[Draft 1] Stella: Version 1.1 | Story

The characters are still alive in my head, waiting to be written and waiting for the possibilities to happen. Maybe I’ll pick up where I left off sometime. I miss Grisham

Here’s the original post for Stella: Version 1.1.

And this is the old blog entry where I wrote what story’s about:

Second up is Stella: Version 1.1, a story (still under development) which is all about learning, adaptation, and acceptance. Stella is one of my “deviant” stories as I am not used to the style yet. Comments and constructive criticisms are more than welcome.

Stella: Version 1.1. A whiny high school girl, an emo cat, and a cooking master are on exodus. Forced to work together to stay alive, the three began to unravel some finer points in life in the most unconventional, unforgettable, and unrealistic ways possible.

Excerpt of the story after the cut~

[Idea] Markus and the Electric Fan Boy

Before Markus and the Electric Blue Boy, there was Markus and the Electric Fan Boy. I wrote and posted a general idea of the plot in my old blog. I’m planning merge the elements of the two drafts and hopefully–finally–mold Markus into a memorable character.

Written last August 5 2006

Markus is a newly-grad who just got hired at a publishing company as a graphic artist. He’s often silent, speaking only when needed. But when he has something to say–it was brutally honest that people veer away from his serious demeanor. But then he senses something odd about his workplace: he always felt watched–extremely watched–by none other than a vintage electric fan. Seriousness will be a far-fetched notion thereafter.

~~~

[Drabble] A Flicker of Hope

She wasn’t hurrying; she knew it was useless.

Her movements were calculated. In rhythm, like the usual. Step, step, step, step were the sounds of her feet as she trudged up the stairs. Flick, flick, flick, flick were the sounds of her thumb’s cuticle against the index’s; her eyes went blink, blink, blink, blink as she tried to see through the dark. Her ears strained to hear the sound of her heart.

It wasn’t the usual thump, thump, thump, thump.

She reached her destination–her room, her solace–which was currently in a state of mess. It was chaos in a state of chaos–dirty clothes, mismatched slippers, unmade bed, scattered papers. She reached for the switch to turn on the lights. Tick-Tick. Tick-Tick.

F*ck, the bulb’s out, she hissed as she flopped down her bed. Maybe it was a good thing, she thought. I don’t need to see something tangible to reflect my emotional rigoudon.

She hugged a pillow and clenched her eyes shut. “Lord, what’s happening?” she muttered in a desperate plea. She wanted answers. She wanted to choke out the growing lump on her throat. She wanted to cry.

She opened her eyes to look at herself at the mirror near the bed. She saw the infinite blackness that enveloped her room instead.

*Finished August 13 2006