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Genre: Fantasy
About vortexaeLocation: Boulder, Colorado, USA Home Region: Age:33 Website: http://www.nicolejleboeuf.com/journal/ Favorite writers: Patricia McKillip, Meredith Ann Pierce, Neil Gaiman, Phillip Pullman, C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesterton, Ursula K. LeGuin, and others subject to change without notice Favorite music: I've still got a playlist on Windows Media Player linked up to a Schedule Task such that every morning at 6:00 AM my laptop, if it's plugged in, turns itself on and starts playing through the Blue Man Group AUDIO album, followed by Exchange's MORE THAN WORDS. Instrumental goodness! Do I actually *write* at 6 AM? Well... that's another story. Non-noveling interests: knitting socks, flying Cessnas, dreamwork and kitchenwitchery, taking long walks, singing karaoke, eating sushi, drinking tea |
Joined: Octubre 24, 2002 This Year: Municipal Liaison NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 60 NaNoWriMo buddies: 36
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Brief Author Bio: Nicole J. LeBoeuf-Little ("Niki") is originally from New Orleans, Louisiana; during NaNoWriMo this becomes evident when she starts suggesting "write-ins" that take place at sports bars during Saints games. She has lived in Boulder for 10 years and has served as a Municipal Liaison there for 6. Her other interests include knitting, spinning and other fibercrafts; flying single-engine fixed-gear aircraft; and playing online multiplayer games such as Puzzle Pirates and Second Life. Her husband John participates in National Program Writing Month alongside her own NaNoWriMo efforts. Her two cats, Uno and Null (yes, they are binary), participate in programs of their own devising all of which appear to have world domination as their final goal. |
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Excerpt: Melissa's Ghost
...There looked to be food on the nearest of the side tables--apples, maybe, or bright round rolls?--and she thrilled to the notion that it was fairy food, otherworld temptations. Eat of me and live forever, but leave never. It was a big responsibility, resisting temptation. And of course she could always choose not to resist, at some time safely ensconced in the future.
The duet of flute and songbird came from one of the doors ahead. These were surely the royal chambers, these two presences into which the doors before her would usher her. Perhaps the King and Queen lived their private lives there, to the right, and on the left was the nursery which could be reoutfitted as the royal child grew up? Maybe it was a school room, where the child was tutored by well-payed and nervous scholars? Maybe a music lesson was going on.
Melissa tried dancing. She didn't know anything about dancing, except that it was fancier than walking and was about going round and round rather than from here to there. And that people did it on TV. She moved her feet in directionless directions, and ignored the way the flute seemed to have no consistent rhythm. She hummed to herself, hummed the single phrase that the flute had been playing for what felt like hours, and eventually heard herself making variations on the theme. In her head, she could make the song complete, provide the pattern that the ears only heard part of. She raised her arms into a a ballet-dancer's circlet and spun on her toes.
Eventually she got tired and spun herslef into the nearest couch. Her feet landed in an area rug spread just in front of the seat, then skipped off as she let herself tip to the side. That was the way she saw the ghost first: sideways in her perspective, so that even as he looked down at her he seemed to lie crosswise in her vision.
She didn't know he was a ghost at first. Remembering back from a distance of years, she had to remind herself of this. When she first saw him, she thought he was a man, as alive an real as any of her teachers or her friends' parents. (The comparison with her own father was unthinkable.) One thing she did know immediately, however, was that he was no visitor like her. He had to be a Prince.
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