NaNoWriMo: In Which I Finish #3

I may not hit 50K for NaNoWriMo this year, but I can’t call it a failure.  Not when I’ve now finished THREE PROJECTS.

At long last, I finished expanding the short Gregar prequel I started a long time ago.  It’s about 8.5K and I plan to get it up on Amazon to help promote the release of Return to Shanhasson.  Unfortunately, Return is still delayed.  At this point I don’t know when it’ll be released but I’ll update my page as soon as I know something.

Thanksgiving yesterday was a success with just a few disasters.  Someone ripped the toilet paper holder off the wall (sheetrock and al) in the master bath, but That Man was able to fix it.  The turkey sprung a leak (it was too big for my heavy duty foil to completely enclose).  Broth bubbled over when I tried to lift it out and smoked in the oven.  (Of course I still had all the other sides to bake.)  I sprinkled it with baking soda twice and that helped a lot.  The turkey was still very juicy.  I had a hard time getting the rolls done, but thankfully my Dad and That Man enjoy gummy rolls!  We still had plenty of edge rolls that were done.  My fault — trying to get them in and out of the oven quickly to heat up all the other dishes.

We made waaaaaay too many mashed potatoes (again).  I used the last of the white meat last night for traditional (on my side of the family) carcass soup with the leftover homemade noodles.  Unfortunately, we oinked out on it (we still had 6 guests for “dinner”) and now nearly all the noodles are gone.  We have dark meat and ham left, a little dressing, and a buttload of mashed potatoes.  I even saved 5 qts of broth off the carcass, so with a little chicken breast, I can make more noodles tonight.

Few leftovers means everything was good!! 

Unfortunately, I’ve had a major relapse today from the cold or bug I had last week.  I’ve totally lost my voice and have terrible chest congestion.  I’m sure staying up half the night watching horror movies and then cooking and writing all day this week didn’t help!  So today’s a lazy “baby Mom day” with lots of hot tea and honey.

And more noodles!

NaNoWriMo count: 34,709

Snippet:  (This is actually the beginning of the “old” freebie short story — revised to fit in with the new stuff I’ve written)

I stood on a smoldering black ledge above a lake of fire in the heart of the Mountain and wept.  “Great Wind Stallion, hear my prayer. Lift Your Shadow of Death from me. I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to hurt her…to kill her.”

Shivering despite the roaring furnace of the earth, I fell to my knees.  The hem of my memsha began to smoke, my flesh blistering, but I did not rise. 

Dream after dream haunted me.  I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing her brilliant blue eyes flaring with pain, the last breath escaping her lips as I ended her life.  We fought.  We bleed.  We loved.  But in the end, she always died, even if she tried to kill me first.

“Not her!”  I threw back my head and shook my fists toward the heavens.  “I have killed in Your name countless times! I have heeded Your Call and sacrificed blood as You demanded, but I shall not sacrifice hers! Deliver me from this Shadow, Vulkar, or let me die. ”

Hands trembling, I unsheathed the ivory rahke on my hip and laid it on the ledge. I untied the braids at my temples, pulled each kae’al from my hair, and tossed the beads one by one into the burning lake. I ripped off my memsha, my heart squeezing painfully at the memory of her eyes, and tossed it into the fires as well.

In vain, I searched for a vision, some sign of forgiveness.

Smoke and steam wheeled above the heartfires of the earth, but no magnificent Stallion reared up out of the molten lake as before. No bone-crushing voice thundered in my skull.

My throat burned from the fumes of charred minerals and melted rock. “I’ve killed her a dozen times in my dreams, and I don’t even know her name.”

Shoulders slumped, I glared at the ivory rahke, my gift from Vulkar when I became a Death Rider. The blade glinted as pure as snow, untouched by the smoldering rock and the numerous marks I’d terminated.

How many have I killed? Dozens?  Hundreds?

Why wasn’t the ivory darkened by the Shadow I carried in my heart? Why wasn’t the pristine blade stained with blood?

At the thought of her blood dripping from the rahke, my mouth watered.

My prayers had not been heard.

Picking up the knife, I stood and faced the lake of fire. “So be it.”

I gripped the ivory rahke in my teeth and leaped into the flames.