But I've always like this line, and reading back through the scene it's in I was impressed with it again. (I allow myself these little enjoyments, because I generally feel like 80-90% of my stuff is complete tripe.) Well, okay, I'll give you a whole snip. This is from chapter 27. The line in question is the one about singularities.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the smoke and heat and certain death. Please, God, let it be quick. The fire shrieked and roared in her ears and then it was utterly silent and she knew in that instant she was about to die, felt herself falling into the abyss even as the ropes that bound her burned away.
But no—she knew this feeling, recognized it on some primordial level. This wasn't death; she wasn't moving toward the light but toward a void, a different kind of unknown. The wormhole. The shrieking had been the stone, the warmth of its resonance lost in the heat of the flames. Where would it take her? Home? Or would she find herself in another time—past or future—where once again she must start from scratch and try to fit in and survive?
No matter what, there would be no Alec waiting for her on the other side, no friend or lover to guide her even if she did return home, and that prospect was very nearly enough to make her hope the flames claimed her before the portal opened fully.
All this she thought in the moment when time slows, the one that comes before death and at the edge of singularities.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends…
I am finally, finally done with Act III, the climax. Within Act IV it looks like two half-chapters (about 1K each) to complete and some other odds and ends. Maybe 10 pages. And a bit for the epilogue. The rest is in place. Rolling on...
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment