This 8 sentence blog hop is hosted by The Weekend Writing Warriors. (Click the link for the list of participants, or rules if you want to join!)
This is a snippet from my yet-to-be-completed NaNoWriMo story, Black Ink Plague, a fantasy about inkbloods, people who were left at the roots of a magic tree as babies, and can use charcoal from those trees to write and cast spells.
The main character, an inkblood called Liar, cast a spell to kill the gang leader called Cin, and accepted payment from the gang’s second in command, then traveled to a nicer part of town, where she was let into a home by a disapproving butler.
It wasn’t long before a woman stepped into the room, skirts rustling. Her silver dress contrasted her warm brown skin, her dark hair arranged in curls that Liar knew were mostly a wig, framing a strong face that the years had been kind to.
“Will it be just you, today?” Liar asked, standing.
“Yes, my husband is busy at the moment,” the woman replied.
“Give Father my greetings, then,” Liar pulled out a small bag of money from her purse, setting it on the table next to her chair, along with the book she had been reading, “I only came by to bring you this.”
“And what kind of job did you do, to earn that?” Her mother asked, dark eyes fixed on the bag, cool distaste wrinkling her nose.
* * *
Black Ink Plague is set in a world similar to ours, with the addition of the Rakau tree, which has magical properties–charcoal or ink from the tree can be used to cast spells. However, only inkbloods, babies who were left overnight at a Rakau tree’s roots on their first full moon, can harvest and use the tree. The price they pay for their magic is that the ink infects them, staining their skin and eventually forming words from the spells they cast on their skin. These words change their lives in unexpected ways.