A Random Scene...

This is a random scene from Tomorrow's Bones; a scene from much later in the book. I haven't even gotten to this point yet. I only wrote this because it was what came to mind for a challenge I'm partaking in for the Holy Worlds blog. Included is a link to the picture that I chose to write my scene in for the challenge. Enjoy!

 The Picture

            Morning was beginning to awaken, leaving the jungle awash in dim gold. Even through the glass windows of the starship, one could hear strange creatures chittering and roaring somewhere in the thick undergrowth.

            Skye sat in a metal chair in the hallway, her shoulders hunched as she stared dazedly out the windows. She shivered; despite the fact that she had her blue jacket on, it felt as though her very bones had been turned to ice.

            Footsteps echoed down the hall to her right, and her eyes flicked in that direction to see who was coming. It was the tall and sturdily-built man who had locked her in a cell the night before.

            He stopped in front of her and regarded her with eyes as emotionless as his face. “Good morning. I see Mr. Sonoda let you out of your cell like I told him to.”

            Skye said nothing. She lowered her gaze, fixing her eyes on the cool metallic floor beneath her. A silence fell, so cold and stifling it made her head throb. Finally, unable to stand the noiselessness any longer, she burst out, “Who are you? Where are we, and why are we here?”

            The man studied her for a moment. After a few moments, he responded, “We are on Azgon II. No doubt you felt the starship stop here last night. As for why we are here… well, a colleague of mine has captured someone; a friend of yours, I believe. He’s bringing them on board right now. I simply thought it would be nice to let you see a familiar face.”

            Before Skye could completely get her thoughts in order, the man came forward and knelt down in front of her. She bit back a gasp, and shrank back as far as the metal wall behind her would allow.

            Without saying a word of either comfort or intimidation, the man unlocked the restraints secured around her wrists. “There you are. There’s no need for those right now.”

            Skye rubbed at her sore wrists, still trying to keep as far away as possible from the man who had kidnapped her.

            He straightened up and stepped back. “Come on. Let’s go meet our friends, shall we?”

            A rebellious side of Skye considered staying right where she was. Her sensible side, however, told her that she would rather walk on her own than be dragged down the corridor by this stranger. She stood up with unsteady legs, and slowly followed the man down the winding hallway.

            After several minutes of walking, Skye’s mind began to wander. Where was she going? And exactly which ‘friend’ had this man spoken of? Was it a ploy to get her to follow him somewhere else without fighting, or was someone she knew actually on board?

            The man stopped abruptly, so sudden that Skye crashed into him. She stumbled backwards, trembling.

            He glanced back. “Well, there you are.” He stepped sideways so that she could see down the hallway in front of him.

            Skye froze, and her heart froze along with her for a split second before speeding up. There, standing at the end of the hallway, being watched by two guards, was Anden.

            “Andy!” Skye exclaimed. Before her mind could catch up to her body, she was running down the hall. She threw herself into his arms, and he laughed a little, spinning her around in a circle before carefully setting her down.

            “Hey, little sunbeam,” he said. His face was drawn and haggard, but a smile lit up his eyes. “Are you okay? They haven’t hurt you, have they?”

            “No, they haven’t,” Skye replied breathlessly. Tears of relief suddenly stung at her eyes, and she blinked them back. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was… I’m so scared.”

            “Awww…” Anden put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I know—” He stopped short, staring at someone behind Skye.

            She turned around, leaning against Anden and hiding beneath his arm for protection. The person who had caught his attention was the same man who had brought Skye there.

            “You.” Anden’s voice was quiet. Quiet but steely.

            “Yes, I suppose it is me, isn’t it?” the man said. “And I remember you as well. You were the navigator I knocked over the head, weren’t you? My, it’s been a long time.”

            “Andy?” Skye whispered. “What’s going on?”

            Anden drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. Then he looked down at her, keeping his arm protectively around her shoulder. “Skye…” He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words as he looked into her eyes.

            Then he lifted his head again, fixing his gaze on the man again. “Who did you think you were, huh? Stowing away on the Fate—”

            “It was a means to an end. I wanted to get to Calderano. In order to do that, I had to stow away.” The man shrugged. “It’s really quite simple.”

            Skye listened with increasing horror as first her father’s starship and then her father himself was mentioned.

            “Why did you kill him?” Anden snapped. “You took away the greatest friend I had on any world, and more than that…” He stuttered for a second, trying to choose the right words. “More than that, you took this girl’s father away from her! Why? What was the point of it all?”

The man shrugged nonchalantly. “I have my reasons. And none of them concern you.”

“Stop beating around the bush and give me some straight answers!” Anden demanded, taking a short step forward. “Or I—”

The man tilted his head back slightly, regarding Anden with a pale gaze. “Stop right there, sir. If you come any closer, I just might have to have one of my colleagues do something to that young lady you’re so protective of. And considering her father asked you to watch over her, I don’t think you’d want that, would you?”

Skye swallowed hard, trembling. “Anden?” she whispered. “How does he know what Dad asked you to do?”

“Shh…” Anden murmured. Without taking his eyes off of the man, he reached one arm back and took Skye’s hand in his. “Everything is going to be okay, Skye. I promise.”

"Tomorrow's Bones"

Here we are, four days into July and Camp NaNoWriMo... and I haven't written a single word towards my word count goal.

That is because I originally planned on writing Ireland: The Banshee's Cry, which some of you may have heard of. However, I changed my mind. Why? I'm not sure. I think I decided I would much rather write something else. I still want to write Banshee's Cry, don't get me wrong, but I have other story ideas too, and I guess I just decided I wanted to write one of them instead.

In the end, though, I ended up deciding to write something that wasn't even a plot. It was a mash-up of various genres and characters that I came up with a long time ago. Let me explain.

Once upon a time, when I was about twelve, I watched Sherlock Holmes. You know, the movie with Jude Law and Robert Downey Jr. in it. I've always been a mystery fan - I read Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, Encyclopedia Brown, and various other books as a kid. As a young child, I read Nate The Great, if any of you remember those books. Heh, when I was about nine, my mom bought me a detective kit for my birthday. I donned her trench coat, a hat, and the special plastic sunglasses that allowed you to see who was behind you, and went out into my yard to solve nonexistent mysteries with my brother.

(And my mom was none too happy when she realized I was getting my fingerprinting powder and such all over the patio table...)

Anyway, a few days after watching Sherlock Holmes, I was outside thinking about three things - the movie, my writing, and the really odd-looking and (or so I thought) mysterious stain on the pavement.

Somehow, I decided that the stain was poison and someone had been murdered. I also decided this would make an awesome story. Another thing I decided was that, even though I knew a lot (perhaps too much) about various poisons and toxins for my age (writers know these things), I would much rather not do the research.

As a remedy, I decided the story would be sci-fi, so I could just make the poison up. I also decided that it would be a Sherlock Holmes-meets-Star Wars type of thing.

That was all I decided, and I never wrote a single word of the story.

Anyway, literally just two days ago, I decided to return to it. I added a twist on the mash-up of genres. Now, if I can manage to integrate them without making a proper fool of myself, the genres will include steampunk, space opera, mystery, and a dash of fantasy.

It took me a while to come up with a title I actually liked. I came up with several, and then asked others for their opinions. My good friend Lizzy was the one who helped me make my final decision. Her vote was for Tomorrow's Bones, because 'it has good essence and is attention-grabbing'. And so my sci-fi novel that still had no plot now had a title.

I have the two main characters planned out, except for one minor detail - one of them only has a last name, and the other only has a first name. So I'm trying to smooth those problems out as soon as possible so I can start writing.

I do have a vague synopsis though. It is by no means complete, or very good, and who knows whether the plot will change later on. But for now, here you go:

A motley group of men and women embark on a journey to find answers to their questions. Who killed the pilot of the starship, "Rush's Fate"? More importantly, why did they kill him? 

In order to discover this, this group of brave souls have to break into a high-security museum in order to commandeer the time machine that once belonged to the Fuhrer, hundreds upon hundreds of years ago on a distant planet called Earth.

Will they find the answers to the questions they seek? Will they survive the past, in order to discover the secrets surrounding tomorrow's bones?

So there you have it. I will hopefully keep plugging away at this for the next few months (since I have a feeling I'll never finish a novel in one month ever again, at least until I get out of college), and have it finished by the end of the year.