Sunday, 30 June 2013

I have spent the past week trying to write a story titled Isobel, but for obvious reasons, no cigars. There just hasn't been an opportunity to harness it in. Neither the mindset nor the sheer time to sit down and ink it have been in my favor. I am in a mood to touch each and every person of my personae dramatis - and in English, Isobel being a story about Kestrel Hayes. Alas, neither as a short story, stage play nor part of a chapter trickled to page. Yet.
     What Olivia Geneva is to Gorgonaut, Kestrel is to the Zurnizip verse. A zahi to the narator. The later twist regarding re-instated Morpheus even revolves around her and her odd pregnancy. Being a virgin paladin, suspition of falling to seduction of king Morphei causes some of the pagans to think he has gone too far. This story, though, settles that bit of plot in its right frame, though not without a price.
   Isobel leans on three different themes, entertwined. Firstly, it's the story of me, Kay, off to save the face of a nice town, worth proving worth saving. Isobel is where Kestrel lives, owning a small library and suchlike. The town is very lovely, very normal. However. Because Kestrel is angry, she deliberately puts herself and her son in a situation in which the town would react poorly to the baby boy's origin. As a result, Kestrel would punish the town by departing, even though she felt really good living there and people were very fond of her. Invoking the narrowmindedness indigenous to normal folk, she would cause the town's reaction to be their own bitter reality.
      Well, I decide to stop that from happening and give the town a fighting chance.
       The third story within the story is Kestrel's fight with the boy's father. I am a little bit torn between explaining exactly who these people are or simply hinting the boy is not human, even a little bit demonic looking (for the lack of immagination.) and hence  a landmark of lineage.
    Eh, well. I'll get to it.I'm sad and tired for all that's been happening, but you can't write depressing fiction. That's a no-no. Not even I read that.