Progress report

I mostly lazed today. Last night, when I flopped into bed, I was literally trembling with exhaustion. Think I slept 12 hrs.

Anywho, I dickered around with the ms, doing more editing and fine turning--probably cut another page's worth of stuff--then wrote about a page and a half of new stuff, and it feels like I'm over a hump. Like I had to get to a certain point to see what comes next, (what 'rightly' comes next) so now I know what to write for the upcoming scenes. There's hope for me yet, I just might get something accomplished in the next couple of days I have off.

Wanna a peek? (To paraphrase Missy Elliot: "copy-rit(ten), so don't copy me." Copyright Vanessa Jaye 2005) Don't mind the Xs, I haven't worked out the teminology I want to use yet; and this is first draft stuff, so cut me some slack.:

******

That Night, in a dark rancid alley....

Twenty minutes later, barely out of breath, and with unholy glee coursing through his veins, Ibenré pushed back the lock of hair fallen over his brow. “Is that the best you boys got?”

He lightly bounced his X knives in each palm, testing the balance and potential for carnage. Perfect. His grin widened and, predictably, the vamps spat a volley of curses at him, his lineage, his manhood, his taste in clothing.

“Tsk, tsk; the mouths on you two.”

“You fight like a huumahn,” Frak snarled, showcasing several centuries of orthodontic tragedy as he leapt up from the pile of overturned garbage cans he’d crashed into. Courtesy of Ibenré.

“Drop your weapons and fight like a XX.” Frik, fangs bared, rolled off the hood of the car he’d landed on, again courtesy of Ibenré, and ran up for another helping of humiliation.

Ibenré made a moue then flipped one X up in the air. “You mean like this?” He stretched out his hand, fingers spread, and the sudden blast of XX energy stopped the vampyre in its track. Ibenré swept his arm upward and the vamp’s body followed, spine arched, corporeal shell rapidly disintegrating as he fed on the creature’s soul marrow; seconds later only the sparking ashfall of its husk was left. Behind his back, Ibenré deftly caught the knife upon its decent.

“What would you give that, a nine? Nine-point-eight?” He looked from his guardsman Nefer to the last sucker standing. “My timing was a little off but—” Pain hit, gutting him, and he retched. “Shit, shit, shit.” Never suck vamp on an empty stomach.

“Master!” Nefer’s warning came too late. Ibenré was slammed up against the brick wall by the nightwalker’s attack. He grunted, pain radiating from multiple points on his body; then hot carcass-scented breath clogged his nostrils just as the sting of razor sharp teeth scraped along his jaw.

“No, no, no. No necking on the first date.” He head-butted the plague ridden f*cker and heard ancient bones crunch; but the vamp held on, dragging Ibenré down to the filthy cracked concrete as another wave of nausea skimmed through him and the knives slipped from his hands.

He could end this as quickly as before, except he couldn’t stomach another feed from a vamp so soon. That left Plan B: killing and maiming the old fashion way.

*******

postscript, I just edited all those triple Xs to single & double. They might have made for some interesting traffic cuming coming by. heh.