Monday, June 7, 2010

Adventures in Writing, part 1

After way too long, it was time for me to write again and I had no ideas. None. I couldn't even dredge up any of my old familiar standby characters for a good romp or a kill. Or both. How lame could I possibly be? How defective am I?

The timer ticked on. Never mind that it was digital and didn't actually TICK. I could hear it. Deep inside my brain, I could hear it. Stupid brain. Apparently, I was more defective than I thought.

Pulling back from my laptop, I glared at the blinking cursor on the blank page. Evil little fucker. Why must it mock me so?

There was only one thing I could do. Drink. I could drink brandy -- What the hell?! I always seem to be out of scotch and whiskey. -- or I could drink tea. A glance at the clock reminded it me that it was only a little after 10am. Maybe tea would be the better the choice.

Fifteen minutes later, a warm cup of tea in my hands, I closed my eyes and let myself drift. Somewhere in the depths of my mind were characters and story ideas. Clearly I'd just forgotten how to access them, to summon them. I let the sharp aroma of my tea carry me deeper into the recesses of the twisted maze that is my mind. I knocked away cobwebs in areas not accessed for far too long. I felt like an explorer, only less mobile and a lot more appalled. When the hell did I last use my brain?

I pushed deeper, past thicker cobwebs with strange creatures and ideas both trapped in the cobwebs and scurrying past them. I'm fairly certain I don't want to know what the fuzzy thing that just ran over my foot was. Not today, anyway. I cringed at the layers of dust and grime covering every surface. No wonder I have headaches. My brain is corroding from lack of use.

I'd vaguely recognized some of the ideas I often let roam free trapped in the cobwebs, but only a few of them. Where were the rest? Where were all my characters?

I screamed and called out them, hoping they'd hear me, hoping they'd come to me. They didn't. I pushed onward with loud apologies for neglecting them, promises to not let it happen again, and pleas for help. All I got in return was that damned ticking, more dust and grime, and thicker cobwebs.

I continued onward until, finally, sighing in defeat, I sank to my knees on a pile of dust -- dear God, I hope that's just dust and not the remains of a character that died from neglect -- and cradled my head in my hands. Feeling abandoned, disheartened, and hopelessly lost, I started to cry.

Abandoned. My characters had every right to abandon me. This was my fault. There was no way around that. I had created a fantastic world for them and then let it fall to ruins from lack of attention. I had ignored and neglected a part of me that I very dearly loved and it had withered and died.

And I didn't know how to fix it.

So, I cried.

I cried hard and loud, but not out of self-pity. I cried in mourning for all I had created then destroyed with my carelessness. I cried hot tears of self-loathing. I didn't deserve to be the creator of such fantastic people and places. I couldn't care for them properly. I cried tiny rivers, which flowed over my cheeks and fell to the floor to mix with the dust beneath my knees, making small puddles of mud. I cried with body-wrenching sobs until I was exhausted. And then I slept; slept in the mud of my own making, completely unaware of the changes happening around me.


Love and bondage,
Rubi Jayne <3<3

Friday, January 1, 2010

snippet #004

Happy New Year. I had great plans for the #JournalingGame prompt "nothing separating us but skin"... and then a friend landed in the hospital with a heart attack and my assassin threw a temper tantrum then took over my brain. It sucks. It's crapdraft quality. But, hey, look! I wrote something! Ta-da.


My dearest,

You're so far from me now, but soon that will change. Soon you'll be by my side, in my arms, again. The waiting is torture.

I'm eager to kiss you - your lips, your eyelids, your cheeks, your chin, your neck, your whole body. I want to run my fingers through your hair and nibble on your shoulders right where it makes you tremble and exhale those low moans I love so much. I want to undress you, covering each bit of exposed skin with nibbling kisses, worshiping the heavenly gift that you are. I want to touch and taste every part of you until you're writhing and aching for me as much as I ache for you. Then I want to get closer to you until there's nothing separating us but skin, and even that feels like it's searing away under the heat of our passion.

Come home soon, love. I'm waiting for you. I miss you.

Yours. Always.

Ophelia sprinkled pounce over the parchment and leaned back in her chair. Her gaze drifted across the dimly lit dungeon to the limp figure of a man hanging on her wall. He was responsible for Shadow being gone.

After a long, thoughtful moment, the assassin tapped the pounce back into its pot and sealed the letter to her husband. She looked at the man on the wall again. "You will tell me where he is, you know. It's just a matter of time. You'll either tell me or I'll rip it out of your mind." She smiled coldly when she stood and walked to him to tap him on the chest. "And trust me when I tell you that's not the option you want to choose."

A girlish giggle came from the darkest corner of the dungeon. "The last person she did that to..." Ophelia's sister, Fay, emerged from the darkness and more gleeful giggling echoed off the stone walls. "I've never seen a human body do that and I've seen it all, baby. I want to see it again."

Both girls looked at the man shackled and hanging against the wall of Ophelia's dungeon, the man responsible for her husband's disappearance. Both girls flashed cold, dark, sinister grins. Somebody was about to have a very, very bad day.


Love and bondage,
Rubi Jayne <3<3