My typing feels clunky, but my words seem a bit at a loss.
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| Art to re inspire |
Ideas to get my brain reinvigorated:
1.) Read.
This is kind of a no brainer but I've not been reading, not finishing any stories. Plodding through books and then kinda just meeeeehing them aside. So going to read some books. I have two ready for the flight, a place where there's nothing to do but listen to music and read.
2.) Read history.
That's where the magic for my mind was. I used to pick through all the time and now I do so little learning in that regard. I've started a collection of books but I need to sit down and have a good read through some of my history texts. Refresh.
3.) No panic writing/fun writing.
I'm looking to get the tension of not writing brilliance right away. I can do good, when sparked still, but I have to write when there's no spark. Casual Baby!
4.) Less television/gaming.
It seems to suck the brain out of me. Always. So less of it... She says with Storage Wars and Pawn Stars on. Less please!
Here's a dream sample... I might just do short stories with these two....
They thundered through the open snowy fields. The north was known for little else. The giant horse beneath them blew hot, puffing like smoke from flaring nostrils. Despite it being a well seasoned war horse, it was no fool. Three wolves could take it down the second it slipped in its footing.
But it was not the horse the wolves sought, but the riders.
The first, holding tight the old leather reins, was big, broad across the shoulders and big in the bones, indomitable muscle. He was dressed in light but warm clothes, a heavy green cloak wrapped around his shoulders. Beard frosted as he looked over his shoulder.
“Don't look!” The rider behind him shouted. She was more heavily clad, chest, legs and arms wrapped in reddish, boiled leather armour. A single metal plate sewn in against her chest had any form of a sigil. A tree. The Tree. A dark brown cloak flapped behind them, snapping as the wolves teeth and a long sword, sheathed, la across her thigh.
The wolves snapped out at the great beast, it sourly kicked back while still keeping a steady gallop. There were three. The first was as white as the snow it ran in, pink tongue hanging out as it raced. The second, taking up the rear was unusually grey, in such away that it appeared blue, it followed with determination.
The last wolf was black as the night, yellowed eyes gleaming as it lead the other two on the hunt.
From the back, the armed rider knew the mount could not stand much more. The forest edge was almost upon them. It was more dangerous in the open field. If the horse's legs broke from hidden undergrowth, they would be doomed.
Gathering her breath, she vaulted backwards of the back. The flash of cloak spooked the wolves only a moment. The snow cushioned the heavy landing short sword drawn in time as the black wolf launched at her. Its teeth sunk into her greave, the iron jaw pushed quickly through the heavy leather, shaking to try and throw her. Her foot raised, kicking it back with a blow to its dark chest. Before it could recover, she brought the heavy sword down in a swift, and decisive arch.
The black wolf's half decapitated corpse pumped bright red blood into the frosted earth.
Raising her sword for the next attacker, she was surprised to find both of the other two stepped back. Panting, the white one growled, pacing before she joined her blueish companion whimpering and backing away.
Heavy horse steps caused her to spot him over her shoulder, looking down anxiously. "I don't feel anything yet..."
Grabbing a fist full of snow, she polished the blood from the blade. "Maybe it takes time."
"How much?"
"I'm not the sage. I'm the blade, until you take up yours again."
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