Currently Writing...

'Ello!
I've been writing a whole lot lately. Seriously, my family is starting to think I'm a hermit. And that's pretty accurate.  I figured I might as well share a little proof that I've been writing my butt off, so here's a quick snippet of my current WIP, which has yet to be titled.

Uplifting dust from the old dirt road, Oscar shuffled along, eyes wide open for bits and pieces of- well, anything. Oscar’s father was a merchant, or… something like that. In the beat-up village of Dizvizh, he sold whatever he could create, purchase himself for cheaper, or Oscar could stumble upon. It wasn’t a great job, and he didn’t make much, but it put food on the table, so it was good enough.

Oscar was 14. An… interesting age. He wasn’t old enough to start working, but he wasn’t quite a child, so he had to help his father. A horse and buggy clattered along the road, so Oscar stepped out of the way. Unfortunately, he didn’t step as far as he should have. The cart’s big rickety wheels dropped into a puddle of muck, conveniently splashing all over Oscar.

“Ack!” He shouted in his thick Eastern accent. His trousers were now splattered with foul-odor-emitting mud, amongst other old stains. Grumbling, he continued along the road, his shoes squishing as he stepped.

Something silver caught his eye. It was glinting medal. Thinking his crummy day might be about to be made better with a superb find, he rushed to the left and bent to salvage the shiny object from the soil. As Oscar swept the dust off the round thing with his palm, the item was revealed. Clumps of rock and caked mud dropped off of it, uncovering a purple egg that seemed to glow.

“What in King Sambit…” The boy murmured. Before he could examine it fully, he noticed that a wealthy-looking man dressed in suit and top hat was glaring at him suspiciously from a shop window. Oscar casually stashed the egg away in his pocket and continued walking at a much less sedate pace than previously.

Oscar cringed as he heard the bells of the shop’s door swinging open. “Stop right there, young man!” A deep voice bellowed. Oscar pivoted to face a grey-bearded man with a stern frown. “What’ve you got in your pocket?” He nodded to Oscar’s bulging coat compartment. Thinking quickly, Oscar pulled not the egg, but instead a silver pen he had collected earlier that morning. Slowly, mimicked reluctance.

The man raised an eyebrow, as if that’s not what he expected. He accepted it anyway. “Give that to me!” He exclaimed, thrusting out his open palm. Oscar resisted a smirk, and confessed the unwanted pen. The storekeeper snapped his hand shut, and buried it into his own pocket. “That was not yours.” He spat before turning to stride into his shop. Oscar rolled his cocoa eyes. “Wasn’t his either.” He grumbled, brushing his curly brown hair out from his eyes.

The storekeeper swung violently around. “I heard that!” He roared. “Thief!” He hollered. Within a split second, an officer in uniform appeared from across the street. “You again? Street rat!” He whooped. Oscar winced, Not again.

He ran. Sprinting away as fast as his slippery, wet, sludge-covered feet could carry him. Down the road, turning with a dangerous stumble. Arms pumping the air. He could hear the officer shouting behind him, but didn’t pause to ponder what he was saying. It was a race on a track he was quite familiar with.

It's not much yet, but hopefully I can make it better. What do you think of it? If this was a book, would you read it?

P.S: The indenting got messed up when I copied it from Google Docs, so please ignore that.