Opening page from a short story I’m working on. It’s a simple ‘got to escape’ story, fantasy borderline horror, so I’m going nuts on the atmosphere. Tempted to change the young boy, Rabbit, to a girl but that means I have to deal with the connotations of that and make her 16 at least. Ponder, ponder. Yes I know this doesn’t outline the world, the why’s and when’s. All of that gets fleshed out in the story. At least a little, after all this is probably just 6000 words. This is the hook, always start with something to grab the reader, interest them enough to turn the page. If you can get someone to read the first few pages you have them for a while on trust. Anyway, enjoy the snippit and feel free to comment. ìCuriouser and curiouser, said Alice.î In the chill gloom I can just about see Rabbit turn and look at me. ìWhat?î He says in a faraway voice. Heís tired as hell and hasnít complained once, I wish I didnít bitch so much. Rabbit must be half my age; this has got to be harder on him than me. ìNothing man, lets sleep.î I hear him shrugging out of his pack, getting ready for the hours of night ahead. I pick a small stone out from under my butt, my back against a cool broken wall. As I look back up the clouds clear a little, out beyond the shadow of the cross cast from the broken steeple above I see whatís been making noise across the field. The things back is as high as the bare trees around it. It doesnít stop moving for long, when it does it seems to sink into the soil. The grey light picks out the liquid pouring from the things maw, my jaws tighten, I hope its just drool. I flinch as Rabbit kicks rubble around to clear enough space to lie down, the thing flicks its ears, triangulating. Rabbit doesnít care, Iím holding my breath. Within seconds Rabbitís down with his blanket pulled over him; invisible to me. The thing stomps one leg and the gravestones near it jump clear from the ground, the nearest falling over, the occupants names lost. The vibrations reach me a moment later and the stones around me dance a very short dance. I know it canít get me right now. I understand that; but fuck sleep.
Short Story Snippit: Not Thought of a Title
March 4th, 2004 · No Comments