A Huntress is Born, Lives, and Stalks Through My Fantasies…

Category Archives: Perchance to Dream

It’s #WIPpet Wednesday again!

The purpose of  K.L,Schwengel’s brainchild  is to encourage writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.

WIPpet Math:

Today is July 31, 2013. (Don’t panic; the paragraphs are short!)

  • For Today’s offering, I’ve added the digits of the month, date, and year. (7+4+3+1+2+0+1+3=17).
  • Then I added 3 paragraphs, because this is my birthday week, and three is my favorite number. So, there’s a little gift for all my readers!

Throughout July, I offer my current NaNo effort, Trueborn Genesis WIPs, The Stars are Fire (Niaan), and Perchance to Dream (Spock),loosely based upon the26 flash fiction piecesI wrote for the2013 Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.

This week, we will begin at the beginning with my Star Trek fanfic, Perchance to Dream. I am so looking forward to exploring Spock’s childhood! =D

Finally, after sharing excerpts told from T’Pol and Amanda’s points of view, I get to the star of the novel – Spock, who is, at this time a child of seven.

Since this is the opening of his first scene, I’ll let the except do the talking.

Note: As with all of this month’s WIPpets, this one is NaNo-raw. I fixed a couple of obvious typos; nothing more.

Enjoy!

I moved along at the base of the obsidian cliffs, keeping to the shadow, aware of the chance that a child alone upon the Forge in the light of T’Khut at her fullest would attract a sehlat or a le-matya.

Although, I thought, either might be preferable to the future Father had informed me of, this afternoon.

It was an illogical fantasy, and yet, here, alone in the desert, I did not care. I embraced it, allowed myself to imagine being shredded by a hungry sehlat, or poisoned, then devoured, by the fangs of a le-matya…

But I would not be alive, then, to enjoy the reprieve from the certainty that Father had delivered.

I was to be Promised to a girl named T’Pring, whom I had never met, and would not, until the day of our Promising, at Koon-ut-kal-if-fee, where we would be drawn again when the Burning came, and there was no choice but to mate.

It was the Vulcan way; and yet, something within me recoiled, urgently demanding that I not be so bound, with my mind locked to the mind of a girl I had never met. To consider mating with someone I did not know.

There was little logic in coming to the Forge to escape what I already knew was inevitable. I could bring no rational argument; only my certainty that I found the notion of arranged pairing repulsive and restrictive. But my emotion had never swayed Father to any action beyond more control, and surely it would not now.

I had lost my control, already, when he informed me. I had not held back my angry protests, and he had only responded that he would entertain only logical and controlled responses. My fury had built, triggered by the too-common sensation that I had been trapped in a life I could neither tolerate nor change. I had yelled, then screamed, and then the tears had come -the proof that I was not truly Vulcan, that I had never been enough, and never would be, to satisfy Sarek.

Once more, I wondered why he had married a human woman, and why, after doing so, he chose to have a child with her, to father a son forever tainted, forever inferior because he was half human.

I could not be what he wanted, and I could not resist his implacable will.

And so, when the tears marked me inadequate, yet again, and I knew the next command would be to control them, which I was utterly unable to do, in that moment, I had fled – fled Father’s office, past the kitchen where I could smell Mother’s plomik soup, and feel the pain of her silence, and into my own room, throwing myself down upon my bed as the door slipped closed behind me – both shelter, and trap.

I could not remain here. Either Mother would come, her human maternal instincts and emotions ruling her, wanting to help, but only being able to do so in a human way. I always longed to respond to these efforts, in the way I had when I was too small to know that it was one thing to be human, and another to be Vulcan – and that I was some as-yet unnamed third thing, neither one nor the other, able to pass as neither. My appearance marked me as not human, and my manner just as clearly proved me less than Vulcan.

I was an aberration, belonging nowhere.

I had waited until they were settled for the evening meal…Mother had come once to my door, to tell me the meal was ready, but I had not responded, and then had heard Father’s voice.

“Perhaps he is in meditation, to perfect his control.”

“Sarek. He’s not meditating. He’s seven years old, and you’ve just informed him that you are sentencing him to a lifetime commitment to someone he doesn’t even know yet. He’s angry with you, and it’s justified.”

“He will learn to control such emotions, and to meditate upon them until he finds a peaceful resolution.” Perhaps Mother did not know that I could hear them, but Father certainly did, and there was yet another directive in his words.

Had I told him that meditating had no effect on my emotions but to add restlessness to them, and a tendency for various parts of my body to itch in succession, he would have insisted that I was tending to the matter with “Insufficient effort and attention to achieve the desired goal.”

No, I could not say it. But that made it no less true.

Meditation only led to a deeper sense of being entrapped. The Forge, however, was solitude and sanctuary, and space enough to simply be myself, with no concern for how it would be perceived.

Come on – you know you wanna play, too!

 

There we have it – the very first twenty paragraphs of Spock’s story arc.

And now – release the comment hounds ! =)

Want more WIPpets? Click the cute little blue froggy to read what other #WIPpeteers are writing, or to join in yourself!

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It’s #WIPpet Wednesday again!

The purpose of  K.L,Schwengel’s brainchild  is to encourage writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date.

 

My WIPpet Math:

Today is July 24,2013.

  • Adding the month and the date (7+24=31) takes us to 31 sentences.
  • But that leaves us awkwardly in the midst of the interaction, so…
  • Adding the digits of the year (2+1+0+3=6), means that you get another 6sentences, for a total of 37 sentences.
  • And that takes us to the end of the conversation already in progress.

Throughout July’s CampNaNoWriMo, I am offering Niaan and Spock‘s childhoods, and how they came to be husband and wife, in the Trueborn Genesis WIPs, The Stars are Fire (Niaan), and Perchance to Dream (Spock).

These WIPS are based upon the26 flash fiction pieces I wrote for the2013 Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.

In this excerpt, Spock, a child of seven, has gone missing, following a heated dispute with his Vulcan father, Sarek. His human mother, Amanda, has been intensely worried for him, but Sarek maintains that he has gone to find the peace of solitude and meditation after the conflict. The situation between the spouses has grown increasingly tense, over a course of days. Amanda has retreated to her study, where she has begun having extremely vivid and strange dreams about their son.

As with all these posts, this is NaNo-raw. I corrected a few obvious typos, and nothing more.

The chime rang at her door, and she sighed and signaled it to slide open.

Sarek stood uncertainly in the doorway, studying her, his face wearing the carefully neutral expression that said that he was troubled.

“Have you had word?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Spock will return when he is ready. I have heard nothing, and I feel that he is alive, and in no significant danger.” A pause. “I did not come to speak of our son, my wife.”

The clue to why he had was in his tone and in his phrasing. Amanda had known it would come, and still didn’t know how she would respond. Curiously, she heard herself intone, “Indeed?” as neutrally as any Vulcan might.

“Indeed. It has been three nights since you have retired for the evening in our chamber.”

An edge of wanting – always, desire was the one emotion that could best him. She chose not to acknowledge it, or how it brought fragments of the dreams swirling around her. “Has it been? I haven’t been counting.”

She turned back to her reading – she had been too unsettled, really, but it was something to pretend a focus on. She had already lost her temper with him, and was determined not to do it again.

“It has been.” A longer pause; she wasn’t responding as he had hoped, or even as he had expected. Amanda could feel his discomfort, but did nothing to ease it. “Will you – retire with me, this evening, my wife.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

The silence was deep this time, and pregnant with his emotions. Oddly, they seemed only to numb her, and she was fascinated to realize that, right now, it was she who was more fully in control.

“May I inquire as to the reason?” His voice was tight now; he had been wanting her longer than he had been willing to admit.

“You may inquire, Sarek. My answer is that I am engaged and at peace in this space, and I see no immediate need to leave it. Sleep well, husband.”

In Vulcan etiquette, the last was a dismissal, and still he stood, for a long moment, and Amanda could feel the intensity of his stare on her back, willing her to turn and come to him. She almost did – and then she thought of Spock, and held. She would not take the chance of Sarek overhearing her dreams, or of sensing them when they touched in the night.

He sighed audibly, and said, “Sleep well, my wife.” And then he was gone.

After he left, she started shaking, and the tears came.

So, there we are…a WIPpet only a day old! Feel free to comment!

 

Walk right in, and pop up your own WIPpet!

 

Want more WIPpets? Click the cute little blue froggy to read what other #WIPpeteers are writing, or to join in yourself!


 It’s #WIPpet Wednesday again!

 The purpose of  K.L,Schwengel’s brainchild  is to encourage writers to move their WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts   related to the date.

WIPpet Math:

Today is July 17, 2013.

  • Today’s offering is the first seven paragraphs of the Prologue, for the month of July.

Throughout July, I offer my current NaNo effort, Trueborn Genesis WIPs, The Stars are Fire (Niaan), and Perchance to Dream (Spock), loosely based upon the 26 flash fiction pieces I wrote for the 2013 Blogging from A to Z April Challenge.

This week, we will begin at the beginning with my Star Trek fanfic, Perchance to Dream. I am so looking forward to exploring Spock’s childhood! =D

Today, meet T’Pol , the former Vulcan Science Officer of the Enterprise NX-01, who is grieving her recently deceased husband, and a treasured memory from three-quarters of a century ago, in Perchance to Dream, Book 1 in the Trueborn Warp series.

This piece is NaNo raw, so be warned!

T’Pol had come to the heat and isolation of Vulcan’s Forge to exorcise ghosts.

She knew, on an intellectual level, that the very concept was illogical. It was precisely the type of human impulse that still, after nearly two centuries of contact, made most Vulcans wary and untrusting of Earth and her inhabitants.

But then, there was a strong thread of humanity that resonated with T’Pol, and her life had been so interwoven with humans, over so many years, that she suspected that any effort to undo the twining might also undo her self…at the least, she would be far poorer of spirit without what she had experienced in her connections with the species.

And so, when Soval, her husband of 73 years, had died three months ago, after the requisite time spent with their children, and the tending to of their final joint affairs, she had declined all offers of companionship, employment, or travel, and taken herself instead to the Forge, to the one place where she felt there was space and solitude enough to explore all the thought and emotion that were within her, convoluted as one of the shells Trip had given her, so long ago, from the oceans that had been a part of his growing, and which he had fiercely loved.

Now, she walked, heedless of the power of the midday sun -as she had told Captain Archer upon these very sands, she had evolved on this world, suited to this place and this climate – and she caressed the nautilus shell. It was a thing, too, of sandy places, but also of saltwater and sea, an Earth thing transported through time and chance to Vulcan.

She’d lived decades on Earth, and longer amongst humans. It made her seem – different – to Vulcans, as did the effects of her long-ago experimentation with trellium. Her emotions had always been “close to the surface”, as her mother T’Les had diplomatically expressed it. Exposure to trellium had brought all that emotion pouring forth, uncontrolled and uncontrollable. She’d come to terms with it, somehow, over many years, and perhaps largely because she HAD lived with humans, who tended to accept her occasional emotional lapses with a matter-of-factness that helped her to learn to accept them, as well.

Soval had found them – “unsettling” had been his word – at times, but she had told him the reason behind them, and they had known one another during those years – and for a year prior, when she had served on his staff. He held the pain of her addiction and the consequences gently, and never expected her to be responsible for his discomfort. And their children, Janik and Sirla, had never known her else, so that their acceptance was total.

Come join in!

 

There we have it – the very first seven paragraphs of Perchance to Dream, only a day old, and already right here on your screen! Now, that’s fresh!

And now – release the comment hounds ! =)

Want more WIPpets? Click the cute little blue froggy to read what other #WIPpeteers are writing, or to join in yourself!





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