Progress Report, in which I am a brat

Another three chapters–almost–on Wet Work.  Magic Meter says:

Not overly pleased with this progress; I should be further along than I am.  Seems I’m doing an awful lot of foot-dragging–my very strong lazy streak coming out.  Do I have to do all this work, Mommy?  Why are you so mean to me?

If I’m to have any hope of finishing this rewrite by the end of the month, I need to kick it into gear.  And wouldn’t you know it?  Up next are what I expect will be the two most challenging chapters, the ones that will require the most substantial revisions.

Aw gee, Mom, do I have to?

Yes, little Matt, I’m afraid you do.

I don’t like you anymore.  <stomps off in a huff>

Anyway, after I get through those next two chapters, I should be able to wrap up the rest in fairly short order.  I think.  I hope.  And if not, I can always hold my breath until everyone starts being nicer to me.  So there.

Oh, and before I slam the door and commence to sulking like a proper brat, here’s your snippet:

 

On the far side of the chamber, the great iron-banded doors slammed open.  A chill carrion wind blew in.

Just outside the doors stood row upon row of Dontur’s eyeless, half-melted, razor-toothed servants.  They flowed into the chamber as if borne on the breeze.

"Want to confess? Want to confess now, Ellie?"  He clawed at her neck, snapping the chain that held the silvery talisman, yanked it away.  "Confess to them!"  He threw her in the direction of his servants.  She landed prone on the pale stone floor.  It was cold to the touch.

"Tell them about it, Ellie! Tell them aaaaall about it!"


The creatures formed a semicircle in front of her.  Their jaws gaped, seeming wide enough to swallow her whole.  Keening noises came from them.  The stench was awful.  Ellie could feel their hunger.

Fun, eh?

No updates for Write Club.

Now go away, and leave me alone.

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