Notes:
This has been very much revised compared to my first draft. If you haven't read my first draft, don't; at least not until you've read this one. I am leaving it on apricotpie only for history's sake.
Thank you Anna for your comment, it has helped me improve this story a great deal. I have hopefully gotten rid of my major problems and added a few characters. (Well, I had them planned before, they just didn't appear until a latter chapter)
#3 December 31, 2020 11:10 p.m. I have been working late at night recently to upgrade the Dream Machine. I have made much money off of my design, but it is still flawed, for now. I have recently been working on making it perfect, so that no one will ever die in a coma again. Why the change of heart, you might ask? Well there isn’t one. I feel the same, I hate that everyone lives because of me, but my mother died. I hate life. I hate everyone. Still, I can’t turn down a bit of money. Or in this case, a lot. Millions, in fact.
On the table a candle was set, flickering and dancing. The flame gave forth enough light to see the faces around the table. I sat next to a man who was young and had appearance like myself, Will, by name. Across from him was another man, John, who was tall, bearded, with merry eyes. He held his hand to his forehead with his elbow resting on the table. And directly in front of me was a man with scarlet hair, Martin. His lips were pinched in frustration, as he leant back in his chair with his cloak tightly wrapped about him. Such was Martin’s disposition.
There was once a rich and powerful kingdom called Modeñia. The King of Modeñia’s name was Karshë; he was peace loving, and a good ruler. In fact, his passion for peace was so strong, it blinded him to the looming danger. For, when war threatened, he went to the enemy himself to ask for peace, not understanding that the enemy did not want peace, and failing to first prepare a defense...
This is the sad story of the Kingdom of Modeñia, and of the brave Prince Zobed. This is my story, the faithful friend and servant of Prince Zobed.
Oh, thou fellow apricots, I need thy assistence! I know NaNoWriMo is months away, but I want to be ready with my plot, characters, everything. You can tell I'm a newbie, can't you?
Bitter wind was tugging at Adelaide’s hood and lashing her hair round her face. She was sitting in front of Lawrence on a grey warmblood. He was plunging through the deep drifts of snow at a great pace and smoothly passing over rifts and inclines of the land. Lawrence had both hands on the reigns while supporting Adelaide by his arms. The saddle on which they sat was large and made of fine leather. It was black and simple but strongly made. Adelaide had both her feet secured to the stirrups by straps that Cosmas had attached.
The voices were burly and rough. The chairs were squeaking across the floor. Plates clattered and water was being poured. The heavy collapsing of men into chairs threatened the floor.
Agitation twitched in their voices; fury rose in their tones. Adelaide could distinguish six different voices. One was bawling over the rest in a thick voice.
**An excerpt from a may-soon-to-be-novel that lives in my mind, and has for some time.**