Chapter 3: as yet untitled.
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I don't know why I expected something more climatic. Perhaps because all of Gilbert's stories started so dramatically, and in those quiet days as he slept, I had had far too much time to imagine how such a scene would play out. He might awaken yelling for a guardian, that had fallen only moments before I found him, and demanding to know where he was. Darker suspicions feared an attack; some evil magic, used in stealth against me before he opened his eyes. He was young enough, I decided, to wake up crying, as well, terrified instead of angry or vengeful.

None of that happened. Instead, he simply pushed through the blankets, straightened up, and looked blankly at me.



Trying to bust through this writer's block. It figures, that'd it happen after working 15 hours at the theatre, and staying up to obsessively clean instead of get proper sleep.

So, while I was mopping the floor, body says, "Holyfuck, we're tired -- LET'S WRITE!" And I cried a little.

And then, instead of staring blankly at the screen, I actually wrote. But then I got hung up on fixing my shitty sentence construction, and then couldn't figure out how that first paragraph should look -- whether or not it should be broken up, with each thought, or kept as is.

I know it's hypocritical, but no con-crit, right now. Or comments in general. I want to slog through this chapter before I properly edit (and have it con-critted by other people) and right now, my fragile little ego can't handle any crit, even the useful stuff.

EDIT: haha, I just realized I only have one Friend-Of. So, only one person reads this. /resisting urge to write naughty things to said person