Wednesday, July 8, 2015
July, Day 1
For a year, I allowed my blog to sit in silence as I worked at publishing my first novel. I learned so much. After uploading the novel, I began writing to get the next book published. I struggled. Life smacked me in the face for the past six months in my personal life. Writing has been far from my mind. I miss it terribly. A few months ago, I realized I even missed blogging. However, my muse is whimpering in the corner from all the drama that she has had to live through. Every time she comes out to play, a new crisis throws rotten apples at her. I am going to try to help her throw the apples back. My muse needs to learn how to write even with the stench of rot filling her nose.
To help my muse, I am going to attempt a challenge for the rest of the month of July. Every day I have to write for my blog. I am not sure I will be able to upload it when I am out of town for at least one trip I am taking, but I will post once I get home. Each blog may talk about the process of writing, but the rest of the blog will be fictional about two characters named Argora and Vilenok. I will work at writing 600 words or more per day. I will be writing into the dark, meaning at this point all I have are the names. The stories will unfold as I go. I would love to hear what you think.
Argora and Vilenok
The stout woman strode to the front door with her head held high, determined not to show the nervousness that curled tightly in her stomach. She wondered for the hundredth time why she volunteered as a liaison to new people in her neighborhood. Her old-fashioned ways never fit with the younger families that flocked to the area. Hope was her downfall. Each time a neighbor moved away, she looked forward to finding a new friend to connect with on a deeper level.
Before knocking on the door, Argora straightened her blue coat that hung to her shins. A braid on each side of her face, framed the plump cheeks while the rest her brown tresses were pulled back into a ponytail to help reveal her ears. Little balls of gold hung from each lob while they connected with the tiny braids pulled back from her thin, graying beard. For the past two hours, she doubted her choice to dress casually. In her younger years, protocol dictated all first meetings were to be attended wearing formal dress. The old rules left no doubt. In the current world with no guidelines, she felt uncertain. Shaking her head, she brought her gloved hand put to the door and pounded on the sturdy oak.
After a few short moments, the door swung open and Argora found herself looking at the slim waistline of her new neighbor. Her eyes traveled up until they finally rested on the long face of a comely woman with age lines under her coffee-colored, hostile eyes. She stepped out of fear, but smiled hoping to hide her emotions. She hadn’t expected an orc to move into her neighborhood, no wonder the name Vilenok sounded wrong.
“A dwarf? The counsel sent a dwarf.” The tall woman pivoted. Leaving the door wide open, she traipsed back into the house.
Argora frowned, all the worry about what to wear when she was only going to meet a disagreeable orc. At least she didn’t have to iron her formal cape. With a shrug of her shoulders, she stepped over the threshold. At least they had age in common. She followed the sound of crashing pans into the kitchen. The young couple who used to live in the house decorated with the traditional earthy colors, helping Argora to feel at home. Now, the walls looked to be colored with a piece of charcoal with varying degrees of shading. The blinds over the windows were black, no light filtered through. She expected drops of water to fall from the ceiling because the room felt so much like a cave. With a sigh of resignation, she climbed up onto a steal chair.
“I debated on whether to wear my formal clothing for our meeting; young people just don’t understand the old ways.” Argora hoped their common age would help establish a small bond. “Yet, I must acknowledge that daily dress is far more comfortable.”
The orc woman turned around from the sink with a glass of water. With a thoughtful expression, she slid the drink across the dark granite counter that stood in the middle of the room. Argora nodded a thank you.
“I debated wearing my battle dress.” A smile spread across Vilenok’s face as she casually leaned against the counter. The bottom set of fangs created more of a snarl affect then that of friendship. “I bet you would have stepped back a few more feet if I had.”
“You caught that. I apologize. We have only had dwarves in our community for the past ten years. I should have realized with your name, but I have been distracted lately.”
“By all means, I take your fear as a compliment. We orcs like the other races leery of us. The young don’t understand.” She pushed off the granite and turned to the stove. Pouring a think tar like substance into a cup, she returned to the counter across from the island and gracefully hopped onto the smooth surface. Her blood red outfit clung to her muscular figure giving her movement the fluid motion of a running creek. “However, we are hospitable. I will go to the store for tea for our next visit.”
Argora smiled. “And I will go for coffee because next time, I must host.”