Winning!

No, I have not gone all Charlie Sheen on you guys. I'm just announcing the fact that I WON NaNoWriMo! ;D

Even after being knocked back a couple thousand words that soon multiplied, due to dance and finals (laziness too), I chugged along and reached of 50,000 words!

Um, yes, I'm excited.

And to celebrate I'm going to give you a few clips from last years NaNo story. :D


Clip 1
"

                Remy enjoyed her weekly classes with Professor Wik. The meeting had been disguised as a hour long piano lesson. But the majority of the time, the piano stayed under its velvet cover and a layer of grey dust.

                Every now and again Professor Wik would flick a slender, pale hand at the piano and with a bored look would suggest that it would not hurt them to actually put the old, creaky piano to work. Remy lacked all the qualities needed for to be a talented pianist, but she still enjoyed the pleasant feeling that pulsed through her fingers when she pressed down the faded keys.

                The feeling of playing the worn keys of the piano was none to the ones Remy received when she learned a new summoning, or perfected a tricky elevation, or most of all, the exciting tingling she felt in her fingers when flickering flames accumulated on her finger tips and danced across the room. Where she held no talent in playing the piano, she made up for every time her hands worked the air and created breathless magic.

                Professor Wik was a brilliant teacher too. He had a dreary, Dickens’ like look to him. His skin was pale as snow, blue veins twisting and turning under his translucent skin.  He had beady, black eyes under thick, arched greying eyebrows, occasionally trimmed. His forehead was broad, forever creased in thought.  To Remy, his nose looked like it had been made out of stone and stuck to his bony face. Under his stone nose were thin lips almost as white as the rest of his body.

                Professor Wik stood only a foot taller than Remy on spindly legs no bigger than twigs. He always wore a suit of charcoal grey or dark blue, his wispy hair combed back and put under a fedora every time he went out.

                Despite his grumpy old man appearance, Professor Wik was surprisingly cheery, making up for his dreary looks. He was in fact, quite opposite of his looks. Never was there a lesson that Remy did not receive a witty reply from him, or have him tease her in the most polite way. She remembered on Halloween, he good naturedly, or as much as he could, led the trick or treaters to believe he was a hundred year old sorcerer. Remy would laugh at the idea; the story was close, he was a sixty year old sorcerer, not quite one hundred yet.

                What Remy liked about Professor Wik most of all was his passion and love for the simplest of magic. Every time he demonstrate something for Remy, his eyes would light up like a child’s before a Christmas tree. Behind the bony, sickly looking man, Remy believe there was a young man bouncing around, ready to burst out of its confined."

               

               " Remy’s heart jumped in an excited beat, “You think I have a chance?”

                Professor Wik’s bushy eyebrows shot upwards, the amused look back on his face, warning Remy of another smart remark.

                “No,” he said, pulling the pipe out from between his lips, “I just thought I’d get your hopes up, and then shoot you right down.”

                Remy bunched her lips to one side, wishing a witty comeback would come to mind so Professor Wik was not triumphant over her in this conversation.  She fiddled with the seams on the lounge chair’s upholstered arms, changing the strings colors to whatever shade first came to mind.

                Professor Wik noticed his indecisive furniture and waved a hand at it, changing it back to its original color and gaining Remy’s attention.

                “So, Remy, does this sound appealing to you?” He asked, sunlight brushing through the dusty air and shining through his ready glasses. Remy laughed as she sat back in her chair.

                “Appealing? You’re telling me there is a school out there for kids like me, magicians, and I have a chance of getting in. This…this is like Harry Potter or something!” she breathed, delighted. The creases in Professor Wik’s deepened as his eyebrows kissed above his nose.

                “Harry Potter? This is nothing like it! This is not a school we’re talking about. This is basically an army training.”

                Remy flicked his complaint away with her hand, “Whatever. It’s exactly like Harry Potter. I’ll be going to Hogwarts. I bet I’ll meet some friends just like Hermione and Ron. “ Remy leaned over the chairs arm and the side table set in between them, “Do you think there is a dark wizard trying to kill me?”

                Professor Wik sighed and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling’s peeling plaster.

                “Calm down, Harry Potter.  I, Albus Dumbledore, won’t let anything happen to you at Hogwarts,” he cut her a frustrated look, “Is that better?”

                Remy giggled, “You don’t make a good Albus Dumbledore,”

                “And you don’t make a good Harry Potter.”

                “Why?” Remy asked, frowning.

                “Well,” Professor Wik said with a shrug, “Harry Potter is a boy. And unless you’re not telling me something, that causes problems. And…”

                Remy stopped Professor Wik’s sentence with a cold gaze. Professor Wik held his hands up in open defense.

                “You asked.” He pointed out as he hid his laughter, “But enough chit-chat. Back to what matters! How is the Rikua Summoning going? You haven’t killed anyone yet, have you?” "

As you can guess, Remy is a budding magician. The story is too complicated to sum up in a few sentences. :]

And sorry about grammar. xD

With Much Love, 

LIA