I was born in a piss small town in Louisiana that no one has heard of. No really, there is no chance you’ve heard of it, and for good reason. Believe me; you do not want to go there. You’d think living in a small town in the middle of nowhere would be quaint and peaceful, wouldn’t ya? Well, as my granny used to say, that’s what ya get for thinking, and you’d best stop before you get yourself hurt. Anyhow, it was not a pleasant place to be. I won’t get into all the ways it sucked, just know that there were plenty, and my household was the center of all that hate and wrongness that you wouldn’t think possible of a town so small (again, that’s what ya get for thinking, yadda yadda). I guess part of the problem was that I’m not like the others in town. I’ve always been a bit of an outsider, not that I meant to be different. Of course, to those folks, it doesn’t matter what you mean, just what ya are, and a freak I was, yessir, no doubt about it. Some nonsense about speaking in tongues or whatnot.
Well, I did what any smart person would do: I got outta there fast as I could. I ran to New York of all places. Figured that I’d hide better in a big city where no one had a chance of knowing me. I changed my name, too. What it used to be doesn’t matter. I left that girl behind in Louisiana, and now it’s just Ivey McClain, nice ta meetcha.
She had no choice; her Gran had been feeling down, and there was only one thing to cheer her up. She crept forward, her socks whispering on the wooden floor. After a quick glance around, she rolled over the back of the sofa and landed with a solid thud on the opposite side. Shrugging off the pain of the impact, she sprinted across the room and burst into the kitchen. The silver haired woman at the counter turned, her pointer finger extended and her thumb cocked back.
"Girly, you know you'll never get one over on me."
"I can try, can't I?"
She drops her bag onto the metal bench beside her, a soft sigh escaping her lips at the chance to be off of her feet for a while. The walk to the bus station had been longer than she'd imagined, and despite the fact that she had further to go, she was already dead tired. She allows her eyes to drift closed for a few moments to rest them; they ached almost as badly as her feet, and were twice as hard to ignore. Eventually the inevitable call to board the bus was heard. Groaning, she slung her backpack up onto her shoulder and found her seat. It was going to be a long ride.
Ivey knelt behind the pew, her forehead resting lightly on her clasped hands. It's been a long time since she's done this, but it feels just as natural as it had back then. For some, prayer meant speaking to God and hoping he's listening; Ivey chose to listen instead. With her eyes closed and her ears open, every sound is crystal clear. Somewhere ahead of her she can hear the father addressing the congregation. The church practically hums with the whispers of the crowd. Finally, there came the familiar words: "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name..."
So the mun is joining the crowd and taking part in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). To keep track of how incredibly awesome I am, here's a list of achievements that I've gotten.
100 words down, 49,900 to go!
500 words down, 49,500 to go!
1,000 words down, 49,000 to go!
5,000 words down, 45,000 to go!
6969 words. Because it's just too appropriate for my story.
9,001 words. IT'S OVER 9000~
10,000 words down, 40,000 to go!
15,000 words down, 35,000 to go!
25,000 words down, 25,000 to go!
35,000 words down, 15,000 to go!
45,000 words down, 5,000 to go!
50,000 words down, MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
JUST A QUICK UPDATE: Nanowrimo is unfortunately over, and this story remains unfinished. Luckily, the mun is damn stubborn and refuses to not finish. Eventually, the 50,000 word goal will be reached!
Gerald, the magical British turtle once decided he was going to go for a walk. It was a brisk walk for a turtle, although it would be barely a crawl to you or me. Along the way he came across a snail trudging along in the same direction as him. This snail seemed rather depressed, so Gerald (Gerry to his friends) decided to stop and see if he couldn’t cheer the little snail up.
“Hullo, my friend, and well met!” He called out, having not yet caught up to the smaller creature. The snail slowed even further, if that is even possible and peered back at Gerald.
“Why, hello sir. And how do you do?” By the voice, it would seem that this snail is a girl. Splendid! Gerry had a thing for wooing the ladies.
“Quite well, my dear! Quite well indeed! And where in this great world are you heading today? If we’re heading the same direction, I just may accompany you.” The little snail appears to be quite bashful, blushing from eyestalks to tail.
“Oh my. Well you see, I was just going to visit my great-great-grandmother. She’s not well you see. Not well at all. Mama says she may pass any day now.” A single tear falls from one of her large pink eyes.
“Oh my word! I’m so very sorry to hear of your soon-to-be loss. Now, I cannot in good conscience let you travel alone. I beg of you! Let me join you on this journey.”
“Oh my, well, I’m not really supposed to walk with strangers, but I could use the company…”
“Excellent! It’s settled then.” He crawls up beside the little snail. “Now what might you name be, dearie?”
“Oh, well, it’s not a very great name,” she mutters, blushing quite furiously again.
“Nonesense my dear! Come, come, do tell.”
“Oh, see what I mean? I told you it was a bad name.” Little Alfreda turns away, ashamed.
“Quite the opposite my dear. I was merely entranced by the beauty of it. Forgive me if I gave you the wrong impression.” He rocks back onto his hind legs only to bow low before her. He would then offers her his arm. “Shall we be on with this journey?”
“Yes, we really must be going.”
(What happens next? You decide!)