Friday, June 29, 2012

The Creative Juice Flows Again!

Indeed it does. Finally. I was able to wrestle the introduction to my new novel, which I am calling Soulless until a better title occurs to me, onto a page. I was even able to do a bit of art, once my tablet was reinsalled. The stupid thing keeps uninstalling itself. And when I reinstall it, I have to redo my custom buttons etc. Does anyone else have this problem with the Wacom Intuous 4?
Anyways, back to writing. I was so proud of my wee, 800 word intro that I contacted all of my close friends and my mother, asking them if they wanted to read it. I crave instant satisfaction like that sometimes. I beleive that's what today's culture, and the internet has done to us. You post on Facebook and generally within a few minutes someone comments or likes it.
I'm debating whether or not to put up snippets of the story here. What I'm most worried about is people stealing my ideas or even just pretending that my work is theirs. Australian copyright law says that when someone has created something, it's automatically copyrighted to them, but I know that doesn't stop people. But meh, screw it. I like showing off my work. *cheeky grin*


A tree tickled the windowpane with needle-like fingers. The near-full moon slithered between heavy clouds over the dense blackness of the forest outside. The girl watched the silvery disk glide though the ocean of soft black. Occasionally the clouds would clear enough for her to see the moon’s sibling, a smaller smile of light hiding to the larger orb’s left. The tree scratched again on the glass. The girl’s mother pulled the curtains shut. The girl sighed and fiddled with the tatted cloth her mother had just tucked under her chin.
“Tell me the story about the waifs again, mummy,” she said.
“Oh my dear. Why would you want to hear such a horrible tale again? I made a mistake in telling you once. Don’t you remember the nightmares you had?” said the woman as she smoothed the meagre blanket again.
“They weren’t nightmares. Just dreams,” replied the girl. Her mother harrumphed. “Please mummy?” The woman caught her daughter’s eye. The spark of excitement in her young, bright eyes swayed her.
“Oh, all right,” she grumbled. She pulled the only other piece of furniture in the room, a small stool, closer to the bed. “And they call them wraiths, not waifs,” she said sternly to the girl.
“Wraiths,” the girl replied, struggling a little to get the word through the gap left by a missing tooth. The woman settled on the stool and became still, her gaze a little fixed as she remembered the words her mother and father had whispered to her in a situation not unlike this, years before.
“The world is a strange place Alice,” she began. “It is filled with all sorts of creatures. Some are peaceful and beautiful. But sometimes, even though you hope to the heavens you don’t, you will come across beings that are twisted and evil. Such creatures exist in the forests just beyond these.” Alice looked back towards the window where she could see a tiny sliver of the black trees, lit with tiny shadows of silver from the moons above. She shivered.
“In the darkest of these forests prowls the evilest of these beasts. They are known by many names. Wendigo, Skin-walkers, Face-stealers, Soul-eaters, but most people know them as Soul-wraiths. They can look like men but are horribly deformed. My great-grandfather told my father he saw one with yellow eyes once. The eyes of a forest cat, the nose of a wolf and fangs of a snake. These savage beasts prey on animals, lost travellers, and small children who stray too far from home. If they catch you, they will eat you. They can suck your life, your very soul from you by just touching your skin.” The candle sitting on the floor sputtered a little in a sudden cold draught from under the door. Shadows flickered on the ceiling.
“They live extremely long lives because of all of those they take. Great-grandpappy was very lucky to have escaped the one he saw. He was out hunting when he came across it feasting on a huge stag. He hid behind a pile of rocks until it had moved on. Very lucky he was. Soul-wraiths have ten times the power to smell and hear. If he hadn’t have taken a bath that morning, the wraith would have sniffed him out and devoured him then and there. And then none of us would be here today. Your great-grandmother would never have had grandpop, who in turn would never have met grandma and had Daddy. I would have gone on with my life not knowing that he was to be my husband and you were to be my beautiful daughter.”
Alice giggled. Her mother scowled at her.
“It’s not a laughing matter young missy.”
“’Tis too mummy. A bathtub saved my life,” said the girl, a dimple appearing in her cheek. Hattie shook her head. Her daughter had always been one to say odd things like that.
“Anyway,” she continued. “That is why you should never stray too far from the house. You never know what could be lurking in the dark forest.”
“Yes mummy.”
“Okay, there’s your story. Now, time for you to go to sleep.”
Alice grumbled but snuggled further under her blanket.
“Goodnight my dear,” said her mother as she bent over and kissed Alice’s forehead.
“’Night mummy,” Alice whispered. Hattie bent and picked up the candle from the floor and crossed to the door. It creaked softly shut behind her leaving Alice in darkness, bar the one shaft of faint silver that slipped through the chink in the curtains. She pondered as she probed the gap in her front teeth, what it would be like to have snake fangs. It would make it awfully uncomfortable to eat, she decided. She had always been an odd child like that.

Any comments, grammar checks or tips are most welcome. Oh and I think I'll be changing Alice's name. It doesn't really suit her charater just yet.

Eating: Nil. I must go hunting soon...

Wearing: Old school shorts and Dad's '84 Custom Van and Car Club shirt. It was unusually hot for a winter day today.

Listening to: Nothing at the moment, but I do have Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jephson stuck in my head.

Feeling: Pretty good actually. This horrible wog has cleared up. Now let's hope I don't catch the nasty thing my brother keeps distributing...


  1. I rather like Alice already. Those woods sound fantastic! Are the "waifs" your creation or a myth on wraiths that you came across?

    1. They are my own creation. There may be similar beasties in myth and legend, but I have not heard of them.

    2. I've heard of almost similar myths, not that I could remember names of course...


Sling some ink