In Dreams of Trees : Photographs And Kerosene

Wordcount: 270
Rating/Warnings: PG
Summary: Wordwar, Character study; Nathan. Wil end up being a DVD Extra, most likely.

NOTE: This is a very rough draft with no editing at all (per National Novel Wiriting Month rules) and is presented for amusement value only. Think of it as a periscope into my writing process rather than a coherent story!

There will most likely be spelling and grammatical errors afoot as well as flat out bad writing, info dumps, plot holes, contradictions/retcons, uneven characterization and pacing. These snippits are also posted out of order, so please refer to the Outline to figure out where it’s supposed to fit.


Photographs And Kerosene

Memories don’t burn as well as photographs, but he offers them up to the fire anyway. In the middle of a forest on a world that he’s not sure actually exists, he gives away what’s left of home.

It’s taken him a long time to get to this point, where he’s willing to let go of everything that he had been, but Black’s right, they can’t ever go home again. His world is dead, even if the door is still open, and there’s no use chaining himself to things he can never have.

He had more in his backpack that he thought he did, but he’d always been a bit of a shutterbug. The last camping trip had been for a hike up the side of a mountain and he’d come back down with so many wonderful shots—but he’d come down and gone the wrong way, lost to the siren song of a city he didn’t realize existed.

So he tosses the sunsets and the night skies on the fire, the rocks, the trees, and the one startled porcupine. As he does he pauses to remember them, savor them, and then let them go.

There’s one photo he saves from the wallet as he starts adding those contents to the fire as well. He doesn’t need the library card, the parking stub, the debit card to a bank that no longer exists—but there’s one old faded photograph of his family, taken before the accident and he can’t bear to let that once go.

The city may have taken his world, but he didn’t have anything worth keeping left.

Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!

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