While I'm not sharing any writing from The Death of Beauty this time as editing is yet to be commenced, I will give a brief update about my writing life. First, drafting is going reasonably well. I'm currently 23,579 words into the manuscript, which I estimate will end up at 130,000 at least. Perhaps I'll be finished by Christmas? Let's hope, because between university applications and coursework I haven't been able to write nearly as much as I'd like. But I'm getting to some of my favourite scenes, and I haven't had a writer's block - yet! I haven't done as much outlining as I promised myself, because writing swooped in but I will get back to that soon. Probably...

But I did come very highly commended in the Chester Youth writing competition for my entry 'Hubris' which I was extremely proud of. In fact, I've decided to share it with you today in lieu of The Death of Beauty, so enjoy this 300 word story! Esmé 🩷🩷


HUBRIS


Thud. 


Steel soared and then buried itself home in the tree’s flesh. Splinters of bark flew free. The axehead held firm, twitched, and finally pulled free with an inspired bout of the man’s strength. 


He was the first to enter this ancient grove in centuries. 


No one lived to remember why. The trees flushed with riotous colour, and thrushes warbled sweetly. A realm of nature, ripe for the picking. 


Thud.


The dull, hollow sound of the axe tunnelled down into the earth, blacker than pitch, blacker than midnight. 


The man broke into a grin as he observed resin oozing out the tree in a series of amber globs. 


Still the sound delved deep into the recesses of the earth, nothing more than a held note in the harp of time. Down and down, around and around, until reaching a place only darkness occupied. So it was thought.


Thud. 


More chips of wood went flying. The tree groaned, a slit yawning open within its flesh. 


The sound followed its predecessor into the bowels of the earth. This time it didn’t go unheard.                      


He drew his arm back, arm muscles straining. Allowed the tool to slice through the air, heart leaping as it grazed the slit- 


And stopped. His brows bunched together as he stared at the axe, trembling as if some force held a firm and unyielding hand upon it. 


The man kneeled and extended a hand to the wooden shaft, quivering so violently he half wondered if it had taken on a life of its own. 


It stilled within a blink. Drawing back was a matter of instinct, but he wasn’t quick enough.


Pain exploded in the heart of his forehead. His vision swarmed with dark streaks.  


A scream of pure anguish tore itself from his throat, blotting out all other attempts of thought. He didn’t see the root vising around his ankle, holding him fast. A gateway for another to coil around his neck. 


Breath groped at the entrance to his throat to no avail. Tighter and tighter- 


The man’s body thudded to the leaf-strewn ground, dyed crimson with blood. 


The forest was silent once more.

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