A snippet from this year's NaNoWriMo project: "A.J. Pendlebolt, Gnomish Detective." To track the current word count, check out the project's profile on nanowrimo.org. Further updates will be posted each week, typically on Fridays (including this one) or as interesting scenes get finished.
The warm light from the tilting symphony of the mirrormesh crept up to the window of the small, second-floor apartment sitting atop the building marked “Quarterstock Associates.” The small man depicted on the sign out front, with bald pate and round spectacles , very closely resembled the young gnome snoring loudly underneath the tangle of patchwork blankets in the small, floor-level bed in the center of the tiny apartment, paying absolutely no heed to the signs of the coming day.
As the thin strands of light snuck into the room uninvited, they tickled the many interwoven lines of the strange contraption erected around the sleeping gnome. Thin strings and wooden struts outlined the edges of the device and held it in place, leaving any who might enter to wonder at its purpose. A long and winding course constructed out of a reddish metal spiraled down one wall, passing several rows of tall, brass bells along the way. Tiny droplets of water fell single-file from the spigot of an overhanging vessel into a broad bucket on the floor, slowly counting out the seconds before daybreak.
The steady drip also kept time with the resonant breathing of the gnome as the sunlight from the room’s only window danced its way across the floor. It tiptoed over the gnome’s chest and darted onward toward the tub resting on the floor, leaving the room’s only inhabitant still blissfully asleep. Dipping its toes in the clear, clean water of the tub, the light sparkled about the room, dotting the walls with faeries and phantoms alike in a brilliant display which went sadly unseen, as the only eyes in attendance were rather defiantly shut and leastwise without their glasses, anyway.
On the lip of the tub, a fat, round cork floated on a track, rising up with the slow, steady pace of the water filling the space beneath it. A thin line of thread ran from the center of the plank up the wall of the room and through a pair of small, iron pulleys mounted on hooks driven into the ceiling. Between the pulleys on the same thread hung a small weight now sagging low with the slack provided by the rising cork. The far end of the thread attached to a thin, metal plank rigged vertically at the top of the long, spiraling track of reddish tubing, working to hold back a wide, silver ball bearing awaiting its release the moment the tiny door was pulled free.
With a snort, the gnome rolled onto his side, tugging the mass of blankets with him as he turned his face away from the flickering reflections in the nearly-full tub. The drops from the spigot above marched on at their same slow pace, unaware of the eager ball bearing nearing its triumph as the water level continued to rise in the tub below. As the gnome reached a hand back to scratch himself ungracefully, the ball bearing continued to inch its way forward as the tiny door continued to draw away at its steady, indiscernible pace.
When at last the cork reached its apex, the ball bearing torn its way free and cascaded down the track of copper tubing with incredible speed. As it skirted under the first row of hanging bells, it nicked the rim of each as it roared unhindered down the track, sending up a pleasant chorus of rapidly ascending notes. The gnome stirred beneath his heap of blankets, muttering something untoward into the empty air as the ball bearing rounded the next bend.
Picking up speed as it reached the second row of bells, the bearing again sent up a ringing phrase, this time in a descending pattern that paired neatly with the first. The gnome flung an arm wildly into the air, swaying it violently in the general direction of the track, searching for the switch that would halt the ball’s raging course and buy him a few more minutes’ sleep.
Before his flailing hand could strike true, however, the ball bearing skirted under the last row of bells; an extended chorus of up and down signaling the coming of the bottom of the chute. Sensing the sudden urgency of his condition, the gnome turned to lash out with both hands blindly, still searching for the kill switch when the ball bearing started its final revolution. The silver sheen twinkled with the light streaking in from the window, scattering it around the room and into the eyes of the gnome still desperately clawing about on the floor to no avail.
Reaching the end of its run at last, the ball bearing flew through the open air and struck, dead center, the dented face of a small gong set suspended just above the floor . The sudden splash of sound sent jagged shivers through the gnome’s small form, annihilating any hope of going back to sleep. His objective changed from searching for the now pointless kill switch to grabbing for the gong itself, hoping to clamp it into silence before his burgeoning headache became completely insurmountable. Leaping and leaving the blanket heap behind, he clasped its edges at once as the ball bearing sped unheeded across the floor toward the door, bumping harmlessly into the tow of the dark red stalkerskin boot that housed the foot of the dwarven chaperone now standing in the entrance to the room, rolling her eyes at the display.
“Fanny McCree, A.J.,” she chided, reaching down to scoop up the silver ball bearing as the gnome forced open one eye, staring blindly in her general direction. “It’s half past ten already.” The gnome spotted the vague outline of the ball bearing hurtling toward him just in time to catch it awkwardly in his arms. “Quit playing with your toys and get dressed,” the woman told him, turning on the spot. The creak of the stairs was the only clue A.J. had that she had headed downstairs to the office proper. “We’re gonna have company,” she called over her shoulder. “The runner said to expect someone any minute now, so be quick about it!”
Great blog, I'll be adding this one to my list of blogs I visit regularly :)
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