picks and pans--In Midnight's Silence

I spent this weekend writing and editing. I'm still working through the opening of Dolorosa and attempting to achieve the overall mood of the piece. Meanwhile, I polished an opening scene in the Garden's sequel, In Midnight's Silence. Just a snippet for today:

Diago

The voices of the Nephilim who died in the Garden murmur songs of sorrow in my dreams. I try to sing with them, but I can no longer recall the lyrics. I have forgotten my own song, and a Nephil without a song is but a ghost.

Or so said Ashmedai the Daimon King.

I do not remember my first-born life as Asaph; although Guillermo insists that my power was once almost as great as his. He swears that we both possessed the ability to prophecy through our dreams. He says that in the days of our first-born lives, we would compare our dreams to better understand the meanings.

I don’t doubt him; perhaps in my first-born life I dreamed and prophesied with him. I also trusted him as my friend and my king. In my first-born life, I swore my undying fealty to him. I did as he commanded, even when it meant my death.

Those oaths died with Asaph.

Now I am Diago.

I have no song, only whispers that follow me in the rain.

picks and pans--Dolorosa & In Midnight's Silence

This is a works in progress sort of thing that sort of gives you an idea of how my stories emerge and broaden.

For Dolorosa, I keep getting the coolest scene in my mind:

Catarina awakens and her first sensation is the pain, stabbing her body, like needles in her blood. Then Cerberus' tongue darts out to touch her cheek.

The demon presses his lips against her ear and whispers, "Do you know, Darkling, how long it is to the end of forever?"

That one is simmering in the background and becoming more viable by the day. I also had a portion of Chapter One of In Midnight's Silence (the sequel to Garden in Umber) pass the old crit group last night. It was fun to write and I don't know if it will stay in the final cut, but sometimes I like to use little scenes like this to help establish a sense of place, character, and time:

From his window, Diago noted that the innkeeper had closed the doors in the archway so that the street was no longer visible. The little man dignified his hostel with the name Casa de Carlos; although the locals referred to it as the Casa del Cachorro, which was apparently the innkeeper’s nickname, the puppy.

With his large ears and bright eyes, it was easy to see how Carlos came by the moniker. He possessed a boyish face, but his demeanor was as stern as any priest. Carlos dictated that they must be inside the courtyard by midnight; otherwise, they would be locked out. He informed them that he ran a respectable establishment and didn’t tolerate drunkards or whores; he prided himself on the fact that people slept safely within his walls. Furthermore, if either Guillermo or Diago didn’t abide by the house rules, they’d find themselves on the street, regardless as to how far in advance they had paid for their lodgings.

The pious speech inspired Guillermo to quip that Carlos didn’t simply look the puppy, he yapped like one too.

What are you writing?