What is your writing method

So, recently I was asked what my method was for writing these stories of mine and how I come up with the things that fill them. My first thought was:  “You have to be a bit crazy to come up with this stuff...”  That would have been a good enough answer if I was trying to be funny or even flippant. But looking into the eyes of the two people starring at me expectantly, I knew instantly that that answer was not going to cut it. I lifted a glass of ice tea to my lips and took a long soothing sip. Don’t get me wrong, this was not a deliberate attempt on my part to create suspense, it was more a moment of:  “Holy crap, I haven’t been asked that before! How do I answer? Quick someone give me a cue card!”

I’m sure it’s not an easy thing for most writers to explain. This idea of method is so varied from individual to individual that one might as well try to fathom the method for each individual’s way of stringing words together in the manner they do when they speak or the method of their individual walking style. Each writer has his own way of expressing the worlds that occupy his/her mind.

That being said, here is a glimpse into my method: First, it must be said I am not formally trained in story telling or literature writing. What you get is the raw, completely unpolished story telling method that comes naturally to me. I vaguely remember writing a poem here, short story for school there, but nothing to the extent of the undertaking before me now. The stories are not preplanned. I do know the important events that will lead them to their conclusion, but I am exploring these worlds just as much as you would be when reading them. My profound answer to my friend’s question about my method was:  “The characters introduce themselves to me and tell their story. What they’ll tell me is dependent on their mood which will tell me what parts of the story they wish. Rather unreliable, right? So once I’ve been told the story, it’s them up to me to remember and write it down. Yes, they do correct me when I get it wrong. And no, I’m not crazy. …I think.”  

That response only served to bring more questions. They wanted clarification. “What do you mean the characters introduce themselves?” “Are they removed from you?” “Do you always remember what you’ve been told by the characters?” Again I sipped the ice tea. The short and long of it is that I have no concept of the characters until they are either introduced by others or introduce themselves. For me, each character you read in my stories is met in a manner no different from meeting a real live person - only I meet them in my head. It does sound like I need to go see some one that can examine my head at this point…

As for how often I meet these fantasy people and visit their strange worlds. Well, almost everyday, but as you know, the material to write with is not always at hand. Couple that with the fact that some of their stories don’t strike the right note as to be written and you’ll an indication of what it feels like. Much the same way you don’t say everything that comes to mind. Or do you?

Without giving too much more away, that’s pretty much all there is to it for me. Yes, I do often go back and refine certain parts once other parts that are further in the story have been told to me. Hindsight is 20:20 and I guess the same applies for when I write. As the stories unfold, parts of “past” events become clearer and I’m able to clarify the bits that have already been writen.

 There is much to be said on this topic and certainly a lot for me to learn. There are many well-seasoned writers out there and if you are one of them please drop me a line. I wish for you, my dear reader, to engage with me in a discussion about my writing. Who knows, we might both learn something.

That’s enough blah blah blah from me. If you are a writer, please share some of your methods or give feedback.

Till next time.

Nic. Out

The Shining Part 1, Chapter 1

So... I take it you enjoyed the little teasers I put up as an intro to the blog. Yes, No? Maybe?.. Hmmm... Well, all good all the same. I had some really great feedback from some of you that read the tidbits I put up. My favourite was when one of you ended your feedback to me with ".. its like porn, for girls." Yes, you know who you are. Thank you for that one. Really got me smiling.

Before I put these five pages up I'd like to get some housekeeping out the way: I want to thank two people that have had a great influence on the writing and indeed the blog itself. First Miss Jess. She's been great at helping hone and fine tune my writing (work in progress). And second, certainly not least, Sam. My dear Sam. You know what you did little Mrs.. Check her out at: http://easy-editing.webs.com/apps/blog/ Oh dear. Am I allowed to do that here? Well it's done, so there. There are others I could and probably should thank, but all in due time. These are the two that are intimately involved with my projects. Thank you ladies.

Right, no more blah blah blah from me.  Here are the first five pages of The Shining. Read and enjoy.

The Shining
Part 1, Chapter 1

The scene from the hill was one of the more inspiring creations of God. The orange glowing orb of sun painted the sky and sea various shades of crimson. Light clouds hung on the horizon; marching toward a destiny on the other side. The wind was the only thing that could have used a bit of improvement. It was too strong. A figure stood at the top of the hill, amongst the wind swept leaves next to the naked oak. Shrouded in his very own darkness. "Why do you come here Raeve? It's so depressing,” a voice said. He knew who it was without even having to turn around. She would be watching him closely.

"Look down there,” he said. “We have the Lower City Lanqua and above New. They sit one on top of the other. Sharing the same harbour, but worlds apart. This must be as low as humans get; half those people down there are damned. The ruling class has sold their souls to our brother. They now know there’s no way to get to heaven. Hell is creeping on to this world more and more." Deep blue eyes scrolled over the city, "The balance is shifting. We are losing . . .”

“Do you ever miss your job?” No answer. This was usually where the conversation ended. She knew she shouldn't have asked that. The throne had sat empty for so long that many either lost their way or simply got too tired from having to cart souls into Heaven. Raeve looked tired. Concerned. How was he supposed to negotiate if one party was missing? "How is Christine?" What she wanted to ask was: “Can she be brought back?” That was the big question. Christine was their hope. The only one that could take up the throne.

Raeve turned and faced Almerael his lean face expressionless, "You are a part of the all-seeing. You tell me." His rasping voice drifting in the wind. Raeve turned and started on his way down the hill. "I'm sorry Almerael." Bright blue eyes glanced at the evening sky, "Why do you keep sending her? You are the one who the severed the connection." The darkness around him grew. As always he wouldn't look back. He heard her wings flap once. She had always loved flying. Raeve preferred walking. He felt it connected him to the humans; helped him understand them better. Another flap. She was still watching him. He could feel her bright blue eyes on him. It was the same dance they had done for the last century. The shadow of a plane passed over him. Her eyes were gone. He missed being able to feel His eyes on him through hers. He turned once. Only the naked oak stood. Clawing at heaven.

He walked for half an hour and was soon entering the outskirts of the Lower-City. His face showed a wariness of many ages. The stench of the struggling lower class played on his nostrils like the whining strings of a violin. Somewhere a dog barked its protest to having to hunt garbage bags for food. A car sputtered by. The sound of its engine told a story of poor maintenance. The look of the driver showed she could barely maintain herself, let alone the car. The houses that lined the street which Raeve was walking through, were ill-kept. Some showed signs of an attempt to perk them up, but the limited level of the means of their owners was clearly stamped on them. Closer to the centre of the Lower-City, buildings reached in supplication to riches of the Upper-City. Apartment block upon apartment block creaked and crawled jam full of people. The streets were teaming with them. Most rushed this was and that too, as the evening settled in. Buses going to and from the middle and upper city were at their fullest at this time of the evening. Many people were preparing to go out to jobs to put food on their plates as others were coming home from a day's toil.

An hour and thirty-four minutes after leaving the hill just outside of town he entered the Intercity Tube. One of the giant pillars that held the Upper and Mid-City at a twenty-degree rotation from the Lower-Lanqua City. The tube was one of four dotted around the lower city at convenient points. They were about the only thing convenient down there. Each Tube had at least one turbo-lift-cabin. These were in essence, giant triple story buses that moved vertically to deliver passengers to the middle and upper cities. The main Tube that had eight turbo-lift-cabins was nestled against the mountain that was the backbone of intercity travel, but it stood fourteen kilometres from where he was on the outer Lower-City. There was very little room to move in the Tube station. He would be commuting with many others that were heading up to Middle-City. They didn’t have to wait long. The Intercity Tube ran on an automated system so reliable that many in the city set their time by it. The turbo-lift arrived exactly on time to spill out its load of passengers that mostly consisted of weary workers of the mid and upper cities. People jostled and push against one another to get in, or out, of the turbo-lift before the doors closed and it took off back up to the other cities. Raeve made his way in a few seconds before the doors closed.  The giant exposed gears of the turbo-lift-cabin whistled slightly as it shot up higher than the buildings of the lower city. It was full and the air hung quiet. Not many of the people interacted with each other. There was a subdued, sombre atmosphere. Before long the Mid-City Lanqua was visible through the large windows of the yellow turbo-lift. Mid-City was more of a little town lying between the lower city and upper. It spanned a fourteen kilometre radius at its widest point. A third of the lower city and bigger than the Upper by a quarter. Those of Lower-City tried by all means to make enough money to be able to afford to live in the cleaner semi-suburbia safety of Mid-City. Those that lived in this part of Lanqua were settling in for the evening with their families. The streets were quieter. Cars were pulling into driveways and parkades. Here and there were pockets of people. They didn’t seem as rushed as in the city below.

Four minutes after boarding the turbo-lift he emerged onto the arrival platform of Upper-Lanqua He cleared the security checkpoints with no hassle. Unlike Lower-City where buses awaited at the turbo-lift terminal or Mid-City where the cars of loved ones and a few commuter taxis dotted here and there, Upper-City had private taxis, chauffeur’s and drivers ready to take people to their destinations. One or two buses waited to take the Lower and Mid-City residents to the mansions and office towers where they worked. There were no industrial sites on the Upper city. The industrial area of Lanqua was restrained to the Lower-City. A number of the workers getting off the Tube were picked up in the private vehicles of the houses they worked in. Their employers were kind enough to expedite their journey to work. The Upper-City terminal had a direct link to the city’s airport. Everything needed for the Upper-City residence to get in and out of Lanqua with ease, was provided for. The streets of the two levels of the Upper-City were clean and well-maintained. Their gardens and houses kept to the highest standards. Here, children could safely walk to the local libraries or schools, but of course, they were too privileged to have to walk anywhere. Their parents either got them chauffeurs or cars of their own when they were of age. And even these were more to show off how much they were able to afford or to out do their neighbours. Very few that lived in Upper-City didn’t try keep up with the latest trends. The current trend was being driven in exquisite classic cars. A very small number of cars that currently filled the streets of the Upper-City were classic by any means. Most were barely a year old. They were made to look classic. Amongst some of the rich in this city, looks were everything.

A beautiful automobile styled after a car that inspired a whole generation in the nineteen-sixties awaited Raeve as he made his way out of the terminal. Next to it stood a suitably dressed driver that acknowledged Raeve with a curt nod. No doubt Christine had sent the car knowing he was about to arrive. Once, many millennia ago she had looked up to him as one would an uncle. He had seen to it that she learnt what she need and pulled her from the very brink of losing her mind. Now she took almost childlike pleasure in pushing his discomfort. She knew how he hated being in a car. Worse that the car she sent to come get him was such a lavish show of opulent wealth. A light irritation crossed his ageless face. No doubt the driver had been given instruction not to allow Raeve to argue his way out of being driven to the house.

He took a closer look at the driver, weighing his options. Though the driver looked to be slightly overweight, the fact that he was a daemon meant he was a far cry from easy to overpower. The suit he wore was well-tailored to his chubby body shape. Nothing in his outward appearance suggest any kind of malice, but Raeve could tell the daemon was looking for any reason to start a fight with him. Any reason to put Raeve in his place. He knew that one wrong movement here meant scores of them would descend upon him. Out of respect to their pact with Christine, the daemons would not kill him, but they’d make sure he suffered as they had suffered for millennia at the hands of his kind.

The balance of power was shifting. The daemons ran Upper-City and had a great deal of influence in the other parts of Lanqua. Many of the residence here had one deal or another with them. There were very few that had made it to living in Upper-City without some form of help. Raeve could feel the countless eyes of daemons watching him. The smug look on the pudgy face of his driver told him this daemon was also aware of the calculations going on in his mind. With a composed face, Raeve got in to the back seat of the oil-slick-black car.

Dusk had settled on Lanqua as the daemon-chauffer driven car pulled up to stop at a mansion on the main street of Upper-City Lanqua. The house was imposing yet warmly inviting all at once. Its walls were a crisp white that seemed to gleam in the settling darkness. In front of the house’s large garage stood six cars. Some exotic, others rare and one, a true classic. The only car to ever truly capture Raeve’s heart. It was a jet black coupe from the sixties that had been very discretely modified and enhanced. He was sure that his love for that car was more than just his own. The car’s original owner had doted on it as a child would a favourite toy. The car’s slick black color seemed to outshine the magnificent white of the house it was parked next to. Not letting his thoughts wander too much over the memories that rose from seeing the car, Raeve got out of the repulsive vehicle he had been picked up in and headed straight for the large front door of the house.

Once inside he found Cecraelle waiting for him with a whiskey in hand. The fallen angel received Raeve with cold eyes. Had it not been for those cold eyes Raeve was sure she would be a very inviting woman. It was almost impossible how beautiful she was. Her caramel skin seemed to call out to his fingers for a caress. Her large hazel eyes told him he’d loose whatever limb he brought near her without her consent. She could not be bothered to hide her disdain for him. “Christine is waiting for you in the shop.” She spat at him and that the gorgeous girl turned walked away, leaving the glass of whiskey on a side table near the door. Raeve picked up the whiskey and spilled it into the flower pot half way down the hall as he walked the workshop. The flower that occupied that flower pot had long since died from whiskey destroying the once fertile soil it had been planted in.

He found Christine sanding an exquisite oak-wood table. The table was large and took up most of the space in the workshop. It had some ornate carvings on its legs and skirts. Christine had taken her time in perfecting every detail on it. Raeve was sure the table was nearly complete, but was as yet unsure why she had built it to be so magnificent when compared to the other pieces she had built over the last few years. She looked up at him standing just inside the door to the workshop. Her green eyes full of compassion and patience, as usual. “You went to the tree again, didn’t you?” she said in her quiet soothing voice. He didn’t answer. Her full lips curled into a warm mocking smile. “Are we in a mood today, Raeve?” she’d paused from her sanding the table and looked him full in the eyes to give him the full effect of her child-like mirth. Even in the old days Raeve was defenceless to the affectionate teasing she shot his way. Still, he did not respond, accept for the twitch that pulled at the corners of his mouth. Begging him to smile warmly back at her. The mirth in her eyes disappeared far too quickly and was replaced with sadness as she looked down at the table she had been working on. “I miss home today . . .” she confessed as she ran her fingers lightly on the wood. Gaining a feel for the smoothness the sandpaper had forced on the wood. Before he could say anything, she raised her hand to silence him. Thereafter, pointed at the old guitar sitting at the far corner of the cluttered workshop. “Play me something,” she pleaded. The sadness in that plea tore at him and without a word he crossed the room, picked up the guitar as he sat on one of the chairs she had made and started singing as he played. The song he chose to sing was one of her favourites he use to play for here when she was a child. She closed her eyes, lost in the melody of the song. Soon she was humming along quietly. Her focus back on sanding the table.

End of Part 1, Chapter 1.

Lovely. Check in with the blog from time to time. I might put up little bits to keep you interested till next month's five pages are ready. 

Till then,

Nic. Out 

It begins here

Hello there friends. Well look at that. A blog for my book.

Now why did I set this blog up? I've set up this blog to be a platform for one of the books I've been working on. There are two reasons for this: (1) This way I'll work more constantly on the book, getting the story to go where it needs to. (2) This platform is to be a forum for my writing, to get a real live feel for what works and doesn't work with my style of writing. So please if you have read the story, do comment and post your thoughts. 

That being said, here is how it'll work: Every month there'll be a release of approximately 5 pages of the story (maybe even bi-monthly if i've a rather productive month).  As a blog launch treat I'm putting up a page from each of my stories. I have already decided which story is going to publish in this blog, but am willing to listen to your compelling arguments about what you'd like to read..

So with out further blah blah blah from me. Here is a page of the first story:

The Shining

The scene from the hill was one of the more inspiring creations of God.  The orange glowing orb of sun painted the sky and sea various shades of crimson. Light clouds hung on the horizon. Marching toward a destiny on the other side.  The wind was the only thing that could have used a bit of improvement. It was too strong.  A figure stood at the top of the hill amongst the wind swept leaves next to the naked oak. Shrouded in his own darkness.  "Why do you come here Raeve? It's so depressing.” a voice said. He knew who it was without having to turn around. She would be watching him closely.

"Look down there.” He said. “We have the Lower City Lanqua and above New.  They sit one on top of the other. Sharing the same harbour, but worlds apart.  This must be as low as humans get, half those people down there are damned. The ruling class has sold their souls to our brother. They now know there’s no way to get to heaven. Hell is creeping on to this world more and more." Deep blue eyes scrolled over the city, "The balance is shifting. We are loosing…"

"Do you ever miss your job?" No answer.  This was usually where the conversation ended. She knew she shouldn't have asked that. The throne had sat empty for so long that many lost their way. Or simply got too tired from having to cart souls into Heaven. Raeve looked tired. Concerned. How was he supposed to negotiate if one party was missing?  "How is Christine?" What she wanted to ask was: “Can she be brought back?”  That was the big question. Christine was their hope. The only one that could take up the throne.

Raeve turned and faced Almerael his face expressionless, "You are a part of the all-seeing. You tell me." His rasping voice drifting in the wind.  Raeve turned and started on his way down the hill.  "I'm sorry Almerael. "  Bright blue eyes glanced at the evening sky, "Why do you keep sending her?  You are the one who the severed the connection." The darkness around him grew. As always he wouldn't look back. He heard her wings flap once. She had always loved flying. Raeve preferred walking. He felt it connected him to the humans. Helped him understand them better. Another flap. She was still watching him. He could feel her bright blue eyes on him. It was the same dance they had done for the last century. The shadow of a plane passed over him. Her eyes were gone. He missed being able to feel His eyes on him through hers. He turned once. Only the naked oak stood. Clawing at heaven.

He walked for half an hour and was soon entering the outskirts of the city. His face showed a wariness of many ages. The stench of  the struggling lower class played on his nostrils like the whining strings of a violin. Somewhere a dog barked it's protest to having to hunt garbage bags for food. A car sputtered by. The sound of it's engine told a story of poor maintenance. The look of the driver showed she could barely maintain herself, let alone the car. The houses that lined the street Raeve was walking through were ill kept. Some showed signs of an attempt to perk them up, but the limited level of the means of their owners was clearly stamped on them. Closer to the center of the lower city, buildings reached in supplication to riches of the upper city. Apartment block upon apartment block creaked and crawled jam full of people. The streets were teeming with them. Most rushed this was and that as the evening settled in. Buses going to and from the middle and upper city were at their fullest at this time of the evening. Many people were preparing to go out to jobs to put food on their plates as others were coming home from a day's toil. 

Lets hold that right there. I do so enjoy that opening scene to this story. Here is the second:

The Magic Within

FLASH!!

He opened his eyes and saw…

  He could feel The Leech sucking away at

 His lifeblood…

 HE would smite it!

No! He shouldn’t. He couldn’t!

      The Rules. Ahh, Sense…

Yes it was quite a change…

  He looked down at His hands and saw

The Stars,

      They were His very body.

      He looked closer and saw the Worlds,

all of them a potential he could mold..

  He looked behind him and saw

  The Beginning… In front Possibility.

  Yes he would mold Possibility.

He would forge a sword,

      Mighty like none before

      And a shield to compliment it.

  Yes He would smite The Leech…

 The world of Aurubah was lost and with it so much potential.  The only thing left to do was to close the nexus-gate.  Not that it would stop it. It will find a way to the other worlds, but Aurubah had been key.  The world where so much had been unlocked... Too much had been unlocked.  Henrur looked on as the last few refugees entered one of the last open gates, remembering all he had learnt from this world.  Remembering the great waves of magic that pulsed eternally out of Aurubah, indeed the great waves of magic that had begun to pulse out of him. He looked down at wrinkled sun-kissed skin on the back of his hand, fully expecting it to have changed and surprised it didn’t betray his age. He knew it wasn’t long before the change began to show though on his skin. Soon he wouldn’t be able to affect this form of existence directly.  His time here was over; he knew he had precious little time left. He would have to leave. Right when he was needed the most.  Soon he would leave this plain.  He wondered if he would be lonely.  He knew he would not be the last, for Aurubah had born children. They were her gift to him. The planet that had taken him into herself had focused her will into this one last gift that would be a continuation of her lessons to him.

He could hear the creatures breaking through the outer walls; soon they would be inside the city, heading for the port.  The protective dome he and the other sorcerers abd magi had raised proved what he had suspected. That it was never going to be strong enough to hold them back for long. It was enough to buy the needed time to evacuate the last city. Men and Elves alike had fled. Why wouldn’t they? It’s not every day that a man lost to the magic comes to them.  It’s not every day that Henrur appears and tells them to flee or suffer a fate worse than death. He had seen it.  Some stayed.  Henrur pitied these for they did not know what lei ahead.  The creatures were through the wall now and were rushing for the port.   It knew where he was. It could feel him as he did It and was It directing It’s spawn towards him.  Henrur looked down at his package. No more time could be wasted.  He knew that the nexus-doorway on the other side had been closed; all that he had to do was destroy the one this side.  He spoke the words of power and the gate shuddered and collapsed in on itself. Its shimmering green light gone. Leaving only a rune engraved hexagram on the floor below where it once was. It had been the last gate that had remained open in the port. He then used another word he burnt away the runes etched into the slightly raised hexagram.

The creatures had now entered the port – too late. He opened a temporal gate to the world of Gualitte.  Through this he gently pushed his package.  After closing the gate he looked around at what was left of the great City of the Guardians of Magic, the port tower provided a magnificent view of the darkness that was settling on Aurubah.  The many elegant floating spires of the city’s cathedral had already started to fall. The central column that had once been the Tower of the Magi and the highest point in the city crawled with creatures that were conceived by the entity’s mind. They were tiny specs of movement on the tower. Sapping the magic that the tower drew from the very ground it stood on. The silvery ball that once glowed above it, giving the city protection from the darkness now flickered as it neared its last light.

Henrur’s eyes took all this in with great sadness in his heart. He dared not look ahead to see if his beloved would be saved.  He could now see the creatures rushing at him. His weathered old face lost its morosity and grew stern. They were many and all were focused on him. Through them he could feel the Leech’s insatiable hunger. They were the likeness of the Leech itself. Sprinklings of thread thin hair, covering most of their grey skin that glistened in the last light of the setting sun. Though they were capable of walking on their hind legs, they rushed at him on several of their limbs. Their large triangular eyes that bulged as to seem to be on stubby stalks glowed with a hunger not unlike that of their master.They were but nothing to him. He gathered his magic to him. He could feel Aurubah gently support him. There was a sadness in the defiant waves that emanated from her very core. She was resolute. Her resolve steeled him. He had a message for the entity. One that will be feared by all who hear of it. The very universe seemed to hold it’s breath as he focused his mind and spread his hands. Light began to eminate from his skin as he closed his eyes. Indeed too much potential had been lost… 

I think I may have gone a bit more than the page I had intended to put up on that last story. Rather nice I must say. And roll on number 3:

Inner Flight

    What was it that lurked in the shadows of his peripheral consciousness, preventing him from making the necessary connections with the other beings around him? Was it what had happened to him when he was on Nehgea? Was it something that he had created? Had he made himself this way or was it something in the way his Pattern unfolded? He knew he could engage with any of the sentient beings in the known universe without much effort, but he would feel uneasy if they were able to probe him. This alone told him it wasn’t a lack of capacity, though he was certain he was behind on something. His life felt to him as if it had taken a path other than  that of the beings he called his friends. It wasn’t that he thought he was different. No. That could not be it. He had felt the things they felt at one point or other in his life...

He contemplated this quietly as he watched the riders hanging out there in the emptiness of space. Waiting. Some of them seemed like little dark spots against the blazing magnitude of the Twins. At this distance it was Prime that absorbed most of your vision. Off to the left, if you squinted your eyes just a little bit you would see the gentle yet brilliant blue shine of Prime’s smaller sister, Wedyen. They were the twin stars that gave the Odia system life.It was almost time. He could see some of the riders lock themselves into their blades. The waves had been lean to day, but the build up of magnetic radiation suggested there would be good sets for the next three hours.

His eyes wandered to Ahera who was chatting away with Sealho and Jenherk. She was beautiful, strong, and well grounded. Just looking in her general direction he would feel all his focus automatically zero in on her. He could pick up every single movement she made. Every gesture. Every breath she took... Just as he started getting absorbed by her beauty Reganh came charging from the back of the dock and threw his arms around her. Her surprised, yet delighted laughter pierced through Will. Her attentions taken by Reganh. Will turned away and connected the tether to his suit as a way to distract himself from the sight that made his world green with jealousy. He busied himself by making sure the tether was properly secure at the base of the sine of his drad-suit. He could feel the nerve-sensor-build discharge a three-pulse directly to the base of his spine to let him know he was connected properly and that all systems were ready. The anticipation for the coming waves building up in him. He would wait till the last minute to close his secondary visor. He wanted to feel the rush of the wave on his face. Behind him was the leisure space station that held orbit one hundred and ninety-six million miles from the closer of the two suns, Wyden. It was packed with sunbathers and beings here to enjoy the entertainment activities provided on the station. The secondary barrier of disassociated electrons that protected those that were there from direct exposure to the Sisters would drop for 10 seconds allowing in just the right amount of the fore-wave in to give the visitors of Break Point enough of a jolt to keep them in a state of glee for hours. At this distance that was all the direct exposure to the Sisters needed to achieve a happy balance between safety and sheer carnage. The wave radiation created a sense of euphoria so intense that many sentient beings would loose their minds if exposed to it for more than twenty minutes, but that would be the least of  worries Humans and Shereen would have because it would melt their skin and obliterate their internal organs in fifteen. It was the Usta that enjoyed the power of the two suns the most. Their wraith-like bodies made of pure energy reacted with the magnetic waves in a manner that left them in a state of happy stupor for days. They anticipated the wave more than any of the races at Break point. The Usta hung in mid-air all over the outside space station like a swarm of multi-colored lights.

Alright lets hold it there. Hope you've enjoyed the little reading of the story here. Now remember the story you get here will be in it's rawest form. No refinement or editing will be done to it before it is put up. So all your feedback will be invaluable. 

That concludes today's bit rambling from me. Catch you next time around.

Nic, Out.