Judith Lalone

@poeticsofthemask

New pseudonym, same voice striving for expression.

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Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· 3d

#WIPSnips #WrittingCommunity #admit

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
To him the hole just looked like a pavement crack in a herringbone road. Without lights he couldn’t see anything inside it. He had to admit, though, it did seem dark enough for a portal to Limbo. Shining a flashlight in it, he could still only see rocks. He started at the tip farthest inside the building and walked along the crack to the wall. He found more concrete chunks and wood splinters than anything. A lizard inflated its dewlap at him and jumped from the chasm. No bones.
He made another pass heading away from the wall. His flashlight landed on something gold. He found a set of cavitied teeth, some with gold fillings. Five sticks of dirty chalk poked up from the mud nearby. He took a can of compressed air from his shoulder bag and used it around the chalk sticks. One of the sticks turned to dust and blew in his face along with a cloud of dirt. He found a cracked skeleton hand with four digits. The hand rested on top of the dirt with no other bones attached.
He held his breath and used a handkerchief and a bottle of water to clean his face before he snapped a pic of the remains.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· 9d

#WIPSnips #WrittingCommunity #box

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
A grandfather clock in the cave strikes 10. Its face is decorated like the inside of a playhouse, with a music box motor on a stage at the bottom. A wind-chime version of some opera song plays while the numbers separate from each other in six sections: 1/2/3, 4, 5/6/7, 8, 9/10/11, and 12. The sections part to reveal a rotating blue disk decorated with gold musical notes. The disc revolves counterclockwise while the numbers rotate in alternating directions. Periodically, the numbers stop and change rotations. After a minute, the music takes on a sleepier tempo, then the disc begins turning clockwise until the numbers arrive back in their proper place. The music stops and the clock resumes its normal appearance.
“Oh. I see.” Ceylan crosses her arms. “You encountered a timestorm in the past and now some of the resulting anomalies have started rearing their heads. Has it hit in the present yet?”
“I think it’s about to,” Aiyana says. “I’m pretty sure I remember seeing Isabelle and Jason on our ship.”
“Speaking of them,” Nasrin says, “I should get them home now that we’ve got the tarasques taken care of. It’s late, and they’ve always got homework to do.”
She grabs the air with both hands. Isabelle and Jason materialize at her fingertips. They’re both in sitting positions, so they immediately fall on their behinds.
“Come on,” Jason whines, “you couldn’t give us five more minutes?”
“Nope. Sorry. A security guard already saw us, and who knows how much reinforcement he’ll come back with. Best to skedaddle now.”
She vanishes and takes them with her.
“Um…” It takes Aiyana a minute to formulate her question. “Did she seem weird to you?”
“Weird’s normal for Nasrin. It’s probably just past her bedtime.”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· 12d

Lyell❣️

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Aisling stopped recording, then she summoned her harp and put the nameless victim back to sleep. She grew paddles to row herself back to land.
At the shore she became a horse. She didn’t exit the Otherworld, so when she got back to Fireridge she saw it from its other side. This side was still mostly swamp with a few houses of various time periods. Cowherders still exercised their stock on the beach and goats still rested in the treetops. A steam locomotive’s hollow whistle moaned across the bay.
Now Aisling knew where the will-o-the-wisps had retreated to. The little fiery orbs hovered thickly enough around her to cast a flickering glow on the trees.
One approached her. He flared in the shape of a small, winged boy. “Aisling?”
Aisling stopped. “‘Tis meself, Lyell.”
Lyell touched his cheek to Aisling’s equine nose. “Can you see the storm over Shipyard Woods, Aisling?”
She looked in that direction. She saw thick, dark clouds and lightning. A glowing red beam shone from the center of that storm to the top of a black column rising from Atlantean Island into the sky. “I see it, Lyell.”
“Can you make it stop, Aisling?”
“I mean to try, Lyell. I hope the errand I’m on now will knock a hole in it.”
“I’m glad to know you’re in it, Aisling.”
“I’m glad you’re glad, Lyell. Let me on my way now, if you please.”
He wafted back. She trotted onwards.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· 19d

Context: eShooter is the codename of a cyborg mind-controlled by the villains. Aisling’s brought him to Ella’s house to deprogram. When she tells Ella, "You knew what I meant to do," she means Ella figured it out for herself, not that Aisling asked permission (she didn't). #WIPSnips #double

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
She slung the cushions beside the couch and pulled a strap on the frame. The mattress folded itself out easy enough.
Aisling called, “Lyell, Lyell, bring me in the cyborg pile.”
Lyell flashed into the room with one of his friends. eShooter hung between them. They dropped him unceremoniously onto the mattress.
“Double damn hell no!” Ella jerked her thumb at the door. “Y’all take that out the same way you brought it in.”
“But I was told…”
“Lyell!”
Three lights flared and left an empty sofa when they faded.
Ella wagged a finger in Aisling’s face. Aisling bit the finger.
Ella crooked the finger on Aisling’s bottom jaw and used it to the yank Aisling closer.
“You do not bring deranged criminals into my house without my say so.”
Aisling tried to talk through clenched teeth around the finger. “This isn’t in the house.”
“Can anybody get through the door without comin’ through the house?
Aisling didn’t move or speak. Ella dug her nail into Aisling’s gums. Aisling shook her head.
“Then it’s in the house.”
“You knew what I meant to do. You never said not to.”
“That ain’t the same as saying you can, now is it?”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· 20d

Context: The carousel is on top of a casino's parking garage and Ella’s on the ground beneath it. Also, the banjo PoliceBot (controlled by the villain) is weilding is a museum's road sign and is about two stories tall (with all other dimensions proportional). #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #cacophony

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Zaothra hid among the other horses in the carousel on the corner. Ella could only see the ride’s canopy, but she certainly recognized it from the 20s. Used to be where the fountain was now. She remembered sitting in the carriage with Aisling the night she got her new eyes, her chin against Aisling’s shoulder. She’d tried to match Aisling’s perspective while Aisling pointed towards the will-o-the-wisps dancing above the water. They could see the sand dunes from the park in those days. Didn’t even have dunes now, just a lot of castles on the sand. She questioned whether she ought to celebrate or lament Edwin’s failure to kick those castle over, especially when he’d stomped on her train depot.
PoliceBot reared the banjo back like a bat.
“Swell,” Ella said. “Wipe away one more thing I got to keep.”
As if she’d literally granted the cursed thing permission, it swung the banjo’s largest end at the carousel. Cacophonous shrieks peeled through the air, mingled with cars honking and crashing as some drivers stopped to rubberneck and others tried to speed away.
The banjo stopped mid-swing and sent PoliceBot reeling instead. The instrument stayed airborne despite its user getting thrown. The pea-sized entity keeping the dingus aloft was too small for most people to see, and Jen didn’t stand a cat in Hell’s chance, but Ella could pick out hints of the prismatic shimmer she always saw around Aisling, no matter what body she wore.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· 21d

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #dash

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Aisling’s head snapped towards Ella. “What?”
Ella stood. “They planted it under the caboose.”
She dashed outside with everyone following. She went straight to the caboose, where she crawled beneath the vehicle, pulled a handkerchief out of her bra, and used it to carry out an assault rifle splashed with dried blood.
Aisling asked Vicky, “You have security cameras on the premises, surely?”
Vicky nodded.
“Then we’ll see what stupidity our enemy truly wallows in. Did he have sense enough to elude surveillance or not?"
Vicky asked Ella, “How’d you know it was there?”
“Usin’ my peepers and addin’ two to two.” She didn’t elaborate further.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jul 13

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #almost

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
She put the call on speaker. A couple rings later a deep voice with a hint of nasality came through. “Jennifer Douglas, you squirrely nut, how bored do you have to be to call me during a hurricane?”
Jen had to smile at the way Ella jumped backwards at the sound. “Not as bored as I’d like. For starters, Slipfoot says hi.”
“I told you he existed! Who’s the crazy one now?”
“Yep, yep, you told me.”
“You sooooo owe me that beer. Is he there?”
“He’s not, but I’ve got his employer here.”
“Holy shhhhh!” Something thudded and shattered on Leon’s end. “I’m on the phone with the Old Banshee? How damn bad is this storm?”
Aisling said, “Not Herself, her foster-daughter.”
“Which one?”
“The Favorite.”
Another item hit the ground on Leon’s end. “Aisling?! Shhhiiiiiiii, that’s almost as bad!”
Aisling sounded almost as amused as she probably felt. “What did Slipfoot tell you at all?”
Silence on Leon’s end for several seconds, then, “Nothing! Nothing. It was a long time ago. And, hey, I meant bad as in badass, like good, like you’re really cool! Like right up beside the Old Banshee in coolness. Like I can’t even believe Jen is actually hangin’ out with you and decided to drag, I mean bring me into it. By the way, did Jen tell you who she called?”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jul 7

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #quarter

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
She flipped the compact open. Franco’s picture in the top mirror; green and red swirls in the bottom mirror. She pressed the green swirl.
“Not an ideal time, Franco.”
“Make it one. Got a mug down here says he knows where the latest Queen Pearlshot keeps the records of the prison worker operation.”
Aisling withdrew to the sidewalk outside the complex’s gate. “Confounds my wicked heart enough just hearing she has them.”
“The snitch claims she had a building at her headquarters that’s just a vault; they’re in there. No worse than knockin’ over a bank.”
“Bit of fairy cake, then.”
“Except it’s made of iron.”
The wretch. The bloody wretch.
“I’ll sort it somehow,” Aisling said.
“Then I’ll consider myself off the hook.”
“Not your race to call, me old mangelwurzel. For one thing, I’ve not got my evidence in hand yet, and the pudding’s proven by the eating of it. For another, even had I Tommy the Pearl’s signed confession this minute, you’d still owe me a fresh crop of cold cases. Any word on that front?”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jul 4

#poetry #PopeJoan #genderperformance

Screenshot of the following poem:
LA PAPESSE
Benedictine habit with shaved bald head,
growing chest concealed, she maintains her true self
inside, where she’s safe from the stones the monks throw,
living though covered.
Silk beneath the hairshirt, with nails in “spilled” paint.
Quiet outward sacraments. Some are more loud.
Intuition, knowledge, and grace, no clothes hide.
Gentleness shimmers.
Masking’s not regression; performing takes skill.
When the curtain closes, her dance becomes free.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jul 2

I think Jen's intro is my favorite. It's also Ocean Ghost Detection's opening.

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
All of Jen’s medical training told her she could have coffee but not energy drinks. She certainly couldn’t drink both out of the same mug. A day’s worth of ER fatigue told her to shut out that noise and enjoy a mocha latte infused with energy shots. She cheerfully obeyed the second voice. In the last 12 hours she’d had her hair pulled, her glasses slapped off her face, and an oxygen cord wrapped around her legs. Actually a relatively mild shift. Now Hurricane Edwin had granted her a rare moment of peace by making a spectacular landfall.
As a child, Jen had never understood that a hurricane’s eye, the very center of the storm, constituted the storm’s safest point. All the wind, rain, and thunder swirled around the center of pressure, itself so strong and dense none of the chaos could penetrate it. She understood it well as an adult registered nurse standing in a totally empty, silent-except-the-TV Emergency waiting room that only ever achieved that level of serenity during major hurricanes. Anything category 1 or above meant no one on the roads to walk in and no first responders accepting calls because they couldn’t get through anyway. Result: no one coming through Emergency during the storm.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jul 1

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #scarf

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
You slipped into a quieter side room that kept you present at the function but spared you social interaction. There hung in this room a massive, ornately framed oil painting of a woman perched on a dock with Saint Dymphna and an unnamed angel behind her. The woman wore a kudzu vine as a headscarf. You attributed her stern expression to the time period. No one ever smiled in pictures back then.
No one had ever known the angel’s name because the artist had left it unrevealed. Unrevealed had stork wings; you never questioned why. Silver hair flowed past the torso to an unnaturally skinny waist. The skin used the color of the canvas. You assumed the artist had purposely made Unrevealed’s human features less so. At the time it seemed logical. The angel placed a string of pink, blue, and white pearls into the central figure’s hand.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jun 30

If you see this, post your fictional mentor. Briony Tallis from Ian McEwan's Atonement was extremely formative to my perception of writing as a path to meaning. This book and its movie adaptation were the yardstick by which I judged my stories for most of my college years.

Romola Garai as Briony Tallis in the 2007 movie Atonement, wearing a WWIi nurse's uniform.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jun 29

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #water

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
She spent the next day scrutinizing the emerald tablets carved by the Ancestors when they forsook the land for the sea. The tablets described how the Ancestors crossbred the fruit and vegetables of their surface home with plants that thrived in their subaquatic home.
Nasrin noticed her reading. “Planning a new project?”
“Just keeping my knowledge sharp.”
Nasrin looked over Julrane’s shoulder. “Have you cut your hands?”
Julrane checked her palms. She’d gotten careless with the roses’ thorns a couple times. “Some pruned vines got their revenge yesterday. The price I pay for reckless gardening.”
“I never noticed.”
“Good, then I successfully spared you worry.”
“Until now.” Nasrin placed her hands over Julrane’s. She clouded the water around the cuts with the pink smoke she sometimes made when she wanted to create a spectacle. When it cleared, so did the cuts. “There, now I’ve nothing to worry over.”
Nasrin returned to her own business; so did Julrane.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jun 22

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #draw

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
A bear growled behind him. Felix kept himself still.
“Just don’t move, Horse. Just let it sniff and move on.”
The bear sniffed around the horses’ stomach, whereupon the horse shot into a frenzied gallop and jumped over the fence around the park. Any energy Felix could have spent on calming the horse, or at least directing its retreat, he needed for maintaining his seat as the horse ran towards the Interstate with the bear pawing the hair of its tail.
Preston had given chase as far as the fence before he’d thought better of his plan and retreated to the carousel to solicit assistance from Aiyana. Behind his back, the horse, its rider, and its pursuer faded into the storm.
Upon his entering the carousel, Jonah touched the sword’s tip to Preston’s nose, pressing in just enough to draw blood.
Preston froze.
“Why?” Jonah growled. “Why in the name of sanity do we let humanity live when you refuse to let anything else live?”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jun 6

Pearlshot Cyber has ties to a high-end cult known as the Western Paradox Church, built largely on a distortion of myths recorded by a nun named Callisto Magdalena from the lectures of traveling scholar Bryone of Illystria. This excerpt includes some passages from Callisto's records. (2/2)

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Zayde read the title engraved on the spine. A Chisel of Koans, or The Primary Paradox: The Light Endarkenment Reaped by Bryone of Illystria, Wandering Hierophant, Rendered Immortal by The Waterbearers to Folly, Chiefly Callisto Magdalena, Paintress, to Honour Our Universal Author’s Ninth Mother, Krushnatarakam.

He couldn’t hold the cover up and the book fell open round about the middle. The page it landed on had a painting of the Author and Krushnatarakam dragging huge calligraphy brushes across a dark purple field, writing out silver letters dotted with pink galaxies.

The letters read: The Author tattooed the record of all on the Universe’s back. None can read it, fewer may change it, yet currently in the future live those who may both read and change it. What they write will have proven true and proves true and shall prove true. It appears to them as a light they may reach out to touch, and it speaks to them and they to it, and those with whom they share it. That literacy we cannot learn or teach; it comes at birth or not at all unless one so gifted gives it. Foolish thieves may attempt with strained focus to counterfeit the skill by taking a piece of sanctified paper and placing at its four corners these sigils:

Inexplicable wind flipped the pages to another chapter.

By yourself do you find liberation and enslavement, and the key that frees you locks the chains that whip your mind, for freest freedom lies till it lies elsewhere in trusting your freeness of the secret inest self what learns and thinks.

The painting depicted the Author chained by the wrists and throat to a leash held by Their Own Shadow, who looked like He grew out of the book’s spine and loomed over the Author. Callisto Magdalena had woven the words into the chain.

Needle scratches made by a later Waterbearer nun in the Shadow’s body read:

When it exits
the self
is it chained
?

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Jun 6

#Juniplex 6! Aisling herself is something of a legend in Ocean Ghost Detection's world, largely thanks to Slipfoot using her exploits for children's stories while he watched over Fireridge in her absence. This poem depicts one of those stories. (1/2)

Screenshot of the following poem: Remember the man who Aisling helped at cards, Who thought he’d grant her no reward. He’d gone to her, not she to he, For she’d no need for deals to seek. He’d a fearful wager undertook With a wife his wife could ne’er o’erlook. If Franco won with trick’ry fine, He’d gain free reign to rob a rich man blind. Should Lisa strike a lucky note, Two husbands she could choke. Didn’t Aisling change the 5s to As So the Death Card played won Frank the game. He shouted thanks before he’d thought; In unseen chains he’d thus got caught. For her trouble Aisling asked but one small gift, The rich man’s coat, which Frank could lift, But Franco laughed, said go to work could she To help him with his robbery. By all her life did Aisling swear, “No help from me to treach’rous bears! If you’d have one debt unrepaid A million more could go astray!” Rebuking only spurred the beast; He mended, then, no not the least. “I don’t need you, and never did I’m the finest thief what ever lived!” Aisling snarled with all her grit. “Is that the way of it? I’ll see you dead, then, for without my shield, The Pearl’s got you good as killed! With all his brains he’s laid your trap And on your own your neck will snap!” So Franco’s dead, and Aisling sleeps at night, Having shown the value of her might

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 25

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #rain

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Isabelle put her hands behind her back and retreated behind Nasrin. She noticed something wrong with the rain. It smelled like myrrh and shone blue in the lightning. She put out her tongue. Each drop grew till her mouth could barely hold it. Some drops dribbled out. In her mouth it tasted of honey and cardamom, but when she swallowed it left a vinegary aftertaste.
“What is this?”
Some drops had remained trapped between her gums and her cheeks. Those drops kept expanding, still trying to fill her mouth. The liquid sloshed out when she spoke. She could feel the tiny cold squirts of her salivary glands steadily working against the onslaught to cleanse their space. Her stomach rolled as the acid faced the same challenge.
Nasrin made a pinching motion with her left hand to draw the foreign substance from Isabelle’s body. “It’s become known in legend as sapphire water. It expands till it fills its container, then its surface area, if any, changes shape and dances.”
More lightning provided a stagelight for sapphire dolphins leaping over the ship. Crystalline squids danced ballet across the wave. Nasrin muttered an incantation and waved her hand. All the visible sapphire evaporated, but it returned just as quickly.
“Apparently some of it spilled into the Gulf and now it’s trying to fill the planet.”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 25

#PoetrySky #IdentityFormation

screenshot of the following poem titled Crafting Identity.
Needle piercing fabric along my chalk marks.
Twisting silver wire on curated stone charms.
Vodka plus assorted essential oil drops.
Fashion’s a collage.
Crayons, paint, and powder, my face the blank page.
Wrinkles framing eyes for a stencil, deep dark
liner lines take shape with an easy glide.
Lipstick’s calligraphic.
Verses ground the dream in reflection’s clear gaze.
Formal structure keeps you from rushing past thought.
Choosing words like earrings reveals your true view.
Journals clothe spirit.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 24

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #pride

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
An unidentifiable animal howling in pain disrupts her thoughts. She looks around the fort in search of the distressed creature. Instead, she discovers that the lone, t-shirted musician has swapped his guitar for a set of bagpipes. The vocalist who’s joined him struggles to make herself heard over the cacophonous instrument, but the lyrics are audible if one really tries to hear them.
“Once you’ve seen the Dutchman’s sails, your watery grave is dug; you’re chained to Davy Jones’s Locker.”
Not the greatest lyrics, but they seem to have caught Nasrin’s attention. Her eyes are trained on the singer, but strangely not in anger. Isabelle isn’t sure if she can sense pride or remorse coming off Nasrin, but whatever it is gets stronger as the song goes on.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 23

Jen gets a reminder that tending physical wounds is only part of protecting patient wellness. Brain surgery is tricky enough without a combative police officer invading the operating room on the pretense of "guarding a suspect" (the unconscious patient). #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #vital

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt: Jen swung the surgical microscope around on its wall-mounted arm. This was in preparation for debridement, a combination of saline irrigation, suction, and forceps to remove bone chips that had embedded in the brain tissue.

Jen would now have to put Aisling solidly out of her mind to focus on handing Furlough instruments, managing the irrigation and suction, and keeping an eye on the patient’s vitals.

She also had to monitor Inspector Pink. He tapped the machine showing the patient’s heartbeat with increasing force. “How do I make the line on this thing go flat?”
“Dr. Furlough, this man is blatantly threatening the life of our patient.”

“Don’t bother me while I’m concentrating, Nurse Douglas.”

Pink stuck his tongue out at her.

Ruby asked, “Shouldn’t he have a body cam on?”

“Nope.” One side of Pink’s mouth curled toward his piggy eyes. “Gotta protect patient privacy, am I right? Not to mention they cramp any real police officer’s style.”

“Ruby,” Jen said, “when the other students in your cohort call unwinnable simulations ‘unrealistic,’ please tell them about this incident.”
Ruby shuffled further away from Pink. “We’ve never had a simulation this bad.”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 21

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #thought

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
He remembered with growing rancor the moments before the French pirates boarded their ship. Star Cutter’s crew hadn’t respected even the storm’s power; how much less would they consider a much smaller ship. They’d dropped anchor and furled the sails, but the crew and the other two passengers had then proceeded to run along the deck with buckets even as the waves threatened to turn the ship on its side. If they’d thought those buckets could catch any standing water before it spilled through the decks and sunk the ship, that might have made one iota of sense. But no, they had thought only of catching the magic blue rain and dragging it back to shore. Some had planned to use it in circus acts, others had dreamt of liquid jewels that multiplied, and a few evil-minded shysters had thought of touting whatever health benefits they could make the general public believe the substance had. None stopped to question whether they ought to trifle with such an unnatural liquid. Their faces when their treasure inexplicably danced out of its buckets and through the door had brought Ignacio a tiny moment of joy in an otherwise dismal situation.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 20

Nasrin learns modern "reenactments" can never recapture the past she remembers. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #disappoint

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Granted, Isabelle finds the so-called pirate festival disappointing. She never expected full-scale replica ships, but she expected more than four tiny tents scattered around the interior courtyard of an 1820s fort. The random dude playing a guitar and singing sea shanties helps a little, but he’d help a lot more if he wore something other than an old t-shirt and swim trunks.
Even so, Nasrin’s definitely overreacting.
Isabelle particularly enjoys the sight of Nasrin’s purple pirate jacket twirling in dramatic, rehearsed flourishes as Nasrin paces back and forth on the brick surface of the fort’s upper level with her hands on her hips. The thought alone of wearing a coat that thick in the midsummer heat makes Isabelle sweat.
“I tried to tell you these things aren’t authentic,” Isabelle remarks.
Something literally flashes in Nasrin’s eyes. The monocle she wears sends the ray of the flash out like a laser. The flames perpetually flickering in her DNA flare, and if she doesn’t chill out soon her entire body might erupt. Her hair’s already dancing in an unnatural, fire-like fashion. Thankfully the wind coming off the nearby Gulf of Mexico makes it harder to notice.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 19

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #brother

Jason realizes the same thing Isabelle did and voices it through a bite of crab cake. “So being less genie, I mean jinn, I mean hidden… Being more human makes you more mortal?”
Nasrin cuts her eyes at him.
Aiyana nods. “Essentially. I’m still immortal, it just took me longer to stop aging. My children were mortal but had extended lifespans.” She makes a “spiraling out” gesture with her fork. “So on.” Her eyes fall to her plate.
Isabelle flings a cube of ice at her brother. He shrugs in reply and they let it drop. There’s about a second of silence, of which Aiyana takes advantage to introduce a new topic.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 16

Deveroux’s trying for a spot on the Board of Directors at Pearlshot Cyber (the corporation run by the series' Big Bad). His first test is busting up unionization efforts amongst the lower-level employees. Step 1: acquire mind-controlled minion. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #hoarse

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 13

Nasrin doesn't make reveals lightly, so she has zero chill when those reveals aren't taken seriously. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #believe

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Nasrin doesn’t look away from her cup when she says, “There’s something weird about you two, especially you, Isabelle. You’re the first ones to work out that I’m not fully human.”
Isabelle spills her water on the balcony; Jason drops the Christmas card.
“My illusionist job usually fools people.”
Isabelle and Jason look at each other, then burst into laughter.
“Nice one,” Jason says. “You seriously had me going there for a second.”
Isabelle adds, “You should have said that the other day, when you already had me a little freaked out. I would have had a heart attack.”
Nasrin taps her mug, considering her options. “You don’t believe me, then?”
Isabelle’s laughter slows before Jason’s does.
For a split second everything goes dark. Other than a mild pull on her wrists, it feels like the inside of a sensory deprivation tank. When it ends, Isabelle feels herself stumble forward at sprinting speed and collapse on a sloped roof. She can’t remember feeling this dizzy before. She leans forward and sees a busy street several stories beneath her. She and Jason latch onto each other, scrambling backwards, away from the edge.
“Do you believe me now?”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 11

Aisling's first encounter with the story's Tier 4 villains could've ended better. Leon also could've waited till she'd calmed down to interrogate her about it. #WIPSnips #WrittingCommunity #nothing

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt: Leon nattered relentlessly at Aisling despite her pointing her whole face at the thingummy rather than him.
“Just explain to me how that moment went!”
Aisling could feel her frayed thread of patience snap. “I’ve told ya, I can’t bleedin’ remember it! Last thing I remember, she electrocuted me somehow, then we just waltzed away like nothing happened!”
“So did she.” Leon spoke into a silly plastic scrap wired to his phone. “You practically tucked her into the helicopter.”
He shoved the mic into her face. She almost walked into it. Who would’ve credited that the hare could grow claws?
Aisling stomped hard. Sparks raced across the ground in a flashing web.
If not for Leon’s jackrabbit leap, the zap would’ve melted his shoes to the sidewalk.
“I think it’s as well we remember who we’re talking to in future, don’t you?”
He nodded.

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 10

Ella and Slipfoot discuss the afterlife during a pause between cyborg attacks. #WIPSnips #WrittingCommunity #fate

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
“Some humans go to Tír na nÓg when they die, don’t they?” she asked him.
“Certain ones do. Others go to other places. D’ye not have somewhere particular ye’d expect to find your own lot?”
Sort of. Her tradition taught that the soul had different parts which had different fates. The one most important to her, the one that made people them, wouldn’t get too far from their family if they could help it. They couldn’t always help it, though, and eventually they would return to their Source.
“You sayin’ it’s based on belief?”
“I believe ‘tis partially so. More a matter of where ye focus your energy.”
“Can people get to one place from another?”
“I’ve not studied the maps, meself. Any questions of veilography ye’d have to ask Miss Aisling.”
“Never mind, then.” She thumped her head against the tree. “You do get that sayin’ different afterlives coexist messes with a lot of people’s beliefs, right?”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· May 5

Food scenes are some of my favorites to write. There's so much sensory engagement with the different tastes, scents, and textures, not to mention the lore behind some recipes. Meals are also useful settings for conversations, and a character's relationship to food can say a lot about who they are.

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt:
Aisling retrieved her silverware from her napkin. She positioned her napkin on her lap and found herself staring at the row of green beans her salmon should have obscured. Turning her attention to Fionnuala's side of the table, she discovered Fionnuala's hamburger had also vanished, and the salmon had swam up to Fionnuala's lips.
"By all the gods, show some self-control!"
Fionnuala swallowed the last of the salmon. "Sure ye've never warmed to freedom, have ya, Ling Ling?"
Ling Ling responded with nothing more than a disapproving glare.
Fionnuala's face transitioned into a wounded pout. "Want my fries as a swap?" She pushed the plate closer to Aisling.
Aisling neither moved nor unfroze the glare.
Fionnuala reached timidly across the table for a chip, getting a swatted hand from Aisling that didn't prevent her from snatching a chip anyway.
Aisling emptied the chips onto her own plate, handed the empty one back to Fionnuala, and pulled the full one closer to herself before her paramour could swipe another.
"You're lucky you're cute so."

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Apr 30

#WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #write

Screenshot of the following novel excerpt: Leon walked in with his phone out. “Aisling, what’s this?”
He showed them a newsfeed on a blue social media app named after the sky. An account calling itself Sea Spirit Detection had posted: “@fireridgepolice: Ever plan to catch the lout that shot up the utility workers? If he’d hit the doughnut shop you’d’ve arrested him before the bullets left his gun!”
“That,” Aisling said, “is the martial ritual of satirizing the enemy. For Yours Truly it’s a way to zap the enemy’s power before the battle.”
Leon clicked another post. “@fireridgepolice I’ll have all the evidence for identification and conviction gift wrapped before I go to my bed tomorrow. #leaveittotheamateurs”
He asked, “Can you do that? The evidence part, I mean?”
“Once I write something, it’s already done; it just hasn’t happened yet.”

Judith Lalone@poeticsofthemask· Apr 30

The last "normal" moments of Jen's life, if she'd only known it. #WIPSnips #WritingCommunity #immediate