I hope you all are having a good evening. I was having some difficulty focusing on the novel today, so I went on my region’s NaNo chat server and participated in several word wars. That kept my head in the right place for writing, and I was able to get a good number of words written because of it. One of the things I love about NaNoWriMo is the kind and helpful community that gets involved.
By the way, The Greatest Showman soundtrack is great for writing. I listened to it on repeat all night.
All that being said, tonight want to share a small excerpt from my novel. It’s a little taste of what I’ve written so far. I’m aware that all I’ve given out is the plot so you won’t have much context for the excerpt, but I would like to share it anyway.
Now, just so we’re clear, this novel is the roughest of rough drafts. The point of NaNoWriMo is to write a minimum of 50,000 words in 30 days. Because of that, the story is being written very fast with hardly any editing. It’s what I like to call a “vomit draft”–literally just thrown up onto the page–and it may be properly edited later on. The only fixing up I’ve done to this excerpt is enough to make it readable for you here on the site. Please keep in mind that it will not be that good. Please excuse any errors you see.
So, without further ado, here is the first excerpt. Please enjoy, and let me know what you think of it:
Rikenar Krola stood around with his friends doing his best to keep an eye on all of them. The game was simple: One of the boys in the circle was the killer, and no one but the killer knew who he was, they had drawn cards to determine the killer. The boys had to try to figure out who the killer was and try to stop him from “killing” his victims by tackling him before he tackled someone else. Once the killer revealed himself, the game changed to see how many people he could “kill” before getting tackled himself.
Rike was the killer the last round, and he took down five of the seven boys before being stopped, the record for the day so far. He smiled as his eyes swiftly swept over the other boys. Every twitch, every move, and scratch of the face or tap of the foot was seen as a possible first move by the killer, who often attacked the person to the left or the right before starting the rampage.
“Are you the killer again, Rike?” Davion asked with an accusing tone.
Rike assessed this question, trying to judge if Davion was genuinely curious, or if he was the killer trying to throw suspicion off of himself and onto someone else so he could make a move to attack someone who was unsuspecting. Rike had known Davion for four years, and something about the way he asked the question seemed honest to him. There was no hint of deception in Davion voice, not like the time he stole Rike’s sandwich and tried to convince him that Jassalyn was the one who stole it. That did not end well for Davion.
“What if I am?” Rike said.
“Don’t do that, Rike,” Davion said. “Are you the killer again or not?”
Six boys moved to tackle him, all but one. Santraal moved a few moments after everyone else did, Rike saw it right before he hit the ground with six bodies on top of him. He laughed in victory. According to the rules, if there is a pile of people, and the killer jumps on the top of it, it counts as him tackling the entire pile and “killing” them all, effectively earning points for each person in the pile. Since it was all the rest of the boys and Rike, Santraal had just beaten Rike’s record by getting all seven of the other players.
“I’m the killer,” Santraal said after he jumped on the pile of bodies.
The others groaned and they climbed off of each other. Rike laughed at their misfortune.
“You lied!” Davion said.
“Yes,” Rike said, still giggling a little.
“Why?” another boy asked. “You were in the lead!”
Rike shrugged. “It’s not about winning, it’s about making sure you all lose. There was a greater victory to be had if I took the fall. Santraal took advantage of the victory I offered him. And like fools, you all believed me when I said I was the killer. That mistake won Santraal the game.”
“I thought angels didn’t lie?” Ritt said. He was a new boy to their little group of friends. Rike was often annoyed by him. Ritt was ten and wanted to play with the older boys, Rike and the others had discussed it and offered for him to play games with the twelve year olds if their school breaks were at the same time, which was most of the time, or at the end of the school day, like it was now.
Rike had been waiting for his sister to finish her final test of the day so they could walk home together like they usually did, so the other boys, most of whom were waiting for a parent or sibling to take them home, or were just waiting to walk home themselves, decided that a good game of Killer in the Circle was in order. No one disagreed.
“That’s celestials, Ritt,” Rike said with a roll of the eyes. “And it’s not that they can’t lie, it’s that they often don’t feel the need. My father’s a celestial, so I know.”
“Another round?” Santraal said.
“Why?” Davion said. “You already got all of us, no one can beat your score.”
“You can if Jassa joins us,” Santraal said, waving to someone up the path.
Rike turned to see his sister walking down the path with her quilting bag clutched to her chest. Her wings looked majestic behind her in the sunlight. She always looked so angelic with the wings. He would be waiting for his wings for a while, he hadn’t even manifested his aura yet.
-Excerpt from Mistcraft; Chapter 2, by Andrew Ronzino
I hope you enjoyed that!
Current word count for Mistcraft: 12,921/50,000!
Andrew Ronzino, Walker of the Tightrope