The Next Thing
May. 2nd, 2010 11:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mmerriamWith the barista story done in first draft and cooling before rewrites, and not being quite ready to tackle Dark Water Blues rewrites just yet, I've started poking at other projects. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
careswen and I have been brainstorming a story featuring the character Arkady Bloom, who appears in my novella The Horror at Cold Springs (due out from Sam's Dot Publishing any time now). Arkady is sort of a Steampunk/Gaslights and Grimoires British freelance Secret Agent, and I'm looking forward to writing the next thing about him (though the concept is already threatening to turn into a novel).
That said, I got side-tracked today and wrote this, which appears to be the start of something:
****
I didn't know the old man was handing me Excalibur. If I had, I would treated the moment with more reverence. Or perhaps I would have turned and fled the restaurant, because honestly, to be given that kind of gift, that is no accident. If you're given Excalibur, it likely means you're going to need Excalibur, and that probably isn't going to end well for anyone.
The old man did not look like the type of fellow who went around handing out magical swords, and the blade seemed little more than a typical pocket-knife: a three inch lock-blade with a wood handle and brass bolsters. When he offered it to me, holding the small knife in his weathered hand and saying a boy should always have a blade, I took it with a smile and a quiet thank you. The other three old-timers seemed to let long breaths and relax back in the booth, satisfied expressions on their aging faces.
I refilled their coffee cups and started around my area with the pot as they began arguing about the '69 World Series for the thousandth time.
****
Huh. I wonder were this is going...
careswen and I have been brainstorming a story featuring the character Arkady Bloom, who appears in my novella The Horror at Cold Springs (due out from Sam's Dot Publishing any time now). Arkady is sort of a Steampunk/Gaslights and Grimoires British freelance Secret Agent, and I'm looking forward to writing the next thing about him (though the concept is already threatening to turn into a novel).That said, I got side-tracked today and wrote this, which appears to be the start of something:
****
I didn't know the old man was handing me Excalibur. If I had, I would treated the moment with more reverence. Or perhaps I would have turned and fled the restaurant, because honestly, to be given that kind of gift, that is no accident. If you're given Excalibur, it likely means you're going to need Excalibur, and that probably isn't going to end well for anyone.
The old man did not look like the type of fellow who went around handing out magical swords, and the blade seemed little more than a typical pocket-knife: a three inch lock-blade with a wood handle and brass bolsters. When he offered it to me, holding the small knife in his weathered hand and saying a boy should always have a blade, I took it with a smile and a quiet thank you. The other three old-timers seemed to let long breaths and relax back in the booth, satisfied expressions on their aging faces.
I refilled their coffee cups and started around my area with the pot as they began arguing about the '69 World Series for the thousandth time.
****
Huh. I wonder were this is going...
