Random Writing: A Man and His Beans

(Inspired by this post and forced to write the story by eveningrelics, who I am annoyingly tagging again.)

    Magic exists.
    Unfortunately, that’s only true if you believe in it.
    Which doesn’t exactly help on my own quest. Ah, yes, spend all my money and resources crafting priceless beans and I get nothing for them. I can’t prove they work, there’s no reverting the beans to what they were. There’s no undoing that kind of damage.
    And all I wanted was a damned cow.
    The last town even tossed me out as being a heretic. Now I’m stuck in the middle of the country, no one to even attempt to sell these things to. Just my cane and the rough ground irritating my ankle. If they only knew. What ignorant, lowly —!
    My ankle twists as it lands on a stone, pain jolting up my leg as it crumples beneath me. I grab out, knowing my arms are too weak to catch me, knowing my skull will smash along the rocks and all of my work will come to an end.
    A hand grabs my shoulder, supporting me.
    “Are you all right, mister?”
    A boy, maybe ten or twelve stands before me, mousy hair nearly grey, more skin and bones than I am. How on earth is he the one holding me up?
    I straighten up, brush myself off and eye him. Has word of me not traveled this far? And… he has a cow with him.
    “Where are you going, boy?” I shake off his arm, take a step back. “And what’s your name?”
    “Jack’s the name,” He takes off his ragged hat, giving a small bow. “Are you all right?”
    I wave my hand, “Yes, yes, but what are you doing with that cow of yours?”
    His eyebrows bull together, glancing between me and the cow. “Well, I’m heading off to market to sell her. She isn’t producing milk anymore, she’s useless —”
    “Never call a cow useless, Jack. It’s lucky I’ve met you, I may save you the trip into town. Now,” Trying to keep the grin from spreading across my face, I reach into my pocket, grab the small lump there, “do you know what this is?”
    He glances at my palm, those worry wrinkles dug deep into his young face growing. “It’s…  a bean, right?”
    Resisting the urge to roll my eyes into my head, I say, “Smart boy. Yes, beans, but they’re the most wonderful beans that ever were known. If you plant them overnight, by the next morning they’ll grow up and reach the sky. But to save you the trouble of going all the way to market, I don’t mind exchanging them for that cow of yours.”
    Finally, something breaks through his worry. His eyes light up, widen. “A magic bean?”
    “Yes, dear boy.” The last one from my last experiment. “All for an elderly cow. That’s it.”
    “Done!” He nearly jumps as he hands over the cow’s lead, grabbing the bean. “Thank you mister!”
    And just like that, he skips off. Really? Not so much as a question? No matter. A boy couldn’t do that much damage with one of those beans. No, not like all the stalks in my field, not like the field of universes and worlds that they all lead to. But not to the one I want.
    Patting the old girl on the head, I start to lead her back, away from Jack and his one bean. There’s a slight guilt for what I’ve done, yes, but not enough to stop me. I’m so close to finding the right stalk, so near to opening that door again. This cow will be pampered and primped, fed the leaves of my stalks and, a fortnight from now, she’ll be ready. I’ll take my clippers, and I’ll shave her hooves, and in that overgrown nail will be a bean, tough as iron, that may finally lead me to the right place.
    To my giant.

I’ve been taggeded: “My Writing Process” Blog Tour

Thank’s to JD Faulkner for dragging me along into this!

Alright, questions to answer:

  1. What am I working on?
  2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?
  3. Why do I write what I do?
  4. How does your writing process work?

Let’s go.

1. What am I working on?

Everything. I just finished writing the first chapter of a new novel, I’m working on re-writing/editing three novels and there’s always my prompt challenge and social networking on top of that. (And, you know, “real” work.) Here are some ridiculous, short blurbs:

Summer Thunder:
Desert fantasy with many dragons, a floating city and water magic. Tagline: “She’s on the run for a crime punishable by death: killing a dragon.”

A fantasy with a touch of steampunk, soul zombies, and Bob the dragon.

Little Cub:
High fantasy meets urban fantasy, in an African-ispired continent controlled by a peoples with a horrifying ability. Ariava is one of the last of her people, desperately trying to carve out a life for the orphans she’s taken under her wing – until the rebellion hunts her down for their own purposes.

Dystopic India. Daman’s an ass. Sara’s the poor soul that gets caught in his shit storm. All because of a damned sandwich. (Wanna stalk the still WIP blog?) To be written in the same process of Summer Thunder; an interactive novel.

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

Okay, I write weird stuff. Really weird stuff. A majority of it is fantasy, but I love to mash and bend and break the norms and build some pretty different stories. I’m not saying this to be a special snowflake; a large reason of why I’m rejected for things it’s because my work is too different. (At least it’s not for being badly written, I would have drowned in ice cream by now. With this, I’m only half-drowned.)

3. Why do I Write what I do?

Because DRAGONS.

I wish I could say it’s more complicated, but not really. I was a gamer before I was a reader, and the Spyro games got me addicted. If there was a dragon on it, I’d probably pick it up. So, though I wanted to be a zoologist or a veterinarian, fantasy just kinda because my thing.

4. How does your writing process work?

HAHAHA, process, you’re silly. I literally work with no rules, and no regulations. I’ve tried keeping a schedule, daily word counts, outlining, and nothing works. I work my best under a deadline, but self-pressure just kills me. So I have a hell of a to-do list, and I get a couple things done every day. My novels have different processes for each, too – I’m probably a little too fluid in my writing.

Alrighty, that’s enough about me, what about you? I’m going to tag a few people below, but leave a comment about your own style, too!

My victims friends that I’m passing the torch along to:

Alaska Penn
Alaska Penn, more commonly known as Allie, is currently studying art at a small Southern college, but stories are her passion. She has been writing stories since the third grade, but has been telling them since she was old enough to talk. Chocolate milk and cats hold a special place in her heart. She has written several novels, and her current project is a YA fantasy.

Relic and Silver
Relic and Silver, despite sharing the same fictional universes, live on opposite sides of the country. Silver is a Bone Queen-in-training, collecting bones from roadkill when not volunteering at a state park’s aviary. Meanwhile, Relic spends her days attempt to survive in the Australia of the United States—the Mojave Desert— when she’s not knee-deep in arts and crafts or brainstorming, that is. They share a mutual love for video games, fiction, fantasy and Irish Setters. They’re currently working on two separate New Adult fantasy series.

Kaitlyn Noble
Kaitlyn Noble is the currently unpublished author of half a dozen books. Until the day she completes a project to her satisfaction, her day job is a sub for elementary students, whose imagination is refreshing. Other hobbies and interests include art, music, fangirling over characters and storylines, and making a fool of herself in general.

Bacon, out.