Progress And Such

Since the last word count bar I tried failed so badly, here's another:

26716 / 200,000 words. 13% done!

Much better. I have cracked 25,000 which is a great milestone. Here's an excerpt from my latest idea.

As soon as the sun sank beneath the horizon, I was back in action. Hidden underneath layers of straw was a small knife that I could barely grasp in my talons. If I could have used my beak to hold it, I would have. But my bastard owner had decided to bind my mouth shut as punishment for biting him earlier. And so I was left with no choice but to use my wretched claws instead. The knife was horribly dull, barely putting a dent into the bars of my cage. I pushed harder with the knife, metal noisily screeching against metal. Noise was the last thing I wanted; Qadir would bind my feet and clip my wings if he found me trying to escape like this. So I eased up on the pressure, slowly dragging the knife back and forth across the bar, praying to see some kind of chink in my prison. The light slowly faded, giving way to a dark night. Shadows were creeping across the vast treasure room when I realized that the knife was doing absolutely nothing. With a frustrated (but muffled) squawk, I tossed it through the bars of my cage, where it landed on top of a filigreed jewelery box.

I wished for a moment that Giedre was still here, to tell me that it was better to stay calm and unruffled, to tell me that I'd certainly be free one day, she was sure of it. But she was gone now and I was alone without a friend for the first time in five years. It was true that I knew I would one day be free of this place, that I was destined to lead a life of wonder and magnificence, but it was nice to hear it from someone else besides myself every now and then.

"Simmer down, Nisr. I'm trying to sleep."

Go to hell, old man. I fixed my steely gaze on Bilal, wishing I could screech at him through the darkness. Sensing my foul mood, he grumbled about my bad attitude, his grizzled form curling up on a carpet of indigo and gold that was his home. There were others in the vault, imprisoned treasures such as myself, but no one else spoke to me. I was too fiery, too stubborn, too willing to go too far and earn Qadir's wrath. If it was within their control, they didn't speak a word to me; Qadir was the strictest of men and they dared not get in his way.

Me, on the other hand? I wasn't afraid of Qadir. I'd seen worse than him. I had no qualms about testing his patience.

I have no idea where it's going but it's holding my attention for now. The best part? I have two main characters and when I write them I actually have two different voices. Awesome!