In Which I Burden Characters with Terrible Names (Throwback Thursday)

Welcome to another Throwback Thursday! I found this gem of a story saved under simply “story.doc” in an old folder. The date created is September 27, 2005 (my freshman year of college), but I think that is the date I transferred it and that it is even older. In any case, it is pretty terrible. I hereby apologize and promise to never use the name Arlina von Dryke ever again. Ever.

I have zero clue where the rest of the story was going. This is all that there is in the file.

            Arlina flicked a strand of pale red hair back from her face and eyed her opponent warily.  Tall, but so was she; strong, but so was she; tricky and wily, but so was she.  An even match, overall, and the spectators all held their breath in anticipation of the next move.

            “All done now, pretty girl?” Dreyson sneered, his handsome face showing his scorn.

            Let him waste his time giving taunts, Arlina thought fiercely, feinting in to probe his weak side reflexes.  If he worries so much about that, I’ll find a way past his defenses.  Yet for all her inner bravado, Arlina was worried.  So far, Dreyson had evaded her attacks well, and keeping him at bay had been no easy task.

            “Kill her, Drey!” someone shouted from the crowd, which ignited cheers from some and boos from others.

            He’s mine! Arlina cried inwardly, darting under Dreyson’s sudden jab and nailing him in the side of the face.  Stunned that she had managed to place a good blow, Dreyson dropped his shield stance just a hair, which was all the opening Arlina needed.  Before he could recover, she was beating him back, raining blows on him.  In the flurry of attack, she neglected to maintain all of her defense, and Dreyson gave her some good bruises before the bell was finally rung.

            “And the winner is Arlina von Dryke!” declared the overseer.  Arlina gave a small bow, a half-smile quirking her lips.

            “Good fight, Drey,” she told her opponent.

            “I must be having a bad day if I’m getting beat by a girl,” Drey replied ruefully.  “Hey, catch you later for dinner?  I think Kelly is having people over.”

            Arlina shook her head.  “Send him my regrets.  I’ve got to head over and see my parents.”

            “How’re they doing?  Last I heard it wasn’t looking too good.”

            “It’s not, that’s why I’m going over.  I don’t want to, you know; wish I had spent more time with them.”  Arlina shrugged.

            “Well, Kelly will certainly miss seeing you, but I’m sure he’ll understand and admire you for what you are doing,” Dreyson replied, a mischievous smile stealing across his face.

            “Oh, shut up,” Arlina told him sourly.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            She could hear Dreyson’s laughter as she made her way to her car, smiling ruefully.  It was true that she seemed to be able to do no wrong as far as Kelly was concerned.

Was this a contemporary story? Fantasy? Some weird mash-up? One has no idea. One doesn't really want to know, truthfully, because it sucks. Sorry, ghost-of-Nora-past, keep trying!

My scanner is broken, so this throwback photo is going back only so far as Facebook allows. Please enjoy this example of me being almost too willing to make fun of myself. Spring break, sophomore year of college. I was 19—so yeah, a baby. And yet older than I was when I wrote the von Dryke! Yeesh. Now I feel old...

Literally feeding the jokes.

I Wanna Be A Novelist! (Throwback Thursday)

Okay, I'm not saying that this is going to be a regular thing, but I kinda had fun doing Throwback Thursday last week. So I decided to dig back into my archives for a prose sample. I like to see how far I've come over the past 14 years! Because, yes, this excerpt is from my very first novel that I ever wrote, when I was 13 years old. I don't think I knew the term "infodump" yet...

Richare and his wife, Gracia, lived together not far from where Rialana and Fred lived. Renla, Rialana’s sister, lived by Richare and Gracia. All of them were telepaths, and very nice people besides. Neither Fred nor Gracia were telekinetics, but that wasn’t unusual. Very few telkins (The common word for telekinetics. All of the Touched abilities had shortened names like that, which confused me for a while at first.) lived at Land’s Point. Of the two hundred Touched that lived at Land’s Points, there were 50 telkins, 42 telehealers, 26 telelemens (fire, earth, or ice), 18 telemeteors, 16 teleblocks, 4 telempaths, and 4 teleseers, and the other 40 were telpats only. It was rumored that once teleherins had existed, a twisted Touched ability that gave the power to completely control the bodies of others. Although it was just a rumor, it sent shivers down everyone’s spine to think of what a terrible power that would be.

This is from the second chapter of my first novel (not novel 1, which is actually the third novel I wrote, confusingly), and I think this is actually a product of an edit/partial re-write I did in high school. So I somehow read this at least twice and thought it was okay!

After a brutal writing sample like that, I think I'll play it safe with the photo. Throwing it all the way back to Baby!Nora, who was totes adorbs. This is, appropriately, a December picture. The kitten's name was Russia, and she grew up alongside me for many happy years.

I don't think she was stealing my soul, here...

I'm No Poet (Throwback Thursday)

In honor of Throwback Thursday (or #TBT, for you young hip folks out there), I decided to dig into the wasteland that is my “Archived Projects” folder. I unearthed this gem, dating back to a period in my life when I believed that all serious writers should write poetry. Erm, yeah. I don’t even like reading poetry! And “serious writer”—ha, that’s a label I don’t even want anymore (I’ve heard it comes with mandatory elbow patches and a penchant for cigarillos).

In any case, at least it’s good for a chuckle. I present to you the poetry stylings of HighSchool!Nora (not entirely sure, but I think I was 16):

Insomnia

Monotonous tick,
Somniferous tock.
I lay awake listening
To the click of the clock.

Hum of the crickets,
Chirp of the birds.
I lay awake listening
To a song without words.

Creak of the mattress,
Squeak of the sheets.
I lay awake listening
To the night’s restless beats.

And just to ensure the humiliation is total, an accompanying picture of the poet:

Okay, this is probably the least embarrassing photo of me at 16 in existence. I’m easing myself in to this…