One of the benefits of blogging a WIP is that, from time to time when thought processes don’t allow you to provide daily clarity of the process, you can at least turn to the project you are working on and provide a quick snippet. Here then, as I continue to work feverishly away at ‘Tec for NaNoWriMo is a trippy extract from Monday’s writing:
Mark ran through the field of long grass towards the figure in the distance. His arms were wide open, ready to embrace Alice but as he progressed, he realised that the grass was getting much higher and it was taking him a lot longer than he expected to get there. He looked down and found that he couldn’t see his feet any more and in fact with each step he didn’t feel as though he was actually moving; there was no feeling of anything under his feet. He looked up and saw Alice walking backwards in the distance.
“Where are you going?” he shouted. “Alice? Alice?”
Alice seemed to be speaking but he couldn’t hear anything. The wind had risen and was blowing the field of long grass back and forth and as he watched it seemed as though the grass was actually the sea, albeit green. A moment later and he saw Alice turn, and dive headfirst into the grass like a dolphin leaping through a hoop and into a pool.
“What’s going on?” he begun, but before he could get an answer something had grabbed his ankle and was pulling him under.
Mark tried to scream out, but when he opened his mouth it was filled with what seemed to be grass seed. He tried to spit it out, but it stuck to his cheeks and started to cover the back of his throat. His arms flailed around above him as he tried to claw for something to grab onto to keep him afloat but found there was nothing. Instead the tall grass, now well above his head, was beating against his face and head, swotting him down and further away from the dwindling light at the surface. As this progressed, he heard a rhythmic thumping at the back of his head and realised that this was no doubt the sound of his heart pumping and gasping for life.
As his vision began to darken, and he slipped into unconsciousness, he heard the build up of music which started slowly and rose in both sound and pace. He suddenly felt it was odd that as he was drowning in a sea of grass, the last sound he would hear would be “Ecstacy of Gold” by Ennio Morricone.