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EEEEEE!!! SO I really wanted to make this cuz I really wanted to share my fav scenes I’ve made in my WIP so far/my favorite ideas for scenes and such….soooo YA! (I’ve also made a page for all sorts of fun Charrie stuff! I know I’ve made a lot of forum stuff 🤣)
ANYWHOODLE!! sooo, my process rn, isn’t really drafting full on chapters and scenes, it’s more like a scene “synopsis” but also not… it’s kinda odd. It’s not a fully fleshed out scene but at the same time there is some dialogue and it is the main idea of what I’ve got so far. Kinda lot a brainstorm draft/synopsis draft if that makes sense!! So when I post these don’t judge XD.
TAAAAAAGS!!
@denali-christianson @emilysf @e-m-tempke @koshka @keilah-h @issawriter7 @devastate-lasting @gracie-j @scripter-of-kingdoms @abigail-m @elishavet-pidyon @jodi-maile @annabelle @daisy-torres @trahia-the-minstrel @libby @lydia-s @e-k-seaver @mkfairygirl @seekerofthetruth @kathleenramm @jenwriter17 @nanisnook @elfwing@seekjustice @sparrowhawke @maryg3 @relia @writerlexi1216 @nova21 @hallie-jean @faith-q @ariel-f @anyone-else#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebSOOO here’s the most recent scene I’ve written and my favorite so far!!! (My poor November!!) also if anyone doesn’t want a spoiler for my WIP….we’ll….ANYWAY XD OH WELL (also this scene kinda starts abruptly cuz I just kinda started it, so it’s sorta “unfinished” but the ending is right I think.)
“I knew you were getting too close to that girl.”
November flinched.
“Really November, you think she’d ever like you? Look at you!” November winced, feeling like he’d been slapped. He stared at his feet, insults he’d endured from his father over the years beating down into his mind. “She’d never be impressed! All you do is mess up, time and time again. I see it, everyone sees it. You think that just because she stands up for you, just because she helps you a few times that she doesn’t see it? No, November. She’s using you. Don’t you get it, boy.”
The words stung, like a knife piercing every part of his being. His eyes burned but he held back the tears, looking anywhere but his father’s horrid glare. It wasn’t true. Ara wasn’t like that. Ara would never be like that.
“And still you defend her.” His father scoffed. The fireplace roared, its embers growing hotter with every word Riven spat. November bit his lip and clenched his fists.
“Because she’s not like that! You’re wrong! You’re a liar!” November cried, daring to look his father in the eyes. He steeled his gaze, his heart shaking with a hurt he hadn’t felt before. And he’d been hurt.
Oh, he’d been hurt.
But not like this.
And Riven must’ve seen the defiant look in his eyes, because his gaze became darker. Turned sharper. His back straightened, and he grew taller, if such a thing were possible. He loomed over November, his shadow growing in the fireplace’s glow.
“A liar?” His father half-whispered, sending a chill down November’s spine, but he refused to look away. He held firm, despite everything inside of him wanting to curl into a ball and give in. “Well…If you’re so smart,” his father was calm as ice, “Tell me, how will your little friend react, when she discovers you’re nothing but a traitor?”
November’s determination wavered slightly. “A-traitor? Wha-”
Wordlessly, Riven opened the drawer of the table he’d been fingering and pulled out a book.
The leather-bound journal.
November felt the floor beneath him give way.
His father.
His father had taken it from Ara.
Which meant…
November’s fists clenched. “YOU COULD’VE HURT HER!” He cried, lunging for the journal. Riven raised his hands and with a swift motion, November was hurled into the floor.
Pain sprouted from his cheek and into his forehead, and then sprung to the opposite side of his face as he collided with the wall. His eyes went wide and he gasped, rubbing his cheek. The few of the tears he’d been holding back wet his eyes.
November looked up at the dark-haired man who stood a few feet away, his mouth open in shock.
All the comments. All the words. They hurt enough.
But his father had never hit him.
Riven stared with dark eyes, his fingers hovering over the golden clasp of the journal. The fireplace roared beside him, casting a dark shadow on everything. Riven shook his head. “I tried to keep you from getting too attached. I really did, but…I suppose it was bound to happen. And, in a way, perhaps it was for the best. It really did make getting my hands on this easier in the long run, and gathering information was…rather simple as well. I thought I’d have to do more work honestly, but when your son’s the princess’ best friend, I suppose that opens doors all on its own.”
November’s mind reeled at what his father was saying. Reeled at the realization of what November had done. He’d inadvertently helped his father spy on Ara and her family. He’d messed up. He’d ruined everything.
Like he always did.
His father was right.
His father was a liar. But not about November.
Everything he said about November was true.
And that hurt worse than the bruises forming on his face.
“Why?” Was all November could say. His voice broke with the question and he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Just like he couldn’t get rid of the few tears that were escaping his eyes. “Why would you want to hurt them? What have they done to you?”
Riven looked at his son with an expression that resembled pity. He sighed. “November, one of these days you’re going to understand. For now, however, some things are just…” He held up the journal. “Best left in the dark.”
And with that, he tossed the journal into the flames.
WHATCHA THINK?!
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebPoor November!!
I think the scene is dramatic and highly interesting. Obviously, there is a lot going on in the background. I think the dialogue is very good, and definitely has my curiosity triggered.
(Random, but if you ever want good examples of verbal abuse in books, I don’t know if you’ve read it or would be interested, but Mansfield Park by Jane Austen has some very good samples.)
You have listened to fears, child. Come, let me breathe on you... Are you brave again? -Aslan
@elishaver-pidyon THX! Yea so obviously I just let my creative side take over 🤣 it’s in the idea phase but ya. And this scene WAS HUGELY INSPIRED BY Mother Knows best reprise in tangled BAHAHAHA 🤣 honestly I imagine that song and Mother knows best for November and his dad except I obviously like change it to Father knows best and such
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebYou’ll probably see similar wording in the dialogue if u go listen to that song then read this scene 🤣
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSebWOAH.
THAT WAS INCREDIBLE.
Seriously, that was great writing. Now I wanna read more!
Imma just share the only scene I’ve actually written for that WIP I’ve talked about and asked for some help with. So, here ye go, and lemme know what you think!!
The phoenix rose from the ashes of his body, drawing all heat to itself, growing larger as it rose into the sky, leaving behind icy stillness.
Stoke watched from the hilltop, shivering as the cold wave swept past, extinguishing the fire inside him.
Far away, Larissa leaned out the window as the fireplace emptied and the room darkened. Tears streamed down her cheeks, freezing on her skin, numbing the feeling in her face. She closed her eyes to the flaming bird that rose higher and higher, growing bigger and bigger, burning brighter and brighter, filling the sky with its increasing size.
The fire phoenix rose until it reached the heavens, wrapping its wings around the entire earth. The whole world held its breath and the icy chill penetrated every corner. Then, the phoenix stretched its head up and slowly dissipated, returning the flames to the earth.
Larissa crumbled beneath her window sill, sobbing as the fire warmed her skin. She crawled closer, drawing in its heat, letting it remind her of him.
Stoke felt the fire return to his body as he stumbled down the hill to the dead man’s side. He knelt beside the cold, restored body, the one object untouched by the fire phoenix’s heat. His hands touched the wrinkled face of his mentor, the man he called his father. Hot fingers touched the icy skin and burning tears raced down his flushed face.
A fire phoenix had died, and the whole world knew, but to Stoke the loss cut deeper. Niles was dead.
sooo??
"[Write] today like there's no tomorrow!"
@emilysf OH MY GOSH THAT IS STINKING AMAZING!!!!!!
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSeb@godlyfantasy12 and THAT is another reason why I must have my MC die: so I can use this scene. (But I was already planning on having him die, anyway, because that was the beginning idea of this WIP: to write a story from a mentor’s pov and still have him die.) ANYWAY… Thank you!!!
"[Write] today like there's no tomorrow!"
Thanks for tagging me! This will be fun. 😀
I LOVED your scene!!!! Poor November… *stifled sob* Makes me curious to know what’s up with this journal.😉
0.0
Wow.
Just… wow…
That was PHENOMENAL! BRAVO!!!
As a side note, I don’t believe I’ve met you yet. Welcome to the KP forum! I’m Lydia. 🙂
Thank you!! ☺️ It is probably the scene I’ve written that I’m most proud of, right now, because it feels so natural when I’m reading it and it came so easily. (I had another scene, long ago, but ALAS I lost it to accursed technology (which I’m still bitter about because there was a ton more I lost with it).) It seems like near perfection, to me. ☺️
I don’t believe we have! Thank you! 🙂 I’m Clare (even though it says Emily). We can talk more freely on my introduction topic, if you want.
"[Write] today like there's no tomorrow!"
Here’s a scene I’m fairly happy with. It needs rewritten, but it’s a good start. 🙂 It’s the first scene in my fantasy WIP in which the villain makes an appearance.
The girl was riding it now. The boy had let her have a turn. Her laughter lilted down through the sky to where he crouched in the shadow of the trees. He didn’t dare move. He could not be seen and especially not by them. His eyes, gleaming with murderous hatred, followed the dark silhouette as it soared across the star-strewn sky.
He cursed himself underneath his breath. He should’ve stopped this earlier. He should’ve done something sooner.
Fear. How he hated it. It’d stopped him from taking matters into his own hands at the start of this fiasco. He wasn’t used to using violence. He should’ve at least tried, though! But no. He’d sat back, twiddling his thumbs and letting this debacle run its course.
He cursed again.
Regret was useless. He realized that. What was done—or rather, not done—couldn’t be changed. All that could be changed was the present, and he certainly planned on changing a few things.
The dragon turned toward the mountain, no doubt guided by the girl. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.
When the two Noctisians had first made contact with the dragon, they had become worrisome. When they had befriended it, they had become dangerous. But now, after pulling this stunt… His eyes narrowed. They’d signed their own death warrants.
The fools.
He’d have to get one of them to do the job. He wanted to punch something. He hadn’t meant to bring them in until later.
As for the dragon, he’d have to be the one to kill it. He didn’t like that idea. He knew the power that lay beneath the scaly skin. But it had to die. There was no other alternative. All three, the dragon and the two dragon-riders, they all had to die.
And if they were going to be in the village taking care of the boy and girl, there was no reason why they shouldn’t take care of some of the other villagers as well. In a week, the dangerous ones would be on the road to the dark gates of death. The chief, general, top warriors, and the two dragon-riders would all be done for. He’d meant for this to be one of the final steps in his plan, but he supposed now was as good a time as any to set it into action.
He ducked as the dragon flew overhead and gritted his teeth. How he hated it! How he hated the two dragon-riders! How he hated all the Noctisians! He forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no need to get worked up about it. In a few weeks, they’d either be dead or enslaved. In a few weeks, his trials would be over, and he’d be hailed as conquerer.
He couldn’t help but wish that most of them died. If he had his way and they cooperated, his wish would come true.
The thought occurred to him that he really ought to feel bad about planning the murders of so many people. But, then again, his conscience wasn’t his strong point.
I agree with you! It takes a lot for a scene to impress me, and that scene did. Nicely done! 😉
Nice to meet you, Clare! Can’t wait to get to know you better. 🙂 <333
Well then! I feel like I’ve done something even more awesome, heh!
"[Write] today like there's no tomorrow!"
@faith-q thank u!!
#IfMarcelDiesIRiot
#ProtectMarcel
#ProtectSeb
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