Friday, 15 November 2013

Waterstones NaNoWriMo Challenge

NOVEMBER IS NANOWRIMO! For those of you taking part, I hope like hell you hit your target by the end of the month!

Anyway, I was asked to take part in this - the Waterstones NaNoWriMo Challenge - to write the third chapter of a story with the aid of Rory's Story Cubes to help with inspiration. I had only two rules - keep it between 250-500 words and keep it PG rated. Easy, right? NOPE! But oddly fun!

Anyway, if you want to follow the story, here is chapter 1 at and chapter 2 is at So, are we all up to speed? Are we all sitting comfortable? Good, then I shall begin...

(And to whoever has chapter 4, I am so very sorry.)


As I walked slowly toward the mysterious sunny face archway, my fingers twitched and touched my bare wrist, only to feel some skin raised. I looked down and saw black ink of a tattoo. A tattoo I never had.
                "What the -?" Did I do this last night? What actually happened last night?
                The tattoo was of  sleeping Justice, holding scales in one hand and, weirdly, an apple in the other.
                How drunk did I get last night?
                No. I wasn't drinking last night. So... what on earth happened?!
                I turned down the empty road, a cold feeling creeping up my spine. Something weird happened to me - no, something weird is happening to me - and I had no idea what was going on.
                I was being to get a headache. It felt like an swarm of angry beetles and bees was trapped in a jam jar.
                Could I buy some paracetamol? I felt the strange jacket I was wearing to see if I could feel any cash or my wallet in the pockets. Nothing.
                Great, I thought. Just great. What else can go wrong?
                Famous last words.
                Out of nowhere, a toddler ran out of a shop, eyes wide like dish. He was wearing bright red wellies.
                "Mum! MUM!" He squealed, pointing to the sky. "Rainbow! RAINBOW!"
                The shop door opened and a woman - the child's mother - came out. "You shouldn't run off, Ethan."
                "MUM!" the child - Ethan - wailed, pointing the sky above my head. "Rainbow!"
                The mother looked up at the sky. "There's no rainbow, dear. It's..." She suddenly looked puzzled. "What is that?"
                "Sh-sh-shooting star?" Ethan questioned, pouting his lips out, his mouth not truly able to pronounce the word.
                The mother continued to look at the sky. Then a look of horror and terror crossed it. She snatched Ethan up into her arms and run to the shop door.
                "Get inside!" She shouted. "Run! They're coming! Get inside!"
                The shop door snapped shut behind her as Ethan wailed.
                What on earth -? What would cause a grown-up to freak out like that?
                I turned on the spot, stared up at the sky and felt my brain short-circuited.
                This wasn't real.
                It made no sense!
                And yet, it was happening.

                An army of angry sheep was being parachuted down from the empty blue sky, and all their little black eyes were fixed horribly on me.  

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