Friday, December 14, 2012

I'm Sorry, ma'am

Long Black Nails
Image Courtesy of Kiss and Makeup
As regular readers of my blog will know, I am writing a Christmas Short Story at the moment. Now that I have solved my paradox with a little help from some friends, I have started writing it.

I wrote 230 words this evening which isn't bad as they are the opening 230 words. Normally I start off with small word counts for the first few days, reach 500 words a day in the middle and then write the last 1000 in a single sitting. With this in mind I should be able to finish before Christmas Eve with time to spare.

Today, I thought it would be nice to share these first 230 raw words with you. Remember they are highly likely to change, and I rarely share work this raw. But, I have decided to share it with you today so you can see my writing method. In these paragraphs I have focused mainly on the evil wife and Joe's submissiveness, but haven't yet got to fully describing his appearance.

Working Title: When Snow Falls

Joe shivered as he entered through the doorway. Not only was the morning freezing cold outside, but also his wife waited for him inside. He knew she’d care not that he’d broken the world record of most letters delivered in an hour. He knew this from her posture: sitting upright on her hardback chair meant she was annoyed. Her gaunt face tightened as Joe approached her.


“Good morning,” he said. “It’s Christmas tomorrow.”
She slowly rose from her chair, her heels putting her many heads higher than Joe’s already small being. She looked at her hand, as if contemplating its abilities. Her long black nails caressed her palm as she flexed her fingers. Joe knew what was coming. His wife’s eyes squinted, signalling she had worked out her hand’s ability and that she was willing to show it off. She smacked it around his face; the nails left stinging scratches that no doubt shone red against his cold skin.
“Do not say that again,” she spat.
“I’m sorry, ma’am.”
“Very good. Now, be a good husband and get my breakfast; I am growing hungrier by the minute. You should have been back ten minutes ago.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” He hurried off to the kitchen, his feet shuffling along the stone floor she had been so insistent on having. Opening the fridge, he welcomed the cool air on his burning scars.


Feeling Christmassy yet? I don't think Joe's wife is!



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