Writing is my escape. So, when I'm not involved with family activities, that's how I enjoy spending my me time. So, I don't prolong the wait to be mean and say, "MUWAHAHAHAHAHA! WRITHE AND FESTERRRR!" I want to be done with this thing as much as you want me to be done with it, and the good news is it's almost complete! Most of the chapters were pre-written before I started writing again after my two year hiatus, but as I've gotten more into the story I learned pre-written doesn't mean anything if I have to edit before posting. Editing is important to me.
My mom tells me I'm a perfectionist, and yeah... I am. Anyway, I'm not sure if I've told everybody, or only mentioned it to a handful of people who've asked, (I have a horrible freaking memory), but there's only going to be about 30 chapters unless I can break it down into less than that (as I did with chapter 23).
Answering all the questions that remain is what I'm focusing on with each update. There are new questions that may rise, but I assure you, they are important to the completion of this journey and I'm confident that everything we've learned from this world will be solved at the end. I've said it before when I wrote Kingdom of Rust, and I'll say it again now. I don't write filler. Every single chapter has a purpose. Sometimes it will be subtle, and will exist within a conversation or action, or it will be a glaring revelation, but either way there is point.
|Unlike this googly-eyed ham, which serves no purpose.|
I'd like to give you a teaser for Chapter 24. It's my favorite so far because it's all been leading up to this one moment. This big, big thing everyone has always asked me about, but I couldn't answer because it's huge! This is but a small part. Unedited of course.
Chapter 24: Walls of Stone, Walls of Glass
I screamed as the tears swelled over my lower lid. I filled with anger and hatred.
“Why are you doing this!?” I cried, clenching my fists and turning to stare at him. When he didn’t answer, I found the strength to stand from my crouched position on the floor. “Why?!” I swung my fist at him, hoping to connect with his jaw, but he caught it and pushed me away.
“What did they mean to you?” he asked then stroked his palm down his mouth and chin. By then, some of the blood had already begun to dry except the thick, wet drops which smeared, further staining his skin. “Hm? What did those girls mean to you?"