One thing I forgot to mention in my Writer's Block - a decision has been made on the publishing of Ghostopia. I'll be publishing it only after I complete it, rather than go chapter by chapter. Less stressful for me, more waiting for you. And by publishing I mean Blogger Publishing, so go ahead, finish off all your MPH Vouchers. Heh heh.
Today's chapter of The New Girl would be a perfect example of writing the last paragrpah differently than what I had in mind when I wrote the first. Still, I think it's better this way. You judge. Not like what you think would make a lick of difference though, but you judge...
Saras ran her finger over the spot where Jean had slapped her. It was still the colour of an undercooked slab of mutton.
"Let's play that game we always played together," Jean grinned wickedly. "It's called 'I Point, You Eat'. Surely you remember that - right, Saras?"
She scowled and got back on her feet. "I'll give you no more than ten seconds to fully explain all this nonsense. Then we'll talk about that most unfortunate slap."
"Shut up already," said Jean through gritted teeth. "I said we're playing."
Saras' face could not have been more than two inches away from Jean's. Amazingly though, Jean still wore the same look of superiority that was present when slapping Saras. Not a trace of intimidation you would expect from a victim facing her bully.
"I'm gonna make you cry!" Saras poked her forehead tauntingly. "Then we play."
Jean pursed her lips so tightly that her face reddened. Her breath came out in short noisy snorts through the nose.
"So now you're angry, huh? You're gonna fight back? Sure you are! This is your world, right? That's what you said, I'm sure! Come on! Enough of the pig noises already!"
"Uh, Saras..." May wasn't too sure if this was the right thing to do now.
"It's okay, May, I know exactly what she's doing. First she makes you feel sorry for her. The traumatic childhood, the tough times I gave her in school, all that same ol' drivel. Then comes the "How I wish someone would give two craps about me" and "Why is this all happening to me" drill. You're everyone's victim, aren't you?"
"Do you know why we picked on you in the first place, Jean? Not because you were weird, or because you seemed weak and helpless. Simply because you were the most self-pitying, delusional, attention seeking, paranoid brat I'd ever come across in my life!"
"And now," she concluded with a smirk. "We're supposed to think that you're scary."
There was absolute silence in the garden. Not a single leaf rustled, nor did a single bird chirp. The grass could very well have stopped growing.
Jean stared hatefully at Saras for a long time. Now Saras was the one wearing a smug expression.
"What was that, Jean? You gotta speak up, you know."
"Speak up, you cretin."
"I HATE YOU!" Jean sprang up and pinned Saras to the ground, hands locked around her throat. May gasped in shock.
Saras tried to break free, but her grip grew chokingly tighter like a hangman's noose. She heaved in and out, attempting to throw Jean off her chest instead. Nothing happened. She couldn't understand it.
It didn't last long. May was still struggling to understand what was happening when Saras stopped thrashing about. No more stifled croaks were heard coming from her colourless lips. She became as still as the sky.
"I still hate you." Jean whispered and finally released her fingers. Saras lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, a perfect picture of a confused girl who never had any clue how the tables could have been turned so mercilessly on her.