If you haven’t heard of Katie’s Snippets of a Story Grand Blog Thingy, just go HERE. Better yet, sign up and do it yourself! Basically what it is, is your favorite ‘snippets’ of stories you’re working on – new ones each month.
So, here are my February Snippets, even though I’m not entirely sure I shouldn’t wait until later in the month when I have more new snippets.
I’m doing it anyway.
The first thing everyone noticed about Alexander Carlton was his eyes. They were a startling shade of pale blue-green, like sunlight on the sea. It was ironic, really, considering the fact that Alex had never seen a color in his life.
– Shades of Grey
Something bright caught her eye near her feet and she stopped running, her lungs burning as she bent down for a closer look.
It stood out against the snow, like scattered rubies against fair skin. A fist seemed to grab the inside of her throat and squeeze. It was clear from the marred snow that the bleeding creature had been dragged – past where she stood now, over the rise.
Into the darkest parts of the forest.
A young man emerged from the back room where the boy had disappeared. The newcomer had a shock of unkempt black hair above ears that stuck defiantly from either side of his head. His eyes were an unusual shade of blue, shifting colors like the depths of the sea.
“They think I did it, don’t they?” Lana asked in a dull voice as the sheriff’s car pulled away from the house, maneuvering around trees piles of snow she had shoveled up the day before. Her grandmother had made her a cup of tea, and as she sat now with her hands curled around it, looking out the window, she realized it had grown cold.
Almost as the thought left her, her grandmother gently took the cup from her hand and replaced it with another mug. A blue one.
The last one had been red.
Watson awoke at exactly three o’clock in the morning to the sound of someone wailing. He shot up out of bed, nearly knocking over the stand in his desperation to reach the door and assist the –
“It’s not a scream, you idiot, it’s a musical instrument.” Rubbing his shin, he climbed back into bed and opened the drawer in the night stand. He pulled out a pair of well-worn earplugs, put them in, and pulled the pillow over his head.
Sherlock had warned him about his habit, but he hadn’t honestly been prepared. When Sherlock was in a good mood, Mozart would have been proud. When he was in a bad mood, however… well, sometimes Watson was sure that the instrument was screeching for help.
The problem was that Sherlock hardly ever played his violin when he was in a good mood.
The earplugs muffled the noise, but did not completely block it out. After five minutes he sat up and stumbled once more to the door, flung it open, and shouted “SHERLOCK!!”
The noise stopped with an abrupt twang. “What?”
Blessed silence. Blessed, temporary silence… “I am trying to get some sleep. Do you mind?”
“No, of course not!” Sherlock gave Watson an odd look. “Why should I?”
Watson blinked for a moment, taken aback. “Right, then,” he said after a moment. “Thank you.” He shut the door and shuffled back to bed. How odd. Sherlock never just –
The noise started up again, higher than before, spiraling upwards into a screech that made his hair prickle.
He ran back and stomped out into the main room. “SHERLOCK HOLMES!”
Sherlock paused, looking exasperated. “What?”
“When I asked if you minded, I meant do you mind putting that thing down so I can get some sleep!!”
Sherlock regarded him through bright blue-green eyes for a moment. “I did warn you about this, Watson. I specifically said –“
“You said you played the violin. You forgot to add ‘at all hours of the night!”
– unfinished Sherlock fanfiction
Damian looked tiredly at the policeman who ushered him into the back room. “Hi, Simon. What’s he done now?”
“You want to guess?”
“Not really.” It’s much too early for guessing. I just want to go back home and go back to sleep… and maybe never wake up…
“I think he likes it here.” Simon rolled his eyes in a knowing manner and walked over to the third cell. Eristor lay on his back on the flat, uncomfortable-looking bed with his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the concrete ceiling.
“That is an enormous misconception,” the elf said.
– The Real World, a story Keaghan and I are writing featuring our various characters
“Care to explain yourself?” He ground his teeth so hard he thought his jaw might crack.
“They started it,” was the short, almost petulant reply.
“You heard what he said.”
“Yes. I heard.” Damian took a deep breath. “Eristor, you are an elf!!!”
“I know that!” Eristor snapped. “I was going to ignore them, but then they got in my way. One of them had an odd little knife that sprang in and out, and he threatened me with it.”
Gangsters. Okay, that makes this a little less atrocious. “Eristor, you could have just broken the guy’s arm. Why’d you have to ‘accost him’?”
“I thought you said you didn’t want me breaking unnecessary limbs while sharing an apartment with you,” said Eristor, his tone deliberate and condescending. Then he shrugged and added in a lighter tone, “besides, I wasn’t nearly as hard on them as I was on the guys at the bar.”
– The Real World
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