Not a lot to report this evening. Work on Saturday night was curtailed somewhat by it being, well, Saturday night. Put down 570 words, which saw Hannah get down to the beach. Of more importance was a little brainstorming that happened at the end – part reminder to myself, part road map for the next section. When I’m working on a story, I usually have my notes at the bottom of the document – there ar plenty of programmes around that enable writers to compartmentalized their chapters, have separate pages open for notes/jottings/ideas. I prefer a single document with plenty of notes I just have to scroll down to find. Anyway, here are my notes.
1.Man in black is architect.
2.He has vanished
3.Hannah sees a tunnel after walking along the beach and investigates.
4.She goes in a little way and realises that it is in a direct line with the church.
5.The same haunting sound she heard in the church issues from the tunnel.
6.Unnerved, she moves backwards and when she looks back, she thinks she sees a figure in the cave mouth. When she looks again, it is gone.
7.Outside, walks hurriedly up the steps and at the top, sees the figure in black, farther along the beach, and comes up with a weak excuse about how he got there.
Next scene is in the village. When they come back, one of the contractors is missing. There’s a strange sobbing noise in the church afterwards and his car is towed away.
Nonsensical to anyone else other than myself, but they do serve a very good purpose in that they remind me of what I should be writing next. Also, now that I’ve mapped out the next section, the writing tonight should hopefully flow as easily as it did Friday night.
Before I sign off, an unedited (everything spotlighted in these postings haven’t had a red pen through them yet) section from last night.
Time and the elements had worn the headstones down. Some were no more than crumbling nubs half hidden by the grass. A few had roses twined around them, their heads bobbing in the breeze. Hannah looked at them, and felt a melancholy grip her.
No more cares, no more worries, she murmured, rubbing her cold fingers over the rough stone of one marker. The names and dates were almost erased and she was glad of it. Straightening, she hurried on, all the time aware of the bulk of the church looming behind her.
She discovered that the quickest route was through the small copse of pines that backed onto the churchyard. Within its cool confines, some of the mist lingered, rolling around in a pearlescent wave as her feet trod deeply into the drifts of pine needles covering the ground. She smelled the high scent of pine risen, and heard the thin needles whispering in the steady breeze. Already she could hear the steady crash of the waves.
Then she was out of the trees and into the bright, fragile sunlight. A cliff edge, as sharp as if cut by a knife, was only a few metres away. A small wooden platform sat directly in front of her. Carefully picking her way through the gorse, she came to the platform. The wood looked weathered but sturdy. Biting her lip, she stepped up onto it, taking hold of a post.
Perched on the edge, she took in the wide expanse laid out before her. A bright line of hissing foam ran along the long, shallow crescent of the beach. Smoothed stones ran from the water’s edge right back to the cliff face, shining brightly in the sunlight. The sea rippled, a million points of light flickering and surging as wave after wave pounded the shore. She reached for her sunglasses perched on her head when she saw a figure on the beach.
See you tomorrow night.