NaNoWriMo 2014 Preview!

NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow! I will be white water rafting down a river in the mountains and staying at a hostel without my laptop so I’m not sure I’ll get those first 1,667 words in. But that doesn’t mean you have to be deprived. So here’s some rewriting I did about our new friend Hark, who lives during the same time as Grayson but in a different settlement.

stock-footage-young-man-walking-and-raising-hands-in-the-wheat-field-at-sunset-time

He gets up in the morning, gets to work. He sweats and his muscles strain and he’s never known a different life. Do dream exist after the sun rises? He wouldn’t know. He’s up and at ‘em at the first light. He soaks up the rays of light as the sun forges its way over the horizon. He dresses in semi-darkness, in the same clothes as yesterday and the day before. Plaid shirt, comfortably worn jeans, boots worn in and safe. He lifts and carries and pulls and in his wake, things grow.

He gives his days and his life to the earth, to their earth, to his earth, to making things grown and fostering life. In return, the sun bleaches his hair blonde and kisses his tanned face with freckles. In return, he sees food on the table and feels the strength that comes with a full stomach. In return, he knows the satisfaction of giving your all.

Hark. His name sings. His name sings and so does he, but only when you’d never know, only for an audience of cows and seeds yet to be planted. Hark. His mom calls, but only when she needs to pretend that he’s the kind of boy who still needs mothering. She calls, only to be able to look at his taller-than-his-daddy body and thank God that it’s healthy enough to carry him all day long. Hark. The girls call after him, all ready and waiting to be the chosen one, to be the lucky one who gets to spend her life calling him home every evening, to be the lucky one who gets to take his mother’s place in appreciating that body. The girls call but he’s too busy singing to the cows and the unsown seeds to listen.

If the whole world ended would he notice? Would he care? Or would he wake with the sun for a day of stretching muscles and using up his body for the good of others? All those girls in love with him could gather all the words they’ve heard him speak and plant them with the seeds he has yet to sow. Then maybe those words could grow into affection for them. As it stands all of his affection is saved for people living under the same roof. All of his affection is saved for his family, for his cows, for his unsown seeds, for his work done under the sun.

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