Smeared Black Ink

Sawicki's Early Drafts and Other Stuff

Month: July, 2016

The Fallowing – Interlude III, Part II

Novel: Occult Adventure

The train sped along between the towers, people milling about beneath its tracks and holding platforms.  Atsel was wearing a twilight blue trenchcoat now, over a wool sweater and black jeans.  It was not unlike Amnon’s outfit, since he had been the one to pick it out.  But Atsel hadn’t noticed the gripping cold and the piles of snow he tripped over in his new boots.

The watch had been stopped 500 years ago.  Cars hadn’t been invented yet.  He had been trapped in slow motion nigh stopped, most of that time spent in Cain’s apartments, often covered in sheets or carted around in boxes like just another statue.  Watching the world flash by too fast to comprehend.

Now he was peering out the window of a train.  He shrieked as it pulled away from the station and he was caught off balance.  The other passengers – a middle aged well-to-do couple and a sleepy not so well-to-do man glanced up before grumbling deep in their minds about drunks.

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The Fallowing – Interlude III, Part I

Novel: Occult Adventure

The clouds over Chicago promised snow soon to come, dark veils above the steel and glass and lights of the city.  The towering buildings cut out most of the sky as well, giving the impression that night was approaching even thought it was midday.  People were bundled in bulky fashionable coats, blue and green being the colors in fashion this year, as if they could recall the look of clear skies and fresh grass.  Instead there was the gray sky and brown snow swept to the sides of the road by the plows.  Here and there a snowmobile or hefty truck would roar by.

One of the crowd walked alone, clothed in a short blue down coat and black jeans.  His skin was coffee, his hair cropped short, and his lips were fixed in a slight smile that flashed white teeth whenever someone to his taste wandered past, which was often.

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The Fallowing – The Third, Part VIII

This chapter has the weakest ending of all the chapters.  And I’m okay with that.

Novel: Occult Adventure

Cain showed up forty minutes later.  He walked into the dead center of the front yard and just stood there.  It had started to snow, but flashes of lightning lit up the dreary morning and thunder rumbled faintly far off in the distance.

When he appeared I jumped up, ready to run out and face him, but I was immediately drenched in fear as if it were water from a bucket.  My legs gave out from under me and I crumpled to the floor.  Sam had the sense not to mention it.

“Come out, Sam,” Cain announced from his place on the lawn.

There was a stifled cry from the living room as if someone had muffled their own scream.

Sam watched him from behind the curtain for a minute or two and then stood, gripping the knife and his bow.  After a moment of consideration he picked up the curved sword as well, and then walked through the front door.

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The Fallowing – The Third, Part VII

Novel: Occult Adventure

“Don’t worry.  I know how to take him down,” Sam said.

We had relocated to the dining room to escape the burning eyes of the Reeses.  We had a view of the front yard if we peeked out the curtains, but it was still pitch-dark outside save for the little lamp on the porch.

I tried to speak, forgetting once again that my voice was gone.  I pointed to his leg instead.  The blood was already seeping through the bandage.  He had limped on it not too severely, but still he had limped on it.

“That changes nothing,” he said.

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The Fallowing – The Third, Part VI

It is so difficult to make sure Faye doesn’t speak in these scenes.  Because she’s Faye.

Novel: Occult Adventure

I managed to shoot my pistol once, though not at it.  I had no time.  He placed a hand on my chest even as he spoke.

I couldn’t hold on to my gun any longer; both it and my torch slipped from my grasp like the thing before me had plunged a knife into my heart.  I lost all strength.  I looked into those shadows where eyes should be and though I should have felt some anger and anticipation of the fight, possibly the kill, I felt only terror and fear of what this man could do.  I collapsed into the snow in a heap.

Now I’m still not sure whether Cain felt what he took from his victims, but I like to think he did, that he felt all that bravery leaking from me and got enough of a rush from it to just stand there and wait for Sam to come running.

I didn’t hear him come running.  I was busy crawling backwards away from this sudden source of fear.

“Get away from her,” I heard from behind me.  There was Sam, sounding very heroic.

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