A Horse With No Name – Part 5

I’m having fun with this newest work, and it’s gonna take a neat twist at this point, so it continues until I say so.

One wedding is now in the books.  One more to go, then the madness that is NaNoWriMo.  After that, it’s much calmer waters in the Wallace household.

I’m in the midst of finishing several projects, and I’m really happy with where a lot of them have ended up.  I’d like to get Temple edited and posted asap, but its going to be slow going at best.  It’s… an ambitious project, to say the least.

All in all, things are going well on the writing front.

I’d like to have the job I was promised, but I can’t make everything happen according to my whims.  All I can do is focus on getting as much work produced at as high a quality as I can manage at this time, and hope for the best where dayjobs are concerned.

I’ll get there, with time and the support of the wife.  I’ll get there.

With further aspirations…

A Horse With No Name – Part 5

I lay nearly insensate, directly in the path of The Twin at the start of their visitation.  I was dead. And yet…  the person I was watching was no man, nor any woman.

Their ears were … wrong.

Not missing, not scarred; They were just too long at the earlobe, extending down to their owners shoulders.  And they were pointy at the ends, tapered out like a knife from the bottom upwards.

And the person was floating in the middle of the air.  That was weird too, come to think of it.

They weren’t just floating either.  Their hand, the one not hanging limply at their side, was etching a picture in the air.  Their fingers were tracing lines, which was clearly impossible.  The lines interwove with one another, growing in size far faster than her simple motions could account for.  They formed symbols in the air, but I had no idea what they meant. 

Without saying one word, or uttering one sound, the person shot their arm towards the opening in the stables where people were watching with mouth agape.

We rose then, floating on a disc of exactly the shape and pattern of the symbols carved in the air.  And slowly, ever so slowly, we began to accelerate. 

With every moment, the acceleration gained in speed, and before a few moments had passed, were going faster than any horse could hope to accomplish. 

We also weren’t going to slow down, apparently.  We sped towards the opening with no signs of deceleration.  I screamed then, too many feelings at war within me for anything more.

With an abruptness exactly like that of the dying horse, the sigil we were riding disappeared.  We didn’t, however.

Screaming and flying, the two of us slammed into my daughter and the others in the stable, and together we all tumbled down the ramp as the Twins vented their rage with howling fury.

To be continued…

Sigilfully,
Justin