With some stuff happening at work, I took a little break for Easter and decided to delve into the mess of documents that is my writing collection. It’s a weird trip down memory lane.
I laughed, I cringed, I was mystified, but all in all, a good time was had. One of these days, I really need to organise things, because I’m a bit of a magpie when it comes to my writing. The one resounding theme is, they are all of the fantasy genre. I’ve got dozens of beginnings, middles and ends, none of which fit together. For me, it’s all about the setting.
One of the earlier ones I attempted (and never finished), was one I called the Victorian Lapidary. It takes place in Victorian London, if the title wasn’t enough of a giveaway. In fact, one of the pieces I submitted for a workshopping class was this story.
I had a lot of fun with the characters, did a lot of research – trying to pick up the little slangs of language to make it more authentic. I read up on habits and dress and food during that period and just felt like sharing 😀
So, here’s the chapter one of the Victorian Lapidary:
I stand in the middle of pandemonium, of dead bodies and sharp glass and charred walls and know that, somehow, this is a nightmare, a dream. A dream is inconsequential, only a thought of the subconscious, or a glimmer of magic dust if Shakespeare is to be believed. Even when the air seems saturated with the rusted smell of blood and the sweetly pungent decay of flesh, it has no substance. In theory. Continue reading