(my ode to NaNoWriMo, and writing in general)
Coffee, Check. Jellybeans, Check.
I should really find a healthier motivational reward.
My mouth watered as my gaze lingered on the black one that lay provocatively on the mattress of blues, greens, orange- yuck, and the rest of the rainbow selection.
This novel isn’t going to write itself.
The way was straight, a line. Straight down to this lone-lost place called Gehenna B. He had never had the pleasure, not till now.
Leads, and this was where they ended.
The black clouds swallowed his ship. Volcanoes had been burning for centuries.
Who would live here?
The only ones who could, those without flesh to burn, and some argued there were no souls to fall neither.
|Writers Block by Fyrelinx|
He placed his hands on the table, either side of the box, there’s grease on them. My inner clean freak shuddered, yet the smell of engine oil in the air was strangely alluring. I looked back to my laptop and the screen quivered in anticipation. I wish. I furtively sneaked an undeserved jellybean breaking my 1-per-200-words, rule.
I want to write about dragons. Dragons are cool.
Clunk, clink. I tried to mentally blot out the noise of Felix and his box.
The air was a toxic, a mix of carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, argon and helium.
He took the breather, snapping it over his mouth and nose, the band cutting into the back of his head as it tightened. The temp gauge showed a balmy 120 degrees F. Nice spot for a slow burning BBQ.
I smirked and rewarded myself with another bean, washing it down with a swig of coffee. Hot… still too hot. Gasp.
I spluttered, and Felix looked up from rifling within his mysterious wooden box. “You alright there?”
I nodded wordlessly, quickly wiping away coffee drool.
He turned his attention back to the box and the clinking continued.
I looked up, unable to think while the question burned at me. “What’s with the box?”
The crease that had been forming between his thick, honest eyebrows relaxed. “Oh this? It’s the toolbox my father built for me".
“What are you looking for?”
His lips curled up at one side, “Uh, a tool…”
“Of course,” I mumbled stupidly. My gaze stuck to a carving on that lid that was staring back. “Is that a dragon?”
“Nope, a Taniwha.”
“Is there a difference?”
He shrugged, “Dunno, it’s not like either are real.” He continued, “It’s a bit arty for my taste, but this was the last thing he finished before…”
“I can’t find the tool I need to fix the door, might have to pilfer one from the engineering department at Uni. Hey you want to take a mallet to a windscreen?”
My mind blanked a moment, and I just stared at him, slack jawed idiot style.
“You look like you need a break,” He smirked at his pun.
Damn these inconveniently interesting flatmates. “Mallet, windscreen…why on earth?”
“It’s screwed, needs removing anyway. You know the usual tragic romance, truck plus stone equals crack from top to bottom. It’s already broken, May as well have a little fun shattering the romance further.”
Oh Lord, I look to the jellybeans but they refused to get involved. My coffee just simmered, puffing a blob of disinterested steam.
He just waited the faint smell of grease lingering with him . I felt like breaking something. “Very well.”
I snapped the laptop shut with a firm hand and followed him outside.