The Writing Lifestyle

I've found myself realizing more and more lately that I don't think like a normal person anymore.

Writing has started shaping my entire life. It's been heading that direction since I was as young as ten, but I guess I didn't know it until now. Everything I do in my day-to-day lifestyle revolves around my writing.

I'm not thinking ahead to college because all I picture myself doing in a few years is writing. How I get through doing schoolwork is thinking about how I can use this knowledge for my writing. Every morning I wake up, I wonder how much writing I'm going to get done. When my mom asks me what I'm going to do today, I have to stop and think of something besides writing I had been planning to do. It's actually a little scary to think about how unconsciously writing controls my life. I don't even really have the normal "teenage girl" thoughts of something like who I'm going to marry or what kind of house I want to live in when I get older. All I can think is, Oh, look, it's a new day. Guess I'm gonna write.

Is this unhealthy? It's either passion or a mental disorder. Probably both. Do you guys ever feel this way?

Everything around me is fuel for the writing fire. Literally almost every thought that crosses my mind about something usually turns into "how can I use this in a story?" Recently, I was playing soccer with some friends, and accidentally got a black eye from someone's elbow in the wrong place at the wrong time. And, seriously, I was kind of happy, because now I knew how to describe the pain of being hit extremely hard in the face. Great, right?

But something I have to remind myself every single day so I don't get sidetracked is to follow up the question of "How can I use this in my story?" with "And how will this glorify God?" 

I want that question to fuel me with as much passion as my writing. And it's hard. Because I've become so ingrained with the writing mindset, it's hard to fit anything else into my head with it. But it's a very necessary thought. It's an important thought. It is THE most important thought, actually. 

As I've realized how much my life revolves around my writing, I've realized how much more I need it to revolve around that question. How can I glorify God? Because that has to come before everything else. And more than anything it has to come before my writing.

I'm not sure where this post was heading. Hopefully my ramblings made at least a little sense.

How has writing shaped your life? Do you ever have to take a step back and reevaluate?

Colossians 3:23 "And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men."

Have a lovely day!
~The Scribbler in the Attic

A Momentousness of Books

Something momentous has happened. Something amazing. Something so cool I just had to share it with you guys.

*drum roll please......* 

I own over 100 books!!!

Me, myself and I, personally own over 100 titles--obviously my favorites, plus a few random ones I happened to pick up on the way. :)

I never set a goal or anything like that for myself. I've tried to buy as many as I can, rather than get them from library, since I may end up wanting re-read or flip through them again. (And it's especially hard to do that with library books if the library you happen to go to is an hour and a half away. Heh.) Confession time, though... I haven't actually read all of them. Out of 100, I've maybe read 87. Which isn't bad, and I am working on it. :)

But anyways, I was just so excited I thought I'd write up a post about it. I'm completely out of shelf space, which is quite an awesome feeling... While I've got you, though, I apologize for my rather sudden hiatus there for a few months. It's been a really crazy time around here. A lot of traveling and a lot of bruises from a lot of soccer games. Also watermelon. A lot of watermelon. (But that's always a good thing. :D )

Do you guys have a book collection? How big has it gotten? Any suggestions for me? Which books are your favorites? Which do you wish you had bought instead of getting them from the library?

Ecstatically,
~The Scribbler in the Attic 

March Reading List \\ The Obsidian Blood Throne of Doom and Olympus Staff

Hey y'all! Sorry I've been neglectful with posting this last month. It's been super busy around here. :)
Maybe I'll actually get March's "Reading List" post up before the month ends this time. :P

The Obsidian Mirror (Chronoptika #1) 

by Catherine Fisher 

This was such a good book! It finally came in at our library and I found myself completely transfixed. Catherine Fisher has long been one of my favorite authors, both for her stories and her writing style, which is chilling and enchanting all at once. The Obsidian Mirror is about a boy, Jake, who's father was murdered. Jake suspects his new guardian, Oberon Venn, the man who was his father's best friend, to be the murderer. But when Jake goes to Wintercombe Abby to confront him, he finds only secrets and a strange black mirror. I give this book 4.5 stars. I wish I had just gone ahead and bought it! (Side note: There is a good deal of mild language throughout.)

The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy #3)

by Jennifer A. Nielson

This. Was. A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. This series has become my favorite book series ever, and I was not disappointed by the conclusion. I loved every bit of it! If you haven't heard of this series go buy it right now. :D I wish I could give it more than 5 stars!

Day of Doom (The 39 Clues: Cahills vs. Vespers #6)

by David Baldacci

This was pretty good. It was the last book of the series and tied up everything really well. A very good sequel series to the original 39 Clues. 3.5. stars is my humble opinion. (It does take the Lord's Name is vain three or four times, as well as using two mild curse words.)

The Blood of Olympus (Heroes of Olympus #5)

by Rick Riordan

Eh. I can't complain. It was exactly like all the others, which is to say, they travel around and fight monsters. It was actually rather boring until the very end, at which point I finally started to enjoy myself. It was a lot of fun and had several parts that made me laugh out loud. But I won't say anymore so that I don't spoil it for any of you who haven't read it. 3.5 stars. (Just fyi, there is a gay character in here. But nothing "happens" per se.)

The Staff of Serapis (PJO and KC Crossover #2)

by Rick Riordan

Dude. I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS! If you haven't read The Kane Chronicles and Percy Jackson, pick them both up and then read The Son of Sobek and then read this. Worlds collide. It's awesome. 4.5 stars, definitely! 


What did you guys read this month? Any recommendations?
Adios,
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Thoughts in Caramel

     Having you ever felt so crammed full of things you need to do, of schedules and projects to work on, that your thoughts literally feel like they're racing a hundred-miles-per-hour at the same time it feels like they're stuck in glue, pinging in slow-motion, so sluggish you can barely even put two words together in your head?

     Huuuge run on sentence, I know. I'm sorry... 

     But, that's what tonight is like for me. And last night. And the night before. And every moment in between.

     My brain feels like it could explode at any second. Like all of my thoughts are stuck together with caramel. I have too many things I should be doing, too many things I need to be doing, but they can't all happen at once.

     This week has been a season of letting go for me. Between juggling school, friends, writing, video work, blogging, research, and a (sort of) job, there's just too much to handle with only two hands and one brain. I've had to prioritize. I've had to organize (weird, right? I didn't think I had it in me...). And I've had to let go of things I know are less important. Things that will get in the way of my real dreams and my real goals. Goals that I know I can accomplish and not just daydream about. 

     Maybe, one day, I can come back to them. Maybe, one day, they'll be my important goals. Maybe, one day, those dreams will come true. 

     I never thought I'd have to prioritize my dreams... It just sounds kind of wrong, doesn't it?

     But, some of these goals, some of them I've had to tell myself will never happen. That it really was just a dream, and there are better dreams for me to spend my time on. That's just part of growing, I suppose.

     I've never been a "deep" blogger. Though I spend a lot of time writing and am rather a sensitive soul, I usually stink at conveying my emotions and thoughts. I guess I deal better with describing the flashing of rapiers during a pirate duel that I do describing real thoughts and feelings.

     So, I don't know why I decided to post this today. I just felt like sharing. :)

     Have any of you all ever experienced this?

Thanks for reading,
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Verbal Victory Dance!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Nun-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuuuuuuuuuuuuh!!!!!!!!!

Just thought I'd tell y'all that I FINISHED MY NANOWRIMO BOOK AND I'M NOT EXCITED AT ALL.

(I suffer from an extreme case of being sarcastic when I am really excited. Just fyi.)

Thank you all so much for your support! To those of you doing National Novel Writing Month, how is it going? I really hope you've enjoyed this month as much as I have!

Love,
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Monday Musings \\ Treasure Hunting: What I Read

Leepike Ridge by N.D. Wilson

This probably wouldn't "officially" be shelved with the treasure hunting genre, but it involves the theory of Chinese and Phoenician discoveries of America, and that's good enough for me. 

The story follows Tom as he is accidentally pulled into an underground river and has to find a way out of the subterranean world. N.D. Wilson yet again spins an amazing, fun, and quirky story that I will definitely read again.

Treasure Hunters by James Patterson

This is as juvenile as juvenile fiction can get. My nine year old brother would be able to breeze through it, but I picked it up anyways. Half of the book is illustrations. I really enjoyed it, though. 

The four kids (twins Bick and Beck, 14-year old Storm and "Tail-spin" Tommy), and coincidentally "Kidd" siblings, have grown up their whole lives treasure hunting with their parents. But when their parents are kidnapped, they must travel the globe to find them again--along with some treasure. 

Vanished Smile: The Mysterious Theft of Mona Lisa by R.A. Scotti

This was such a good book! It's a non-fiction account of the theft of the Mona Lisa in 1911. I read it to get some background on art theft, as well as art history, and this fit the bill perfectly. I learned a little about the beginnings of forensic sciences, as well as the history behind stolen masterpiece. 

(On a parental guide note, it does have some adult-themes and some language.)

The 39 Clues by... A Lot Of Different People

I haven't actually finished this series completely (so if you've read it, don't spoil anything!), but I don't have to to give a shining review. The plot and characters are so well done by the various authors who write in the series, and I couldn't give a higher recommendation if you're looking for treasure hunting books to read.

Amy and Dan Cahill are given a choice: Two million dollars or the first clue to a treasure hunt that could either kill them, or lead them to the ultimate prize. A prize that would make them the two most powerful people in the world. Along the way, they have to battle relatives, sharks, Russian spies, and *shudder* museum curators. 

(Language note: They do take the Lord's name in vain several times.)

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

Do I need to give an explanation for why I read this? It's the treasure hunting novel of all treasure hunting novels. As well as one of the worlds most famous classics. 

The Mysterious Benedict Society and the Perilous Journey by Trenton Lee Stewart

Being the 2nd installment of The Mysterious Benedict Society series by T.L. Stewart this is a fun story about Reynie Muldoon and his friends Sticky, Constance, and Kate. Four orphans who are recruited to help save the world, in this sequel they must set off on a journey that takes them across the globe to save their friends. 

I read this one a while ago, but enjoyed it a lot. The characters are so unique, and Stewart's writing is so well done. The only thing I didn't like about it was that the kids disobeyed their guardians, who were only looking out for their own good, even if it was to do the right thing.

The Century Quartet by P.D. Baccalario

I literally just finished the last book in this series half an hour ago. It. Was. So. Good. A very unconventional treasure hunting story, but refreshing in its premise.

At a hotel in Rome, four kids, Harvey from New York, Mistral from Paris, Sheng from Shanghai, and Elettra, the hotel owner's daughter, come together, apparently by chance on New Year's, and soon find out that they were all born on the same day: Febuary 29th. Their destinies become entwined as they are all pulled into a mystery involving a briefcase which contains clues leading to ancient mystical artifacts, given to them by a man who is murdered the very next day. 

Character development was really one of the highlights of these for me. Harvey and Sheng especially. The last book was perfectly done. I loved these so much, and was so happy to have picked them up when I was wandering the library, at a loss as to what to get. And just when I needed some good treasure hunting books!

(There is some mild cursing in here, teenagers kissing, and complete contradiction with the Creation account, but it had a relatively good message, and it didn't push the contradiction in your face, so it didn't really bother me or ruin the story.)

Well, I hope you guys now have some new material for your reading lists. Have a great day!
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers Wednesday || Treasure Hunting: What I've Learned So Far

It's not as large a genre as you might expect.
When I decided I was going to write a treasure-hunting novel, I went searching for juvenile or young adult books in the genre. Turns out, there's not a lot of them out there. I wanted more fiction than fantasy, but ended up settling with about 50/50 of each, the selection just not giving me the room to be picky. 
I think it's kind of exciting, though, writing in a genre so sparsely populated. It gives you the chance to be a bit more original, to be a bit more outrageous and courageous.

It's not a treasure hunt unless something goes BOOM.
Well, at least, I've yet to discover a treasure hunting story without explosions.With every treasure hunt, obstacles have to be thrown in the characters' faces, and not just bad guys and difficult clues that lead to gold hordes.
There's booby traps, too.
LOTS of them.
I think booby-traps are some of the coolest ways to heighten stakes, because they aren't things you can reason or plead with. They aren't on a side. They can pick off both the heroes and the villains. You have to contend with the laws of physics and nature, and sometimes it takes more brains to figure out how to get past them than it takes to decode any clue.
One of my all-time favorite movie scenes is the one in National Treasure: Book of Secrets where they enter the ancient Mayan caves, and stumble onto a giant slab of stone, which is upheld by a single pillar of wood. And they then have to keep their balance while crossing to the other side, without tipping the whole structure and falling to their deaths.
If you had a huge stash of gold, you wouldn't leave it unprotected, would you?

Historical accuracy isn't an issue, apparently.
Trust me. You don't need to be nervous about bending history a little bit. People expect you to put a twist on events and people from the past and weave a story with them. Even if it's completely outrageous. Just look at National Treasure. 
That isn't to say, though, that research isn't important. You should always strive for good accuracy in your story. But don't pull your hair out over it.


Your clues don't have to rhyme.
Seriously. 


You can make nerdy cool.
I am very tired of this whole age of making fun of nerds and geeks as being weird, instead of seeing them as the very smart and interesting people they are. Nerds and geeks are often people  who grow up to be leaders and writers and world-changers.
One of the cool things about treasure-hunt stories, is that (usually, not always) there is as much need for a macho protagonist who can deal with the obstacles and gun-slinging bad guys as there is for a protagonist who knows his history, who's smart and clever and has to out-fox everyone. Sometimes these characteristics are split between two people, and sometimes, as in the case of Indiana Jones and Ben Gates, you can have swashbuckling and smart in the same person.

Treasure hunting isn't just about 3000 year old artifacts. 
It can be much more modern. There are so many thefts and losses of important cultural art or even hordes of wealth that have happened in the last century, you don't have to limit your sights to Mayan temples and the Knights Templar.

Stayed tuned for next week's Writers Wednesday piece, where I'll be hosting a blog tour for Aidyl Ewoh and her new book.
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Monday Musings \\ The Mad Scramble

And so it begins...

Confession time: I've never actually done NaNoWriMo before.

Definition time: To those of you who are not familiar with what NaNoWriMo is and are having a hard time pronouncing it, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month. Every November, writers write a 50,000 word novel between Nov. 1st and the 30th. 

Introduction time: For my first attempt at NaNoWriMo, I've decided to begin a story I've been sitting on for a while now about treasure hunters. I am suuuuuupeeer excited--so excited, in fact, that I've decided to make it the theme of my blog post for the next month.

What I've got planned:

Monday Musings will now be lists of things that I've read/watched and listened to for research purposes, or random things that have been helping me cope with the fact that every day you have to write at least 1,667 words to get 50,000 in by the end of the month. 

Writers Wednesdays I will be sharing with you what I've learned so far about the treasure-hunting genre and what's helped me get into the swing of writing a treasure hunting story.

Photography Friday is probably what I'm most excited about. I'll be taking a break from my "Selfie Series" and doing more treasure-hunter-themed shoots. CANNOT WAIT! :D 

Anyways, just wanted to give you a heads-up for what's in store. I can't wait to get started!

So, grab your ice cream, Oreos, hot tea and bunny slippers and get writing!

Over and out,

~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers Wednesday || Blood Moon

Blood Moon

Upon the earthbound,

marshy road,

I looked and saw the

blood red rose

Of the moon upon

the waves of stars,

Floating o'er the depths of

shadow shards.

Terror seized

me with burning claws,

Dug through skin to

my pulsing heart.

Memory encaged by

thin crystal glass,

Shattered, broken

free at last.

Then I fled the

shades cast by the night,

I fled the grip

of seething fright.

Most of all I fled

that wretched gaze,

Of that bloody moon like

flesh ablaze.

I reached the trees and

welcome shaded veiw

From the moon, pale red light

Still seeping through,

And thought of home,

now far away,

Where I might have found

a different fate.

What'ch'y'all think? 

~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers Wednesday || Part 17 - The Revelation

This picture was a lot of fun to take. I was literally laughing out loud as I applied the fake blood.
Hope you guys enjoy this next part!

- Part 17 -

The Revelation

Her heart had stopped beating.

It seemed as if she was trapped for an eternity between complete disbelief and complete confusion, yet on the very brink of everything in her broken life clicking into place.

Clarity forced herself to forget every question hurtling through her brain like a thousand trains about to crash into each other, and focus on Stallings to see if he was telling the truth. She watched his eyes and his features, tensing for any little sign of a lie.

She swallowed hard, "…Where? Where are they?"

Stallings held up his hands protectively, his gaze slipping between her and the barrel of her weapon. "Put the gun down and we'll talk."

"No."

"Clarity--"

"Where are they, Professor?" Her voice shook. Jerking her head towards the door to the crypt, she demanded, "In there, with the rest of your corpses?"

"No, they aren't in there."

"Then where, Stallings?" she practically screamed. "Are they dead?" Somewhere in the corner of her heart, Clarity had always had the prowling fear that she would never see them alive, never know how exactly they died. A fear that had been strengthened by her aunt everyday for years after  the night they disappeared. She would yank any trace of hope of her neice's heart with the firm words, "They aren't coming back, Clarity dear. I'm sorry, but they're dead. They aren't coming back."

Clarity felt tears rising in her eyes. She quickly blinked and repeated her question, "Are they dead?"

Stallings gulped. A thousand years seemed to pass as he paused, hesitating with his answer.

"No. They are alive."

Staggering back a step, a wave of heat and dizziness swept over Clarity. She wanted to believe it with every fiber of her being, but doubt won out as she reminded herself Stallings couldn't be trusted. It could all still be a lie.

The sound of approaching boots on tile flooded Clarity with awareness again. Stallings was backing away slowly.

"I'm afraid it's over, Clarity. You can't escape this place."

Clarity's hand holding her gun had fallen back to her side. She raised it to point at his chest again.

"You can't shoot me, Clarity. Think of your parents. I'm the only one who knows."

The pounding footsteps were getting closer and closer. They would be in the hallway any moment. Clarity's hands shook as she held the gun. 
She took a deep breath and shot.

Stallings gave a cry and flinched, pathetically waving his hands as if somehow that would save him. But the bullet wasn't meant for him. At the last second, Clarity had pointed the weapon upwards and shot the florescent lights. A shower of sparks rained down. Using it as her smokescreen, she fled to the opposite end of the hallway, to the secondary stairwell, and threw herself down the stairs.   

Outside, the night was electric and dark.

Clarity found the door to the outside ajar. She breathed a prayer of thanks as she stepped into the open air at last. The wind caressed her gently, playing with her highlighted blue hair as she crouched in the shadow of the building's walls to get her bearings.

One guard by each tower, two others patrolling the wall tops between.

As she scanned the concrete yard, a shadow got caught in the corner of her eye. She twisted her head to get a better angle.

It was Sean. Crouching behind some sort of armored van. His oversized brown leather jacket gleamed slightly beneath the light of the dim moon.

Clattering footsteps on the stairs inside warned Clarity it was time to make a move.

She had never been much for thinking things through. It was usually just a waste of valuable time.

Aiming the gun at the clouds, Clarity pulled the trigger. The shot shattered the silence of the compound. The six guards stationed at the towers immediately began yelling to each other. The two on the ground started running towards the building, directly for her.

Clarity didn't move. She watched as Sean left behind his hiding place and sprinted for the East tower. The wall top guards spotted him. At their comrades' cries, the guards heading for Clarity turned about and went straight for Sean.

Unclipping one of the grenades from her chest holster, Clarity followed them. She wasn't sure whether or not she should be frightened. It was her first time using a grenade.

The guards were closing in on Sean now and she was closing in on them. Catching sight of her, Sean's mouth dropped open. They'd only been apart for maybe twenty minutes, but seeing his stupid face again brought a rush of happiness back to Clarity.

She pulled the pin out of the bomb and flung it with all her might at the two guards.

As it exploded with an eruption of fire and noise, a sheet of heat nearly pushed Clarity to the ground. It seared and scrubbed her skin raw like sandpaper. Shaking away the high-pitched ringing in her ears, she passed the two smoldering men, their clothes smoking, and fell down beside Sean, who had collapsed with the detonation.

"Sean! We've got to get out of here! Sean--can you hear me? We've--"

"Dyterra," he hissed, suddenly awake and grabbing his head. "Thanks and no thanks for saving me."

She opened her mouth to ask if he was alright, but he beat her to it. "You okay?"

"Never better," she grunted, helping him to his feet. "You?"

"You're really asking a guy that after you threw a bomb at him?"

"You're welcome for saving your life," said Clarity. "Now it's time for us to leave."

Sean nodded, "The tower."

Supporting each other, they started for the entrance, when one of the guards on the wall top shouted, "STOP WHERE YOU ARE! DON'T MOVE."

They looked up to find four rifles trained on their heads. Sean whispered so only Clarity could hear, "They can't kill us. They've had plenty of opportunities before now. Stallings needs us."

They started for the tower again, ignoring the guards' demands for surrender. Sean gripped the keypad next to the door and typed in two numbers. The lock clicked, the light on the pad blinking green.

The tower inside was musty and damp. There was only one room, ten-by-ten, a third of it taken up by a iron stairwell going upwards.

"What do we do now?" groaned Clarity.

"Up."

Clarity halted him with a hand on his shoulder and a sharp, "Sean!"

Heavy boots were pounding and rattling, coming down the iron stairs. A pair of legs appeared at the top of the stairs, the rest of the body following. Just before the guard's head became visible, Sean spotted a closet in the corner, next to a coat rack and bench, and opened the door.

Three other men came after the first guard. They jumped down the stairs, about to raise their weapons and call for surrender, when Clarity detached one of her smaller grenades, unplugged the pin, and sent it sailing. Sean grabbed her, flung them into the closet, and slammed the door.

The explosion rocked the building, cracking the walls and sending out a ripple of intense heat. Sean held his jacket over his and Clarity's head, their only protection in case the roof came down. But only a small cloud of dust and mortar hit them.

Hearts beating wildly, the two clutched each other, panting, breathing in the detritus. With a moan and a creak, the metal closet door slowly tipped forward and fell to the floor with a clang. The fire had completely blown away its hinges.

"Come on," muttered Sean, and together they stumbled into the wreckage. "More soldiers will be here any second."

Clarity stared at the bodies on the floor, some of their clothes still on fire. What was left of the men's skin was black. Sean took her hand in his, bringing her attention away from the corpses.

"Don't. Don't look."

"I killed them," she said, her voice strangely loud and harsh in the swirling silence of the tower.

"Yes, you did." Sean squeezed her fingers, "To save us... Come on. We need to go."

She let him lead her to the stairs, the first three of which had been scraped off the wall by the explosion. They hopped onto the wobbly steps. They went up around and around, until at last they emerged into the very top of the tower.  One door led to the North wall top, another to the East.

Clarity pointed out the North door window, "Sean, look! There are guards running this way!"

Sean's gaze was out the East door view, "They're coming from over there too."

"What do we do?"

"The tower is already unstable as it is. We set off another bomb we'll probably disrupt the entire structure and kill ourselves."

"Stop thinking about what we can't do and figure out what we can do!"

Sean went to the North door, "How much do you weigh?"

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind, it's only about fifteen feet. You should be able to make it, if we aim for one of the lower branches."

"Shut up and tell me what you're talking about!"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that that sentence was completely contradictory and tell you that I have a plan."

"What is--"

Sean cut her off by going out onto the North wall top. She was quick on his heels. He was leaning over the edge of the stone railing. Clarity followed his gaze the tree directly across from them. It was an enormous, sprawling cedar tree.

"Sean--wait--"

"We have to jump, Clarity."

"Sean--"

"There's no time! We'll be fine."

The guards were closing in from both sides. The ones on this North walkway were barely twenty feet away. Sean snatched up her hand again and climbed onto the thick stone railing, dragging her up behind him.

"It's simple physics," he said. "There's nothing to worry about. On the count of two we jump."

"Sean!"

"One--"

Clarity aimed at the closest cedar branch.

"Two--"

She bit her lip.

"JUMP!"

They leapt away from the wall, falling more than jumping. Clarity's hand slipped from Sean's. The cedar tree was inches away--and then they were crashing into it. Clarity grappled for something to break her plummet, but the world was spinning around her, green and black. Her stomach flipped.

Then she slammed chest-first into something thick and round and hung on with all her might.

"Sean?" she called in the darkness. The echoing cries of the guards on the compound wall top drifted down. Everything hurt.

"Sean?" she whispered again.

"Here, Clarity," he replied from somewhere below her.

"Are--are you alright?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"We're not far from the ground. Can you move?"

"I don't think so."

"We're going to have to. They're going to send more men after us. We have to get as far away as possible."

*laughs maniacally*
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers Wednesday || Part 16 - The Explosion

Wow. 11:39 p.m. I'm cutting Writers Wednesday pretty close...
Well, here it is at last! The next segment of This Name and Moment. I'm super excited because I'm finally getting to the parts of the story with helicopters and explosions. Do you ever, as writers, seem to just be waiting the entire book for a specific scene or scenario? Sometimes I've invented whole stories just to write one scene that I thought of and couldn't fit in anywhere else. It's a terribly inconvenient thing, but then again, I don't think writers are ever very convenient people.

- Part 16 -

The Explosion

Sean was really tired of running. And really tired of stairs. And really tired of florescent lights.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, between freaking out about the men chasing him and finding Clarity before she was killed, he remembered the Volva had said something about going to floor number three.

So three stairwells up, he skidded to a halt and tugged the door open.

It was a hallway, just like all the other floors, with three or four doors on either side. Bolting for the door at the end that led to a secondary staircase on the other side of the building, he caught glimpses through tiny windows of dark rooms filled with shiny, metal things in varying degrees of size and shape.

Sean stopped, realizing suddenly that he didn't hear any sounds of pursuit from the guards. For a moment he teetered, undecided. The Volva had said Clarity was in danger, but she also said he needed some kind of device. Were those shiny metal things it?

It was stupid, Sean knew. Because if he stopped and inspected every electronic piece of equipment in this building, he would never get to Clarity in time. But the Volva had specifically told him to go to this floor. There was no obvious reason except for what was inside those rooms.

Sean tried the nearest door. It opened with a squeak. He felt for a light-switch and flipped it on.

He would just grab a few of these things and then find Clarity. If these even were the things he needed. He had no way of knowing.

The room was cleaner than the others Sean had been in, with very white walls and floor, and blue mood-lighting around the edges of the floor and ceiling. Four tables were stationed in the center of the room, forming a square around open space, covered with the different cathodic instruments.

They were like nothing Sean had ever seen. The majority appeared to be metal snap bracelets. The smallest ones were about two millimeters thick and four-inches long, and fit perfectly around his wrist when he snapped it on. They had touch-screen surfaces, that came to life the instant he brushed it. The screen lit up with a blurry image of some sort of meter, like it was measuring something. If he stepped or moved slightly, it fluctuated. One end of the meter was bright green, the other dark blue. Right now, it looked like he had a lot of whatever the dark blue stuff was.

Clarity's image darted into his head with a painful jolt to his chest, and with no time left to really think whether or not this was what he was looking for, Sean quickly grabbed as many Sean-sized wrist devices he could. Then he jammed them into his pocket and zipped them closed.

Exiting the room, he made it to the secondary staircase and tried to remember more of what the Volva had said. Or… chanted.

Seventeen, fifteen, twenty-six, eight.  

But what did those numbers mean? Floors? Sean doubted there were twenty-six floors. Maybe twelve, at the most. Which disqualified all but the number eight. A code for one of the locked doors? But where was the front door of this place? He and Clarity had been over almost every inch by now, and all they had found were hallways and doors and stairs and stairs and stairs.

What was he supposed to do? Where was Clarity?

That's when Sean noticed a patch of sunlight on the stairs leading up. Twisting his head, he managed to catch a glimpse of the next landing. There was a window to the outside.

Heart hammering, Sean bounded up the stairs and stood breathless before the window, exuberant for something more than dirty white cement and florescent lights.

The compound walls stared back at him, blocking any view of the forest beyond, only allowing him to see the large yard of cement that separated the building from the stone fence. Across it were scattered piles of barrels, crates, anonymous rectangular-shaped structures strapped beneath tarps, various military-grade looking armored cars, and war machines. It was hard to make out anything more than the large stuff in the darkness.

The towers at the corners of the walls were patrolled  by a single guard and the wall-tops  by two. Their black helmets let off a gleam in the moonlight.

Sean's gaze was caught suddenly on a soldier striding away from the building, as if he had come through the wall directly below where Sean stood. There must be an exit to the outside on this stairwell. The other one had had no door because of the Volva.

With renewed hope, Sean skipped quietly down the stairs, determined to keep the guards off of his trail as long as possible. He was exhausted and afraid that if he started running again, he would be too slow.

But the question still at the forefront of his mind was--where was Clarity?

Suddenly, a gunshot shattered the silence. Sean ducked, losing his balance and stumbling down the stairs. He caught himself on the banister and listened as a high-pitched buzzing echoed through the stairway. Blood pounding in his ears, Sean leapt down the remaining steps to the ground-floor. Sure enough, there was a door to the outside.

It had a keypad.

Seventeen, fifteen, twenty-six, eight.

Sean jabbed in the first two numbers, and was about to do the next, when the lock on the door clicked. He yanked it open and stole outside.

The night was cool and windy. The smell of rain was in the air. In the darkness encroaching round the compound, he could hear the soft murmur of pine trees rustling against each other's needles.

The tower at the west corner was maybe a hundred and eighty feet away. Sean pressed against the shadows cast by the piles of crates and barrels, and made his way slowly and carefully in its direction. The guards made no sign they had heard the gunshot in the building.

Sean left the protection of an armored van for the heavier shelter of a dark-green tank, only fifty feet from the tower entrance now. He needed some way to get the guard away from the tower door. It was a long shot, but the tower just might have an outside entrance to the compound. If it did, then he and Clarity would have an escape route.

A pair of gunshots--fired outside--made Sean jump again. He crouched against the side of the tank, head hot with adrenalin. As he watched, the guards stiffened to attention, cocking their firearms and shouting to each other.

This was his only chance.

Sean staggered out from behind the tank and ran for the tower as the guards ran the opposite way, for the building.

Like a knife slipped into ice, fracturing it, the half-euphoric, half-terrifying moment of Sean's small victory was broken by the hoarse yells of the wall top guards drawing the attention of their comrades to the lanky figure lurching for the tower.   

Turning away from the building, they doubled back and came at Sean, darker shadows against the darkness.

Sean tripled his speed, and made it to the tower. A steel door and keypad greeted him.

He was about to try the last two numbers the Volva had given him, but the guards were within feet of him.

Floodlights suddenly bombarded the compound interior with blinding brightness, like a battering ram. Sean blinked rapidly against the spots burned in his retinas. That's when he spotted the figure sprinting up behind the two guards headed for him.

Clarity.

She was holding something in her hand. Sean just had time to recognize what it was before she gave a shout and threw it at the heels of the closing guards.

The explosion rocked the ground, fire and smoke and noise shattering the night. 

Help me out and leave critiques and comments below! Always love to hear from you guys. 
~The Scribbler in the Attic

Writers' Wednesday || Part 15 - The Message (and new characters!)

Wow. Sorry this took so long to get up. I tried to take a really epic picture for it, but they were all pretty bad. 

Hope you guys like it! 

- Part 15 -

The Message

Above the raging ocean, Blood Castle clung to the mountain precipice, old seaweed and damp gorse oozing from the cracks like puss from a wound. The lightning storm was whipping the sea into a foamy torment, the skies black with clouds. Waves lapped at the salt-encrusted stone stairway in the mountainside that led up from the beach to the fortress. Lorena Blood took a deep breath of the salty air, metallic with the electricity from the storm.

She stood at the open window, the silky curtains she had drawn away rippling in the wind. This castle had been a rotting corpse of driftwood before she arrived. But she had fixed that. She had made it a great fortress once again. Now, the village people intoned its name like a curse. Lorena Blood had made a good life for herself here, despite that this place had been intended to be her punishment. But she would gain the Master's trust and respect back.

And if not that, at least her life.

The sound of footsteps made her turn around. She moved slowly, unconcerned. An agent stood with hands in his pockets, maddenly arrogant like every idiot Stallings turned into a soldier for the Master. He was younger than the others, which only added to his smug attitude. She took in his crew-cut black hair, impeccable suit and trenchcoat, his bright but slow eyes.

She waited for him to speak first. When their eyes met, the man seemed momentarily surprised. His gaze swept her face and body, nervousness flooding his expression. Lorena smiled. This poor sap must be new.

"Freyja," he finally managed. Lorena crossed her arms elegantly and waited. "I've brought you a message from Stallings."

Lorena held out a pale hand for the slip of paper, blood red nails like claws clicking as they brushed each other. The agent placed it in her fingers delicately. His hand was gloved. Lorena wondered sometimes how they didn't get hot under all that clothing.

Turning her back to the young man, she unfolded the paper and read the three words printed on it.

Ragnorak is here.

Lorena crushed the paper in her fist. Stretching her hand out the window, she watched the message flutter in the wind as it dropped towards the ocean.

"That's it?" she asked, in a half-whisper.

"Yes."

Striding to her desk, Lorena quickly scribbled a reply. "Give this to Stallings."

The man seemed to shrink away from her even while he came closer to receive the note she held. She smiled again, and the agent flinched. He practically grabbed the paper from her. Then he was gone.

Lorena Blood found herself laughing as the room was suddenly empty. She glanced at the giant mirror over the mantle of the crackling fireplace. Emerald eyes flashed back at her. Her white skin looked whiter in the stark dimness cast by the storm, her red lips like blood in the half-light. How incredible it was what beauty could do to a man when he was confronted face-to-face with it.

A sour feeling trickled into her stomach as her thoughts once again retured to Stalling's message.

Ragnarok is here.

"I suppose we shall meet soon," Lorena said, leaning against the windowsill, reveling in the seaspray on her face. "I'll be looking forward to it, Ragnarok. Whoever you are."

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~The Scribbler in the Attic