Author’s Note: from my WIP.
There is dark. There is darker. I fall somewhere in between. Some might say the black void of infinity close; it is too cold for my liking, too remote. The storm would come closer, those moments before the lightning strike when midnight gathers and fury threatens; I am not furious, I am quiet like a forgotten whisper. There are so many shades, so many names, from obsidian to slate and back again, so many ways to clarify that which must roam free. In a world of the definite, I am without category. In a universe of polished perfections, I am less reflective than one would wish. So, my friends, my less than fortunate disciples, I can say only this. I am the night, and woe betide the light that escapes me.
Today I am launching something that hopefully my readers will enjoy, whilst I can learn from. An ongoing series of vignettes, I hope to practise my writing skills on some of my current or upcoming characters to better build a feel for them. The pieces may or may not be included in their appropriate books, but shall assist me in forming their personalities. All the pieces will be short and fingers-crossed good. I thought I’d start with one of my favourites.
Mortimer Headlock is an investigator in two upcoming Steampunk novels. He is brilliant, concise and unafraid of the consequences of his actions, (right is right and wrong is wrong, no matter who it leads to).
“So you wish to see the moon, Headlock.”
“If I did, I would not be stood inside, Somerset.”
“Always so cutting, I’d forgotten what a challenge you are.”
“I should think picking out a shirt challenging for you.”
“Says the man in black.”
“I dress in black for consistency.”
“I thought you had a large family who continually passed away.”
“No, but I have a large clientele who oft disappear — into jail, mostly. I should like those who evade doing so to know exactly who stalks them through daylight and dreams.”
“So brazen! You even think to catch us whilst we sleep.”
“Oh, not you, Somerset.”
“Really! To what do I owe this honour?”
“You’re already caught, you just don’t know it yet.”
Disdain’s an acquired art. Anger isn’t.