Okay, I got some really exciting news on Monday night and I am dying to tell everyone but alas, I cannot spill the beans just yet. All I will say right now is that I have been working very hard over the past month to not just keep up with posting on this blog twice a week and adding more words to my novel but also working on new pieces of fiction as well as articles to submit to magazines and websites. The hard work seems to have paid off a little and I am feeling even more driven to keep creating new content, so to celebrate this until I can actually tell you all what will be happening in the next month, I’m giving you a little snippet of new novel-writing to read. I hope you like it and can wait a little longer to hear about all the exciting stuff!
(Context: The protagonist is looking for a doorway that’s hidden in a statue)
I start to feel my way around the protruding stomach, metriciously examining every inch of this rotting flesh looking for a groove, a dip, anything that suggests the presence of an opening. Eventually, I find it. My fingers fail at fitting in the gap making it impossible for me to get a strong enough grip on it. In the middle there is an exceedingly small hole, if I wasn’t looking so closely I would have missed it. I put my eye to it but there is nothing to see but unending darkness within. I notice a weight in my pocket, the one that doesn’t contain the egg. The weight feels as though it is slowly increasing with every passing second that I ignore it; it’s demanding my attention. I surrender and tentatively reach my hand inside of my jacket and retrieve the needy thing, a doorknob. It’s strangely cold and dark violet in colour with a three-inch screw at the end that I immediately realise is the perfect fit for the hole. I twist it into the centre of the door until I hear a click. The rain continues to conduct its chaotic cacophony but the click of the handle slotting into place pierces through it all. With one more twist the door springs open towards me and I leap back, releasing my hand from its grip on the doorknob, which immediately crumbles. The violet pieces are pearly white on the inside and each one takes the shape of a tooth, one that has been pulled from the soft security of the gum – root and all. As they fall to the ground I can hear the clatter of them bouncing off the concrete in a way that compliments the dull din of the rain against metal. If I close my eyes I can fool myself into thinking the sound is that of someone pouring a box of dominoes onto a table but when I open them the shards are surrounding me like a canvas of violet and white that I have rudely stepped on. I stare down at my feet and watch them melt in my peripheral, leaving behind only the crude grey of the flags. My determination returns and I step forwards into the belly of the beast.