I decided that while the title, "Why I Friggin' Loved the New Star Trek Movie", is attention grabbing like a good epitaph, maybe it's getting a little outdated. (Like a bad epitaph??) And I just may be opinionated on other things.

I'm participating in National Novel Writing Month, you guys! It's this great thing where you write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Yes, that's 1,667 words a day. and are doing it too! Grr, they're always ONE thousand words ahead of me! I've decided since the plot for the eagerly awaited, stitch punk movie 9 was as bad as my attempt at a novel last year (OH SNAP) that I would rewrite the story 9, but this time...with a story!

So without further me-talking-without-posting-a-small-excerpt-of-my-novel, here's a small excerpt of my novel!


Synopsis: 9.2: Cindy's Version

Nine is an adventurous young go-getter in a world that should not - under any circumstances - be explored. He wakes up in a science lab and doesn't have to look far to notice that yes, civilization has been destroyed. Unfortunately now the world is inhabited by Mechanic beings who are programmed to suck the life out of any organic life form they can find. What is their purpose? Why did they feel it was necessary to wipe out innocent little mankind? Will the world ever be the same again?

Nine, together with his friends One through Eight, become determined to find out the truth and if possible, a way to rid the Earth of these cruel dictators...forever.



Excerpt: 9.2: Cindy's Version

Nine lay under a low, make shift ceiling. It was made of sticks, newspapers, and other unrecognizable debris. He waited and watched with agitation as Two fiddled with the gadgets in Nine's open chest. Two had one arm doing the operating, and the other arm following along in a giant book. Nine was trying not to squirm, and he gripped his thighs to keep himself occupied.

Two was working a little too fast for Nine. He was hoping he would have slowed down his pacing and thought process for this delicate procedure. But no, it seemed slowness was the source of agitation for Two.

Finally Two produced a cylinder that glowed an off white. It was about the size of a coffee mug. He placed the cylinder inside Nine and flicked a switch.

His chest, throat and head immediately felt different. Clearer. Nine tried to say something but a faint, throaty cough came out instead. He tried again.

“What…” he started to say.

“What about what, boy?” asked Two, amused.

“What…on...earth…happened here?” asked Nine with difficulty. He looked down at his mechanical insides and quickly zipped himself up.

The old man was scratching his head. He was trying to decide where to start. “Well son, it all started when the machines, wait no, hang on. Ok, so, it all started when the man who was in charge…um wait, there’s more to the story. Well, do you remember microwaves? Of course you don’t.”

“I know what…they are.” Pointed out Nine, who was starting to get a grip on his vocals.

“Ok, good, good, that’s a start.” Two was beginning to shift uncomfortably. Not because he was sitting on a hard stone floor. “Sorry kid, we really don’t communicate a lot. Small talk. Lots and lots of small talk. We’re good at that.”

Nine realized his elbows were hurting because had been using them to sit up only slightly. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and tried to cross his legs, sensing that that would be much more comfortable. When he got his legs fixed in the right position, he looked back at Two who was watching him with delight.

“It’s like…” started Two, looking like he was about to trail off, “It’s like a new baby bird hatching out of an egg.”

The image of a new baby bird hatching waded through Nine’s mind, pushing aside the broken windows, overcast skies, and surprised corpses. It was a sunny day. The quietness faded as comforting sounds filled his head. Birds, crickets, frogs, hornets, all making noises that did not clash at all, but danced together in a warm and welcoming way. Two noticed the glaze in Nine’s goggles and sat back, allowing him to enjoy his first real daydream.

A few minutes went by and Nine watched the scene with a yearning. Eventually he blinked a few times to wake himself up, and asked, “Memories?”

Two shook his head, “No…information.”

Nine nodded. They both sat there for a minute.

“So,” started Nine, “um, what do you mean ‘we’? Do you have friends?”

Two began to laugh out loud, but then he silenced it with a cough. “Friends? Friends…well kid, in this day and age it’s not about friends anymore.”

“Oh.” Said Nine. He was trying to exercise patience but he was finding it hard to do. He wanted all the answers now. Then he decided to actually say that to him. “I want all the answers now.” He bit his lip. Two frowned at him with his big, flat eye lids. That sounded mean. Regret. Empathy. Compassion. “Ok, I mean, please go on.”

“I’ll tell you as much as I know, which sadly is not much. I’m still trying to put the pieces together, Nine. I’ll explain everything but then I will take you back to the others and drop you off there. Don’t expect answers from them. Nine, they ain’t a democracy.”

Just then Two and Nine heard a loud crashing sound outside their tent. Nine, completely rattled, turned to Two for what he should do. Two hopped to his feet and looked around, in control and almost primal.

He looked at Nine, “Hey kid, look at me. Look at me! You don’t come outta here, ever till all is quiet again. You hear me, Nine?”

Nine was trembling. What? The destruction is not over? He was fearful but also disappointed in himself for believing things could be ok after everything he had seen.

Two reached over and grabbed him by the shoulders. Nine looked down at the ground. The crashing continued outside. It was getting closer and louder.