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From the diary of Ingrid Durtz
found in
NIGHT SEASONS
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(The latest in my DARK HOLLYWOOD saga)
Eyes born of a world whose air was death to breathe studied me.
The Ningyo called Ice murmured, "Ingrid Durtz, you died and re-awakened in another's body."
I suspected where this was going.
"Yes."
That very fact made the prospect of death more frightening, not less, for them.
Death on a strange world horrified them.
Would their spirits become lost looking for their world not of this plane?
My tenant body they could see. But what of my spirit? What had become of it in the ether of non-existence?
Her race was long-lived.
That very fact made the prospect of death more frightening, not less, for them.
Death on a strange world horrified them.
Would their spirits become lost looking for their world not of this plane?
Death is a Void. The body a fact.
My tenant body they could see. But what of my spirit? What had become of it in the ether of non-existence?
She proved my supposition right.
"What do you remember of your journey from your old body to this one you now possess?"
There was a sadly obvious answer which was much like the answer to that tired jest:
'How many World War II veterans does it take to change a light bulb? '
"You don't know, man. You weren't there."
But we were friends so I answered in a word she might believe but probably would not.
Her face lengthened as the faces of her race did when angry.
"Nothing has two faces: 'Emptiness' and 'Infinite Potential.'"
That duality shaped her ideas of the afterlife.
If she couldn't quantify the difference between the medical definition of life and the spiritual concept of the soul ...
at least she knew when there was no good reason for me to hold the knowledge and personality
of a dead woman.
When nothing becomes something, it defies death.
It put aside somewhat her fear that all awaiting her after death was the void.
I think having the people in my novel introspective and flawed makes them come alive
and has the reader root for them to survive or at least die with dignity.
There was a sadly obvious answer which was much like the answer to that tired jest:
'How many World War II veterans does it take to change a light bulb? '
"You don't know, man. You weren't there."
But we were friends so I answered in a word she might believe but probably would not.
"Nothing."
Her face lengthened as the faces of her race did when angry.
"Nothing has two faces: 'Emptiness' and 'Infinite Potential.'"
I sighed.
That duality shaped her ideas of the afterlife.
If she couldn't quantify the difference between the medical definition of life and the spiritual concept of the soul ...
at least she knew when there was no good reason for me to hold the knowledge and personality
of a dead woman.
When nothing becomes something, it defies death.
It put aside somewhat her fear that all awaiting her after death was the void.
I think having the people in my novel introspective and flawed makes them come alive
and has the reader root for them to survive or at least die with dignity.
What do you think?
How do you make your characters believable?
This is absolutely fascinating. I think this internal conversational buffer is a perfect mechanism to allow a reader to catch their breath between tense scenes or before tragic circumstance. Not that I've noticed it in your writing, or books, but some writers stretch out intense action over several pages, which can leave the reader exhausted. I very much like what you've done/written in this post, Roland.
ReplyDeleteYes, indeed. Some modern movies are the same: all action which leaves the viewers breathless.
DeleteThe conversation mingled with the thoughts the words provoke I think give the reader a sense of what fabric the narrator's soul is composed. Thanks so much for enjoying my snippet.