I thought I would do another Seth short before finishing Valley. This one was inspired by a writing contest at a forum. The due date for the contest was the day that I started plotting the story out, so oh well for that.
The prompt was “ten”. Originally Seth was going to be ten years old but then this came to me. It’s the story of Seth as a tenth grader. And no, there aren’t going to be any pics. We’re being brave and going full text here.
But if you’re curious, here’s what Seth looks like as a teen in the game. Exactly the same, just shorter.
This bit isn’t even the complete first scene. This is turning into a large and complex project and if I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel by the end of the month I will put it aside for a bit and finish Valley first. But I thought I’d show you guys what I’m working on and give you a little teaser. 🙂 This is of course subject to further editing but it’s certainly no longer a rough first draft.
The universe was white, silent, cracked. He counted ten cracks, ten faults in the perfection of time and space, before the hands on his shoulders yanked him away from the wall and sent him hurtling into the hard edge of a sink.
He wanted to fall into the basin and slip down its drain. He wanted to be a drop of water exactly like all the other drops of water. He wanted to disappear.
One two three four. The hands closed on him again, pulling him back from the drain and its dream of deliverance. The sink fell away and space was white and time was black and the stall doors were breathing in and out, in and out or maybe it was him.
His legs refused to listen to his plea to keep him upright, to keep his pride intact, to at least avoid the puddle in front of the middle stall. He hit the floor and a thousand points of pain lit up in his knees and he could feel the water soaking through his khakis and it must be mixing with blood but he wouldn’t think about that, not now.
He stared at the floor tiles. They moved and changed places and sometimes he thought he saw two floors and sometimes there wasn’t a floor at all. He squinted, trying to make the tiles stay still so he could count them one two three four and then he saw a glint under the stall door to his left.
He made out the fuzzy apparition of his glasses. Vision. Sanity. A floor that would stay still and not duplicate itself. His glasses promised all these things and so he got up on his hands and knees and crawled towards them, counting all the way one two three four and he got to eight before the foot came.