there better be a mirrorball, misc

wow I actually need to work on my novel and not procrastinate -

another rough draft for devil's knots first chapter. (Should I give it up to the plot shop?)

The night was a young, yet treacherous beast, an insidious darkness that devoured all remnants of light, shrouding the world in an impenetrable black mist. The moon and stars, guardians of the night sky, had been swallowed whole by the abyss, leaving a void of despair and uncertainty. It was a night that instilled fear into the hearts of even the bravest souls, a night where anything could manifest beneath the cloak of darkness.

In the midst of this eerie night, a lone figure emerged. Gorawynne Collymore, a girl untouched by the world's malevolence, still clung to the innocence of her childhood fantasies. Oblivious to the terror, fear, and destruction that permeated her surroundings, she wandered aimlessly, her hands shielding her eyes from the grotesque realities lurking in the shadows.

A homeless orphan, Gorawynne carried a gaping void in her heart, seeking solace in the refuge of her own mind. Her future was a blank canvas, devoid of permanence or stability. Her only possessions were a meager sack slung over her shoulder and the weight of her own transgressions haunting her every step. She became an expert at avoiding the prying eyes of the world, camouflaging herself amidst the bustling streets.

But her ignorance was a double-edged sword. Unaware of the true nature of her existence, Gorawynne only possessed knowledge of her own survival. Yet, even then, she felt the ebbing thread of her life slipping away. Her heart, battered and broken, resembled a fragile, delicate organ on the brink of collapse. It was a miracle she had even endured this long, each day a battle against the harshness of life.

There was no turning back for Gorawynne, no turning point that would offer salvation. In this cruel world, dying alone in solitude seemed preferable to the false security of a home filled with fabricated family ties. The truth was undeniable—she was slowly fading away. The cause of her deterioration remained a mystery, but the inevitability of her demise loomed over her like a specter. Gorawynne had learned to accept her imminent mortality, though the acceptance was tinged with bitterness.

Once, she had resided in an orphanage, a semblance of stability in an ever-changing world. But when the Flare, a devastating force, began its relentless spread, the orphanage was abruptly closed, leaving the children to fend for themselves or perish. Yet, amidst the chaos, there were those who refused to succumb to their fate, rallying together and finding strength within one another.

But Gorawynne was different. She bore the weight of a disability, an affliction that set her apart from the rest. Even if she had remained with her old companions, it would have been akin to throwing herself into a rushing river, willingly surrendering to the forces that would consume her.

And so, Gorawynne yearned to seize what life she had left, to extract every ounce of vitality from her weary existence. Even if it meant sacrificing more than she could bear.

•°•°•°•

Gorawynne pushed herself away from the wall, her senses heightened, as if a mysterious force beckoned her from the depths of the night. It was a call that resonated within her very core, an ethereal melody that seemed to transcend the boundaries of mortal existence.

In an age shrouded in superstitions and conspiracies, her initial thoughts veered towards her own mortality. But as the alluring sound persisted, Gorawynne found herself surrendering to the notion that death, in fact, might offer solace. Death, like a balm for Earth's myriad afflictions, promised an eternal sleep devoid of pain, nightmares, and shattered dreams. In that fleeting moment, she found a strange satisfaction in the idea of relinquishing her ties to this ravaged world.

As if entranced, her feet carried her toward the source of the haunting call. It was only when her consciousness snapped back into focus that she realized the peril she had stumbled into. The frigid night air seemed to swallow her whole, her very being devoured like the last meal on Earth. A scream welled within her throat, but it was swiftly stifled by a damp cloth pressed against her mouth.

In a desperate struggle, Gorawynne fought against the unknown assailant, but her efforts proved futile. Overwhelmed by fear, she succumbed to the darkness, her shattered scream extinguished as she plummeted into unconsciousness.