Me me me meeeeee. Ahem.
W. I. P.
Please come right in!
P. E. T.
To see a brand new WIPpet.
W. E. D. N. Eeee
Oops. I ran out of space in the song. Oh well. Who needs a cheesy theme song, anyway? Get it? Cheesy. ‘Cuz there was a mouse in the original version. Ha! I crack me up.
Last week was my last Fairy Blood WIPpet for a while since I’m running out of interesting non-spoilers. Unfortunately, I’m a mono-tasker. I only have one major WIP at a time. But I can’t just give up doing WIPpet Wednesdays! I love ’em! What am I to do?
I pondered my quandry. I decided to jump into a was-going-to-be-future project now and write it as I WIPpet. I’ll start writing it before your very eyes next week.
This week, I needed to get my garden planted. So, instead of WIPpet official new WIPpet-WIP, (say that fives times fast!) I offer five paragraphs of the very first novel I tried to write. It’s not
likely to ever be finished, so even though I don’t play with it much these days, it’s technically a work in progress. Since zombies are popular these days, I pulled out my own version of the monster for this week.
Marcus stopped. Nordby pressed against his back, blowing hot breath down Marcus’ tunic. The smell of breath was not that of a horse. It was the rank breath of a carnivore. Marcus gripped his sword tightly. “Guide,” he whispered, “look behind me to see what creature it is that has taken my Nordby’s place.”
The figure turned slowly. Marcus caught his breath. Too late he realized why Phil could live to be 71 and still be strong and vigorous. He was one of the victims of the Black Fairy’s magic during the war, men who were cursed to live on the flesh of other men. They would live the sum of all the lives of the men they ate and could stomach nothing else. Their horses had been likewise cursed.
So, little prince,” Phil said in Marcus‘s own language, “you want to see your grandfather’s mountains? I’m afraid you must stay here with me in the foothills.”
“If you wished only to eat my flesh, Cursed One, why then did you not do so while I slept?”
“Poor little boy, do you really think I was trying to throw your pursuer? No, child, I was setting traps for him. I had to keep the bait alive, didn’t I? But you will not have to worry about him anymore.”
WIPpet Wednesday is hosted by My Random Muse. If you enjoy WIPpets, click on the linky – that smiley, little blue fellow – at the top of the page.
To play along, post an excerpt of your WIP that somehow corresponds to the date.
Bill Hinzman playing a zombie, Night of the Living Dead, 1968
Compared to other pictures I saw of people in zombie costumes, this guy is so tame, he’s practically domesticated. Nevertheless, I hear the movie is sufficiently creepy for modern audiences. Imagine that. No color, no CGI, but people still feel compelled to glance over their shoulders after watching it.