After reading a little more of Stephen King's On Writing, I was shamed in the heavily revising the little snipped that was my second post. Turns out that perfect practice makes perfect and blog post two was kind of crappy.
Here is the revision:
He said, "I am
DEATH, destroyer of worlds.” No emotion was visible on his face.
I was playing a
potentially fatal chess game. Sweat
dripped from my forehead into my eyes. I
was really stuck this time. No matter
how I twisted this situation in my head, the only chance I had was to face him
head on. What did Russell say? Oh yeah, “Lean into the pain."
“Okay, Russell, I’m
leaning. I’m practically perpendicular, dammit.” I said to myself in a silent
voice.
My hand snaked
behind my back, fingers connected with the severe lines of my cube. I lean into everything: fear, pain, remote
possibilities of success, and the probability of failure. I begin to talk myself through: “Deep breath,
calm, breathe…now.”
I make a
self-observation: “I talk too much to myself.
It’s gonna get me in trouble someday.
But not today.”
Lowering my voice,
I raise the intensity, throwing a big gut guess gauntlet at him.
"Misha, You
aren't a Death--you're a Legender! You’re so full of it, you liar!"
As I contemplated
my haunch, an infinite number of observations that didn't make sense, that were
intentionally ignored, suddenly clicked. He stacked all of his deceits to force
one outcome. He wanted to me make a
choice. His choice.
Good thing I never
did what anyone wanted me to do.
“Chose, Karma.” He
said through a cold smile. His voice was
weary. “Now.”
I could feel the
cube behind just starting to vibrate.
Stalling, I faced
him, “My mom was so right about you. She
told me to never turn my back on a hot guy.”
Okay, it's time for me to go change the world.
First I need to stop at the dry-cleaners.
Ciao!
H