Saturday, November 28, 2015

Day 28 of NANOWRIMO!

Today was a hard day to get writing done. I managed 2,079 though. I'd love to do more but am so very tired. If I can do that many, or close to it, the next two days then I'll make the goal!

I worked on flashback scenes this time. There are only two and they take place one after the other in the story. I don't care much for flashbacks but they are needed to show a character things that happened in her ancestor's past and their effect on the present.

Here's the excerpt:

Obasi came to with a low moan but had no idea how long he lay unaware on the ground. It was painful to move but he turned onto his side and realized the reed mat beneath him was soaked in his blood. He probed his shoulder wound with the fingers of his right hand and winced. It was crusted a little so he knew to pack it with grasses to staunch any further bleeding. There were plenty only a few feet away and so he half dragged, half crawled over to them. The back of his head ached too, likely from impacting the ground when he fell at the last.

 He further realized it was quiet…too quiet. He heard no sounds of hooves or shouting or clashing of weapons. Even the insects were silent.

Where are the men? What happened to the villagers?

He frowned when he saw the billows of white and grey smoke rising from the village. He feared for his tribal family.

There were many scuff marks on the ground to indicate the battle was fierce. Blood, sweat, and smoke still clung to the air so he decided he wasn’t out for very long. Continuing to shove the grasses against his wound, he noticed something dark in the bushes just beyond reach. He concentrated his focus and realized he it was a man’s foot sticking out from beneath.

Crawling closer, he was able to trace the foot to a leg and then a thigh. There he paused because he recognized the scarification sigil on that thigh. It belonged to one of the drummers who fled the scene when the conquistador shot his pistol.

Obasi gathered his inner strength and said a prayer for help as he grasped the leg and pulled. It was indeed attached to the rest of the poor man’s body but was too heavy and at the wrong angle for the priest to pull him free of the foliage.

He wormed his way beneath the branches to get closer. One look at the man’s ruined face made him stop. There was no way any mortal could survive that kind of damage. Bone and cartilage reflected the fading sunlight; there were a handful of teeth scattered to one side like kernels of discarded corn.

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