Post by VoxApocrypha on May 31, 2022 1:44:28 GMT -5
Spring, 1930
City of Auran
A Karrashi and Human hybrid sat at his desk, slowly typing up the final page of a project he'd been working on for the better part of the past decade. He'd gone through draft after draft of a 400 page novel that had initially started at almost 600, and he had spent years then trimming those drafts down. Day by day, hour and hour of his freetime was devoted increasingly to this project until it had become almost an obsession, something he had had to finish because his pride demanded it, and as well he'd set his mind to seeing this be the thing he was remembered for.
As he would press the final keys on his typewriter, he'd finally finish the last sentence, the last word, and add the last elipses..
And then, a moment later, he would grab his paper, and extract it from the writer, reading over the page one more time. His tail would rise up as his tired eyes would reread this final page, and then he after a moment, he would set it down onto his desk atop the stack of papers at his side.. and slowly, he would rest his head on his desk. A moment of well earned, deserved rest after two near non-stop days of writing.
He'd given it many titles over the years. Almost a new title every year until recently, when he had settled on a final one.
"An Attack From Beyond Ouhiri", he'd chosen that and finally managed to feel satisfied with it. Tonight he had finished the chapters of his novel.
The plot, that Staol was an alien material, and Aliens from another planet in the system had created it. They had lost a portion of the material to an unprecendented industrial accident so long in the past no one would ever see it in the future. Then their planet would be impacted, causing cascading ecological damage for thousands of years. Civilization on Ouhiri would develop as the aliens would become desperate, eyeing the world enviously.. and then they'd invade it. The invasion would ultimately however, fail, because of the virile bacteria in the atmosphere of the planet that eventually would destroy the creatures, lacking an immune system to combat the lifeforms that live ona microbial scale.
Now, he would just have to publish it.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
After a few minutes, he grabbed hold of the stack of papers, and gently set them in a lockbox, closing it and locking it with a small key before he set it down on the table next to the typewriter, and looked at his bed.
He stepped over to it.. and then would collapse, falling asleep even before he had hit the sheets, the bed making a squeaking sound as the weight of a full grown adult man would weigh the old wood down and stress it, but not destroy it.
His snoring was quiet, and lasted for almost twelve hours.
In the morning, he would rise from his bed, and get himself ready for his trip to his friend and editor's home.
One last look over from her and he'd feel confident enough to publish it, after the edits were made - if they needed to make any, anyway.
Once he was dressed and fresh, he made his way out, at about mid-day, holding a briefcase with the lockbox inside.
City of Auran
A Karrashi and Human hybrid sat at his desk, slowly typing up the final page of a project he'd been working on for the better part of the past decade. He'd gone through draft after draft of a 400 page novel that had initially started at almost 600, and he had spent years then trimming those drafts down. Day by day, hour and hour of his freetime was devoted increasingly to this project until it had become almost an obsession, something he had had to finish because his pride demanded it, and as well he'd set his mind to seeing this be the thing he was remembered for.
As he would press the final keys on his typewriter, he'd finally finish the last sentence, the last word, and add the last elipses..
And then, a moment later, he would grab his paper, and extract it from the writer, reading over the page one more time. His tail would rise up as his tired eyes would reread this final page, and then he after a moment, he would set it down onto his desk atop the stack of papers at his side.. and slowly, he would rest his head on his desk. A moment of well earned, deserved rest after two near non-stop days of writing.
He'd given it many titles over the years. Almost a new title every year until recently, when he had settled on a final one.
"An Attack From Beyond Ouhiri", he'd chosen that and finally managed to feel satisfied with it. Tonight he had finished the chapters of his novel.
The plot, that Staol was an alien material, and Aliens from another planet in the system had created it. They had lost a portion of the material to an unprecendented industrial accident so long in the past no one would ever see it in the future. Then their planet would be impacted, causing cascading ecological damage for thousands of years. Civilization on Ouhiri would develop as the aliens would become desperate, eyeing the world enviously.. and then they'd invade it. The invasion would ultimately however, fail, because of the virile bacteria in the atmosphere of the planet that eventually would destroy the creatures, lacking an immune system to combat the lifeforms that live ona microbial scale.
Now, he would just have to publish it.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
After a few minutes, he grabbed hold of the stack of papers, and gently set them in a lockbox, closing it and locking it with a small key before he set it down on the table next to the typewriter, and looked at his bed.
He stepped over to it.. and then would collapse, falling asleep even before he had hit the sheets, the bed making a squeaking sound as the weight of a full grown adult man would weigh the old wood down and stress it, but not destroy it.
His snoring was quiet, and lasted for almost twelve hours.
In the morning, he would rise from his bed, and get himself ready for his trip to his friend and editor's home.
One last look over from her and he'd feel confident enough to publish it, after the edits were made - if they needed to make any, anyway.
Once he was dressed and fresh, he made his way out, at about mid-day, holding a briefcase with the lockbox inside.