For the last few weeks I’ve been writing flash fiction in response to challenges from Chuck Wendig’s blog. In general I’ve been happy with the results. The first challenge gave me an extremely complex character and a story that refused to be limited to 1500 words. I’m still editing that story, and there are more waiting to be written. The next two challenges were fairly easy; one was a randomly generated title, the other simply started with a dead body. Both times I was surprised by the finished product, but pleasantly so. The hard part was hitting the word count. I learned to believe in my writing by doing NaNoWriMo, and Camp NaNoWrIMo. Brevity is new to me.
Now it’s July, and Camp NaNo is here again. I don’t know if I’ll be doing the flash fiction challenges because I’ll be spending the month expanding a story that I wrote for my creative writing class. It was an easy story to write, and very well received. Before I finished it I knew that it wasn’t really a short story, but the first chapter of a novel. I’m not sure of where it’s going, exactly, which is a bit odd; normally I’m a detailed plotter. I’m looking forward to the adventure.
Here’s the first scene from the short story, soon to be the novel, “Silver Springs”
The girl crouched behind the granite boulders, looking down at the campsite. Between the light from a first quarter moon and the campfire she had little trouble making out the features of the men camped there. There was no doubt; these were the same men that had been following her since she’d left Carson City a month ago. She thought she’d lost them when the wolf attacked, she’d gone almost two weeks without seeing them on her back trail. Somehow they’d managed to pick up her trail, and today they’d closed the gap.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, listening, identifying and sorting the sounds of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. She wished the wolf would come back and attack them again. She knew it was close, but she couldn’t control it. She opened her eyes and returned to watching the men. There were five of them, of varying ages; to her teenage eyes they all looked old. They sat around the campfire, finishing a meal. Her stomach growled. She’d been living on a roots and berries for the last week.
“I just want to go home,” the girl whispered. “Why cain’t they just let me go home?” Home was Silver Springs, Nevada, and still three nights of hard walking lay between her and that refuge. She was on foot, starving, shoeless and not entirely sure of her route. The men below were mounted on strong, well-cared for horses; even after nearly a month of pursuit the horses were in good condition. The girl knew that she wouldn’t make it back to her home unless something stopped these men from following her.
She sat back, thinking about her situation. There was no way she’d escape capture for another day, not with them this close. If they caught her they’d take her back to Carson City, and once there…she thought there was a good chance she’d never see Silver Springs again, if that happened. She looked up at the moon, near full and bright in the sky. “It’s a matter of survival,” she told the moon. “If they take me back there, I won’t never get home again. And if I cain’t get home, I’ll die of loneliness, if they don’t kill me outright.” She looked around, saw nothing but dirt and rocks, and a few branches blown from a lightning–struck pine. Nothing that could be used as a weapon. She looked down at the camp. They had guns, supplies, horses.
It was no use. The men down there had every advantage; she was stuck on a hillside, afraid to move for fear of sending pebbles skittering down into their camp. She caught her breath. What if she did send rocks down on the camp, good sized rocks, instead of just a few pebbles? She looked at her surroundings. Some of the boulders were nearly three feet tall. The dirt seemed loose; if she could get a few of the bigger rocks started, she might be able to send a landslide down on top of her pursuers. She doubted that she could injure the men, but if she could send the slide down on the picket line, she might stampede the horses. If the horses got loose she might be able to regain her lead and get to Silver Springs before they caught up with her again.
Moving as quietly as she could, the girl gathered a few of the larger pine branches. She studied the position of the boulders, trying to find one she could lever free and use to start an avalanche. After only a few moments, she shrugged, and moved to a tall boulder. There were only a few of the larger ones that she could move, and she didn’t know how to direct them to create a powerful landslide. She looked up at the moon again and whispered, “I’m sorry. I know killing’s wrong, but I got no choice. It’s them or me.” She maneuvered the limb under the rock as best as she could, and pushed down. At first she didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Even though she managed to lift the rock out of the depression it sat in, it wouldn’t tip forward. She slid the limb farther under the rock, and tried again. At first there was no difference, then a few pebbles from the base of the rock started to roll. She pushed the branch as far as she could, and the rock tipped, rolled free and headed down the hillside toward the camp. As it went it dislodged other, smaller rocks and debris, and soon a sizeable amount to material was sliding toward the camp below.
As she watched, the men looked up and first one, then another yelled. Three of them headed for the horses, picketed close to the slope of the hill. The others scattered, away from the path of the tumbling rocks. The trio reached the horses just before the leading edge of the slide. The men struggled to free the horses from the picket line, sawing at the ropes. Finally, the rope parted and the horses bolted, still tethered to the lead rope and one another. One of the men looked up at the rocks and dirt bearing down on them. He cried out.
Bonnie looked away. She hadn’t expected the men to work so long to free the horses. “I just want to go home,” she whispered. She turned to watch the horses as they galloped eastward, out of the canyon. She had bought herself some time. Staying low, she began to make her way northward again, toward Silver Springs.