Prepping for NaNoWriMo 2018

Every year I tell myself I'm going to commit and every year I fall through. Something always comes up - urgent work projects, illness, family emergencies, just plain bad weather and bad moods, etc... But this time, I'm going to make a plan and stick with it for this year's National Novel Writing Month.

Most people start from scratch for NaNoWriMo - they dust off one of their many plot bunnies and build from the ground up. That's all well and good, but I have at least two (2) unfinished manuscripts sitting on my Google Drive and I've made the decision to work on completing one of them. Now, we're just talking about the first draft - not edits and not revision.

So, to hold myself accountable and hopefully garner a bit of support and feedback, I'm going to share with you all the opening (unfinished) scene of said novel: Altered: REboot://

displaced.exe

The car was burning along the side of the railroad tracks. Twisted pieces of metal and green plastic littered the intersection, bouncing around the lights of the emergency vehicles, and personnel scurried from one end of the wreck to the next.

The train conductor was sat on the hood of a cop car, looking spaced out and pale. A thin blanket had been wrapped around his body and the hands holding a styrofoam cup of coffee shook mercilessly.

He couldn’t shake what he’d seen only a few hours earlier. The stalled car on the tracks. The woman inside frantically trying to get it started again and throwing open the door at the last minute. A blinding light and the shriek of crushed metal. He knew he’d killed her.

But they never found a body.

She was floating.

Warm and cozy.

Suspended in motion.

Her eyes opened.

She took a deep breath.

And screamed.

Clover came to slowly, a moan pulling from deep within her chest as she turned her head away from the harsh white light above her. A hand came up, sluggish and heavy feeling, to pull up the soft blanket that was draped over her naked form. She rolled onto her side.

The blare of the train whistle jerked her into a sitting position, the blanket tucked into her chest. Eyes wide, she recalled the moment that blinding light landed on her tiny car. She’d stalled there in that rust bucket, stupidly assuming she’d make it over the tracks before the oncoming train crossed.

Stupid. So stupid.

She glanced around the room. It was oval in shape, with white walls, and some kind of high-tech medical equipment strewn about. The structure she was seated on resembled a surgical table. A hospital?

Please don’t be alarmed. You’re alright.

The disembodied voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Around her and within her head. It was a soft voice, but definitely masculine. Clover searched the room for any kind of speaker and finding none, her heart began to race. That voice was definitely in her head.

“Am I dead?”

No, you’re not dead. We found you in time.

We? There was no one else in the room with her. “Who are you? And where am I?”

I will enter and explain everything. Again, I ask you not to be alarmed.

Well that certainly wasn’t setting her at ease. She pulled the blanket more tightly around her body as the doors near the foot of the bed opened and a figure entered. It stopped just inside the door and Clover got a good look at them.

They were tall and clothed in a long, thin white robe. White hair cascaded down their back and shoulders, with long bangs falling across their face. Their very, very blue face. Peering closer, Clover could see a black blindfold across the upper half of their face.

“You’re….blue,” she offered lamely.

A ghost of a smile crossed their face. Yes, I am.

Clover let out a huff of air. “I’m dreaming. This can’t be real. It must be a dream. Either that or I’ve been abducted by aliens but that’s even less likely than being dead. So I’m dreaming or dead.”

The words tumbled out of her unbidden. The...person….alien….thing…..being took a step forward and she stopped.

You are neither dead nor dreaming. But you are also no longer on your homeworld. Welcome aboard the Seeker 4, Clover Martinez.

“How do you know my name?”

We know much about you, Clover. We have been searching for you - we need your help.

“What kind of help?”

And here the being faltered. Their expression didn’t change at all, nor did they move. But Clover could feel it - the wave of uncertainty and trepidation that rolled off their form. She shivered.

Are you cold?

The corner of her mouth lifted. “I’m also naked. Could we fix that?”

Of course. My apologies.  Gracefully, the being moved further into the room and around her to a small cabinet near the observing desk. They returned with a pair of white pants and a white, long sleeved tunic.

Clover pulled them delicately from the being’s grasp, noting that lack of fingernails on their slender digits. The smooth, pale blue of their skin was completely unblemished. “Thanks.”

The alien busied themselves at the desk, peering at screens of data. Using the brief opportunity, Clover pulled the articles of clothing on as quickly as she could. The fabric was sturdy though soft, but the pants were a little too long and the sleeves of the tunic dipped past her fingers. Well, better to have too large clothing than too small, she decided.

“So who are you?” she asked, wiggling back up onto the surgical table and letting her legs dangle off the side.

They sighed and after a moment, turned to face her. It did not escape her notice that their lips had not moved once and this time was no exception.

I must apologize again, it seems. My name is Charr. I am of the Keelosi race and aboard the Seeker 4 I am….what you might call a genetic researcher. I imagine you have many questions - please ask them.

She did have questions. She was sure of it - but her mind was so firmly rooted in the present, albeit wildly unrealistic, moment and so she blurted the first things that came to mind.

“Are you telepathic?”

The Keelosi communicate using a transference of thought and emotion over a distance between individuals. By your understanding, yes, I am telepathic, as is the entirety of my species.

“Are you male or female?”

We do not define gender by humanoid terms, but for the sake of simplicity I am male. I understand you are female as defined by your species’ gender system.

“Are you blind?”

Those slender fingers came up to brush against the black swatch of fabric that obscured the upper portion of his face.  I can see a great many things, though not with eyes. There was a hesitancy to his answer and the fact that Clover could feel that more than hear it cemented the reality of telepathic communication.

Not that she wasn’t existing within a bubble of suspended disbelief anyways….

“Where are we?”

I believe we have just reached the end of the solar system in which your planet exists. We will be entering the queue for the travel gate within three….days….time.

Everything within her stilled at his admission. Outside the solar system? Past Pluto? They were in space?

Black spots danced in her vision and the room tilted sideways. Hands reached out to steady her and her fingers gripped onto the silky feel of Charr’s sleeves. “I want to see.”

Are you certain you’re all right? Your heartbeat is erratic and I fear you may fall unconscious again.

“Please,” she whispered. “I need to see it.”

I understand. Very well.

The doors swished open and Charr led her out into an equally white and sterile looking hallway. Staying just a half step behind him, they rounded a corner and Clover came to a halt.

Outside a window several inches thick lay the great dark expanse of space. A orb of rock about the size of a dime was visible from the window and beyond that the twinkling lights of stars far beyond anything she’d seen before.

We’ve just passed the last orbital structure in your universe.

Clover pressed her hands up against the cold glass and gazed at the rapidly shrinking form of Pluto. She was in space. And not just in space, but outer space. Earth wasn’t even visible anymore, just one of those shimmery little dots out there…

Her legs gave out and she sank to the floor, pressing her head against the cool material of the smooth white wall. Charr knelt beside her, a hand hovering near her shoulder. She could feel his concern muddling with her own disbelief.

“I’m not sure what’s worse,” she managed to gasp out. “I think I might rather be dead...this can’t be happening. Why is this happening to me?”

Alien abductions were something you heard about on the news, when nothing more important was happening and the local station decided to humor the crazy guy living in his camper who claimed to have had sex with a hot, green alien chick. Alien abductions were something that happened in movies and to goofy musicians like Tom DeLonge.

She was nobody - just a late-blooming college kid from Texas working at her uncle’s bar to make ends meet. Things like this just didn’t happen to her.

Please, try to calm down. I need you to breathe slowly and calm down.

“I can’t.” Her face was wet and she reached a shaking hand up to her cheek. Tears. She was having a panic attack, her first in years. “Oh god, I might actually die.”

You’re not going to die. I promise, I will not let that happen.

She couldn’t catch her breath. The loud horn of the train was blaring in her ears and the bright light was bearing down on her. Louder and louder and louder - she wasn’t going to make it. Couldn’t get out in time. Pulverized metal. Blood. Pain...so much pain.

Cool hands slid to each side of her face and then there was a steady pressure against her forehead. All the noise ceased. It was dark and quiet in her mind again.

“Please breathe.”

His breath whispered across her face as he spoke, using vocal chords that clearly saw little use.

Clover sobbed, the weight finally gone from her chest and able to take in air again. Her hands found his shoulders and of their own accord slid around his neck. He accommodated her readily, embracing her lightly.

Everything about Charr radiated serenity and calm. She wanted to find some of that, if only for a moment. If only her tears would cease. If only her breathing would regulate. She inhaled and the scent of ice and ozone suffused her. After several long moments of absorbing that coolness, she unwound her arms and sat back.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

A light smile tipped his lips. It’s quite alright. You seem well now.

Have you ever participated in NaNoWriMo or written any fiction yourself? I'd love to know more about it!