A Crystalline Swig

Purple clouds wall the Western sky. They beckon terribly. If someone asked you to recall the itch of a scrape healing on your elbow you’d say it was the same. The morning’s sun brightens this purple fortress and skips the ocean swells like a throwed stone. In Spring this near storm would have Bennies clattering down gangways and docks tying down boats and latching shutters. In Fall, now, shopkeepers drink coffee to the show while fisherman arrange their nets ignorant of the event.

Charming catches a few neon sparks strobe from cloud to ocean. Sweat beads on her Red Bull. She swirls the slush of the half-frozen energy drink, takes a crystalline swig, and heads back to The Pit to set up her t-shirt stall.

###

“Ah, poop.”

Charming’s Sunday morning Pit neighbor chuckles while reading his pad. He’s not laughing at the feed.

“Hush-up Karl. We don’t all need to sound like fishermen.” Charming absently tugs the cord from her braid and shakes her hair loose. Karl waggles his head in agreement.

The vector of Charming’s consternation, Jun-kata, threads his way around the stalls and through the few customers in The Pit. He’s tall; girls fall for him. He thinks Charming owes him money; she thinks he owes her shirts. He’s a dick. Rebraiding her hair will keep her hands from throttling him. Maybe.

234 words on day 516

A Redemption of Crows

I need to have an extended plotting session with the Benhá storyline, but that’s not going to happen here. That’s not going to happen now.

Not that the unlikely path to today’s topic matters but I fired up The Crow soundtrack thinking it was the musical score—guess I haven’t ripped that after all—and am listening to The Cure sing “Burn”. The word redemption resolves in my mind from no where out of the song or the movie. Neither one holds redemption as a theme. Now I’ve got redemption on the brain. I’m looking for some missing ingredients for Benhá. Maybe I could stir in this theme.

Where? Charming’s going to be about acceptance. Redemption isn’t something she needs since she’s done nothing to require seeking it. Of the available known main characters that leaves Brother Gane and Mr. Roundmartin. This is not Brother Gane’s story. It’s Charming’s. Gane doesn’t need to change. Which leaves me to cast off the idea of redemption or try to write an antagonist whos actions are all driven by a need to redeem himself. Opposing actions like killing and burning don’t immediately strike me as obviously linked to such a theme.

I find the challenge compelling. Redemption rings of extremes. A person seeking forgiveness or validation for some heinous past act might incline himself to do things differently. Maybe. Or worse, if they’d spent a good chunk of their lives in contrition following said heinous act but no one noticed lashing out makes sense. Hello! You’re making this harder to write not easier. Though I’ve nicely stumbled on a parallel between Charming and Mr. Roundmartin: both desire to be accepted. For different reasons.

287 words on day 515

Introducing Roundmartin

“Planning?” Roundmartin asked back in the same tone you might question someone just now calling you a motherfucker. Then he went mellow again accepting his fate. “Planning? Planning. Scheming even I suppose. If you could call what I’ve been up to planning certainly you could call it scheming? And if you called it—this—scheming you might as well come right out and call me the bad guy. That’s where you’ve set me in your story. In your plans,” he paused to slather the bit in the original motherfucker tone, “Isn’t it Gane. Isn’t it Holy Man?”

Gane said nothing. Charming didn’t hesitate, “You burnt all of this out looking for me. You killed all these people. My friends. Just to find me. And you couldn’t even do that. Well here I am.” Her Song encompassing gesture sagged but then angered back up to a chest pointing accusation.

“Nice manners.” Roundmartin never looked at Charming he continued stared at Brother Gane. “You might inform her that we like to play this game with a bit more…I don’t know…finesse? I’d have hoped you’d have brought her up better. When one entrusts his baby girl to the care of another they develop…expectations. You know?”

209 words on day 509