5K words done, peeps. 5K words shoveled into 1st draft of CORNERS. Here is an excerpt from today's haul. (And how many words did you write? I want you to tell me "more than 0.")
The boys watched as the dots grew into dark silhouettes and gradually morphed into two riders. One, tall and lanky, with a beaten up knight’s armor, a carefully trimmed white mustache and beard covering most of his face, shouted impatiently and shook his spear at the windmills.
“Behold the giants, Sancho! They have a thousand arms, each at least a mile long! It will be a great battle!”
“What giants, sire?” Asked Sancho dumbly, peering into distance. He was a simple farmer, plump and jolly, with a bald spot on top of his head, patting his donkey with one hand and scratching his nose with another.
“I will battle them with my sword!” Cried Don Quixote, dismantled his white steed, pulled out the sword and marched on the road until he glimpsed three puzzled boys staring at him.
“I am the renowned knight Don Quixote of La Mancha! Who are you? Answer!” He stopped in front of them, stamping down with his spear and rousing a cloud of dust in the process.
Rusty coughed, trying to get the dust out of his eyes.
Grand opened his mouth in awe. He eyed the knight, then his squire Sancho, then the knight again, then the windmills, pinching himself. He has read the book, and now he was in it. In it! Don Quixote was one of his favorite characters. There he stood in front of him, that was his chance, and Grand couldn’t say a single word.
Peacock saved them all.
Later, he couldn’t tell what it was—the abundant breakfast earlier on or the hot sun that finally started to dry his clothes and clear his sinuses—but for some reason he had a sudden train of thought dash through his mind. No, two trains, to be specific. He was back to generating ideas. He seized upon them, beyond himself on how he could possibly have not thought of it before, and shouted, “Oh, esteemed knight Don Quixote so well known for his famous deed of chivalry and courage!” He bowed, and Don Quixote did something of a smile with his mustache, which was of course hard to see behind all this hair. He straightened his chest and looked a bit taller and spoke to Peacock from above.
“You’ve heard of my deeds, have you?”
“Oh yes, beloved knight.” Peacock lied, bowing his head even lower. Out of the corner of his eye he winked to Grand who stood dumbstruck by both the presence of Don Quixote and Peacock’s irrational enthusiasm. Where did it come from? He exchanged a glance with Rusty, who shrugged his shoulders.
“I have heard of your adventures,” continued Peacock. “Allow me to venture to tell you something of which your excellency might not be aware, yet I have a deep belief might rejoice at once and rush to het aid immediately, as she is in grave grave danger at the moment.”
“She?” Don Quixote frowned. “Who is this “she” you are talking about, stranger? Tell me your name, before I stab you in your ignorant chest and pin you to the ground for the crows to eat your eyes!”
“Prince Peter Sutton, at your service.” Peacock was really digging it, and had a hard time not to grin and keep his face straight.