November Two (D-2) - Slipslide
Second day! :O I did a little better today, getting over 2000 words done, but I should really write more. -3- I'm going to be missing three days of writing, most likely, next week, so I should really get a buffer of around 5000 words done. ~_~; I have a 1060 word buffer now, so I shall get a larger buffer made tomorrow! ^^
I love how convoluted and long-winded my writing style is; I can make a huge deal out of something really little and blow up my word count. XD
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The Best of the Day: "It was something like being slapped with a handful of superglue: it only stings for a little while, but the aftereffects stick for a long time."
Sugar/Caffeine had: Three small squares of dark chocolate
Sanity: A little bit. But not enough, obviously.
Word Count (Daily): 2,520
Word Count (Total): 4,394
4,394 / 50,000
(8.8%)
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Excerpt: Originally I wasn't going to post excerpts or anything, but I figured, why the hell not? ^^ So here is the prologue~
0/Zero - Diamond Bling Doorknobs • Thoughtline Fishing
I’m not sure since when it was that I could see those Doors. It’s just something I’ve never really thought about, but if you pressed me for an answer, I guess I can say that I’ve seen them for as long as I can remember. That’s not a proper answer, probably, but that’s the best I can provide a person with.
I saw those doors everywhere and anywhere. Of course, when I was little, I’d tell people about the Doors, explain that they were here, there, all over the place. Grown-ups would indulge me for a little while, asking me where they came from and what they looked like, and I would go to the trouble of explaining it all to them, saying that they didn’t come from anywhere, but were always just there like that, and they all looked different, like look, that one over there is a nice, normal, wooden door, but that one over there is covered in diamond and brass and pretty gold leaf, and the grown-ups would simply laugh and give me a cookie and tell my parents that I had a fascinating imagination.
There was one person I really trusted, actually. Just one person. She was my best friend, a little girl about my age, really cute. I remember she had the prettiest eyes. We were sweethearts, sort of (or as sweetheart-y kids can get at the age of four or so), and would tell each other everything. Well, when I told her about the doors, she laughed at me and said that I was dumb.
I never talked to her again.
Persistent, though, I kept on insisting that those doors existed. I was once even brave enough to force open an old, rusty-hinged Door and walk through it, closing the door behind me and staying there for a good three hours (the location at the other side of the door was a pleasant field filled with honeysuckles, so I napped there for a while, I think) before returning to my parents. Sadly, though, they had not seen me enter or leave the door, and had assumed that I’d fallen into the nonexistent well in our back yard. The talk-to they gave me was impressive, to say the least. Though it wasn’t enough to curb my desire to prove that the Doors were real, that I was not a madman.
My parents eventually grew disturbed enough by my continuous nagging that they sat me down and gave me a long talk. They said that my little games about the doors was getting annoying to teachers, and even to them, and that there were no pink-furred doors inside my closet, and that no, there was not a little, tiny metal door the size of my palm (a little bigger than a cotton pad) on the monitor of our television screen. I would stop this nonsense about doors, and would stop it immediately.
Not to brag, but I was pretty smart, even as a kid. Or, at least smart enough to figure out that I was the only one who could see those doors. And reading about Joan of the Arc taught me that, if you see or hear things that most other people can’t, then you’re usually called insane and evil. That shut me up quickly enough.
I never told anyone about the doors again. I grew up well, I guess. From anyone else’s point of view, it would have looked like I’d grown out of my “door phase” and was returning to normal. That’s what I wanted them to think.
And it worked.
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I tend to write lots of really short chapters instead of longer ones. ^^; Still, this was a comparatively short chapter, of course. My others are longer~ (otherwise I'd have about a billion chapters done by the end XD) In any case, that was the prologue~ 8D
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Now to go do some homework! Maybe I can finish quickly and squeeze some more words in later~ :3
I love how convoluted and long-winded my writing style is; I can make a huge deal out of something really little and blow up my word count. XD
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The Best of the Day: "It was something like being slapped with a handful of superglue: it only stings for a little while, but the aftereffects stick for a long time."
Sugar/Caffeine had: Three small squares of dark chocolate
Sanity: A little bit. But not enough, obviously.
Word Count (Daily): 2,520
Word Count (Total): 4,394
4,394 / 50,000
(8.8%)
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Excerpt: Originally I wasn't going to post excerpts or anything, but I figured, why the hell not? ^^ So here is the prologue~
0/Zero - Diamond Bling Doorknobs • Thoughtline Fishing
I’m not sure since when it was that I could see those Doors. It’s just something I’ve never really thought about, but if you pressed me for an answer, I guess I can say that I’ve seen them for as long as I can remember. That’s not a proper answer, probably, but that’s the best I can provide a person with.
I saw those doors everywhere and anywhere. Of course, when I was little, I’d tell people about the Doors, explain that they were here, there, all over the place. Grown-ups would indulge me for a little while, asking me where they came from and what they looked like, and I would go to the trouble of explaining it all to them, saying that they didn’t come from anywhere, but were always just there like that, and they all looked different, like look, that one over there is a nice, normal, wooden door, but that one over there is covered in diamond and brass and pretty gold leaf, and the grown-ups would simply laugh and give me a cookie and tell my parents that I had a fascinating imagination.
There was one person I really trusted, actually. Just one person. She was my best friend, a little girl about my age, really cute. I remember she had the prettiest eyes. We were sweethearts, sort of (or as sweetheart-y kids can get at the age of four or so), and would tell each other everything. Well, when I told her about the doors, she laughed at me and said that I was dumb.
I never talked to her again.
Persistent, though, I kept on insisting that those doors existed. I was once even brave enough to force open an old, rusty-hinged Door and walk through it, closing the door behind me and staying there for a good three hours (the location at the other side of the door was a pleasant field filled with honeysuckles, so I napped there for a while, I think) before returning to my parents. Sadly, though, they had not seen me enter or leave the door, and had assumed that I’d fallen into the nonexistent well in our back yard. The talk-to they gave me was impressive, to say the least. Though it wasn’t enough to curb my desire to prove that the Doors were real, that I was not a madman.
My parents eventually grew disturbed enough by my continuous nagging that they sat me down and gave me a long talk. They said that my little games about the doors was getting annoying to teachers, and even to them, and that there were no pink-furred doors inside my closet, and that no, there was not a little, tiny metal door the size of my palm (a little bigger than a cotton pad) on the monitor of our television screen. I would stop this nonsense about doors, and would stop it immediately.
Not to brag, but I was pretty smart, even as a kid. Or, at least smart enough to figure out that I was the only one who could see those doors. And reading about Joan of the Arc taught me that, if you see or hear things that most other people can’t, then you’re usually called insane and evil. That shut me up quickly enough.
I never told anyone about the doors again. I grew up well, I guess. From anyone else’s point of view, it would have looked like I’d grown out of my “door phase” and was returning to normal. That’s what I wanted them to think.
And it worked.
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I tend to write lots of really short chapters instead of longer ones. ^^; Still, this was a comparatively short chapter, of course. My others are longer~ (otherwise I'd have about a billion chapters done by the end XD) In any case, that was the prologue~ 8D
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Now to go do some homework! Maybe I can finish quickly and squeeze some more words in later~ :3