Ghost: the black ship cometh.

Hi everyone. Well, Tabitha’s third book is taking wayyy longer than I’d hoped, but rest assured it is still coming. The first draft grew, and grew. I’m taming it now, but there’s lots still to do.

I should probably stop tying myself to certain deadlines for these books, since I don’t stick to them anyway. Guess it just takes a long long time for me to turn my senseless scribblings into semi-coherent books. For which I apologise, and for which I’m hugely thankful for your great patience.

In the meantime, I hope to tide you over in my favourite way, with a theatrical Tabitha snippet written to music. If you’re a writer yourself, this is a great exercise to spur you on and colour your thoughts as you work. Gets the feels going.

So hit play on the following uplifting soundtrack, read on below, and (hopefully,) enjoy.

Birdsong sunshine poured golden across Capital City. Flocks of batbirds flurried up from the silent ruins; fleeing suddenly at a change in the wind. Down on the streets, a bright blue fox looked up from its scavenging. It stared away suddenly, sensing something in nothing, and crept off quickly for its pups. All things that hopped and crawled in the ruins poured away from that place, as if life itself fled suddenly from a great calamity. In minutes the distant sky was a churning fallout. The wild world dimming, and silent as the grave. The ground was rumbling now; relentless tremors that only grew. Ash and pebbles rained down from the trembling ruins; the roads fell dark in seeping shadow. The Watchers’ vast ship was moving in its stormcloud. Swimming endlessly overhead, and eclipsing the summer sun. The distant Ministry, hidden in the skyline, stood lonely in the ship’s eerie sights. It lurked on closer, like a viral tide; hell-colossal and wreathed in poisoned night. Its endless belly bulged. A slimy split peered open, all along its length; an oozing highway through a black rubber moon. Pregnant with a giant lightbeam. Creeping its way across the sprawling city, as its horde of thousands chewed and scuttled in the ruins. Looking up suddenly from their devouring, to move as one for their war. Three tiny dots spat from the ship’s hunched back, racing over the city toward the distant Ministry. Inside each strange scaled dropship, a growing roar of unearthly engines and the fleshy shuddering of the hull. Watcher scouts stood ready in grim helmets, dimly lit like staring statues. Swaying slightly to the dropships’ movement. Powering up their rifles into whining life. All their will, hate and dark dominion set against the city’s survivors. Every last one.


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