Snazzy Snippets (Little Hero)7:00 AM
Here's how this goes down: It's a bimonthly link-up, as you can see above. Alyssa and Emily provide the prompts. We provide snippets (less than 500 words) of our writing in response, link our post up with the others, and share our writing like the awesome people we are. I'm hoping to start participating in this more, so here you go.
(I'm answering two of the three provided prompts with snippets because I feel like it.)
All of these come from Little Hero, my sci-fi-ish sequel novel set in Scandinavia. I talked about it more here.and you can find a tab for it in the "the writings" tab above with a cover and everything.
Your First 500 Words:
Once upon a time, a boy left his home and went to war.He never came back.I’m imagining what it must have been like. Not for me — I know that part, as much as I wish I didn’t. It comes to visit every night. But I wonder about everyone else; the people at home who tried not to cry when I left. I’m trying to imagine sitting on the couch between books and old plates of food and watching the news for some indication of what’s going on where I’ve been stationed. I’m running through the horror of hearing about the attack, and then hearing where I am. Maybe there was relief there. I don’t know. I’m trying to picture my face on the TV screens, before all of this, when the worst of it was that I was too young and too scared and couldn’t get up enough courage to even breathe properly most of the time and life was a maze of hospital hallways.I’m wondering what it would be like to find out from the outside that Havard Madsen is a traitor, and that he’s gone to Sweden.I can keep saying it over and over to myself without quite believing it. Havard Madsen is a traitor and they’ve dragged him off to Sweden. That’s nothing compared to what it’s like to drag my gaze away from the off-white ceiling and take a good long look at the cell around me. Three steps by six steps, assuming those steps are tiny. One cot, one pillow, one blanket. One toilet. Three trays a day; all of it surprisingly edible. Two different guards who bring those trays — one of them smiles and the other just gapes. One halfway decent shower every other day.Plenty of time to think.Plenty of colors, turning off-white and regular white and grey and steel and black into a lovely backdrop while my vision spirals and swirls in every color you could think of. It’s just gotten worse here.As it turns out, thinking is the worst possible thing I could do all day. I curl up on the cot and wrap my arms out of the flat pillow, squeezing the life out of it, like it’s a barrier between me and the thoughts and dreams. Every night I’m back in the chair and Snare is grinning at me and Anders wants to shoot. The colors show up in my dreams now, too, tainting everything.I don’t know where I am. I truthfully don’t. I fell asleep in the airshuttle and woke up here, in a cell, all alone. I’m assuming I’m somewhere in Sweden, but no one talks to me other than a basic command so there’s really no telling.When I’m not trying to escape I’m a gasping, half-sane wreck on my one narrow cot in the middle of my one cramped cell.
|As you can see, this is a fun one to write.|
A Snippet You're Really Proud Of:
But something is wrong, even after Lukas stops leaning back to shake me with one hand. I scoot to the other side of the backseat and peer out the driver's-side window to see what all the fuss is about.
“Is that Britt’s jeep…?”
Lukas laughs; not a friendly laugh. “No.”
No, because Saija is hanging out her open window, hair blowing in the freezing wind, glaring at us like she can stop cars with just her looks. Who knows, maybe she can.
My heart almost stops again.
My girlfriend stole a military vehicle and followed us.
“JUST PULL OVER!” Lukas bellows. “STUPID GIRL!"
“I TOLD YOU YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME BEHIND!” Saija shouts back. “NOT THIS TIME OR ANY OTHER TIME!”
“I OUGHT TO SHOOT YOUR TIRES AND LEAVE YOU HERE!”
Lauri sighs. There’s a little bit of panic in his eyes as he leans toward Lukas. “I don’t think that’s necessary…”
Already I’m fumbling for the handle of the jeep door, fingers scrabbling on cold metal, not thinking clearly, trying to undo the locks. “We have to stop, we have to stop…”
“Calm down, Madsen, what do you want me to — this is ridiculous.” Lukas can’t seem to stop laughing. “You see this? This girl who followed us? I’m finished. I’m retiring after this. I can’t do it anymore.”
I make no apologies for my first-draft writing.