I usually like a little musing to start things off, but I don't have anything to muse upon. Unless this commentary on lack of musing is therefore now my musing... 🤷♂️
For you to showcase a snippet of something you have written recently to give a little flavour of what folk can expect from your work.
You can share at any point during the week, Sundays are just when we update!
This isn't really about seeking feedback, so if you feel you have feedback to give on a snippet, you should do that in the comment section of that chapter.
💾 Share something fairly recent, published or not yet published, which you are proud of :)
📏 Keep it short! No more than 10 line breaks.
🌎 If needed, add some background info to understand the excerpt.
🔗 Add a link to the specific chapter to take the interested party straight to the action.
🥺 Give an insight into any content warnings applicable to the chapter.
🤬 If there are any swears in your snippet then just for the purpose of your post here, please use ****s instead. I can't enforce it of course but it's not a biggy to have to do. Just generally keep it clean as this is a more public area and it keeps me out of trouble.
☝ Only ONE SNIPPET PER POST PER WEEK PER STORY. If you have 4 different ongoing fictions, you can have one post per each fiction- but you can't have 3 snippets from 3 different chapters of the same fiction. No one enjoys an over sharer...
📆There will be a clean slate on the 19th September. I'm in the UK so will try to have this up and going each week around midnight my time.
I opted for something from this week.
... Mostly because I feel Terri is a bit misunderstood. I know I know she has a bit of a campy moniker (going by Sediment Terri which sounds like 'sedimentary' because of her convenient ability to turn her physical state into that of rock) but she is literally a rock star and is quite the badass hero in my team's line up. She has some really cool stuff coming up in Volume Two and Volume Three (which I've already written) so here I am, giving Terri some love.
Rock on! 🤘
LONGSTORYSHORT: Terri has teamed up with a couple of Detectives, on the hunt for the illusive and dangerous Don Waters.... And spoiler...
No content warnings for this chapter except maybe some profanity. I can't remember.
Quote:“I know what previous you have with demolishing diners. I’d rather less destruction if I can help it,” Sanchez responded, cocking an eyebrow at Terri. “Or we wait for him to come out instead,” she finished.
“Sure, let’s do that.”
But instead of doing what she implied she was going to do, she opened the car door and got out, walking towards the diner parking lot. It wasn’t that Terri disregarded authority, or considered herself above it, but she had a job to do and she wasn’t keen on sitting around.
“Sonovab****!” Sanchez grumbled, also getting out of the car. “Terri!” she hissed.
“Sorry Sanchez, but I need him in and I can’t just sit around,” she called out over her shoulder as she continued walking.
She crossed the street which was becoming slightly busier as the city woke up. Thirty metres away, the man himself, Don Waters, exited the diner as if on cue. Terri maintained her course, using Don’s unawares to her advantage.
Don dug into his pockets for his car keys and must have sensed someone approaching, their eyes bearing into him, causing him to look up. His reaction was fairly calm, one perhaps of expectation or resignation.
“I’m just surprised you took so long,” he chided Terri, as she walked into the car lot.
He puffed up, his build increasing and spines protruding from his skin. Terri herself altered her state at cellular level into that of a densely packed sediment rock, her appearance not altering in anyway.
“Well, I’m here now, that’s what counts,” she responded, stomping her right foot and sending a crack darting towards Don.
Skip directly to the chapter here : 8. Sediment Terri #7 : Caught Between A Rock And A Hard Place - Heroes of The Collective Volume Two : Regret | Royal Road
Catch up from the beginning with Volume 1 in the signature below.
Chapter 36 - TBA
Quote:He was tempted to feel satisfied with where he stood
maybe he’d done everything a modern hero could
but sometimes when he told his children tales of what he’d done
a feeling crept upon him that he’d only just begun
""Alright then, Wattz, I'm Yata. The guy over there is Batoon." Yata said, while barely acknowledging Batoon. The other hero crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. They both glared at each other until Yata pointed to a house behind him. It was a simple two-story house with simple-looking windows and a wooden door. He then started pacing, waving his fingers like a pointer.
"This is your exam: A typical hostage situation that could happen anywhere in the outskirts of the city. One of us examiners will act as your "helper" to save the hostages from the rigged house. The other examiner will act as a "villain" to try and stop you from doing so. It is key to note that the place is rigged with arsine gas, and it will activate when the time limit, 40 minutes, goes off." Yata took a stopwatch from his hoodie pocket and showed it to Shindo.
Batoon then took it from there. "For this exam, you have two clear conditions. The first one is obligatory: you have to get to the hostages and save them by any means necessary. You will do so with the help of the ill-fated Nyan cat over there."
Yata smiled wryly at this. "The second one, and this one is optional, is for you and you only to immobilize the 'villain' by any means necessary. I bet the audience seeing us would like this though, since it would be far more entertaining to end the fight defeating one of the esteemed Mortars."
A vein popped in Batoon's forehead.
"Yes, Wattz, and make sure not to get distracted by feathers or bugs..." Yata gritted his teeth at Batoon's remark.
"Oi! That was once," Yata muttered, but then a cat-like grin spread through his lips. "But hey! As long as you're not a seven-year-old man doing cosplay, you'll do amazing in the test!"
Batoon raised an eyebrow. "So, they don't call you a groomer just because of the kitten thing, eh?"
"Speak for yourself, you mismatched, creepy-**s, reject seventies cartoon!"
Sparks were flying between them as a sigh almost escaped Shindo’s lip. They were starting to annoy him."
Anyways, here's this week's draft snippet (subject to change, since... You know, tone context, and what not...)
Quote:“What the fuck, Arty?” Eli starts, straining herself to seat up. “You just had to use the one name you shouldn’t have used when lying to the bartender.”
“What? Like we can use ours?” He shot back, hands on his chest. “It’s the first name I could think of when he asked. You know they wouldn’t mind us using their names.”
“Ya, but… but...”
“Eli,” he starts, dragging the chair closer to her. “I know you don’t like it, but right now, don’t think about anyone else. There’s no one we can contact without giving ourselves away. If we ever go back, you can ask them for forgiveness, or atonement, or whatever. Now, just focus on what’s in front of us.”
You know, we haven't really met Hank yet, have we, in my story DOTS? He is the principle MC, being that he's the guy in the story. We also have not yet met Rio, who is the third MC, along with Hank and Anna. She's kind of on hiatus at the moment, so we will catch up her later. Right now, Hank is spending his time in the next few chapters of The Book of CHASTITY getting to know Anna and Aika better.
Last week in Sunday Snippets Aika was training Hank how to watch dreams while in her secret glade. Now she has him in her apartment, warming up in her Jacuzzi.
Well, at least Aika is in the Jacuzzi. Hank's having a hard time trusting her after she tackled him in her glade.
This snippet has not yet been posted. It will be on Friday, as part of Chapter NINE in The Book of CHASTITY.
Aika sat and disappeared in the bubbles. "You don't often follow orders," the bubbles said.
Hank sat on the tiled ledge with his feet on the floor, to better hear Aika over the roar of her jacuzzi. "Well, it's not that I don't follow orders. It's that you don"t treat your guests very well."
The bubbles laughed, so quiet compared to the jets. "You think you're here for fun? That this is a social call?"
Hank didn't know what to think. Aika was too weird.
"You'll not be the same after this," she said. "I'll teach you how to spit. I'll show you how dreams fill the world. So many people laugh and cry. They love and hate one another each day, and put themselves on display at night." The bubbles parted enough to show Aika's eyes. "You make people laugh and cry. They live their lives because of you, without even knowing you do it."
"Why would I make people cry?"
"You think people don't cry for you?"
"I think people don't know my name."
"They know you without your name. You think people don't care about you, yet you care about them all the time. You think about others more than you do yourself, by a factor of…" Aika proved herself to be bad at math. "…a lot," she said, unable to come up with a more proper term.
"Hank-sama, people cry at night for the love of a Dot. Especially now. Bad things are happening."
Hank blinked. "Anna says I'm not a Dot."
"What does Rio say? And her husband?"
"Hai. What does Milton say?"
"Um… well, Milton is kinda missing right now, and he's also not her husband."
"He's not?" Aika acted surprised. "Huh."
"I thought his disappearance was why I'm here. That and the PEP Center attacks."
"There’ll be more. Bad things are happening."
Hank became upset. “You say that all the time. How about we do something about it?”
The bubbles parted. A head appeared, then a hand. Aika turned off the water jets, making the room silent.
"I am. I’m training you."
Aika shook her head from side to side. Blue indigo locks trailed behind her like snakes. "If you don’t know, then I can't say."
"Everyone I meet talks to me the same way. 'Do this! Don’t do that!' It’d be helpful if I knew why."
"No I don’t! I don't know why!"
Quote:Damn it! Next time, Leopold was going to be the one climbing like a monkey in the middle of the night and spying on his lecherous nephew. In his early fifties, the honorable Primate was just as agile as a thirty-year-old. And he knew for a fact that the revered leader of the Night Brothers hid a body like a brick beneath that black habit of his, so he was more than capable of such feats. Besides, with the magnification tube, Leopold could lip-read just as well as he could despite his weak eyes, so no excuse there.
Gritting his teeth, the spy prepared to slide down the tree and leave the two lovebirds to their affairs. Just as he stretched his foot to a nearby branch, a bubble of light followed by rhythmical steps announced the arrival of the night patrol. The worst part was that the two guards decided to make a stop in their round exactly under his tree.
‘By the grace of the Saints, may your nether parts forever be frigid! Why here? Why now of all times?! You are swarming the place like cockroaches tonight!’ the spy cursed silently as he hung between the branches. Unfortunately for him, the guards were in no hurry to leave.
Quote:Reima was famished. She had known from the start that adjusting to life in the desert wouldn't be easy, but it hadn't occurred to her just how little the Felids actually ate. The majority of their diet consisted of the various wild plants that grew in the area such as legumes, cactus fruits, and whatever other weird shit they happened to find. They had also managed to cultivate a few hardy crops, namely onions, grapes, and berries, but with thirty-one mouths to feed they were consumed quicker than they were able to grow.
Meat was a rare find, as any game worth hunting down was also targeted by the ghouls. Small rodents and lizards would sometimes wander into town only for some lucky bastard to catch it and scarf down an extra meal that week.
Reima thought back to the previous evening, when she had witnessed Kyo snatch a bat out of thin air as it glided over his head. This didn't go unnoticed by Omen, who was quick to advance on the younger guard. After a brief exchange of what Reima could only assume consisted of death threats and smartass remarks, Kyo found himself scrambling against Omen's vice-like grip and trying to dodge his furious and snapping teeth. The sight reminded her of a pair of stray dogs ripping each other apart over a scrap of garbage, and part of her wondered what would have transpired had Falon not intervened.
Quote:He enjoys the wreath of glory placed atop his head, granting him the power to command… and to rule. It’s a crown he has long forsaken, and only now does he reclaim it. He loves it, embellishing in its light. The battle of Thille, inspiring fear in the people’s minds, is only a means for his eventual reconquest for all he has lost, fueling his rise to power, grasping the destiny he suddenly so yearns for.
He slowly ascends the stairs to the entrance of the Grand Hall once again, flanked by the sea of people, parting away slightly to allow him passage, like a large formation of attendants escorting their master to where he desires.
The Anapadeia emits a dark aura, so different from its usual reddish glow, drifting amongst the people, slipping into their nostrils, their ears, their eyes, their mouths. The silent haze is suffocating, controlling the people, emptying their minds of any rational, individual thought. If they were not before, they are now blinded, their senses dulled, no longer able to even fathom beyond the most basic of thoughts. They can only see Avalel, their savior, a sole figure of light in their world of darkness, reaching towards him, yet keeping their distance, fullying knowing that their wretched selves cannot touch his glory.
Little did they know, Avalel lives in the same darkness as they are.
It's an experiment of sorts, really, testing how far can I change my characters yet still keeping them barely recognizable and with ample foreshadowing pulled from various bits in the story.
Galashiels was its normal bustling place on market day, full of the usual assortment of tanners, tillers, taletellers and thieves. Plumat dragged the heavy rumpbag off the rear of his steed, staggering slightly from the weight of the chest inside as he hefted it over his shoulder. He waved for his escorts to stay mounted, then headed for the Sheepstow Tavern.
Plumat’s stagger did not go unnoticed by the host of evil eyes watching him from inside the tavern. His black chainmail marked him as a nobleman, or a nobleman’s thegn, even though his maize and scarlet heraldry could not be seen by the watchful coven inside.
“Mark this bloody henchman well, lads,” came a raspy warning from one of the Caledonian clansmen. “He’s got booty in that ‘ere bag o’ his, I wager.”
“Aye, Scarba,” old Jack Scurdie agreed. “Him and ‘is lot be the ones who been postin’ those writs ‘long the frontier, fer sher. I seen ‘em wi’ me own peeper, I did.” That brought a round of raucous laughter from the drunken lot, one-eyed Jack having been the butt of many a bar room skit by those still possessing both their eyes.
Plumat strode purposefully through the door of the tavern, brushing past a dozen well armed men, then slung his heavy load up onto the bar board. “Ale for the first ten men who can read, quencher!” he crowed loudly. “And a pail of beer for those who can’t.”
A small stampede of ragged, stinking bodies rushed forward, almost toppling the bar board from its barrelheads. A loud “hurrah” swept away the silence of the room while a hefty five stone’s pail began passing from hand to mouth, not a single man having taken the offer of ale.
Scarba pushed his way through his mates to stand tipsy toed to Plumat. “What’s yer doings ‘ere, Sir Fancy, if I may be so bold?”
Plumat grimaced at the man’s breath, which was almost as hideous as his pox ruined face and snaggle-tooth grin. “I’ve a handsome bounty to offer those who can handle the task.”
“Task is it?” Scarba growled. “We be Caledonians ‘ere, not some lot who be lookin’ fer a stint shoveling swine guts. Eh lads?”
Plumat allowed the grumbling and guffawing to die down, then replied, “I’ve a boy who needs finding, and I’ve come with bounty enough to make it worth your while. There be five talens in it for the taking, and a contract of twenty more when the boy is handed to the Sheriff at Tendalfief within a fortnight.”
“A boy, says you?” grumbled a gaggle of men, almost at once.
Scattering a pile of silver talens onto the bar board from his rumpbag, Plumat declared, “Aye, and his wench, and the spoils they be hauling. And there’s another ten in it for the head of an old man they call ‘the Boozer’ who poses as a magician.”
“Magicians, mopboys and mizztresses,” one-eyed Jack sang out, having had the last heavy draw on the pail of beer. He fell backward in a drunken heap against his mates, bringing another hearty laugh from the Caledonians.
“What’d this ‘ere ‘boy’ do? Bespoil the virtue of some nobleman’s daughter?” Scarba demanded, his finger poking ominously into Plumat’s chest.
In the flash of a fly’s flutter, Plumat drew his dagger and thrust it dangerously close to Scarba’s left eye. “You cross me, blaggard, and there’ll be two one-eyed drunks on the floor of this haunt before you can say ‘aye m’lord’!”
That got the attention of the assembled masses. They backed away from Scarba to distance themselves from the carnage they knew a well armed man could bring when wielding a Kensian blade as long as a forearm.
Scarba went limp at the prospect of his imminent blinding. His voice changed instantly to that of a whipped dog. “Meanin’ no harm, yer Lordship. I was just wonderin’ what this ‘ere boy is to you, and should we be needin’ a gang to grasp ‘im, or can a couple of me stouter mates do the job?”
Plumat shoved Scarba back, and with a flick of his wrist, stabbed one of the talens in its center. He waved it aloft and taunted, “This is all you need to worry about, knave. Bring the boy, and you get paid. Fail in the attempt, and this blade may find its way to your gullet. And another thing. I have cohorts who watch my back constantly, should any of you think me the fool and try to gain your bounty with a foul deed. Now, which of you is man enough to step forward and best a towheaded boy and his wench?”
Quote:Was I being too judgemental? Possibly. It’s one of my greatest failings. How often have I thought someone’s a massive prick and been proven wrong?
Let me just count… Hold on, I’m sure there was that time… No, no, wait, I’m sure I’ll think of one in a moment.
Great snippet from https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/5288/how-to-avoid-death-on-a-daily-basis/chapter/747890/429-law-of-the-land
avery, a los angeles private eye, discusses his newest case with a client:
Quote:The vampire took the pen and started to write. “I can’t thank you enough for this, man. Really. I can’t have this p**** pickin’ off my patrons like that; people start askin’ questions.”“You know, uh….” Avery leaned back again as he watched the vampire’s pale hand sprawl across the paper, leaving a mess of chicken-scratch in its wake. “I thought vampires just did this sort of thing. You know, eat people.”“None of the vamps in Santa Monica eat people, kid. We get our blood from the hospital like civilized folk. There’s kids around here, y’know? A lot of us own businesses. We don’t want little Timmy runnin’ and telling his parents that he saw some freak eating a guy. That means that family’ll never come back to the area. I bet it was probably one of those Hollywood freaks that did this. Bastards need to learn how to stay in their part of the city….” With one last wide motion of his hand, the vampire lifted the pen from the papers and pushed it back towards Avery.
“You seem pretty focused on optics,” Avery looked down at the papers, scanning for a name. “Mr. Palmer.”“It’s not so much optics as it is keepin’ hunters out of our hair. Every bozo around here wants to be the next Hellsing, but no one wants to kill a vamp minding their own, y’know? I guess we look to human.”
Quote:“I’ve missed you, my White Rabbit,” Alice whispered. “I’ve feared for you. I’ve nearly mourned for you.” Her voice came from the speakers of the room, soft and oddly crackle free.
“I’m sorry,” Taro replied.
“You should be.”
It had been two days since Taro’s recovery by the Summer.
It had been two hours since he regained consciousness after falling face first in sick room 12A. Selma made it a point not to treat his smashed nosed, allowing for the swelling to remind him of why he shouldn’t annoy her.
Alice floated in her tank, her mantle of cables and tubes trailing behind her like the lifeline of an ancient submariner. The blue lights of the hologram emitter above gave her a ghostly complexion. Taro hated that damn blue light.
She was upset with him and turned her back to him. Even through the over-imposed holographic projection, he saw the scarred and mutilated body underneath — the ruined remains of a body, if he allowed himself to be honest.
He pressed his forehead to the cool surface of the tank and triggered a minor alarm. A shutter opened above and a technician peered in, only to retire a moment later.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, eyes closed.
Alice killed the alarm. By the soft sound of air bubbles popping against the surface of the amniotic liquid, Taro knew she had come close.
“Always,” she replied, her voice modulated through the speakers to resemble her younger self. That was his punishment.
“Thank you for catching me,” he went on, without opening his eyes. “I owe you another one.”
“You owe me too many, white rabbit. I should collect some day.”
Quote:“Your hair looks less poofy than usual.”
“Oh really? I haven’t had a chance to look at it recently.” Weird. His afro usually maintained itself without that much picking throughout the day. He felt it for confirmation. It didn’t feel that much flatter, but maybe he should’ve taken his comb with him.
“I meant metaphorically speaking.”
“...What?” This confused him even more.
Aiden seemed to notice. “Get used to it, she’s been speaking in riddles all day.”
“I don’t remember telling you any riddles! It must’ve been hyperbole, since I tend to exaggerate things for--Anyway!” Roxie placed her hands on the table. “Emil, what I meant to say is, the hair of your heart is less poofy.”
Emil glanced at Aiden for hope of an explanation, but he only returned a look that said “I told you so.”
“Do you mean... my chest… hair…?” The lieutenant glanced down at his chest.
“No! Why would I even know that?? I meant--”
“She meant you seem tired lately.” Jun returned to the table with food from the microwave and a translation.
“Yeah!” Roxie bobbed her head. “That’s what I was saying!”
So where was the correct path, you might ask? Well as he was witnessing now, the correct path was a path that would be activated by something so arbitrary and so stupid that no any mystery-book lover thought it should be legal. Loose stone hiding a secret key on the wall? Nah. A torch that could be pulled to reveal a rotating door? What?! Did you think the sprites were philistines? Of course, not! Look and beheld! The most advanced, most intricate, secret-keeping that escapes everyone’s eyes. Drum roll to ...kicking pebbles. Yes. Kicking pebbles. The hidden pathway was activated by kicking the most ordinary, greyest pebbles he had ever seen in a north-north-west order. Or was it north-north-northwest? Like he cared. It was so gobsmacking, so infuriating he didn’t even jot it down for a secret ‘I know how to traverse your maze’ surprise reveal, later (read more...)
*I didn't realize that I posted this one on the previous week snippet. Sorry for that.
Smoke billowed from the windows. Cat cowered. The flames jumped up out of nowhere. They stood in a circle, like soldiers protecting her. The room was completely bright orange, her eyes burned from the heat and smoke. She screamed. She tried to fight her way out. No one was home and she didn’t know what to do. She saw the window to her left and dove right through it.
She landed on the porch. The wood was hard but she didn’t care. She could finally breathe.
Just as she stumbled onto the ground in their front yard her father came rushing over. He lifted her up and placed her further away in the grass, then ran into the house.
Her father, Gregory, was a big man, mostly aged muscle. His chest was the largest part of him. He was solid yet very fast. While she had her back turned to the house there was a huge gust of wind that came out of the window, like an explosion that caused all of the dust and straw to fly in all directions. She hunched over and covered her head with her arms.
When she thought it was safe to move, she turned around and looked at the house. The fire was gone.
ABOUT: discovering powers, coming of age, YA, Romance, medieval
A band of stars paved the divine way; the caravan of the dead that made their trek into the heavens. In their wisdom, the elders took their place off the path as the constellations, to guide those lost – whether living or dead.
The tribes had told him those tales, and he preferred theirs over the canon of the empires. One where the stars were meticulously hung across the sky in megalomaniac creation by the seven Sheiks that had begun the world.
He did not often consider religion, but he disliked the divine divide of souls.
- From my most recent work: Sandhailer