I've decided to do something different with my blog. I am following a schedule. Sometimes*. (See side bar for disclaimer.)
My main goal with Musical Mondays is to just get the creative juices flowing. Lately I've felt like I'm trapped in one dimension - the one where I have to figure out what is going to make Kasia stronger, and give my beginning more oomph. And, frankly, I need something new once in a while, a little spice.
I've blogged often about how music impacts my writing. I hear a song and I write a story (well, usually just a scene) in my head. Or I read something and instantly a song, that fits it, leaps to mind. Just how my brain works. Well, I thought, why not combine things a little in the old blog.
So, on Mondays* (see side bar for disclaimer) I will turn on the mp3 and hit skip 5 times. Whatever comes up, will be my song of the day. I will open Word, write a quick scene, and post it. Expect a rough draft people. Some scenes will be rougher than others. Sometimes they will have to do with my WiPs or characters in the WiPs, sometimes not. Who knows? Not I. And, I will warn you, if you are sick of Incubus - you may want to stay away on Mondays - they hold 70 spots of 300 on the mp3. Odds are pretty good for my Brandon's incredible words.
Of course, today being my first go, my mp3 was not easy on me. This is one of my favorite "new" bands, and his voice is amazing. Here goes:
"I will not not bow, I will not break
I will shut the world away
I will not fall, I will not fade
I will take your breath away
And I'll survive, paranoid
I have lost the will to change
I am not proud, cold-blooded fake
I will shut the world away"
~Breaking Benjamin, I Will Not Bow
Over the Edge
Hunter slammed the door of the small bedroom behind him. What did they know, anyway? Chris maybe hadn’t been able to keep control on his shit, but he could. He didn’t need the pills. They were just recreation. Something to take the tension out of…of everything.
He flopped onto the uncomfortable hallway bunk. If they’d just leave him alone he’d be fine. He pulled the curtain closed and flicked off the dim overhead light. The relentless drudgery of touring kept him on edge is all. Nothing more.
Finally, he closed his eyes and, after a while, his arm slid to his side, body grew weightless, floating off to peace.
The recollection of those soft brown curls bouncing against his throat yanked him out of anything resembling peace. Hunter thrust his body upward, feet swinging over the edge and landing on the floor. He ran his hands, hard, over his face.
He never should have done it.
Even with eyes open, staring into a dark curtain, he still pictured her clearly. Dark shiny eyes had beckoned to him. And that barely there curve of a smile--she’d seduced him. This was her fault. The curtain nearly came off the track as he jerked it aside.
He ground his fists against his thighs then stood, making it to the kitchen area in three long strides. He reached up and pulled open the cabinet above the fridge, feeling around behind the extra tins of coffee.
Nothing. His heart raced.
He shoved aside a box of cereal and knocked over a bottle of olive oil. Not there either. Sweat wet his hairline and pins and needles danced on his arms.
He groped along the edge of the smooth wood, all the way to the back, and felt it. The stack of plastic cups. He let out the breath he’d been holding and lifted the cups. At the exact moment he realized there was nothing underneath them, the hairs on the back of his neck stood, and a cold chill ran down his damp skin.
Hunter turned, slowly, head down, and his gaze drifted up her long legs. He stopped at waist level, unable to take his eyes off her clenched fist. It didn’t matter. He knew her deep blue eyes watched him, unwavering. Her disappointment weighted the air around him, making it difficult to breath.
“Looking for something?”
He tried to look away, be nonchalant, but the bottle peeked out from between her fingers, teasing. He blinked hard.
“Give them to me.”