Hi guys! Linking up with Whisperings of a Pen for this months Snippet of Story. This is from my most recent novel I am writing. Genre fantasy. Although I don;t like calling it a fantasy, it isn't really like one. Kind of has it's own genre. Anyway, I am working on this one hoping to finish it before July so that I can begin a new one for Camp Nanowrimo then.
Here is my snippet, I hope you like it. Please remember I have only minority edited it, it is all still under the works of being made as I write the rest of the story. Thanks!
Luna woke with a start and nearly fell off the wooden step she was on. She gasped as she struggled to understand her surroundings. The paint realm. Vashawn's claims. She had fainted from the confusion. How long had she been asleep. It was definitely night. Normally she could see some light through the wood cracks. But as usual at night all that was there was blackness. Inky black darkness, ready to suck her in to sleeping once more. Vashawn must have taken her to sleep on the step that night as he did when he wanted to work alone. So on nights like this was that what Vashawn did? He would be some how doing something involving the paint realm? She scooted herself towards the door and pressed her ear against the crack. Nothing. Perhaps he was asleep. She scoot away and laid her head in one hand and pressed it against the rough wood wall. She felt her eyes wide and unwilling to sleep. She must have been a sleep for the whole day. If she tried she could sleep again and awaken when she was needed for the morning meal. But all the things Vashawn had told her came flashing back. She was indeed not human? She was from a realm of paint. She was simply a painting, a painting that was created a few years back by some obscure unimportant person. She had no more worth then a simply etch on a scrap of paper. She covered her face with her hands as she let out a silent sob.
“I have no worth?” she whispered amid the tears. “I dreamed of being worth more. All I have learned is I am worth...... worthless.” She let out a fresh sob and weaved her fingers through her hair and her head wrap. She ripped the fabric from her head and cried as she held onto her short hair. The heat began again. Her sobbing slowed down as she lowered her hands form her hair. She looked around and could see the glow of her cropped white hair on he wood she had been laying on. She touched the hair and felt it radiate heat. “What power is this?” she whispered, all tears had passed her, all though some still stained her cheeks. “This must be-” she gasped as she turned back to the closed door. “The brushes.” she whispered.
She took in a deep breath and made one of the boldest stands ever as she scrambled slowly to her feet. She moved her hand towards the door knob and let it rest on the brass knob. At last she curled her fingers around it and began to turn. She pushed against the wood carefully and breathed in deeply and silently as she slipped her head inside.
The room was black but for a dim light that shone from the window. Daring to move she released the door knob and began to walk into the attic room. She moved towards he light by the window that appeared to come from under a blanket, as she glanced around carefully in search of Vashawn. No sign of him. Which worried her. Why had he not come out to confront her yet? Was he alive? Maybe he was sleeping yet she could not see him in his dark bed in the corner. With no exit to the room besides where she had been, she knew for sure he was here. But she shook as her eyes lacked to see him.
She inched towards the window forgetting Vashawn as she stared at the odd light coming from under a blanket covering a easel. It was a gold light that seemed strangely familiar seeped out from the edges of a frail blanket. She allowed her hand to move towards it, and with one motion the blanket was on the floor and the power of the light overwhelmed her. She cried out in fear as she stumbled to the ground expecting to be hurt by the blast of light. Yet no pain came. She uncurled from her fetal position and slowly looked up at the easel. A painting of a beautiful water fall was on a canvas, shining like it was a bright day in summer. Suddenly Luna shook her head as she realized the picture was moving. The water really flowed, she flowers and trees swayed in the wind, the clouds moved in the clear blue sky. She seamed to be looking out a window. Luna gasped in it's beauty. She rose to her feet and came closer to it.
Once again she allowed her hands rule her as they moved towards the canvas. They came to be an inch from the surface and with one last deep breath she laid her hand on it. Her hand seemed to sink into it like a sticky spiders web, yet it would not brake through it. She yelped as it fell through and quickly pulled it back and held her hand tight in fear. She glanced around afraid Vashawn had heard her with fearful eyes. She relaxed when nothing happened and no Vashawn appeared. She leaned her face closer towards the mysterious painting and allowed herself to breath in deeply. Her eyes widened in shock as she felt he fresh breeze of the water fall hit her face. Once again she risked touching its amazing surface. Her hand pressed deep int the surface at least four inches. She pressed harder but suddenly felt a strange sensation of burning trickle up her arm. It burned softly but soon seemed to sting and ravage her arm like a poison. She tried to pull her hand from it but it pulled against her. She breathed heavily as she pulled against the painful grip. Her arm inched farther in as she began to yell for help. The pain was getting more and more vibrant over powering her body. She convulsed as it trailed her more into the vortex of the painting's surface. She tried to pull her arm out with the other hand but it was caught in it. She was now being dragged by both arms into the painting like slave bound to a master. Her shoulders and chest were now in the vortex of paint searing in pain. She felt her neck being pulled and at last her head was pulled in unwillingly. She gasped for breath in the hole that seamed stiff and harsh, her eyes were blinded by the light that now seemed to pull her in faster now.
Suddenly she felt her foot being jerked from the ground. A hand gripped her ankle as she was being pulled in. Vashawn was here to save her perhaps. Then she would be freed from this unbearable pain. But the hand pushed her in as it grasped her other foot. She tried to scream in protest but found it impossible in the suffocating vortex hole. Suddenly she felt something being tied around her ankle, then in one motion the hand let her go and pushed her all the way through the hole. Into the impossible blinding white pain.