As a writer, the beginning of a story creates an enormous amount of excitement. Ideas spring forth and test the dexterity of my fingers as I attempt to record the words before they pass. New characters enter my life and invite me to go on a journey with them. Beginnings are magical.
So for this blog, I thought I’d share the beginning of one of my WIP’s. (Work in progress)
A Seren’s Heart
Fear belongs only to those who value life. I don’t fear anything. And except for my magic, I don’t value anything either.
I trudge slowly up the long, bricked steps, pacing myself to walk straight into the building and into class before the tardy bell rings. It’s become habit to limit my time around the humans and I have it down to a perfect science. There’s but so much of their smell, their sound, and their existence that I can handle. Avoiding them has become my routine and ignoring me has become theirs, even though, until lately, they’ve had little choice.
Marta forces me to attend their school. Learn their strengths and weaknesses, she says. Exist as if your futures are similar, she says. But our futures are not similar. Humans control their future. And what I want and need to learn will never be found within the walls of a human high school. But it’s never been about what I need or what I want.
Commotion pours out around me as I pull open the front doors of Emory High. Noisy humans, hanging out at every turn and slamming lockers left and right, pack the halls as far as I can see. The growing mob causes my skin to crawl. The governing rules instituted by the teachers, which ban chatter in the hallways and class tardies, have been thrown out the window because the weekend’s promise of freedom hangs in the air and dilutes everyone’s thoughts.
Everyone’s but mine. My thoughts were diluted long before.
Marta has always preached the importance to preserving our identity. That tenet led her to choose West Virginia. It’s not a densely populated state, especially our area with its one high school, a large shoebox-shaped building, with an abundance of red brick and wide-paned windows that feels more like a prison. To me anyway. But even with the small population, all the social groups find a way to exist.
I fit into none of them.
But then, that is my fate.
In writing, is the beginning the most exciting part for you? What are your WIP’s?