This is the first part in a novel I have been working on. I am sure it will go through rewrites and revisions but I am posting some of it here. This is the story of how my post apocalyptic setting came to be. I am trying to be more comfortable about sharing my fiction. That is easier said than done.
The story is told in an epistolary version. It just seemed to be the right way to go. I am comfortable writing that way. That may have to do with writing a bunch of game text. I will post the second part next month.
A brief post about Gencon 50.
Gencon is the annual pilgrimage for many gamers, designers, and game writers. I have been before but not in a long while. It is like going to the cold clear spring and having a sip. The walk is hard, there are uncomfortable parts to the trail, but the trip is made worth it when you sip from that spring.
I went to Gencon for the 50th anniversary this year. I met cool people and played cool game. I got to attend interesting panels and see the latest things. I also got to be reminded that I am not alone on this winding path through game writing. Friends, new and old, are walking it with me. Strangers walk ahead or behind. We are all on the same quest and face the same dragons.
“I need your help,” the voice called to Kenet. The place was dark about him, and memory eluded him. Where am I, he thought? He cast around the place, looking for something to tell him where he was. Dim fog filled the air, and shadows stretched across towards him.
The figure stepped from shadow. It was Ele, her slight form cloaked in little more than shadow. She looked at him with sad, loving eyes. Her broken and blood-splattered hand reached for him. The deep cut in her throat made a sickening movement and spilled blood with her every breath. Her lips moved as if to tell him something, but Kenet only heard the sound of wind.