Here’s the thing — I don’t actually know what kinds of sounds there’d be at night in the Sri Lankan jungle. It’s so tempting to go off and research that, and I could fall down that rabbit hole for hours. But I have a draft of this story due on Sunday, and it’s just the first draft, there’ll be plenty of time to revise that kind of thing later. Make it up for now, Mary Anne. Turn that internal editor OFF, and generate some prose. Lots and lots of prose.
*****
She found him in the jungle, sleeping. Nikisha’s first impulse was to run – her second, to kill him. He was no one she recognized, and in their territory, no stranger should dare to come. He had to be an enemy, and her duty to the movement was clear.
But the man looked so helpless, fast asleep, snoring a little. A slight hiss of air, mingling with the sounds of the jungle at night, the incessant chittering of monkeys, the whirring thrum of the the tree frogs. If her sister Udhya had been there, Nikisha would have had to admit that the fact that he looked like a film star might have factored in – nut-brown skin, a sleek fall of black hair, and finely drawn features.
Udhya wasn’t there, of course. And the truth was, Nikisha had never actually killed a man. Not on purpose, anyway.
*****
550 words so far, out of 15,000. Um. There’s a ways to go. But I’m yawning, so we’ll pick this up tomorrow. My plan is basically to write for an hour, clean for an hour, and repeat for two days. Plus a bit of podcast recording on Sunday. We’ll see if I make it.
If I do, Monday is for sleeping. 