2nd draft [partim] – Atligili

Previous part of second draft || Full first draft


It was a gorgeous alligator suit, the kind that inflates around you and makes you look like a big shiny pool toy when you’re wearing it. Just then, though, I thought it looked kind of sad, stuffed in its box all rumpled like it was. I never did put it away properly… after the last time, when the thing’s hunger had faded and I was in control again, I hadn’t taken any chances: I’d hid it away as quickly as I could.

It was a shame to mistreat something so valuable. I figured I ought to at least fold it up properly.

When I picked it up, though, I knew I was trapped again.

2nd draft [partim] – …and thou

Another brief revision fragment of this following on from here.


The third stall wasn’t selling fruit; it shaded an elderly wolf lady sitting on a halı, surrounded by racks of bottles. She sniffed the air as he approached.

“Come for juice, young wolf?”

He smiled and sat down in front of her.

2nd draft [partim] – …and thou

Another brief revised fragment of this story, continuing from last time.  It’s short because I spent most of the writing period trying to work out what the guy was cursing like.  I appear to have lost my sanity because I decided a walrus was appropriate.  How does a walrus swear?  Um.  He says ‘bukkit‘?


In the next stall, a raven was busy shooing children away from pyramids of melons meticulously piled, and in his frustration nearly knocked them over himself. The avian was cursing like a walrus and Kohath decided to pass him by.

2nd draft [partim] – Scott the Alchemist 3

The full first draft (also NSFW) was posted at the beginning of the month.

NSFW (nudity) below cut »

2nd draft [partim] – Atligili

I’m liking this story far more than I probably ought to.  (I posted the first draft a bit ago.)  As for this part, I’m not too sure about it.  The repetition here is sort of supposed to show the narrator’s fear is keeping him from thinking clearly, but I think I may have overdone it a bit.   Suggestions?


I looked at the costume in its box and tried to hold out against the temptation to wear it again.  I didn’t want to wear it—it wanted me to wear it.  It compelled me.  I didn’t want to wear it.  I had only worn it three times since I’d gotten it, and each time…

The fear was exciting—addictive.  I didn’t want it to be.  I didn’t want to think about it.

I knew if I thought about it, it would get into my mind again.

And if it got into my mind, I would wear the costume again.

And if I wore the costume, the monster it was would get hungry again.

And I was already running out of stuff.

But I couldn’t stop looking.  The fear was exciting—addictive.  It compelled me.

2nd draft [partim] — …and thou

Continuation from last time,  and the full first draft for those who haven’t seen it yet.  I won’t have much posted this week: much of last week’s art and writing time was spent on stuff outside the scope of this blog.


He paid two nummi for the bread and headed back out to the street, putting the loaf in his bag.  The wind brought a luxurious smell of citrus, of apples and grapes, making Kohath’s belly rumble.  Time enough for eating later, right?  No… let’s see if we can find something good. He went down to the square at the end of the street where the fruitsellers were set up.

The first stall he saw belonged to a very small tiger selling very large berries.  He picked up a raspberry the size of an orange and looked it over, somewhat impressed.

“Biggest berries in the province,” the tiger said. “I have a certificate from the general saying so.”  It was framed and hanging behind him; he seemed pretty proud of it.  “All natural, too.”

Kohath considered the fruit for a moment, then put it down.  “Maybe next time,” he said, and moved on.  New food can be hit or miss, and today was not a day for taking risks.

2nd draft [partim] – …and Thou.

The first draft was posted in full on my LiveJournal.


On a cool April day—the sun shining with a softness of color that pastelified the world—Kohath was shopping. Just by looking at him you could tell he was touched by love; he was humming “45’s Earthlight,” and his usual trudge was replaced by the unselfconsciousness that only comes from focusing on someone else.

He moved alone, though, down the street of shops, stopping every now and then to look at things in the windows that caught his eye: colorful glass sculptures, a chocolate fountain, a dance lesson—until he caught the warm scent of bread baking and knew what he wanted. He followed his nose to the bakery and approached the counter.

“Good morning, wolf,” said the baker, a short boar in a flour-covered apron. “What can I get for you today?”

“Bread!” he said, grinning. The baker only rolled his eyes at the joke. “Uh, one of those sweet loaves. And half a dozen of… nah, just that.”