Victorious! 5.4K words written! Yes! YES! HOW MANY DID YOU WRITE? CONFESS.
And here is the excerpt. As usual. Although I see none of you commented on the previous one, so maybe I should come over and cut you for this.
CORNERS. Draft 1. Chapter 29. The Round Homes.
A giant beak knocked on the window until Sancho got up and opened it.
“So, like, we miss our mom, you know?” Said a perfectly teenage voice of a teenage boy, only it was the Roc chick talking. It was, most likely, a boy chick.
Another chick pushed this one out of he way. “We, like, really like it that you took her away. No kidding.” It said, clearly aiming its words at Bells whose mouth dropped open.
“You can talk?” She said.
“Like, yeah!” Said the chick, offended. Then the other chick pushed this one out of the way. “Mom is cool. I mean, she feeds us, she cares for us. But she kind of gets annoying sometimes, you know? It’s all this ‘don’t fall out of the nest’, and ‘it’s too early for you to learn to fly’, and all that over-protective stuff. I mean, seriously, like I’m totally ready to fly.”
The first chick pushed this one aside. “Yeah, me too. I almost did the other day, but she told me I’d break my neck. This was awesome, by the way, that you took her away. We got a break from ‘don’t do this, don’t do that routine’, but now we want her back. Deal?”
Bells closed her mouth and a silly smile started spreading on her face, because next to talk was one of the Martians, making strange metallic sounding noises that somehow formed words.
“It’s bloody hard to keep shooting all those poor people every day, over and over again.” The Martian confessed. “We don’t necessarily want to, it’s our job. H.G. Wells wrote us that way. On our page we have to blast half a London. In the evening we always feel bad about it. Then you come and take our best shooter away.” The green eye peered at Peacock who grinned so hard, his face hurt.
“What?” He said. “You mean, you’re not going to blast us?”
“Christ, no, mate. Why would we? You’re not in our story. Just help us get our other mate back, and we’ll go back to our book. No hard feelings.” It made a noise that could only be described as sniffling.
A wave of relief washed over Peacock. He exchanged glances with his friends, who stared at him and at the Martian and back at him in a kind of a delirious glee.