theeccentricraven

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 23 🌌

Another day of Writecamp! Thank you @agirlandherquill for making it possible! I hope you all have enjoyed it! 🩷🤍💜❤️

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For today I chose the feeling prompt: The price of pain

This prompt worked perfectly as I rewrote this scene in The Blood Cleaners. This is another Act 2 moment.

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Justin was given a room with a king size bed, fluffy white comforters, black carpet, and checkered wallpaper of red and navy blue. Joselyn was given a room with maroon carpet, lavender wallpaper, pink comforters over a king sized bed, and a polished coffee table. Mia gave them two plastic buckets “just in case”. 

He practiced a few more asanas, bringing down his blood pressure, breathing all of the tension out through his nose. Joselyn likewise stretched and posed in her room, though once she noticed all of the space, she joined with Justin. They sat next to each other as they displayed the lotus pose, not too different from the meditations their trainers taught, but extra relaxing. 

Joselyn opened her eyes and softly smiled.  

“Thank you.”

Justin stared into her eyes. “What are you thanking me for?”

“Everything, amigo. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been recruited. I’d be dead now.” She got out of the pose and wrapped her arm around him. 

Justin loosened his legs, taking hold of her hand. “Thank you for surviving.”

“Why thank me for that?”

He tapped the floor. “I wouldn’t have lived with myself if you hadn’t survived.”

Joselyn rubbed her neck, thoughtful. “This home has….”

Justin didn’t hear the rest of Joselyn’s words as nausea launched a surprise attack. He sprinted to the bathroom. The shiny glass was inviting as he took a drink of water from the fine china sink and brass socket. He gulped down the water. Stinging built up in his head. 

Joselyn ran up to him. She grasped his shoulders. “Jus! Take a few deep breaths!”

Justin breathed in and out. 

She shook him. “Say your mantra! Mine’s ‘Lollipop’. You said yours is ‘Do your ears low?’”

Joselyn guided him to lie on the big bed of pink comforters. 

Justin took deep breaths. In between breaths, he recited, “Do your ears hang low? Do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow?”

His head was splitting. The light pierced his eyes. He covered his eyes, internally telling himself it was just the first migraine he’d had in months. He flung himself to the floor, pushing himself into the carpet. He felt like a billion fire ants bit into every square inch of his skin. He reached for a bucket and vomited. He lay his head on the floor. The ceiling light overwhelmed him. He covered his eyes. 

“Breathe, Jus!” Joselyn cried. 

He breathed in and out through his nose. The big strong arms of Ben picked him up. 

“Here, muchacho.”

Ben carried Justin to the neighboring bedroom. He lay Justin on the bed as he whispered, “It will all be over.”

Justin breathed relief as darkness blanketed his eyes upon Ben turning off the lights. He imagined himself floating on top of the surface of a lake, caressing in the water. He imagined strong muscular arms punching at the invisible energy that infected his body, breaking away the migraine. 

The irony, he thought. He suffered all this to one day buy a home like this. The pain ripped through his head. Justin kept his eyes and mouth closed as he breathed. Then, he was out.

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Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @gugulethuwrites

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 22 🏜️

Thank you again @agirlandherquill for setting up Writecamp to give me inspiration that helps my stories 👑

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 22 I chose the prompt: The risk of whispers.

Once again I applied it to Act 3 of The Blood Cleaners, short but hopefully sweet.

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The two returned to liquid form. Justin zoomed ahead while John followed behind. Following his tips, Justin stuck to the lit areas, swiftly moving as if he was racing his colleagues. He worried John would lag behind and get caught. The younger blood cleaners tended to move faster in liquid form than their senior counterparts. He crossed the gardens to the base of the Southeast Tower wall. He didn’t need to wait long before John caught up. Justin relaxed. The two shifted to their human forms, whispering the plan again. When the smallest stir disturbed the air, they quieted themselves. In the pitch black night, Justin couldn’t see an inch in front of himself, though an enforcer in liquid form would see him. They kept still as mannequins, waiting for a tiny rustle in the bushes to go away, no matter if it was only a breeze or a prairie dog. Justin tolerated John’s rancid breath as they kept less than an inch apart in their soft debrief. It would only take one whisper to alert an enforcer, and then the liberation would end before it began. Justin wouldn’t screw up this time.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @gugulethuwrites

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 21 ⚡🌩️

Another day of Writecamp! Thank you @agirlandherquill for hosting! It was rainy all day where I am so I just stayed inside writing! It was a pretty extensive day of writing. Wrote an 800 word outline for a redone ending, then wrote 857 words toward it.

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 21 I chose three prompts!

Dialogue Prompt: "I've never known it to be as bad as this.”

Narration Prompt: He wanted to help but he would only make things worse, and that was worse than not helping at all.

Feeling Prompt: The missing of murmurs

I used these in a scene in my YA Dystopia The Blood Cleaners. This is near the ending, so I had to sample carefully to avoid spoilers. This is the "Epiphany" beat of the story. I hope it turned out well.

*****************************************************************

A girl’s voice chimed, echoing around the cavern.

Do your ears hang low? Do they wobble to and fro? Can you tie them in a knot? Can you tie them in a bow?

Deirdre’s song released the sorrow that consumed him. He quietly sang the words.

Do your ears hang high? Do they reach up to the sky? Do they dangle when they're wet? Do they straighten when they're dry? Can you wave them at your neighbor? With an element of flavor?

He breathed in, sobbed, and smiled. Deirdre was somewhere, watching over them. She wasn’t gone forever. Life lived on. He missed the days when her voice murmured around the tunnels, wordless yet her presence sounded clearly. He yearned for the murmurs of her voice, sounding closer and clearer than ever before. He surveyed the cavern, searching for the source of the sound. There was Miriam. Elena and Miriam stood by the wardrobe he had moved earlier. Apparently they moved it back to its spot. Miriam’s singing filled the hideout.

Do your ears stick out? Can you waggle them about? Can you flap them up and down?

Justin hopped out of his chair. He walked up to Miriam, joining in the song.

As you fly around the town?

Miriam beamed greatly as she sang.

Can you shut them up for sure?

Justin stood by her. They sang in unison.

When you hear an awful bore? Do your ears stick out?

Amidst the soft chatter, Miriam didn’t say a word as she puffed up her cheeks, her light eyes adoring his.

“Justin, big brother,” she pleaded, putting her hands on his waist. “You have to keep the fight going!”

Justin crouched down to her level. “I don’t know, Sis. I've never known it to be as bad as this.”

His eyes grew weary. He wanted to help but he would only make things worse, and that was worse than not helping at all.

“I’ve screwed up enough, I’m going to make things worse.”

Miriam held his hands, her eyes desperate. “Would Deirdre say that if she were here now?”

Elena strolled up. “I know what Deirdre would say. Can you guess?”

His eyes turned to Miriam, then to Elena, again to Miriam, and again to Elena. They knew. He knew.

“We can make it. We can. We can make it. You can make it.”

Miriam gave a friendly slap on his arm.

A gush of warmth flew in him. Brightness glowed in him. He managed a smile. “You’re right. I didn’t return for you all to die. I didn’t return to lose you all.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 20🌞

Happy Summer Solstice to all of us north of the equator! Happy Winter Solstice to our friends south of the equator! I live in a rainy place where my summer solstice was like this 🌦️

Thank you @agirlandherquill for creating Writecamp!

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 20 I chose the setting prompt: A healing abode

Once again, I used this as part of the rewriting process for my main WIP The Blood Cleaners a YA Dystopia. I redid a scene in Act 2 that I hope is better than the original version.

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The night was pitch black, yet the sidewalk he set foot upon was a welcoming mat. No more invisible screams in his head. No blood reeking in front of his face. The Mount was the perfect location away from the city noise, where the Blood Cleaners could rest. At Ben and Mia’s house, the street lamp revealed a garden of rose bushes and painted rocks. Justin stepped on the stone block path to the front door. After a couple of knocks, the door opened to reveal Ben. “¡Bienvenido! Ven conmigo.” Justin followed Ben through the halfway of framed photos into the kitchen where Mia cooked a stainless steel pot over an electric oven. Joselyn sat on a tall stool before the stone counter. She chattered away with Mia, turning her head to the footsteps behind her. She hopped off her chair and hugged Justin. He rubbed his nose against hers. He was sure he smelled the spiciest chili cooking in green, red, and orange peppers. His mouth watered. He looked around the home. Lamps with pink shades. Wallpaper coated in glitter of all colors. Curtains with floral patterns. Handwoven quilts hanging on the walls. He feared damaging such a beautiful home, possible when he anticipated the tortuous side effects without painkillers. Ben sat on a stool, stretching his hands. “It’s time I let you in on our secret.” Joselyn still held Justin in her arms as she squinted. Mia stirred the pot, but nodded to Ben, encouraging him on. Ben cracked his knuckles. “What would you think about doing something illegal, that our leaders would give amnesty to so long as you keep it a secret within our walls?” Justin held still, but shifted his eyes around the kitchen wondering where the knives were hidden. “Um, murder?” Mia apparently knew that English word as she roared in laughter. Ben snickered and wheezed. “No, no.” He cleared his throat. “You know those meditations your wonderful trainers taught so well?” Joselyn returned to her seat, nodding. “I don’t see how we can work without them.” Ben nodded confidently. “Of course. We’re the exception. Those permitted meditations are only a fraction of what else is out there.” Justin sat on a tall stool, his eyes watching attentively and curiously. Ben laid his hands on the table. “Mia knows some meditations that have been passed down in her family for generations. We don’t know where they came from, only that they date back before the Last War. The Fists don’t want us to learn much about our foolish ancestors. However, Mia used these meditations to endure her shots. Saved her life. I wouldn’t be here today if she never taught me.” Justin curiously studied the walls in an effort to estimate where an enforcer could be hiding. Ben apparently noticed. “The enforcers know. They’ve given us amnesty so long as we keep this practice within our home. Throughout the years, we’ve welcomed other youngbloods, too. Believe it or not, management likes it. Reduces casualties and speeds up the recovery process. Sometimes, only a few accept our offer.” Justin raised his eyebrows. “What’s the catch?” Ben waved his fingers in the air. “What I said, muchacho. Keep it within these walls. Your choice, but I can testify, Mia knows what she’s doing. Nothing to lose.” Joselyn rubbed her chin. Justin rested his face on his hand as he contemplated. His head plagued with the haunting visions in the hospital and Jeff losing it, left him willing to take risks. “I like the idea.” Joselyn happily nodded. Ben pushed on the counter as he stood up. “Swell, we've got time while the pot simmers. Enough to teach the first one. It’s nice and short. It’s called downward facing dog.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writing Description Notes:

Updated 9th September 2024 More writing tips, review tips & writing description notes

Facial Expressions

Masking Emotions

Smiles/Smirks/Grins

Eye Contact/Eye Movements

Blushing

Voice/Tone

Body Language/Idle Movement

Thoughts/Thinking/Focusing/Distracted

Silence

Memories

Happy/Content/Comforted

Love/Romance

Sadness/Crying/Hurt

Confidence/Determination/Hopeful

Surprised/Shocked

Guilt/Regret

Disgusted/Jealous

Uncertain/Doubtful/Worried

Anger/Rage

Laughter

Confused

Speechless/Tongue Tied

Fear/Terrified

Mental Pain

Physical Pain

Tired/Drowsy/Exhausted

Eating

Drinking

Warm/Hot

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 19 🏀⛹🏾‍♀️

Happy Juneteenth! Welcome to another day of Writecamp! Thank you again @agirlandherquill for creating it.

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

From today's list I picked the prompts:

"Trespassing is the surest way to die, you know that right?”

The loss of laughter

I used them for another scene in The Blood Cleaners, my YA Dystopia. This is earlier in Act 2. I hope you like it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Before Justin could say a syllable, Rico stood at the break room doorway. He held up an air horn and blew it. A few colleagues - Juanita, Sofia, Luna, Howard, and senior blood cleaner Walter - laughed over a game of ratscrew. At the blow, they hushed, covering their ears. Mia twisted her face as if she was dying. Ben covered her ears. Charla looked like she’d tasted something gross. The room fell so quiet that they could hear a pin drop, yet the faces all around spoke loudly. Wanda cringed as if she had only a few days to live. Paolo bulged his eyes, as if his defense reflex fired up. 

Rico cleared his throat, sniffing and snorting to clear his nose as well. He gritted his teeth. “So, we have our first exile for this generation of trainees.” 

Justin held his breath. His eyes searched around the room. Not all blood cleaners were in this room, in fact they were scattered around Corpa, dotting the tunnels and the surface. 

Rico walked to the center of the room. “Trespassing is the surest way to die, you know that right?”

Justin spotted his trainee peers, attempting a process of elimination. He didn’t need to.

Rico held up a folded paper. “FDE is only used as a med when you get the shots. Want to break into the pharmacy and help yourself? Do so and you’ll be with Pedro South 10th Tunnel, enjoying a sunny spot in the Death Zone while the lils eat him up. Consider that the next time you think it’s a great idea to go where it’s prohibited!”

He stormed up to the corkboard. He unfolded the flier, revealing a picture of Pedro containing the phrase “Exiled.”  Rico pinned it to the corkboard.

Rico walked to the door. “There now, back to work!”

Once the manager was out of sight, the room filled with quiet chatter. Some tears fell. Some heads bowed. Justin heard phrases like, “He was a nice guy” and “He was funny” and “I liked his company,” yet they were strangers to him. From the time Pedro came out of the wound, he did brave things. We lacked the recklessness of thrill seekers, yet he took on any challenge, often venturing the most difficult parts of the tunnels to show he could accomplish the hardest jobs. When Pedro was given the choice to be friend or foe, he became an enemy in Justin’s eyes. Now his family would have one less source of income. Justin never wished ill on his worst enemies, certainly not if they had five brothers and sisters counting on them. They wouldn’t have an urn to revere his ashes. The Steel dungeons would have been kinder.

Joselyn sat next to Justin, her eyes staring at emptiness, shadows clouding her face.      

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp 18 🏞️

Happy Writer's Wednesday (even though it's near the end of the day as I post this). Here's my latest Writecamp post. Thank you @agirlandherquill for creating Writecamp!

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 18 I chose "The tapping of teardrops". I applied this prompt to The Blood Cleaners my YA Dystopia. It was tricky because this is near the ending, we just passed the Disaster/All is Lost moment and are going into the Dark Night of the Soul beat as we get to the ending. This snippet is short because any longer and it would include some spoilers. I used this prompt to magnify the emotion of this scene so that this short snippet can focus on the mood rather than plot. I hope you like it.

Prostrate, Justin’s tears formed a puddle on the stone ground. “We’re screwed. We’re not going to be able to stop the Fists now. And it’s all my fault.” Elena rubbed his back. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to hurt. You have a kind heart. Sometimes we don’t know we’re wrong until…something happens.” Justin slowly sat up. He put his legs in a bound ankle pose, resting his hands on his feet. The star tattoos screamed at him, reminders of how he was cursed the moment he set foot in the Steel. Elena knelt beside him, holding his shoulders, brushing her head against his. A tapping sound echoed in the cavern. Justin turned his head to see Miriam standing a few feet away. Crying. The pain fell from her eyes, washing the ground. Her tears dripped down an incline, mixing with the puddle of tears. Justin feared he was crazy to see his tears mix with his sister’s. Moistness formed around his neck. This wetness was his mother’s, as her tears landed on him. Justin turned his head to Elena's, his dark brown eyes meeting her light hazel eyes.

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 17 🌴

Another day of Writecamp created by the wonderful @agirlandherquill ✍🏻🪶

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 17, I chose two prompts:

Dialogue Prompt: "I do not want your victory. I want your survival."

Setting Prompt: "A scorching quarry"

I applied this to The Blood Cleaners my YA Dystopia. I'm trying hard to finish Draft 2 soon. This scene is far into Act 3, so I had to be cautious to not reveal some spoilers.

_______________________________________________________

Justin sought out the best spot where he would send a signal to Joselyn. He found a spot of land just barely within the range of the limestone quarry, where no drones or towerguards would see them. Justin used the knife to make a small cut in his hand. The blood dropped to the ground, close enough for Joselyn to sense it on her shift. He waited a minute before he used his tools to start cleaning. The hanging sun teased them enough, Justin figured Joselyn would have to guide them to a new hideout. He sprayed his blood, letting the UD work.

Oddly, he didn’t hear his blood whisper like the times before. 

John couldn’t stand around for a minute before musing, “I just want to make one more thing clear.”

Justin turned his ear to him. 

"I do not want your victory. I want your survival."

Justin glowered. He knew where John was coming from. He wasn’t surprised that the old exile was unchanged. John saw no hope in the land they stood upon. He only had hope in Justin, the most valuable asset for the city of Arthur. On the one hand, Justin could feel safe knowing that John would always have his back, always there to carry him out no matter how far they failed. Yet Justin would never be able to live with himself if everyone he ever loved withered and died like dry grass. While Arthur would find him “useful,” Justin wasn’t going to survive for only himself. His heart pounded like thunder. Joselyn waited for him. Elena and Miriam waited for him. He would live for them.

He began to wipe the spot, a little punch to his voice. “I’ll die with my people before I’m the sole survivor.”

John frowned. He watched Justin finish cleaning without a word, apparently tired of arguing.  

Only seconds after he finished wiping and bagging, a body of fluid zoomed toward them. Justin and John watched as the liquid formed the body of Joselyn. 

“Jus!”

Justin barely had a second to see her face before she wrapped her arms around him. He held her tight. She covered his face in kisses. 

She lay her head on his shoulder. “I've been so worried about you. I missed you so much. And now you're here.”

He breathed in, inhaling her beautiful hair. He almost forgot how much he needed it. “I feel the same, Jos.”

Out of the corner of his eye, John’s frown deepened. Whether John was impatient over the display of affection or further disgusted by Justin’s secret, he groaned, disgruntled. 

Justin let go. Joselyn turned her eyes to John.

“Is this him?” 

Justin waved his hand to John and to Joselyn. “Joselyn, meet John. John, meet Joselyn.”

John displayed his smugness. “Nice to see the heroine in the flesh. So you're the beautiful face your boyfriend can't stop yapping about.”

Joselyn blushed. She tugged Justin’s sleeve. “You found him then. And Arthur. Must be quite a story.”

Justin rubbed his neck. The baking sun above wouldn't make the long story easy to tell. “First, do you have a place where we can hide? Someplace, dark and cold.”

Joselyn stood up and faced the south, where the city on the horizon beckoned them. “While you were away, I found just the place.”

Justin took hold of her hand. “I’m sorry it took so long. If I could, I would have returned sooner.”

Joselyn shook her head vigorously. “Don’t be. I knew you wouldn’t die on me. I knew I just needed to wait. I’d wait seven years if I have to.” She gave another peck on his cheek. She turned and pointed south. “This way!”

*************************************************************

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and OPEN!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 16 🌕

Thank you again @agirlandherquill for Writecamp! The prompts have helped out so much with rewriting The Blood Cleaners!

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 16 I chose the prompt: The whispers were great, the things they did not say were even greater.

I thought it sums up Justin's unusual gift, hence I used it when writing a new scene to replace a previous scene. I hope you all like it!

____________________________________________________________

One night, Tim scratched the bedroom door. Justin got out of bed to let him in, no qualm with providing the gray cat a quiet place to sleep. Miriam’s bedroom constantly boomed loud music. He reached for the front door knob with one hand and the lightswitch with the other hand. A small shock zapped at his fingertips. Justin jumped an inch. He held up his fingers. Something was oddly different. Other than a little redness, he couldn’t pinpoint it. He brushed it aside. It was only static. 

As the days went on, he couldn’t ignore that a tiny static shock shot through him anytime he touched a doorknob, plate, key, or lightbulb. He couldn’t let Tim inside his room without the tingly touch to his knob. He hesitated with lightswitches, often working in the dark and turning his home into a cavern. 

Justin sat on bed as he scratched Tim’s ears, glancing around his room, thinking. Joselyn had said a lot of things, speaking well for someone who seemed so shy and paranoid. He was proud of her, if not grateful. He thought back to when he shared his broom with her, when she suggested that he practice. He wondered. He could only know if he tried.

He placed his right hand on the plastic cover. He focused his thoughts on the switch, in the same way he would with his broom and dustpan.

Hello. Can you hear me? 

A gush of warmth flowed through his fingers. Whispers flooded his head. The noise of comfort and empathy rang clear. Justin gasped. The whispers were great, the things they did not say were even greater. They were the same wordless messages he heard from his broom whenever he needed someone to listen. He backed away as he listened to the sound of his heartbeat. He breathed deeply. Tim still lay on the bed purring, casting a soothing song. The same voice whispered of love and compassion. No words were spoken for no word could describe the joy flowing inside. 

His knees shook. His teeth chattered. He wouldn’t have believed it if someone told him. He could speak to the lightswitch in the same way that he could with his broomstick. If with the lightswitch, what else? The doorknob? Anything he touched? He shook his head. If this was true, he would have noticed before. He’d never spoken with anything but his broom. He slapped his head. Ever since he’d started blood cleaner training, he was changing. His body was changing. 

What did the injections do to his body? Or was it the training?

Justin turned off the light and hopped into bed. He would have to think about it later, after he rested his tired, overwhelmed mind. Tim curled up by him. 

_________________________________________________________

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 15 🚙🛻

There is a rule in the universe that says when I'm applying writing prompts to my current WIP, it will take all day 😆But hey, I made a lot of writing progress and found a way to apply one of the Writecamp prompts. Thank you @agirlandherquill for coming up with Writecamp!

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 15, I picked the feeling prompt: the toil of tales.

Interesting name for a prompt. I applied this to a scene in The Blood Cleaners, my YA Dystopia. We're in Act 2, where Justin has an awkward Meet the Parents moment.

Content warning: There's an evil, misogynist character who is definitely not a role model.

________________________________________________________

Justin tightened his fist under the table. It was no wonder why Joselyn wanted so badly to get out of this home. He never imagined what she returned to each time she got off of the bus. 

Jorge’s cheeks were puffed with grub, but it didn’t stop him from talking. “So, muchacho, much gracias por the work you did out there. I knew only a man could do all that so quickly. That’s the problem with daughters. My wife is good at cooking and pleasing me, and that’s about it.”

Don’t kick him….don’t kick him.

Justin looked up at the ceiling chandelier. It would be funny to find a way to make it fall on the man. If it could be done.

He settled on another idea. He cleared his throat. “So, do you like to hear stories?”

Joselyn, Esperanza, Jennifer, and Jorge turned their eyes to Justin. Selena and Alina apparently didn’t understand English, but kept eating.

Jorge chewed and swallowed. “You have one to tell, Muchacho?” 

Justin leaned back. “I once heard that one of the wells in the city turned out to have magic powers that no one knew about until a señora made a wish that came true.”

Lord Jorge sputtered. “Magic.”

Justin put his hands behind his head. “Hey, it’s just a story. Can’t know if it’s true or not. Or a legend. Anyway, there was this woman, a quarry worker, who had a husband who was a complete ass. Her husband beat her up, had bad manners, and insulted everyone he came across. One day when his wife was getting water from the well, she made a wish. She wished her husband was nice, happy, and humble. Then that night, the woman went to bed with her husband. When she woke up, she saw that where her husband was, there was now a dog. A toy poodle like the ones in the Steel.”

Joselyn snickered under her breath.

Lord Jorge stared. “So, what’s the point?”

Justin picked up his spoon. “Well, it’s a great story. Someone probably made it up, but don’t you think they were creative?”

Jorge laughed like scratches on chalkboards.

___________________________________________________

Added note: Many of my story scenes are inspired by songs. This song Wishing Wife by Kate Rusby had a part inspiring this scene.

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 14 🍃

Happy Saturday the 14th! Welcome to Writecamp to anyone new here! Thank you @agirlandherquill for creating Writecamp, which so far has helped me greatly with my writing goals.

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 14, I chose the feeling prompt: the toll of tiredness.

This was easy to pick because my characters often get exhausted and I wrote this when I had exhausted myself from a long day of cleaning and cooking 😄I used this to make a new short scene in The Blood Cleaners my YA Dystopia. It's shorter than some recent passages I created, but I hope it conveys the feelings just the same.

*********************************************************************

The AI bus driver kept a steady course. Justin’s nose and mouth filled with blood as they rode past the abandoned train station. Since the blood cleaners could also smell animal blood, he got a strong taste of a coyote pouncing on a jack rabbit in the station. He figured his colleagues who covered the farmlands were always on their feet, not to mention thinking on their feet, in dealing with the furry carnivores. The lils loved the blood of humans and animals alike. When many critters were mostly active at night, the blood cleaners who took the night shift would be drained before sunrise. 

Justin was tired just thinking about it. It was only early afternoon, yet the last twenty hours took out a year of his life. Joselyn leaned her head on his shoulder. He would have thought Joselyn would dump him at the bus stop after that lunch. Yet there she was, smiling with her eyes closed, his head her pillow. Sometimes he pillowed against the window, drifting to sleep. Often for only a few minutes. The moment he shot his eyes, his head filled with the image of blood splattering on the concrete. He shot his eyes open, jumping in his seat. Joselyn lifted her head up, opening her eyes wide. He breathed rapidly. She touched his forehead, feeling his cold sweat.

“Nightmare?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

She stroked his hair. Internally, he argued they were supposed to be friends, but he didn’t protest. She pulled him toward her. He leaned on her shoulder, closing his eyes. 

******************************************************************

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Last evening I wrote for 7 hours straight 😲 totally not planned! Has anyone else gone through that where you are so deep in a creative burst and get so productive that you barely notice how much time has passed?

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 13 🍀🐈‍⬛

I hope you all had a lucky Friday the 13th! 🙀🧲

Here's my latest post for Writecamp. Thanks @agirlandherquill for creating these wonderful prompts!

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

I'm posting this very late, a little after midnight PDT, so I understand time has passed for this prompt. If you'd like to join the next prompt, you can read instructions @agirlandherquill set forth on this post

For Day 13, I chose the dialogue prompt: "We… We were never done, because- We had never truly begun."

I saw where I could use this in my YA Dystopia The Blood Cleaners where it helped me finish the aftermath of a scene. This is the same scene I covered in the past few days. For context you can read Day 5 for Part I, Day 11 for Part II, and Day 12 for Part III. Today's post is the conclusion of this scene.

___________________________________________________

“I’m so sorry about all of that, Jos. Miriam’s not normally like that.” He and Joselyn carried their backpacks and duffle bags down the tunnel. Elena was in a good enough mood to not get too riled over his going against her order to rest his head on a pillow as he left home again with his overnight bag. 

Joselyn lightly laughed. “Oh, I get it. While you were washing the dishes, your mamá talked with me in the corner. She told me to not mind Miriam. Miriam complains when you’re not around. She’s trying to teach Miriam that you’re in a new phase in life. She could tell that you were seeing someone.”

“Huh?”

Joselyn puffed up her cheeks. “You know, you’d be out for so long, and whenever you came home you had this light in your eyes. She knew.”

Justin recalled the moment when Elena asked, Is it a girl? He felt as red as a dust storm.

Joselyn waved assuringly. “But don’t worry. I told her we’re just friends. She might have first thought we broke up. So I told her.” She coughed lightly. “We...We were never done, because-We had never truly begun.”

Justin breathed uneasily. He had the feeling that Joselyn’s hesitancy to say it meant she questioned if it was true. Their declaration of friendship was supposed to be freeing, relieving. He wished he told Miriam that Joselyn was just a friend. A week before, it would have been undoubtedly true. Now….The way that he longed for Joselyn to be near, the way he worried about her, the way that he was afraid about what the hospital staff did to her, the way he received more than empathy, but love when they held each other in their arms, the way passion burned brighter inside….He wondered if she felt the same.  

If someone had told him that this came with the blood cleaner training, he would have laughed. 

An odd escape sprung up when he caught the smell of blood dripping from an earlobe. The brief flash before his eyes suggested a piercing was loose. He breathed some relief that it was a small wound, nothing traumatizing. Full fledged blood cleaners must have felt like they were on a break when dealing with the little bleedings, where they would worry more about professionalism. Every trainee worried about intruding on those private scenes in citizen’s homes. Allie assured that the training after the rounds of shots included the etiquette of walking in on scenes like menstrual blood, bleeding from piercings, popped acne, and…the most dreaded scenario. No blood cleaner wanted to talk about it. No trainee asked. 

Funny way to keep his mind off of things.

Joselyn sniffled as she breathed in the smell. “Ha. She must have gone too long without putting in her earrings.” She inched closer to Justin. “I’m sorry again about Deirdre.”

Justin groaned audibly. “Sorry I didn’t tell you.”

She patted his arm. “Oh, no, don’t be sorry at all. I’m sorry I accidentally brought it up.”

He sighed as he looked forward, checking how they got closer to the copper lockers. 

Joselyn turned her head forward momentarily, then looked to her side again. “Es raro…it’s strange…how….”

She closed her mouth tight. 

Justin suspected she was about to say what he internally asked himself since that day. Teachers taught that there was no such thing as bad luck, curses, and the like. The foolish ancestors who dropped the bombs believed in those old superstitions. It didn’t stop the people of Corpa from believing in them. His younger self couldn’t help but fear that the girl he crossed paths with left a curse upon him. He needed to slug his younger self. The past few weeks said otherwise, as loud as a trumpet.

He spoke in her ear. “Hey, I’m glad we met.”

She tapped his shoulder. Her face lit up. “Same. Mismo.”

______________________________________________________

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

1000 likes!

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 12🏃🏻‍♀️

Thank you again @agirlandherquillagirland for making Writecamp possible. I've enjoyed these prompts and seeing what my mutuals have done, too.

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 12 I chose the prompt: A better death would not be the right one, for an ending had never been so undeserved.

This line fit perfectly for a new detail that I wanted to write in to my new draft of The Blood Cleaners. It's a pretty long one. In fact, it's Part III of a scene I've already included her. It is the successor to the posts on Day 5 and Day 11. As you'll probably see it's been one long difficult day for Justin 🫢but keep reading and there could be a happy ending 💕

___________________________________________________________

Elena laid out the rye bread. Joselyn washed the lettuce head. Justin sliced the ham. His hands were a little wobbly, thrown off by that awkward moment that no one dared mention. He was an idiot for neglecting his sister. He should have known she’d be jealous. Now he had to recover from one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. He held back his anxiety as Joselyn and Elena got lost in conversation, mostly the former asking the latter about family. Elena was usually not that forthcoming - the less said about her late husband, the better. Joselyn didn’t probe that much. 

She spoke over the running water. “I heard about your daughter who passed.” 

Elena pulled a butterknife out of a drawer. She spoke no words as she carried it to the counter. Joselyn flinched as if she already regretted mentioning it. 

Justin suspected that as always, Elena was dwelling on her regrets. The worst day of her life. No doubt, she told herself it was her fault. Yet it wasn’t. Eight years later and despite Justin’s best efforts, she still believed it. 

He finished cutting a thin ham slice. He looked over his shoulder. “I told her about Deirdre.” 

Elena laid the knife on the counter, staring into the empty air. 

Joselyn turned off the water. “I’m sorry.”

Elena turned around. “We miss her.”

Joselyn formed a sad smile. “She’s gone, but her memory won’t die.”

Justin half smiled. “Her jokes and stories still echo down the tunnels to this day.”

Elena opened the fridge, pulling out tomatoes. “I wish we had her ashes. Then we could say she’s with us.”

Joselyn quietly parted the lettuce leaves. “Why don’t you have her ashes?”

Elena laid the tomatoes on the counter. “She died in a fire in the first tunnel. Many people died that day. Some bodies were recovered. Not hers.”

Justin cut the knife harder into the meat, not dealing with the memory any better. Of all the ways that Deirdre could have parted, she had to be wiped clean off the map. A better death would not be the right one, for an ending had never been so undeserved. 

Joselyn froze. “Deirdre died in a fire?”

Justin continued sawing the next slice, wondering what gave her pause. 

Elena opened the drawer to pull out the other cutting board. “Yes. She was working near the 1st tunnel boiler room.”

“How long ago?”

Justin turned to see Joselyn looking at him, eyes stricken. 

Though her eyes were on him, Elena spoke. “Eight years ago.”

Justin dropped his knife to the cutting board. He had forgotten to tell Joselyn that they had crossed paths on the same day that Deirdre perished. 

Her face turned ghostly.

He grunted, trying to say something. His stupid tongue twisted and tied. He couldn’t say anything when he had nothing to say. 

Great job, blockhead. As he and Joselyn hadn’t already gone through hell the night before. The  past sixteen hours were the third worst of his life. He grabbed a towel and wiped his hands, ready to disappear into his bedroom or wherever. Joselyn wiped her hands on her sleeves. She stepped over to Elena just as she began cutting a tomato. 

“I’m sorry.” She wrapped her arms around Elena. 

Elena held Joselyn in embrace. She breathed out. A tear fell down her face, yet she smiled. 

Joselyn let go and turned to Justin. She held him tight. He put his arms around her back. She breathed on his neck. He rubbed her back. 

Her voice was soft upon the air. “I’m sorry. No matter how long ago it was, I’m sorry for your loss.”

He still felt he was the one who should say sorry, but lost in her warm arms, hearing her heartbeat hum in harmony with his own, he was at a loss for words.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 11 🌳

Another day of Writecamp! Thank you @agirlandherquill for making it happen! This is a brilliant tag game/writing prompt challenge that has helped me progress on my writing goals.

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared!

For Day 11, I chose the dialogue prompt: "I looked for you. I looked until there was nothing else. I looked, all right?"

Once again I applied this to The Blood Cleaners. The scenes I shared in the page few days are from Act 3 (have to be careful with them because of spoilers) but today's scene is from Act 1. In fact, it's Part II of the scene I posted on Day 5 here so this takes place immediately after that post. You can check it for a little more context.

______________________________________________________________

Miriam reached under the couch, taking the gray cat with one arm and the orange cat with another. 

Elena stepped closer to Joselyn, her voice soft. “You were in the hospital together.”

Joselyn folded her arms as she quietly nodded.

Elena put her hand on Joselyn’s shoulder, giving comfort. “Can we get you some medicine?”

Joselyn raised her hand in a stopping gesture. “No.” Her one word was nothing short of polite.

Elena turned to Justin. “But you should get some ice for your head!”

Justin blew a raspberry. He turned his back as he reached out to the gray cat under Miriam’s arm. 

“Hey Jos, come meet…” Was the gray cat Tim or Sandy? “Which one is Tim again?” 

Miriam’s face fell. “The gray one is Tim. The orange one is Sandy.”

Justin petted the orange one’s head. “Of course, Sandy! Named after her sandy colored fur!”

Miriam frowned. “You don’t remember their names.”

Justin put his hand down, feeling a little pink. “Oh, it’s been a while.” 

Elena and Joselyn got situated on a brown couch, where Elena turned her eyes to Joselyn. “You’re farmers.”

Joselyn relaxed on her seat. “Sí. We grow wheat that fuels the autos.”

Miriam stormed up, the cats fumbling in her arms. “You're the reason my brother is gone all the time, right?”

Justin widened his eyes. 

Joselyn looked like she had been hit with cold water.

Elena turned her eyes to Miriam. “Hey! Your brother has been out because of his new job. He just got out of the hospital. Look at his head! Don’t give me that!”

Tim and Sandy didn’t take the noise well. They wiggled their way out of Miriam’s arms. They ran as fast as lightning to her bedroom.

Miriam tightened her fists. “I wanted to tell you! I looked for you. I looked until there was nothing else. I looked, all right? I didn’t get to tell you about the audition! All because you were with her! For the record, I made it!”

Joselyn put her hand to her mouth. Justin felt like he’d been stung by a cattle prod.

Elena got on her feet. “Miriam! You can be nice and join us for lunch, or you can go to your room until you’re ready to use your manners.” 

Miriam stormed off to her room. The door slammed behind her.

Justin stood still, unable to move. The air grew colder. 

Joselyn slowly stood up. “I’m sorry, Señora Elena. I didn’t mean to cause trouble in your home.”

Elena shook her head. “It’s not your fault. If anything, I’m sorry that Miriam didn’t give you the gratitude you deserve for being there for Justin. You must be hungry.”

She walked up to Justin, her concerned eyes reached out. 

He slightly bent his weakening knees. “Wait, she went looking for me?”

Elena turned her lips like she was thinking. “She was given clearance. It’s a surface lounge. I know she was out late, almost missed curfew. If she was looking for you, she wouldn't tell me.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “Hey, no need to feel bad. I’ll talk with her later.” She patted his head. “I just want you to get better.”

Justin forced a sheepish smile. “No need to worry about that, Mamá.” Now wasn’t the time to tell Elena about his plan to head up to the farmland in the evening.

Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks

[theeccentricraven]

Writecamp Day 10 🏄🏻‍♀️

Yay more Writecamp! Thank you @agirlandherquill for creating this event! This is a tag game plus writing prompt plus writing challenge that equals creative fun for writers on Tumblr!

the rules are as follows: choose a prompt (or as many of them as you like) from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared! (and tag @agirlandherquill who made it possible!)

For today's prompt I chose the setting prompt: a crimson table 🟥 I used this to rewrite a scene in The Blood Cleaners that I originally thought I would cut. I decided to put the scene back in since it provides valuable world development and foreshadowing. Since this is later in the story, it's cut a little short to avoid spoilers. But I hope you love it just the same. (warning: there is a little gore) 🩸

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 Justin found lil attacks to be so common that he wore his spray gun on a strap around his shoulder.

He noticed that Bonnie wore an emblem like the one that Jason wore, a cross. 

“What is that….”

He caught a strong whiff of blood as he saw an image of a tunnel medical bay. A young woman lay upon a blood soaked delivery table, while two doctors, a surgeon, a nurse, an attendant, a casually dressed woman, and a few brigadiers scrambled nearby. Some brigadiers hung around hospitals, ready for a fight. Justin didn’t let half a second pass. He would end the fight before it began.

He liquefied himself while Bonnie did the same. Their liquid forms raced to the medical bay. 

Once back to human form, Justin double checked his spray gun was full of UD and ADC. It was. He set the valve to UD and generously drenched the delivery table. From what he gathered from the corner of his eye, the birthing mother lay asleep under a breathing mask. A dark-skinned female surgeon sewed her up. Apparently the baby was born by c-section, and not without blood loss. 

One doctor held up a crying, mucus covered infant, still attached to the umbilical cord.

The non-uniformed woman who appeared old enough to have a teenage daughter, trembled while wringing her hands. Justin caught her glancing at him. 

“Th-th- thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He opened the kit in his pack. Bonnie pulled out large towels from a cabinet.

Justin took out the aerosol UD spray to coat the untouched blood soaked edges. As the UD bubbled, he noticed that the new mother’s slim figure wasn’t an adult's. She appeared to be about Miriam’s age. 

He turned his head to the surgeon. “Is she going to be okay?”

The surgeon spoke softly. “She will be.”

Justin breathed in a sigh of relief.

He didn’t get to see who cut the cord (producing a few more blood drops he would have to take care of) but saw the nurse placed the baby in a hospital crib, then wheeled away by the attendant to the next room. 

Justin watched for a second before he turned his attention to Bonnie’s towels. He wiped the bloody surface. “Where are they taking the baby?”  

Bonnie joined in scrubbing. “The NICU. Rafael had to be in the NICU when he was born, too.”

Justin wiped up the blood and swept it into the biohazard bag. With the blood cleaned up, Bonnie gestured for Justin to follow her. He met with her in the hallway.

“Let’s give Kami some privacy.” She shed off her gloves. 

Justin took Bonnie’s gloves to place in the bag. “You know her name?”

Bonnie studied the floor, checking for blood drippings. She sniffed. She beamed with satisfaction. She looked back at Justin. “I’ve gotten to know almost everyone in Arthur. Kami has gone through a rough time. I saw her just a couple of weeks ago. Her mother has taken good care of her.”

Justin pulled off his gloves. He tried to wrap his head around what he’d seen. Was that woman back there the girl’s mother?

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Tagging mutuals (no pressure) and open!

@sleepyrxsetea @edstoriesblog @thecomfywriter @pen-for-sword @toribookworm22

@furrywrit3r @wyked-ao3 @selenekallanwriter @drchenquill @revenantlore

@kitkins13 @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @acmartin

@cowboybrunch @leahnardo-da-veggie @dandelion-jester @aalinaaaaaa @faeriecinna

@brynwrites @somethingclevermahogony @rickie-the-storyteller @raevenlywrites @winterandwords

@whatwewrotepodcast @jay-avian @gioiaalbanoart @orphanheirs @pluppsauthor

@happypup-kitcat24 @the-golden-comet @autism-purgatory @talesofsorrowandofruin @kaylark

@tildeathiwillwrite @screamingatanemptyroom @kbwritesstuff @spookyceph @pluto-murphy-writes

@ieppiq @diabolical-blue @forthesanityofstorytellers @thelittlewritingcat

@g0ttest0d @infinnative @little-peril-stories @lyneidas @kaylinalexanderbooks