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Author: Subject: [Subforum: JulNoWriMo Progress Reports] Oskar {Realistic/Adventure/BasedOnTrueFact?}
awed
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[*] posted on 7-5-2010 at 05:09 PM
Oskar {Realistic/Adventure/BasedOnTrueFact?}


Quote:

From a small and rather shabby shower cubicle, a winding tendril of steam slipped through the cracks in the glass and began it’s escape. It rose with the brisk wind and dipped when a turning breeze approached, before separating in a considerably quick gust to disappear amongst the leaves of a large oak tree.

Inside the cubicle a middle-aged man with a winding grey moustache was humming. It was a distant melody from his childhood, as his mind was on a happier time. A time when he had a shower inside his house, rather than in a miserable cubicle beneath a tree in his small garden; a cubicle that leaked and was prone to collecting leaves at his feet from the oak. Should his thoughts have turned to his current situation, he would merely be faced with the obvious; he was poor. When he left his house he wore shoes with growing holes, and when he came back he was faced with freezing, unheated air and grimly bland walls.

As he twisted his overweight form to escape the cubicle, his eyes caught his reflection in the filthy looking-glass attached to the side of the shower, as they often did. He was momentarily frozen by the sight of the slack left side of his face - as he often was. After suffering a spell of brain and nerve failure two summers prior, that corner of his mouth had failed to serve him properly; and, having once been a decent-looking man, he could not help but feel disheartened with each painful reminder. He was forced to recall the paranoia that had brought such shock inside his very being; forced to feel the pure fright that had sent him into oblivion for too long. Merely the whisper of his past enveloped his sagging, naked form in a cold shiver. His joyful childhood melody was far from his mind now.

You silly fool.
He muttered darkly under his breath as tired eyes snapped his gaze away from mirrored counterparts.
"You silly, silly fool..."
Because there really was nothing more to be said on the matter.
Coming soon in a JulNo near you...


"And you? Who are you?”

It took a second for the young man to speak, for the word he knew so well had suddenly become unfamiliar. It blocked his throat and required the accompaniment of a deep cough to be heard.

"Oskar.”









[Edited on 5-7-2010 by awed]




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[*] posted on 7-5-2010 at 05:17 PM


Oh my god. Give me more.



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[*] posted on 7-5-2010 at 05:34 PM


I absolutely love the sound of this, Astrid. Can't wait to hear more. <3
Good luck wth your novel this month. ^_^




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[*] posted on 7-5-2010 at 08:09 PM


Thank you, both! ^^ I'll add/post more later in the week for sure, right now I'm dropping with exhaustion. xD
But stay tuned for more Oskar madness.


Oh and a casual fact... the man in the opening short quote is not Oskar. (;




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[*] posted on 7-8-2010 at 01:59 PM


-pokes head in- Hellooooooooo?


Helloooooo?

Moar plz?!




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[*] posted on 7-11-2010 at 01:56 PM


(; Is this enough for you?
A short extract, shortened even further. It's on my tumblr too so I thought I might as well throw it up here. Was written over three word wars on chat. o3o


Quote:
Six and three-quarter miles from where she had committed Karn Havers’ murder, a young girl lay her slight wrist upon the greasy white counter of a late-night burger stand. At just fifteen she had developed a taste for strong French mustard; the boy behind the counter watched in faint awe while she ate her meal. He had seen her once before and even then had been rather astounded by her style and clear independence. Last time he had not enquired after her name for fear of rebuke. This time, kicking himself for the slow stutter that always attacked his vocals whenever he spoke to girls, he braced himself and asked the question.

“Calypso.”

“Calypso? What? That ain’t a name for a y-young g-girl like you…”

“Yeah. Well. It’s my name.”

“Alright. Me name’s… T-Tom.”

“Yeah, okay. Hey - gi’me another will ya? I tried the other guys and you got the best burgers in this place. I really like them I do. Really. There is somethin’ special about them, like a minty taste or what. I really like that.”

“T-That’s me man’s recipe - you got it, it’s m-mint. Fresh from our p-p-pots, too.” Tom put extra mustard on the second burger, and happily noted the approval in her eyes as he did so. Her compliments had comforted and reassured him. He still looked down at her small frame in slight wonder, but the bold manner in which she held herself and the independent tone that raced through her voice made it seem as though she was capable of taking care of herself.

“Hey, why you gotta stutter like that? It’s weird. Never met nobody who stutter like that afore.”

“It’s me nerves. I… ain’t sure how not to st-stutter sometimes.”

“Well, okay. Puts me off is all. Kinda funny though. Makes you sound stupid.” Calypso snorted.

Tom frowned slowly, his gingery brows bending inwards. He wasn’t at all smart, but he knew well enough how to detect an insult, and sensed that the girl before him had just given him one. He was rarely insulted by anyone but his father and was not entirely sure how to react. Should he insult her back or allow the comment to slip past him? She certainly didn’t seem very nice anymore; perhaps he should inform someone that a girl just a few years his junior was roaming the early morning streets insulting others. After a moment’s pause, Tom allowed the irritation to show upon his expression.

“Now, that ain’t nice. No it’s not. Not at all. Why you gotta say things like that? I don’t say no mean things to you, so why-”

“Hey!”

“What?”

“It’s gone. Your stutter has got up and left ya.”

“No it ain’t. It never leaves properly.”

Somehow, and for some utterly unknown reason, Tom then found himself staring directly down the barrel of a short hand pistol. He had only once been in this situation before, and on that night his younger sister had been shot. It had taken her two days to die. Rather wanting to avoid the same fate, Tom stayed as still as possible and gave the girl his best pleading look. She grinned in response.

“Tell me some things, and don’t stutter, or I’ll shoot ya.”

Everything in his vision disappeared, leaving just the end of the pistol and it’s hollow, cold tube. He looked down this curiously while Calypso told him the terms of her arrangement. He blew outwards, sending a stream of air down the dark tunnel. Above the noise of the true wind in the air he didn’t hear it’s journey, but knew where it had ended.

How could he not stutter?

There was a fire burning inside him and he knew that any word he tried to utter would come out broken by the flames of his nerves, flames which grew and grew in height and ferocity with every second he was held at gunpoint. The seconds trickled by. Calypso’s grip on the pistol tightened and Tom observed the hand that clutched it. It’s fingernails were dirty and the knuckles red and broken. Certainly not a hand he would expect to see on a lady; but then, Calypso had already proved herself to be rather unladylike tonight. The only truly feminine element to her was the thin silver band that wrapped itself in two thin circlets around her forehead. It was an awkward garment that he knew was not from their area. Tom didn’t know a lot about fashion though, so he ignored it’s presence. Her attire was hardly more common for a girl; long dark trousers would attract disapproving eyes from any elder, while her blouse was far too creased and scruffy to be presentable enough. Her hair was cut incredibly short and a bright flame red. It gave an additional wild aspect to her appearance, which was barely needed.

“Come on, Tom. Stop eyein’ me up and get on with it. No stuttering, remember.” Her watery blue eyes smiled teasingly at him.

Slowly, Tom licked his lips, which had suddenly become painfully dry. He was aware of his every breath and sighing movement. Opening his mouth, he exhaled deeply before drawing in the air through his nose rapidly.

“I… am Tom. Tom Boram. I lived here all my life… that’s seventeen summers… I ain’t sure what I’ll do next winter.” Again he licked his lips, his breathing coming fast and heavy as a result of the progress he was making. Perhaps the girl was right - perhaps his stutter had left him. “I’ll prob’ly do this. I like the sea… it looks good, and it’s calm, but wild, and I like that. I don’t got a girl. I had one but she left with her pa when the soldiers come last year…” He began to enjoy talking - as much as he could enjoy anything with a gun against his temple. “Made me sad but I din’t mind much after a few weeks. She should’a stayed, them soldiers weren’t too bad. Made me a friend out of one. He die, they said, out on the city harbour. Drowned. Hey!”

Calypso had suddenly shifted her grip on the gun. Instantly Tom shouted in horror, thinking she was preparing for the shot that would end his short life. Instead he found himself staring at nothing; the pistol had disappeared, along with the flame-haired girl. Seconds later her footprints were filled by a pair of larger shoes as a man approached his stand. It took Tom several moments to register that he was being asked a question by this tall and pleasantly polite young man.

“Sir? Can you tell me what that boy wanted?”




[Edited on 11-7-2010 by awed]




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[*] posted on 7-11-2010 at 02:36 PM


I have to say, I really enjoyed reading both excerpts! :) Do you mind if I ask what your novel is about?

[Edited on 11-7-2010 by Silverwing]
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[*] posted on 7-11-2010 at 03:25 PM


Thanks! (:
If I'm entirely honest, I've rewritten and rewritten my plot outline so many times that I currently am 'between outlines'. xD
The very core basics are simply that there's a young man, Oskar, and he eventually does become the focal point of my novel. He's not from around 'here' (where exactly this is I haven't yet worked out, I don't feel it matters - it will be a fictional place). He's short and awkward but has the power to captivate others through lies; if he's given time, he can work up a story and a sweat that gets him out of things. Or at least it has until he arrives 'here'. He has arrived in this place because he wants to pursue the quest of freedom he has convinced himself is his only way 'out'. To some, by the end, he might be a terrorist, but to others and those that know him he's just trying to work out what's happening in the world. He's also very, very alone, and as a natural over-thinker this is a dangerous mix... as I know only too well. xD

Basic plot is that he's arrived here because he has heard through the underground quiet whispers of freedom fighters that there is a group getting together to assassinate a major politician and nobleman. He wants in because he feels that creating history in this manner will help him firmly make something of himself. While hunting around for this group that is getting together - it's a waiting game really, because he just has to make himself known so that they come to him - he forms several alliances and meet a great many odd people. The latter of which will fill the majority of my word count, as I love writing odd little sketches. (:

It's a simple, basic plot, I feel that I excel in characters rather than complicated plot lines. 3: I personally prefer reading from the views of great characters myself as opposed to getting lost in a mess of plot twists.




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[*] posted on 7-14-2010 at 07:08 PM


Quote:

Grinning rather maniacally, the child brought her grubby hands together and held them, finger to finger as if in prayer, at her breast. Her lips did not move.
Oskar paused. He was unsure as to whether or not more words would follow this action but, when the silence grew so long that even she began to look bored with him, he repeated the question. He could think of no other words to fill the quiet.

“Why are you trying to kill me?”

Oskar must have added a new bitter tone upon repetition of his question; for something in the girl was altered. Her hard expression and posture remained unchanged but her dark grey eyes held a new element. It was almost a touch of fear; her lashes were lowered grey eyes were narrowed. Her pupils dilated. Anxiety cast a shadow across her cheeks. Oskar would not have been surprised if her pulse had quickened, with her heart thumping the beat of increased urgency.

Though he showed no indication of it, Oskar was gently congratulation himself on the inside for breaking even just a mere fragment of Calypso’s tough exterior. As an extension of this emotion, he also felt the need to further break her demeanour; it had been almost an insult to be so boldly confronted by a mere child - a girl, at that. He now relished the thought of seeing her weep, and yearned to be the one to make her do so.


Sooo. This week I'm working a total of five million hours - or so it seems - and I haven't had time for writing on Oskar, if I'm honest. Which I always am. o3o
However next week I'll be in Kent Monday-Thursday before coming back to London for work on Friday. In that little time I have a lot planned with old friends but I'll also have quiet nights, something I don't get here. I'm hoping to write 10k over those couple of days. That's my goal. (:

moarsoon~




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[*] posted on 7-17-2010 at 08:30 AM


Your synopsis sounds very intriguing! You said that you excel in characters and I can tell that by the way Oskar is written!

I like reading the excerpts that you post as they are always interesting and enjoyable! :)

Good luck for next week by the way! :)

[Edited on 17-7-2010 by Silverwing]
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[*] posted on 7-17-2010 at 09:21 PM


Thank you Silverwing! (: /glomp
I appreciate the luck, same to you!~






In other news... Oskar hates me.
Fail past week.
Next week shall be better. So much better.
D:




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