To be honest, it seems that this new project will tag on to the end of my last 2 projects and will form a trilogy within a single book. The first part deals with my character managing to relive parts of his life through reflections whilst the second part has him stuck in one of said reflections living out the period I am living out now whilst the third part has him stuck in a future completely alone. Questions raised include identity, depression, loss, suicide, meaning of life, meaning of death, mental illness and the ramifications of actions and the absolute harm it does...heavy stuff!
The plan is to finish the second part in a few days then continue the third whilst revising and editing the rest. It feels like a daunting task but to be honest, I have pretty much revised and edited the first part and really just need to flesh bits out and tie it all up. The second part I have revised and edited on the go so that shouldn't need much work. And the plan for the third part will to keep it tight and fairly short. Below is an excerpt from the third part:
the future…
chapter one
A rhythmic pounding slow and
steady rips through the dour brown morning. Every time the sun threatens to
pierce the clouds, they slide across and block it out with a defiant glee and
mischief. James stands in the corner of the garden looking out at nothing and
everything waiting for the horizon to reveal the thing he is searching for. He
narrows his vision and adjusts the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose
fully aware that no amount of squinting or playing with the glasses will help
his old eyes see into the distance. And then, just as before, she appears…and
suddenly he is awake.
He stretches
his body down the single bed grimacing as his bones crack and his muscles
spasm. As usual, the sheets are damp with sweat and he knows the time without
having to look; so routine and predictable are his sleep patterns these days.
The rhythmic
pounding is still there. In fact, it never goes away.
Groaning as he
sits up, he wipes the drool from his mouth and scratches out the crust from the
corner of his eyes. A sudden pain strikes his chest causing him to grasp at it
and regulate his wheezy breathing. As it subsides, he pushes himself to a
standing position and staggers out the small room and into the bathroom.
Sitting on the toilet to piss for a good ten minutes is the norm now but at
least it gives him the time to wake up as the urine spurts out in fits and
starts stinging as it does. He flushes and watches his marmalade coloured piss
get replaced by the murky stinking water of the tank before using bottled water
over the sink to wash his hands.
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