3 Day Novel Contest starts soon!

From the Zombie Roleplay a while back.

Kim sighed. There wasn't any time for these petty needs. She nodded and followed the girl eagerly, ready to blow this Popsicle stand.

"You said that this happened in Japan? How long ago did it start?" The more she could learn about this...situation, the better. If that's what you could call it...

At the next level of the apartment complex, the song "Mary Jane" by Tom Petty was blaring through the open door of an apartment. A girl screamed and stumbled out of the place, very disheveled and fearful. Her eyes were stricken with horror at the sight of whatever was out of view of Kim and her newfound comrade. Kim stepped forward, gripping the rod. A zombie stumbled out and lurched for the girl. In a strong swoop, Kim's curtain rod collided with the zombie's skull, making an awful cracking sound. The zombie seemed to move, so she slammed him one more time, this time crushing it's skull between the rod and the brick wall of the apartments. He drooped down to the floor, lifeless. She was breathing hard, disbelief of her actions coursing though her mind. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away and forced her eyes onto the terrified girl who still stared straight ahead.

"He...he attacked me as soon as I came home...we were in a fight this morning but..I-I don't..." The girl managed through short, terrified breaths. She began to tremble heavily and Kim turned to Mura.

"Here, watch for other zombies while I check her." Kim knelt down and grabbed the girl's arms. She pulled them where she could see them, seeing a bit of blood but no marks or signs of being bitten. "Listen to me," she said, shaking the girl a bit. "Look at me now or you'll end up like him." The girl tore her eyes away from the dead body and turned them to Kim. "What this is...it's a war. We're still living and it's our job to keep going forth. If not, we'll end up dead, kill off our families and friends. Do you want that?! Answer me!" Kim slapped the girl to bring her attention.

"No..what can I do?" The girl said, wiping her tears away.

"You're going to go into that apartment and grab a weapon. Anything, I don't care. Kill Bill here has a sword, I've got one gun and a curtain rod."

"That's a nice curtain rod..." The girl stated. Fear still haunted her eyes, but she nodded. "Okay, I can do that..." Her voice was soft.

"Mura, where's your apartment? I'm going to keep with this girl while she gets something if you want to go ahead. If not, wait with us, alright?" Kim turned her attention to the girl. "What's your name, anyways?"

"Lily," she said as she rose to her feet.

"Alright, Lily, you're good. We can do this."

Chapters one and two of my story idea.

Bear with me, dearies, this is a bit long. This is always possible to change, but this was what I originally wrote quite some time ago.

Chapter One

When my mother married the very handsome, well known and rich proprietor, Clemént, the kingdom's citizens were flabbergasted. While my mother, a pretty jewel born amongst an undesirable pound of coal, was loved and befriended by every person she knew, she was plagued by her past "sins". Also known as I, Constantine Desiree Estelle.

When my mother was fourteen, she met her betrothed, a gorgeous man who was heir to a prestigious man that tailored the royal. He was kind and loving, something unusual for arranged marriages. Alas, my mother was not content. Her dark blue eyes longed for a spark and she was determined to unearth it.

She escaped a night on the town with the poor boy, using the large festival to separate herself from him and fled to the docks where the cutlass men and erotic dancers played. She stood confidently amongst the older women that drank a sweet spirit, talked of erotic scenes, and flashed their legs and chests to the hardened men whom gathered a few yards away. It was here she met the foreign, stunning and mysterious Vincent Wycleff. His eye lingered upon her body, her beauty, her youthfulness. He asked her hand in a dance and she complied, following her to the festival dance. He held her close and let his hand slide lower than her mid back, sending tingles up her spine. She paid no mind to the few people  that recognized her and cast dark looks, no, for her complete mind was on this stranger, this man whose hands didn't shake when he pulled her close or brushed a chocolate curl out of her face. This man who leaned down, who made her dizzy with pleasure, this man who's lips feverishly moved over hers, who caused gasps and shock, this man who's lips moved down her neck with grace, who captured her heart, this man who made love like no other, who angered a soon-to-be husband who demanded another betrothed who wasn't "damaged goods."

This man who would love her until his ship undocked and he climbed aboard, leaving behind a broken heart and an unborn child.

My mother remained poor, heartbroken, and shunned until I was about seven. By then, I’d grown old enough to watch myself at home, so she took up an occupation as a midwife. She helped people every now and then, receiving money if she did an acceptable or outstanding job, remaining pretty unknown. That is, until she saved a life of a very young girl. The girl had grown sick and was plagued with fever following the birth of her child, but my mother nursed her back to health. No one thought it possible, so it wasn’t surprising that she became a rejoiced household name. Because of this, my mother got a better paying midwife job for the upper-class and we moved into a small home with a solid roof and a fireplace for the freezing winters. One of her clients even paid for her to be schooled in some of the newer medicinal practices. She regained her modesty, atoned for her sins.

But scars don't go away so simply, and people could still see it. Especially when the scar is in flesh and blood; when the scar is me.

Chapter Two

I spent the rainy day indoors, a lady taking my measurements and scribbling them down into her book, rattling off about how she could make my chest less revealing in the style of dress my mother wanted me to wear at the handfasting ceremony. She cursed about how my hips were already shaping even though I was only fifteen and whined about how nothing would match my fiery red hair. I cursed back, in my mind, trying to keep my promise to mother which indicated that I do not go off at the dresser people. Just as the lady tailor was about to get a small dagger to the throat, Eric, my mother's closest friend, sauntered in to whisk me off to hair styling. The lady tailor wrote me off and I followed behind Eric upstairs.

"Thank you for saving that poor woman."

"My dear Constantine, I wouldn't have minded her death but your mother would be crushed to see you hanged on her wedding day," he spoke, his voice smooth and cool like ice. Eric was the only person, besides my mother, that I allowed to call me by my first name. Otherwise, I went by Desireé, which my mother's stupid betrothed couldn't seem to understand.

"Oh, I would have died happy. Happy that I didn't have to see his pompous highness again." I really disliked Clemént. He was very superficial and obnoxious. I don't know what my mother saw in this preposterous excuse for a man. I glanced up at Eric, who's face had become stone. I knew he loved my mother dearly and probably always would. But, he was married, in debt, and no competition (inheritance, anyways) for Clemént. His debt, though, wasn't his, no, it was his gambling-obsessed father who gambled away his and Eric's life to the Simone family. Eric's wife was heir to such a debt repayment, forcing the two together, an unfortunate event for Eric. Eric is handsome--black hair that feathers out over his ears and neck, dark brown eyes, and a strong build--but his wife is plain ugly. She is as thin as a board with flat, lifeless brown hair, a painfully uneven skin tone, high cheekbones with a small mouth that has permanently curled down into a frown, unenthusiastic brown eyes, and absolutely no definition to her body. A waste of Eric's beauty, I think.

"You shouldn't say such things, Constantine." His stone face melted and he smiled at me. "You do know we have to fix up your hair today for tomorrow." My eyes narrowed into a harsh glare, causing him to laugh.

"You can't do that to me!" There's nothing in Europe I detested more than having to be still all night long. I couldn't sleep still, not with my head on the "perfection" pillow which was ultimately a raised podium with a soft cover over it that helped in preventing movement. I basically would be up all night.

"I'm sorry, but your hair doesn't work very well with the style Clemént chose." He paused, looking away from me.

"Eric?"

He glanced my direction.

"Can I ask you something?"

He looked at me for a moment, a quizzical look about his brow, before nodding.

"Does it hurt you? Seeing my mother getting ready to marry someone else?"
He stopped short. He turned away from me, his eyes finding some great interest in the rainy, empty street through the window. He said nothing, and for a few minutes all I could do was watch him. When my hand finally found its way to his arm, he turned back.

"We are going to be late for your appointment! Come now, let's put on your coat and head next door." And, with that, he returned to normal Eric, laughing and poking fun at me as I got tangled up in the cloak he'd retrieved for me.

Alas, as we headed back out into the dark, rainy night, I found myself searching for the Eric my mother fell in love with on the street so long ago.

Chapter Three

          I winced and groaned as the women held me back against the chair while the town’s greatest hairdresser pulled spokes through my thick and tangled hair. Erick knelt at my feet, saying comforting things as I crushed his hands in mine. He didn’t grimace or say anything about it if I was hurting him, which is another reason I love him. I wouldn’t be able to do that to my mother, for fear of hurting her.

            “No no no no no!! My stars, this one is quite the troublemaker!” She yanked out a tangle, making me bite my tongue. “I am pretty sure that this is a twig! My, do you still roll around in the dirt? You are a pig-girl?” She laughed, drawing a chuckle from the rest of the ladies. I gagged at the copper taste in my mouth, the bite drawing blood. I remained silent though, just sucking it up. My temper was rising.

            “No, pigs roll around in the mud, Annabelle! She must be a hog! Those live in the forests!” A woman to my left, pushing my shoulder back, snorted. That was it, I was going to—

            “Well, I must say, Annabelle, you’ve definitely put on some weight since I’ve seen you. Oh, my apologizes, that’s a bit of an understatement,” Eric said, face as serious as the Guillotine. The spokes stopped pulling through my hair, so I looked back to see her face as red as a tomato, clearly embarrassed. I turned back to Eric and smiled, to which he returned with a quick squeeze of my hand.

            The rest of the hair appointment was just Annabelle and me, Eric’s words giving me strength, I suppose, from the evil spoke stick. The other women had gone off to other appointments, not having to hold me down anymore. She hummed away, snipping and trimming the ends of my long hair, being much gentler than before.

            “I must say, I really am jealous of your mane.”

            “My hog’s mane?” I returned. She said nothing for a minute, just rubbed a scented soap into my hair.

            “No. I apologize. But, I really do like your hair. You should just care for it a little more. Before I put the ornaments into your hair, I’ll let you see how shiny it has become,” she promised. The strange scent made my nose itch continuously.

            “What is this retched smell you’ve thrust upon me?” I demanded.

            “It’s the scent of lilacs, dear. This shampoo will kill the lice in your hair.”

            “I don’t have lice!”

            “Well, if you did, it would. It can kill any lice eggs that are festering in this. Most people like the smell though, but it’s probably just you.” I could tell she was smiling by her voice, but I didn’t take it the wrong way. Annabelle is known for being very harsh, but not really meaning to be flat out rude. Half the time she doesn’t even realize it. “Here you are.”

            I took the little piece of polished glass and looked at myself. She was right; my hair settled up around my face and down against my shoulders and torso, very shiny and wavy. She’d made it part from the left side and styled it to swoop down over my brow.

            “What do you think, could I style Queen Elizabeth’s hair?” She asked. I smiled at my reflection, and at her heavy French accent. It made her sound so elegant, but I didn’t know if that was enough to get her into the Queen’s large castle. But, what did I know?

            “Next time I’m riding with her coach to The Globe Theatre, I’d be happy to refer you.” She snorted at this and took the mirror.

            “If you are going to mock me, I’ll just move along on your hair.” She was still smiling, so I knew she’d go easy on making this work.

Pirates!

Ah, well, good day to my followers, though I have so few :(
I'm beginning to work on an idea I'd come up with in my junior year of high school that I've finally decided to work on once more. I'll post the first two chapters in the next post. But, do you know how much research I must do?! Oh, so, so much but it's absolutely necessary, lest I sound very ignorant (though I am to the subject..) when describing my ships. Alas, I must continue the research..

To do or not to do??? Help!

Well, unfortunately, the zombie roleplay I'd began sort of is slipping from grace, and people aren't posting as much...should I just say screw it and write my zombie novel now?! Or should I just wait and keep the idea for my 3daynovel? Oh, what to do!?

To mai Followers!

Thanks for supporting me and my site! It means a lot! I hope you find my postings at least a bit interesting. Have an awesome day!

Zombie roleplay post.

So, I started the roleplay and it's doing well so far. I made a post today that I'm pleased with.



Kim stood violently, throwing the chair to the floor. She only had two packs of cigarettes left, aside from her open one, and she didn't have any idea how long this parade would last, so she made a pact to only smoke one in a 6-hour window. It killed her to not smoke when she was nervous, and nervous was quite an understatement for the turmoil inside her at the moment. It had been almost an hour since Michael had called her again to tell her they'd boarded up the Academy from the things as well as panic-ridden mobs. Thankfully, the small group of 6 all hid in the gun locker room, an impenetrable metal room they kept the guns in at night. Turns out, the morning manager was a bit insane and talked about the apocalypse constantly, and had taken the liberty of stocking up enough MREs, water, and other supplies to last months. He was in the middle of explaining when she heard gunshots.

"What was that?"
"Oh, just someone outside, it's nothing." He claimed. A woman screamed something about a break from the background.
"Michael, what's going on?!" Kim demanded, fear rising in her voice.
"It's nothing, babe, just someone outside--"
"They're in! Damn it, get off the phone and shoot!" A man's voice hollered.
"I gotta go babe, I love you."
Click.
"Michael?!"

Kim moved over to the balcony once more and glanced down in the street. A few people still mingled about, ready to party. St. Patrick's weekend was just in three days and the tourists already began to arrive.
"Too bad it's to this hellhole..."
She wasn't paying attention to anyone really until she spotted her. The woman seemed dazed as she stumbled out into Bourbon Street from St. Louis Street. This would have been normal, due to the mass amounts of alcohol available but something seemed strangely off as she glanced back and forth, back and forth. The woman's blonde hair was messy and dirty and her cheeks were painted with a muddy-looking substance. Her dress was tattered and stained with what appeared to be something..brown? Kim shifted and looked closer, trying to figure out what was wrong with the stumbling woman when she realized it. A zombie. Before Kim could gasp or back up out of shock, the woman zoned in on what was around her and lunged for the nearest party-goer. The petite black-haired girl, no older than 16, cried out from the shock of being attacked. It took her a second to realize the creature was tearing into her flesh. Her cry turned into a wail that echoed into the sky. People stopped to see what was happening. A man shoved the crazed woman off and helped the bleeding girl up. He asked her something and the zombie regained balance before leaping onto her new target. The girl backed away, terrified of the scene. Kim blinked and the woman was on a new target, a cop that was addressing the fight. The first man writhed on the cobble street, twitching and kicking.
It wasn't until Kim had closed the balcony doors, locked them, and re-lived what she'd just witnessed--that she knew how messed up the really situation was.

Roleplay?

Well, I love to roleplay because it gives me a perspective from other people's writings and characters I wouldn't get while practicing the craft on my own. I've decided to make a zombie roleplay, due to my longing desire to write my zombie novel for the 3-Day Novel Contest.

So, here's the first part of the description:

An infection has spread. The CDC has issued a last warning to avoid any and all that are infected or bitten. They say none about a cure, only to remain where you are, stockpile food and water, and wait it out...


The first signs of infected weren't as violent as the movies made it out to be. Sure, they were walking dead that groaned and screeched with bloodstains about them, but most weren't mutilated to the point where you couldn't recognize your Aunt Fanny from your Uncle Bill. But, it only took that one..
"Uncle Bill, what are you doing here?" The teenage girl stated, shocked by the sudden appearance of him in her living room. "Oh my gosh, what happened to your face?! You're bleeding everywhere...let me help you." She moved over to him and realized all too late that his skin was too grey for a normal person, his jaw bone could be seen through the ripped flesh, his throat was cut...
"MOM!!!!!!!!!!" The zombie lunged for her and began tearing into her chest, eating the succulent flesh. Her mother appeared only for him to lunge at her, dissatisfied with the girl he left dying on the floor.
One by one, people across the state suffered such stories until the infection spread, a bloodbath of a wildfire.

And so our story begins...

Alrighty, I'm going to take a shot at this blogging stuff.
So, I'm making this blog to follow my journey as an aspiring writer. I don't know if anyone will ever follow it, but I really hope they do! I'll post every now and then on writing updates, what I'm up to, and random ideas I get along the way. So, let me know what you think!