Just over a day remains and I am knocking on the door to my 3rd strait win, 4th in 5 years. This must be what the 2000 Yankees felt like!
Current status of my 2015 NaNoWriMo: 49,110 / 50,000 (890 words to go!)
Current pace has me writing my 50,000th word o: November 30th
http://nanowrimo.org/participants/reted/novels/pure-human-817618/stats
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[Pure Human - To Albany]
Blake did sleep some on the trip,
but not very long or often. Anin insisted she wasn't going to sleep during the
trip and that Blake could lay out in the back seat while John drove, but Blake
insisted otherwise. Lack of comfort or otherwise, Blake reclined in the front
passenger seat of John's car and did his best to sleep. "It's his seat.
He's weird about it, it's not you," he often heard John explain.
Occasionally, Blake could feel himself slip into a state not unlike sleep, but then John would hit a pothole or pass under a lamp post emitting a seemingly insane level of wattage, and Blake would be aware and conscious. It was hell. Anin and John weren't helping by making light conversation. John stopped for gas once, but otherwise had made a straight path for the state capital.
Occasionally, Blake could feel himself slip into a state not unlike sleep, but then John would hit a pothole or pass under a lamp post emitting a seemingly insane level of wattage, and Blake would be aware and conscious. It was hell. Anin and John weren't helping by making light conversation. John stopped for gas once, but otherwise had made a straight path for the state capital.
The early morning sunlight
ultimately caused Blake to give up his foolish quest for sleep, and he sat
himself up and rubbed his face. "Morning," John mumbled as he drove.
"It was morning when we left," Blake said as John shook his head and
gestured to a styrofoam gas station cup without looking away from the road.
"Cold as fuck by now, but I doubt you'll care."
Blake picked up the drink and greedily choked its contents down. "Only time I can chug coffee," he said as dropped the empty cup back and patted himself down for his cigarettes. "Sleep well?" Anin asked from behind, having waited until Blake was defiantly finished with his coffee before attempting to engage him in conversation, as previously advised by John.
"No, I didn't," Blake said, to which Anin shrugged "But I take it neither did you."
"I don't really wanna talk about it," Anin said.
"It was so bad, you tried breaking down my front door and insisted we leave immediately. It was important. You will talk about it."
"She doesn't have to," John assured.
"It's okay," Anin said "I'm sorry about before. It's just, dreams don't usually effect me in the real world."
"This one did I take it?" Blake asked as he pulled out his cigarettes and peered into the case, not pleased by what he saw.
"Ripped right down my arm."
"So you saw what the cause of the situation is? You saw it?"
"No, that isn't how dreams work. You're thinking of a vision. This was more of a representation. How closely or loosely the dream is to the actual situation varies. But whatever is happening, last night is just ramped up in intensity, either because it knows we're coming, it did something drastic, or both, I'm not really sure."
"How much...worse is it?"
"Enough for me to go from casual observer to active participant in a dream and then injure me in the real world."
"Fun times," Blake said as he eyed a gas station coming up. "Pull in there," he told John.
"Why?" John asked "I've got plenty of gas."
"I need coffee, stretch my legs, more smokes, then a bathroom trip," Blake said "In that order." John shrugged as he changed lanes. "Your police scanner still work?" Blake asked as he tapped the object installed below the radio. "Yeah, why?" John asked. "If something indeed got ramped up," Blake reasoned "Maybe someone thought it smart to involve the cops or something."
John pulled into the gas station and before he even put it into park, Blake was out and heading for the coffee. Anin climbed out as well but didn't bother following, instead taking a deep breath of air and looking out to the sunrise. Blake power walked into the station, where a middle aged, overweight woman with a front tooth missing picked her head up and attempted a greeting. "Good mor-"
"Coffee," Blake said plainly as he took a moment to survey the area and immediately found and made his way to a fresh pot. After procuring his fresh cup, he headed for the counter to pay and get cigarettes. "Pack of Salem," he asked, but the woman didn't budge. After waiting a moment, Blake asked again but to no avail.
"Do you not have that kind?" he asked as the woman took a moment to look outside, then back to Blake. "I need IDs," she said plainly. "Sure," Blake said as he reached for his wallet. "All IDs," the woman stated. Blake took a moment to stare at her. "Fine," he said as he went outside. "John, license!" he called, but John didn't move, intently listening to something on his scanner. Without looking, he pulled his license out and tossed it aside for Blake to grab.
"Anin," Blake said with an outstretched hand "I need smokes, so I need to do what the ugly woman inside wants." Anin flashed a worried look on her face. "I don't have a license." she said. It took a moment in Blake's state to comprehend what he heard and the potential implications it held. "What do you mean you don't have one?" he asked after a particularly long blink at her.
"I just don't," she said "I don't drive."
"Anything, really," Blake said "With your picture and age."
Anin shrugged. "Sorry."
Blake took a deep breath, placed his coffee down on the roof of the car, then made his way back into the station. The woman was waiting for him, but he quickly diverted to the bathroom, just to spite her. After tending to business, he returned and approached the counter. "My purple haired friend doesn't have it on her, but I assure you, she's old enough," he said as he brandished his and John's IDs "I'm pretty sure it's a law where you need to be at least 20 to even have purple hair, so we at least know she's good."
"Sorry," the woman said with an unflinching look. "Smell me," Blake said, in desperate need of an aspirin "I smell like one of the world's top smokers. My teeth are yellowed by years of wonton smoke abuse. I will probably die a long and painful death of lung and/or throat cancer and my diseased organs will be subject to an anti-smoking ad. I am the poster child of bad people who smoke and a CEO of big tobacco would probably know me on sight and possibly thank me for helping fund his newest yacht from the years and years of regular purchases. These cigarettes are for ME!"
The woman folded her arms and refused to concede. "It's against the law without an ID," she said, Blake figuring she was probably reading from a script behind the counter at this point. "Fine," Blake spat as he turned and left, throwing the door open as hard as he could with a delusion that it would slam against the store and shatter the glass.
"I don't like you," Blake said to Anin as they climbed back into the car, Blake taking a moment to grab the coffee he didn't pay for off the roof. "I thought you already had cigarettes," John mumbled as he started the engine. "Not as many as I thought," Blake said as he pulled one out "Plus Antonia smoked more than I cared to let her last night."
"Who's Antonia?" Anin asked.
"Antonia Sallome," John said "The one woman on the planet Blake shouldn't be allowed near."
"Shut up and drive," Blake said as he lit up and blew smoke out the window.
Blake picked up the drink and greedily choked its contents down. "Only time I can chug coffee," he said as dropped the empty cup back and patted himself down for his cigarettes. "Sleep well?" Anin asked from behind, having waited until Blake was defiantly finished with his coffee before attempting to engage him in conversation, as previously advised by John.
"No, I didn't," Blake said, to which Anin shrugged "But I take it neither did you."
"I don't really wanna talk about it," Anin said.
"It was so bad, you tried breaking down my front door and insisted we leave immediately. It was important. You will talk about it."
"She doesn't have to," John assured.
"It's okay," Anin said "I'm sorry about before. It's just, dreams don't usually effect me in the real world."
"This one did I take it?" Blake asked as he pulled out his cigarettes and peered into the case, not pleased by what he saw.
"Ripped right down my arm."
"So you saw what the cause of the situation is? You saw it?"
"No, that isn't how dreams work. You're thinking of a vision. This was more of a representation. How closely or loosely the dream is to the actual situation varies. But whatever is happening, last night is just ramped up in intensity, either because it knows we're coming, it did something drastic, or both, I'm not really sure."
"How much...worse is it?"
"Enough for me to go from casual observer to active participant in a dream and then injure me in the real world."
"Fun times," Blake said as he eyed a gas station coming up. "Pull in there," he told John.
"Why?" John asked "I've got plenty of gas."
"I need coffee, stretch my legs, more smokes, then a bathroom trip," Blake said "In that order." John shrugged as he changed lanes. "Your police scanner still work?" Blake asked as he tapped the object installed below the radio. "Yeah, why?" John asked. "If something indeed got ramped up," Blake reasoned "Maybe someone thought it smart to involve the cops or something."
John pulled into the gas station and before he even put it into park, Blake was out and heading for the coffee. Anin climbed out as well but didn't bother following, instead taking a deep breath of air and looking out to the sunrise. Blake power walked into the station, where a middle aged, overweight woman with a front tooth missing picked her head up and attempted a greeting. "Good mor-"
"Coffee," Blake said plainly as he took a moment to survey the area and immediately found and made his way to a fresh pot. After procuring his fresh cup, he headed for the counter to pay and get cigarettes. "Pack of Salem," he asked, but the woman didn't budge. After waiting a moment, Blake asked again but to no avail.
"Do you not have that kind?" he asked as the woman took a moment to look outside, then back to Blake. "I need IDs," she said plainly. "Sure," Blake said as he reached for his wallet. "All IDs," the woman stated. Blake took a moment to stare at her. "Fine," he said as he went outside. "John, license!" he called, but John didn't move, intently listening to something on his scanner. Without looking, he pulled his license out and tossed it aside for Blake to grab.
"Anin," Blake said with an outstretched hand "I need smokes, so I need to do what the ugly woman inside wants." Anin flashed a worried look on her face. "I don't have a license." she said. It took a moment in Blake's state to comprehend what he heard and the potential implications it held. "What do you mean you don't have one?" he asked after a particularly long blink at her.
"I just don't," she said "I don't drive."
"Anything, really," Blake said "With your picture and age."
Anin shrugged. "Sorry."
Blake took a deep breath, placed his coffee down on the roof of the car, then made his way back into the station. The woman was waiting for him, but he quickly diverted to the bathroom, just to spite her. After tending to business, he returned and approached the counter. "My purple haired friend doesn't have it on her, but I assure you, she's old enough," he said as he brandished his and John's IDs "I'm pretty sure it's a law where you need to be at least 20 to even have purple hair, so we at least know she's good."
"Sorry," the woman said with an unflinching look. "Smell me," Blake said, in desperate need of an aspirin "I smell like one of the world's top smokers. My teeth are yellowed by years of wonton smoke abuse. I will probably die a long and painful death of lung and/or throat cancer and my diseased organs will be subject to an anti-smoking ad. I am the poster child of bad people who smoke and a CEO of big tobacco would probably know me on sight and possibly thank me for helping fund his newest yacht from the years and years of regular purchases. These cigarettes are for ME!"
The woman folded her arms and refused to concede. "It's against the law without an ID," she said, Blake figuring she was probably reading from a script behind the counter at this point. "Fine," Blake spat as he turned and left, throwing the door open as hard as he could with a delusion that it would slam against the store and shatter the glass.
"I don't like you," Blake said to Anin as they climbed back into the car, Blake taking a moment to grab the coffee he didn't pay for off the roof. "I thought you already had cigarettes," John mumbled as he started the engine. "Not as many as I thought," Blake said as he pulled one out "Plus Antonia smoked more than I cared to let her last night."
"Who's Antonia?" Anin asked.
"Antonia Sallome," John said "The one woman on the planet Blake shouldn't be allowed near."
"Shut up and drive," Blake said as he lit up and blew smoke out the window.
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