thought about it until now. The whole thing with Neville’s great discovery. That could be me with the help of Tammy. Taking her back to Egypt would be like using a metal detector in a junk yard. Nev soon made his awkward goodbye which I struggled to hear over the mental picture of me telling Richard where he could delightfully stick his geography PhD.

“He’s cute. Boring but still cute.” She said after the door closed. “You two would never work out.”

“And why’s that?”

“I’ve seen pharaohs with less self-importance.” She shrugged.

“About that…what would you say to one day going back?”

[nephthyswrites-blog]

Werewolf Like Me.

Cast so far: Ana Highland - Weird teen with a weirder secret. Seth Young - Hyper teen who can't take anything serious. Daniel Farrow - Quiet and shy teen with odd interests. Mark Okanawe - Confident teen, can be aggressive. Marnie Jones- Popular girl exterior but isn't as mean as she seems.

Derek Lowca - Ana's distant dad. Charlotte - Ana's dad's girlfriend. Marnie's little brothers Gary and Scott. Both 11. Rob Farrow - Daniel’s dad. Gracie Okanawe - Mark’s older sister.

Part 1.

Detention 3rd floor English class. 3:32pm.

Ana was pretending to be reading her science text book which concealed a small old book written in a foreign language. Her vision keeps tunneling in and out frustratingly.

Mark is straining his neck to watch the football match below on the school field. Homework neglected in front of him.

Marnie has her head resting on her work but her phone underneath the desk. Her friend Andrea sits idly next to her.

Daniel is working hard on his geography homework but periodically scans the room.

Seth is sitting behind them all, fiddling with whatever he can get his hands on, bits of ripped paper are scattered around him. He throws a paper ball at Mark who turns to him angrily.

Mark: Prick.

Mr Cawley: That's enough. 

Marnie jumps at his voice and swiftly hides her phone. Mr Cawley was at the front of the class. Purposely ignoring them all and praying that time would move faster. He got up from his seat and marched up to Seth's desk.

Mr Cawley: What's all this?

Seth: It's my homework sir.

Mr Cawley: That's two more detentions. Now tidy this up and start again or tomorrow you can explain to the head teacher exactly what you think of the work we give you.

Mr Cawley looks around to see if all of them are watching his power display. One of them isn't.

Seth: Well actually -

Mr Cawley: Highland, what's that?

Ana closes her books quickly.

Ana: it's a textbook sir.

Mr Cawley: Really? that doesn't look like biology to me.

Ana: It’s chemistry sir.

Mr Cawley: Give me the book you were just reading.

Ana just looks at him. He walks over to her, Seth forgotten.

Mr Cawley: Do you remember where you are?

Ana shrugs.

Mr Cawley: You are all in detention until half four. You should be using this time wisely and complete your homework. You know like the responsible kids you lot clearly aren't. Give me the book.

Ana doesn’t move. He gets angry and takes her textbook and remove the scuffed black book.

Ana: You can't do that, it's my dad's.

Mr Cawley: Well your dad will have to come and get it back. HE READS THE TITLE. You can read this?

Ana: It mean's give me that back in Romanian.

Mr Cawley: Nice try but no.

Cheers and screams can be heard from the football match. Both Mark and Seth jump up to get a closer look.

Seth: Wow they're really going at it. It's only football.

Mr Cawley: Both of you sit down now.

Mark: Cool, a pitch invasion!

Mr Cawley marches over to the window as do everyone else now. Ana sniffs at the air.

Ana: Something is wrong.

Seth catches the eye of Daniel and twirls his finger around his ear. Daniel snickers. Andrea rolls her eyes.

Ana: I'm serious. Someone is dead down there.

Seth: Okay there weirdo. I didn't really have you pegged as crazy. LOOKS TO DANIEL. I did have him down though. DANIEL LOOKS HURT. What?

Outside one of the spectators runs onto the pitch and tackles the goalkeeper to the ground.

Marnie: Is that blood?!

Mr Cawley: Stay here, i'll be right back. Sit down and don't leave.

He runs out the door. Ana takes the opportunity to go over to his desk.

Marnie: What are you doing? ANA OPENS HIS DRAW. You can't do that freak.

Ana finds the book and walks towards Marnie. Andrea is standing right at her elbow. Ana looks her dead in the eye for a moment and then returns to her desk.

Daniel: They're killing each other.

Seth: Please, it's barely a punch up. UNSURE.

Andrea: I need to put this online.

She goes to her desk where her bag is near the front.

Marnie: Woah, did that guy just bite him? STARTS TO GET SCARED.

Seth: Yeah, it's like that scene, you know out of that TV show with the sheriff.

Andrea: Shut up, that isn't real.

Mr Cawley stumbles through the door, covered in blood. He slides down the wall.

Seth: JESUS!

Mr Cawley sags and hunches over on himself. They all look at each other scared shitless.

Mark: Well do something! HE INDICATES TO ANDREA.

Marnie: You do something!

Seth: She's the closest to him!

Andrea: Fuck.

She slowly walks over to him.

Andrea: Sir? Are you okay? SHE MOVES IN CLOSER. Sir.....?

He groans softly and only Ana picks it up. Her heightened sense were ringing all kinds of alarms bells.

His head slowly lifted up and he took the time to focus on Andrea in front of him. Blood poured from his mouths as he snarled and made a lunge at her. Andrea screamed. Ana grabbed the closest chair near her and threw it at him before anyone saw him move. It hit him and bounced off but he now had a grip on Andrea's school jumper. Everyone panicked finally. Ana dived over the table row and pushed the other one in front into his legs. Mr Cawley grunted and stumbled and Andrea ripped off the jumper. He growled and gnashed his red stained teeth. He reached for Ana closest to him. The others were gathering at the far end of the class room. Mr Cawley moved towards her until she was backed up against the supply cupboard. He grabbed her and they struggled. She kicked at him to create some sort of space. His face kept pressing in close. He was going to bite her. Two hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him off her. Ana flung open the cupboard on the left and grabbed the scissor wrack. Most of the pairs ended up on the floor but in she held the blue pair tightly and leapt at Mr Cawley. It was over in seconds. Mr Cawley slumped and fell against Seth who had been the one to help her.

Seth: Ugh, fuck that. HE STARTED TO GAG.

Ana: Oh my god.

Mark: You killed him...

Ana: He was going to kill her. SHE GESTURES WILDLY TO A TRAUMATISED ANDREA.

Seth realised there was some blood on him and he starts to panic as he wipe it off.

Daniel: This IS just like that TV show! HE GOES TO CHECK HIS PHONE.

Ana: TO ANDREA. Are you alright? ANDREA BACKS AWAY.

Andrea: Stay the away from me psycho.

Seth: Well what do we do now!?

Daniel: There's no signal.

Marnie: What?

Mark: Is everyone forgetting the fact that she just killed Creepy Cawley?

SILENCE. They all stare at Ana.

Ana: He was going to kill Andrea!

Mark: You stabbed him in the head!

Daniel: HE IS OVER BY THE WINDOW. Guys-

Ana: He was going to kill me! I didn't see you doing anything!

Mark: You f-

Daniel: Guys! You need to see this. THEY ALL GO BACK TO THE WINDOW. It's like they're all-

Seth: Don't say it.

Ana: Dead.

Seth: WHINES. You said it.

[nephthyswrites-blog]

Black Out Days.

Prologue:

Burning Cottage, 13 Years Ago

The small solitary cottage at the end of Linacre Lane was on fire. You probably have already guessed that given the title. Just know that the fire was an accident, that had started as an act of bravery that didn’t end so well. According to news reports; the blaze was due to a faulty boiler in the downstairs cupboard, though if you ask me I’d say the fire’s origin was the burning corpse splayed on the coffee table in the first room. It was a perverse transformation from the happy family home it had been when Markus last visited, two days ago. He marked his return by using his attacker as a battering ram on the quaint wooden front door.

In contrast to its residents, the house had been simple and pleasant, mostly furbished in oak and decorated with needless, but no less pretty little knick-knacks. One word that comes to mind that you wouldn’t have found on the owner’s description of the cosy cottage for two, would be flammable; and considering the occupation of the young couple renting and the dangers in which they were fleeing, one would think they would have noticed this.

The smoke had not reached the amount to dim the light of the mocking flames reflected in the many picture frames that lined the mantle. Pictures of young friends laughing, a happy couple on their wedding day and again in a hospital room; smiling proudly at the new born in their arms.

It was the screams from above that caught his attention which was all the beast needed, growls tore from it as it came upon him; claws raked his chest whilst he fought to keep the distance between his throat and possible death. Hungry red eyes reflected his own terrified face. When it was alive it might have been a twenty something girl, auburn haired and quite pretty. The creature froze mid-snarl, the crimson glare depleted from its eyes as it imploded around the stake thrust into its chest. Ash rained down as he leapt up ready for another attack, but instead of the tortured face of a long dead monster, what he glimpsed was far worse.

Ignoring the living room, much like the official police report, he made his way to the cottage’s kitchen; it was charming in its decor; the kitchen had as assumed, an oak worktop, quirky, duck egg blue kitchen units, an on-set sink and possibly the only modern thing, an old fridge, which was cramped into the corner of the already cramped kitchen. The place was a mess, the blood that spattered the cupboards only added to the horror of the body he found lifeless on the cold grey tiles. It was the woman from the photographs, throat mauled as if an animal had been at her. He staggered towards her, heavy with the numbness that accompanies violent atrocities. His shaking hand brushed the hair back from her brow, her skin was still warm, his eyes watered, whether from grief or smoke, but he did not cry. Straightening he noticed that he was standing in the growing puddle of blood spouting from her injuries. He visibly shook himself, now was not the time, clenching his hand around the stake, he left what was left of his friend and raced up the stairs two at a time.

The fire had now spread to the second floor. He followed the sound of the child’s screaming and used it to navigate his way through the smoke permeating the upstairs landing. Without hesitation, Markus raised his right leg and kicked in the bedroom door immediately saw the predator as it ran at him. He allowed the thing to tackle him onto his back and using it’s own momentum to flipped the position till he was straddling it and through the wriggling he drove his stake home. He got up and stumbled to the wardrobe where the crying was coming from in the farthest corner of the children’s playroom. The door of which was splintered under the constant attempt to break in. The man gently pried the panels away and the hysterical girl almost toppled out, in her arms she clutched the crying swaddle of blankets protectively.

“Shhh, Amy? You remember me, right?” He tried to soothe her. “Are you and Eric okay?”

The frightened child nodded in distress, trembling from her own sobs as she rocked her baby brother to calm his. “Where’s my mummy and daddy?”

“They had to go away; I can take you some place safe okay? You need to come with me right now. I can carry him for you.” He opened his arms and at first, she seemed reluctant but she did as she was told. He had gotten them out and safe in his car, distant sirens of approaching vehicles drifted down the lane just as the windows exploded outwards, showering his car in glass, I did tell you the boiler was faulty, he put his foot down hard and the wheels carved paths into the gravel drive as he sped away.

It was late the next morning when he drove through a tiny coastal village. He took directions from the map in the village square. Around noon was when he woke little Amy in his back seat, she looked at him through heavy lidded eyes as he gently helped her climb out.

“I want my mum.” She murmured tiredly.

“I know but she would want you to be a big girl for her, wouldn’t she?” The girl nodded and it nearly broke his heart.

“Now you need to look after Eric, he’s going to need his big sister.” He kissed her on the head and rang the doorbell. Hopping back into his car, he made sure the door opened before he drove off; opening the glove box expertly while keeping an eye on the road, he searched for his phone. They needed to be told what had happened.

[nephthyswrites-blog]

Worldbuilding with Psychology

I haven’t mentioned this before, but I’m close to graduating with a psychology degree. As I was organizing things to move back in at university, I came across some notes from my Developmental Psych class. Psychologist Urie Bronfenbrenner presented an ecological systems model of child development, which represents a dynamic model of how people develop psychologically depending on their environment. I realized this may be an interesting reference for writers as we consider worldbuilding.

The individual is at the center. Each level interacts with the others and may affect them in different ways and to different degrees at different times. The individual is at the center of the model and has inherent traits which are the result of genetics. The microsystem is the individual’s most immediate surroundings. These are the places and people they come into close contact with on a daily basis, including the home and peer groups. The way microsystems treat the individual influence them, but the behavior of the individual also influences how the microsystems react to them. The mesosystem is essentially comprised of links between microsystems - between home and school, between home and church, between family and peers. Active involvement between microsystems promotes harmony and a sense of like-mindedness. The exosystem consists of linkages between systems that do not directly influence the individual, but do so indirectly by influencing a microsystem. For instance, the parents’ workplaces influences the parents’ behavior in the presence of the individual. The macrosystem consists of more distant influences that still have a significant impact on the individual. These elements often include beliefs, values, and other aspects of culture. For instance, life in a country at war will influence an individual differently than life in a country at peace. The chronosystem simply incorporates the meaningful passage of time. What is in each system, how much it affects an individual, and how can all shift in time.

What does this have to do with worldbuilding?

One can relate Bronfenbrenner’s model to creating a fictional sense of place however one likes, but I’ve drawn some parallels between each level and a corresponding element in worldbuilding. The model looks something like this.

The Protagonist:

The main character (or characters) lies at the center of your worldbuilding. It is through their eyes, or over their shoulder, that the reader experiences the world in which your story is set. A strong sense of place is vital to telling a satisfying tale, and a great deal of it comes down to your protagonists. Like in the original model, the protagonist has certain inborn traits that are a result of nature, but are also influenced by nurture - the other systems, in this case. The world is reflected in the hearts, minds, and behaviors of the people who live in it, and the people are reflected in the world they populate.

The Supporting Cast:

These are the people the protagonists interacts with most, and it’s a two-way street of influence. Their behavior influences the protagonist, but the protagonist affects them as well. You can present a great deal of information about the world through the interactions between characters. The way your protagonist interacts with parents and siblings can reveal family structure and dynamics, and interactions with friends or coworkers can shine light on social classes, pastimes, or employment. What your characters do, how they do it, and how they speak or feel about it will reveal what is normal or not.

The Immediate Surroundings:

Where are all these interactions taking place? The actual physical locales in seen in your story have an impact on the way people behave, but don’t forget the direct effect of setting the scene. One behaves differently at school, as opposed to the mall - how can you use differences like this to portray societal norms and mores in your story? Additionally, the events and values of a world leave physical reminders, which may be as simple as smog over a city unconcerned by or incapable of controlling pollution. Perhaps there is graffiti in the streets leftover from social or political unrest. The remnants of a torn-down shrine or monument may reflect changing values, war, or persecution of certain religions or other groups. Living conditions can portray class differences. Possibilities are endless.

The Social Structure and Culture:

Social structure has ramifications on who can interact with whom and what’s considered appropriate. These rules may be very strict or much more informal. If there are rigorous separations in place according to class, an interaction between members of different status will be shocking to your characters. Speaking out against an elder coworker may have severe consequences, or employees may be under forced retirement deadlines - these differences reveal if old age is revered or looked down upon. What holidays do people celebrate, and how? What manners of speech or behavior are unique to the setting? Social norms will be reflected in the behavior of your characters, but the population is capable of changing those norms.

The Physical Setting: 

The setting at large still has far-reaching influence on your story. The geography itself will determine a number of things about the setting, including the landscape, weather, physical resources available, methods of transportation and more. All of these things trickle down into each of the layers beneath it and leave their fingerprints. If transportation is unfavorable, how does this affect information and cultural exchange? How about the economy? The physical setting is an umbrella of elements which may change everything under it, even in small or indirect ways.

The Genre:

The genre determines, amongst a few other things, how much of each of the above is needed. In essence, genre can be your guide to where you should place your focus in worldbuilding. Fantasy and science fiction often call for a greater emphasis on the physical setting and cultures, while realistic fiction set in real-life places readers are likely to be familiar with is likely to need emphasis on the protagonist and supporting cast. Some genres, such as historical fiction, may need a more evenly balanced blend of each system. The plot structure itself will also have an influence. For instance, in a ‘pursuit’ plot, the ticking clock and pursuit itself are typically considered of more import than the characters, while 'forbidden love’ plots are all about the people and culture.

Remember, as always, to mold writing advice to your work and not the other way around. The influence of one or more of these systems may be heightened or lessened, depending on the needs of your story, and they may interact differently, perhaps even from chapter to chapter. Thank you for reading, and I hope this can be a useful model for you to use as a springboard in some of your worldbuilding.

[nephthyswrites-blog]

Hey guys! As a writer myself, it’s hard to have a lot of resources for writing in one place. That’s why I decided to create this masterpost, and maybe make more if I find future resources. I hope you like it, and expect to see more masterposts like this in the future!

Generators

Character

Appearance Generator

Archetypes Generator

Character Generator

Character Traits Generator

Family Generator

Job/Occupation Generator, (II)

Love Interest Generator

Motive Generator

Name Generator

Personality Generator, (II)

Quick Character Generator

Super Powers Generator

Names

Brand Name Generator

Medicine Title Generator

Name Generator

Quick Name Generator

Vehicle Generator

Town Name Generator

Plot

First Encounter Generator

First Line Generator, (II)

Plot Generator, (II), (III)

Plot Device Generator

Plot Twist Generator

Quick Plot Generator

Setting/World-Building

City Generator

Fantasy Race Generator

Laws Generator

Pet Generator

Setting Generator

Species Generator

Terrain Generator

Prompts

Subject Generator

”Take Three Nouns” Generator

Word Prompt Generator

Misc

Color Generator

Decision Generator

Dialogue Generator

Journey Generator

Title Generator, (II), (III)

Some Tips

Just a few I found from the writing tips tag!

Writing action / @berrybird

How to create a strong voice in your writing / @collegerefs

How to plot a complex novel in one day! / @lizard-is-writing

8 ways to get past writer’s block / @kiramartinauthor

psa for writers / @dasakuryo

”Write Using Your 5 Senses” / @ambientwriting

How People Watching Improves Your Writing / @wherethetransthingsare

Writing Science Fiction: Tips for Beginners / @fictionwritingtips

Creating Likeable Characters / @authors-haven

Vocabulary

Descriptive words / @somekindofstudent

Words to replace “Said” / @msocasey

Obscure color words / @mintsteelpeachlilac

Words to spice up your stories / @busyibee

Words to describe someone’s voice

Words to Use Instead of Very / @gaybybirth

Touchy Feely Words / @gaybybirth

Some Advice

Stephen King’s Top 20 Rules for Writers

”But my plot isn’t UNIQUE or BIG enough!” / @youreallwrite

8 Things Every Creative Should Know / @adamjk

(How To) Get Over Comparing Yourself to Other Creatives / @adamjk

How to Get Over Common Creative Fears (Maybe) / @adamjk

14 Tips From Stephen King On Writing / @i-can-give-you-prompts

Playlists

Electronic Thoughts / @eruditekid

“Mix About Writing” An Instrumental Mix / @shadowofemirates

Shut Up, I’m Writing! / @ninadropdead

Chill / @endlessreveries

Breathtaking Film Scores / @tweedskirts

Music to Write to Vol. 1: Starlight / @crestadeen

Music for Written Words / @ghoulpatch

Dead Men Tell No Tales / @scamandersnewt

Fatale / @dolcegf

All These Things that I’ve Done / @referenceforwriters

Feeling Soaking into Your Bones / @verylondon

I Can Feel Your Pulse in the Pages / @rphelper

Morally Ambiguous / @scamandersnewt

Wonderwall / @wheelerwrites

Pythia / @mazikeene

Ballet: To Dance / @tanaquil

Websites and Apps

For Writing

ZenPen: A minimalist writing website to keep you free of distractions and in the flow.

The Most Dangerous Writing App: A website where you have to keep typing or all of your writing will be lost. It helps you keep writing…kind of. You can choose between a time or word count limit!

Evernote: An online website where you can take notes and save the product to your laptop and/or smartphone!

Writer, the Internet Typewriter: It’s just you and your writing, and you can save your product on the website if you create an account.

Wordcounter: A website to help check your word and character count, and shows words you’re using frequently.

Monospace: An Android app for writing on the go when you feel the inspiration, but you don’t have your laptop on you!

For Productivity

Tide: An app that combines a pomodoro-esque timer with nature sounds and other noises! (Google Play / Apple Store)

ClearFocus: An Android app with a pomodoro-type time counter to let you concentrate easier and stay productive.

Forest: An app with a time counter to keep you focused and off your phone, and when you complete the time limit, a tree grows in your garden! (Google Play / Apple Store)

SelfControl: A Mac downloadable app that blocks you from distracting mail servers, websites, and other things!

Prompt Blogs

@writeworld

@dialouge-prompts

@oopsprompts

@prompts-for-the-otp

@creativepromptsforwriting

@the-modern-typewriter

@theprofessionalpromptmaker

@writers-are-writers

@otp-imagines-cult

@witterprompts

@havetobememes

@auideas

@putthepromptsonpaper

@promptsonpaper

@fyotpprompts

@otpisms

@soprompt

@otpprompts

@ablockforwritersblock

@awritersnook

Writing Tips Blogs

@writeworld

@anomalously-written

@awritersnook

@clevergirlhelps

@referenceforwriters

@whataboutwriting

@thewritershelpers

@nimblesnotebook

@slitheringink