Muse
This morning I watched Cold Mountain, finally. It was good, but sad or I would rate it 5 stars. Don't want to spoiler for anyone who hasn't seen it. But someone dies and that greatly irritated me.
And so my muse decides that instead of working on the 5 or more other stories I am in the middle of, I will now start a Civil War Story. so behind the LJ cut is what I wrote today. Please note that this is the first draft.
It was hot. But it was always hot. Elisabeth had gone out without her sunbonnet again.
The girl had no sense of decorum at all. Her browned skin flashed in the sun as she returned to the house with
a catch of fresh trout.
"Look what I caught, Ruth," she shouted happily to her older sister.
"You're lucky you haven't caught sunstroke," the autumn haired girl replied. "Or worse yet, Yankees."
"The nearest Yankees are miles away. There's nothing to bring them out here."
"Food. Horses. Us. Why can't I get you to realize the danger out there, Beth?" Ruth relplied with exasperation.
Elisabeth shook out her wavy golden locks, loose from her braid, as usual. "You worry too much. We're too far from
all the fighting for anyone to bother with us."
"What about the deserters, from either side? You've heard the stories, same as I have. All I ask is that you stay
closer to home, that's all. Don't go out looking for trouble when it's likely to find us soon enough."
Elisabeth threw her arms around her sister. "I won't look for trouble. I know this war has been harder on you than
the rest of the family, but I'm sure Owen is fine. He's probably a lot better off than our Confederate boys right
now.
but Owen was not fine. Stuck in the trenches of (insert name of battle) he was covered in blood, not all of it his
own, with cannon fire and muskets blazing overhead while he tried desperately to stop his best friend from bleeding
to death. "just hang in there. I'll get you to a medic, I promise" Owen said.
"Don't make promises you can't keep," James replied as he coughed up blood. "I'm done for," he whispered. "Tell my ma I love her."
"Tell her yourself dammit! Don't give up. You can get through this, You're stronger than that!"
but after another heavy coughing fit, James gave one last gasp, and gave up the ghost.
Sick at heart, Owen did the only thing he could. He picked up his gun and turned to begin figting once more.
If my muse hits me over the head again, or I get some feedback, this story snippit might continue. Damn it. With all the stories I have pages and chapters of already, my muse gives me this. It might have been longer, but baby duty calls when it wants to, not when you want it to.
I think I'm going to start posting some of my stories on here.
give me some feedback and let me know what you think.
And so my muse decides that instead of working on the 5 or more other stories I am in the middle of, I will now start a Civil War Story. so behind the LJ cut is what I wrote today. Please note that this is the first draft.
It was hot. But it was always hot. Elisabeth had gone out without her sunbonnet again.
The girl had no sense of decorum at all. Her browned skin flashed in the sun as she returned to the house with
a catch of fresh trout.
"Look what I caught, Ruth," she shouted happily to her older sister.
"You're lucky you haven't caught sunstroke," the autumn haired girl replied. "Or worse yet, Yankees."
"The nearest Yankees are miles away. There's nothing to bring them out here."
"Food. Horses. Us. Why can't I get you to realize the danger out there, Beth?" Ruth relplied with exasperation.
Elisabeth shook out her wavy golden locks, loose from her braid, as usual. "You worry too much. We're too far from
all the fighting for anyone to bother with us."
"What about the deserters, from either side? You've heard the stories, same as I have. All I ask is that you stay
closer to home, that's all. Don't go out looking for trouble when it's likely to find us soon enough."
Elisabeth threw her arms around her sister. "I won't look for trouble. I know this war has been harder on you than
the rest of the family, but I'm sure Owen is fine. He's probably a lot better off than our Confederate boys right
now.
but Owen was not fine. Stuck in the trenches of (insert name of battle) he was covered in blood, not all of it his
own, with cannon fire and muskets blazing overhead while he tried desperately to stop his best friend from bleeding
to death. "just hang in there. I'll get you to a medic, I promise" Owen said.
"Don't make promises you can't keep," James replied as he coughed up blood. "I'm done for," he whispered. "Tell my ma I love her."
"Tell her yourself dammit! Don't give up. You can get through this, You're stronger than that!"
but after another heavy coughing fit, James gave one last gasp, and gave up the ghost.
Sick at heart, Owen did the only thing he could. He picked up his gun and turned to begin figting once more.
If my muse hits me over the head again, or I get some feedback, this story snippit might continue. Damn it. With all the stories I have pages and chapters of already, my muse gives me this. It might have been longer, but baby duty calls when it wants to, not when you want it to.
I think I'm going to start posting some of my stories on here.
give me some feedback and let me know what you think.