Day 11 of NaNoWriMo…

… and I’m not doing too badly! If you take a look at the gauges in the side bar ———->

You can see where my word count has got to and how well I’ve kept on track each day. I’m quite proud of myself so far and as we move into the second full week of the challenge I have decided that I have to be far more disciplined than I have been.

The graph below shows the full stats for today –

As you can see, I’m currently only just floating above the daily target line. I have a comfortable two thousand word cushion between me and the daily target; plus with twenty eight thousand words to go, I can’t rest on that cushion, I have to keep going.

As usual, life has been getting in the way of my writing. Children to feed, cats to look after, fiancé’s to keep happy – they all like to slip into my writing time and tear it apart. Therefore this week, I  have to try and shut out the distractions when I am writing…

Hmmm….

Wish me luck… here’s a small sample for you to take a look at:

The throne room door opened. Nexamillia entered, followed by Formido, who introduced her.

Dolor entered a second or so after with a tray that bore three glasses and a bottle of white wine. She placed it on the table between Apollyon and Jeanette.

“Dolor, bring a third chair in for Nexamillia.” The prince said, standing to bow to his other Great Granddaughter.

“Thank you, Great Grandfather.” Nexamillia curtseyed and sank into the chair that Dolor placed for her.

Apollyon poured wine and Dolor handed it out to the young women. “This is something Jezebeath imported for me. The Containment spell on the portal means that I cannot leave this realm, so I am forced to rely on others to bring such delights in.”

“Now have a drink and relax, Jeanette. This won’t take long and we can then chat about the task I would like you to complete for me.” Apollyon waited until she sipped a little wine, nodding her acquiescence, and then stood up, moving behind her and placing his hands lightly onto her head.

Closing his eyes, he slid into her public mind, sifting through the impressions and emotions she had experienced that evening. Images of Geryon and Morbus, Nex and Lamia, himself… all of these were coloured with the emotion she felt about the person.

Delving deeper, Apollyon entered her private mind. He caught sight of a young human that he assumed was the boy she talked about at dinner, memories of her mother and horses. Her friends zipped past quickly, but he memorised their faces and names, knowing they would be useful at some point.

The area with her power in should be… ah, there it is. He frowned. Why is it so strongly shielded? It’s like she’s deliberately keeping her power separate from her self, refusing to use it.

He probed a little and spotted a familiar face. Jezebeath? Why would she hide a memory of him in here. He was supposed to be a… something made him suspicious and he investigated a little deeper.

Jeanette cried out in pain, but Apollyon ignored it. I have to break this blockage or her powers will be useless. He jabbed with a thin piece of his own power and like an abscess, the shielding burst, images and emotions flooding past, along with a section of her personality that he was sure was her control.

Jeanette screamed in two voices. “No more.”

Before he could form a defence, she’d thrust him out of her mind, fallen out of her chair and fainted. The pain from the disengagement knocked him over and he sat down hard on the marble floor, groaning.

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