I am continuing to work on “Rayou”, adding bits and pieces as they come. I have the names of most of the major characters, various locations where the story will take place, and I am combing through Google Images looking for more inspiration.
I have written several small bits of scenes to be fleshed out later, but I also have two that, while no where near finished, I feel are far enough along to give some hint of the style of the story. As I said in the first post though, one I am not comfortable sharing as I know it might be a trigger for people… maybe after more work I will share that, but I do have something I can put out there for you to read and comment on.
I am working helter skelter, writing out this and that as the scenes come to mind with no preconceived plans on where they fit into the story, I am naming each one separately. They are named to give a quick, simple way to remember the basic idea of what they are about.
I have found, for me, letting my mind jump around like this is working the best. When I try and force myself to work rigidly from point A to point B I loose focus and thus the thread of thought I am following. Going about things in a free form type of way allows the freedom to go with whatever comes to mind while following the over all theme I am aiming for.
So with no further ado, here is the scene named “Mirror”.
Erin sat on the bed, looking around the room, with its blue walls and white ceiling. The pictures of airplanes and automobiles, pictures she had drawn, not because she liked planes or cars but because she loved the precision they represented. The stark lines and graceful curves.
Then there was the furniture, the bed itself, small but functional, with its bookshelf headboard where she kept her favorite books; The Hunger Games, The Book Thief, A Wrinkle In Time, and others. There was also her memory box; a small thing made of cardboard printed to look like wood. It contained a few small items she knew her parents would expect, a baseball card, her “favorite” Hot Wheels car, a key she had found at the park. Things that really meant nothing to her but kept her true secrets safe.
From there her eyes swept to the dresser. An oversized monstrosity that hunched against the wall and seemed to glower at her. Her parents had found it at an estate sale and refinished it for her room. She hated it. She hated the masculine lines, all square and hard. She hated the color, a gloss black her Father told her made it look Japanese, but really made it look like a coffin. Most of all she hated the huge mirror that towered upward until it seemed to touch the ceiling. The mirror that held within it her greatest fears. In that wall of glass she could see what the world saw. A truth she could not deny even though it was all a lie. Looking at it, it was all she could do not to smash it with her fists, screaming curses at the gods or fate or whatever it was that had made her the way she was. That had, with cruel indifference, ensured her a life not of happiness, but of damnation.