Lei e Taormina

 

taormina

Whatever evil may fall upon you, it must be respected. Only once it is respected can it be warded away by Cornicello. The symbol of The Horns sacred to the Old European Moongoddess alone can protect the bearer from ill fate and danger, Malocchio. For generations, fathers have passed the emblem down to their sons, should they have daughters, they are kept by the mothers in the imponderable place where mothers keep things, and passed on to their daughters sons.

Air rushed passed Nina’s face as her body ran against the way of the wind, yet she struggled to catch her breath. Satin cloths and basil leaf chains hanging from herb stalls flung up in flurry as she raced through the crowded streets of the marketplace. At five second intervals she glanced behind, eyes darting in and out of colors and people. She reached the fresh fruit stall where she had worked two years earlier, and slipped into saftey between its frames, its canopay roof cloaking her identity. Breathing heavily, she peered into the opening and glanced from left to right. There was no sign of them.
She had become very good at this, existing without being noticed, escaping without a trace, vanishing into thin air, so much so that she was slightly scared to admit to herself that she enjoyed the rush of it all. Clutching the tiny golden charm on the end of her necklace, Nina silently thanked Cornicello for keeping her safe. She tugged at the blonde wig that was now heavy on her head, stripped off her white cotton shirt and ditched both behind the boxes of uva and uncut anguira.

She started the walk to the edge of the market, where the court walls stop and the drop to the edge of the Sarema cliffs began. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a handful of fresh rosy cherries. At seven years old she had rationalized that pick pocketing was only a problem if you got caught. More often than not the sellers could afford to loose the small handful of fruit that would otherwise be left for the pigeons at the end of the day, and she could keep her reputation of being a good Catholic girl. She the sucked the juice out of the last one and threw the pip on the ground, hitting something metal. There it was. Her bike, right where she had left it three days earlier.

© elenaxtina.com, 2015 in Lei e Taormina

Hey Guys – I’ve given myself a new project to work on, hopefully I can grow the original idea to see what happens. For my own protection I can’t post anymore content from Skies Over a Shanty Town but I hope you guys enjoyed where that went. Perhaps one day there will be possibility to read more!

Also I am off to Sicilia soon so I’m kinda fantasizing about it. I haven’t been back for the longest time and I wish I was on the plane now. Whenever I travel stories just happen in my head so hopefully this is gonna help, especially this thread, to take form and grow with new ideas. One thing I love about writing is that it’s possibilities are endless, the best fiction is stuff that doesn’t happen in everyday life, or every day life communicated in a way that no one has thought of before. It’s magical, and means you can be inspired by almost anything.

 

Solar Systems

Emmy wished she could sit in the courtyard after sundown and look upon the earth’s ceiling, sink into the solar system. She could barley see the sky from her bedroom. Abuela was forever reminding her that she should be grateful for her bendiciones (blessings). The fact that she had a roof over her head was far more important than staring up at an invisible one. More than being told she had to make something of herself, Emmy was constantly reminded by her Mother and Grandmother that she had come from nothing. So the small latch window which permitted only fragments of light and swirls was simply that, something better than nothing.

Growing up she had listened to stories about the days when abuela and mother had scrambled for food, how they had built their home with their bare hands. It was usually on a Sunday afternoon, when all the Feijoada had been eaten and the pack of cards put away. A gentle silence would fall over the room until one of her only two elder relatives filled the space with reminiscent words. Sometimes she felt guilty for all these things she had that she had never worked for, that she often took for granted, somehow they disconnected her from her family and yet still made her different from everybody else. She lived with a generation that refused to accept the world they had once belonged to was gone, yet belonged to one that refused to acknowledge any reality past or present, besides their own.

Emmy rolled over onto her front and reached to the dresser for her sketchbook and favored 525 grey shading pencil that she had stolen from the Art room at school. She flipped to her sketch of the courtyard sweeper, thickened his outline, smudged the patchwork pattern on his flat cap and gently blackened his pupils. She liked to draw on her bed because it was comfy and sitting upright reminded her of being in class. Being proper in any sense of the word was something she was not, and pretending otherwise was too much like hard work. Brushing a handful of canary curls off her face, she led the pencil tip to the top of the page and begun etching above the sweepers head, creating the cosmic world as she imagined it.

© elenaxtina.com, 2015 in Skies over A Shanty Town

Character Building

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If you want to write well then you need to know/understand your characters, there is no better way to ensure this than to write from within yourself, using your own experiences. This article perfectly explains why characters written in this manner will be more believable and sit in more depth than ones that aren’t. I’m having so much fun free writing about characters and experimenting with the trials and tribulations I think they have been through. This really highlights that for me

The gap between what the characters wants and their needs are where the most interesting aspects of your characters will reveal themselves. And both want and need are created in really knowing your characters as if they were you.

How you gonna do that if your characters aren’t in your likeness or the likeness of those you have met/know even just a little bit? That and limitless imagination is in my mind the best combination for a genuine character :D

Read the whole article HERE at writersworkshop.co.uk and feel free to share your own experiences with character building below!