Full Moon v. 2.0 is currently 8,579 words, so I actually got a bit written last week. As of yesterday, I'd been working on the new version for a week, so that's not really bad at all.
Here's a snippet:
"If I wanted to kill you, then why would I bother healing you?" Elinor twisted her hands together, her face closed now, emotionless. As if she could not bear to have him guess whatever secret she was hiding. "I would have--I would have saved my strength."
She spoke the truth. Why would she have healed him if her intentions weren't pure? And even if they weren't wholly pure, she had saved his life. Twice.
Edward rested his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. Call it a century of paranoia, or just my usual run of luck--"
"A century?" Elinor whispered.
For a moment, Edward considered denying what he had said, or refusing to elaborate. But she had gifted him of the reason for her flight; surely that meant he owed her a story of his own.
"Yes," he said slowly. "A century."
"But you--" She stood then, and paced around the table--not close to him, but everywhere else, touching the hot stove, the chair, the cabinet--as if trying to convince herself that they were real. "You tasted human."
copyright 2007 Jennifer St. Clair
Here's a snippet:
"If I wanted to kill you, then why would I bother healing you?" Elinor twisted her hands together, her face closed now, emotionless. As if she could not bear to have him guess whatever secret she was hiding. "I would have--I would have saved my strength."
She spoke the truth. Why would she have healed him if her intentions weren't pure? And even if they weren't wholly pure, she had saved his life. Twice.
Edward rested his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. Call it a century of paranoia, or just my usual run of luck--"
"A century?" Elinor whispered.
For a moment, Edward considered denying what he had said, or refusing to elaborate. But she had gifted him of the reason for her flight; surely that meant he owed her a story of his own.
"Yes," he said slowly. "A century."
"But you--" She stood then, and paced around the table--not close to him, but everywhere else, touching the hot stove, the chair, the cabinet--as if trying to convince herself that they were real. "You tasted human."
copyright 2007 Jennifer St. Clair
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