Yup, still sick. I almost gave this week’s upload a miss, but at the last minute, I mustered all my strength to check my bag of damns and found one left to give. It was small and fragile as a soap bubble, but it got me through the editing and formatting so that you all can have one more chapter of my FNAF Fanfiction, Everything Is All Right, Part IV: New Faces, Old Bones. It’s also over 10k words long, about twice the length of a normal person’s average chapter (I think my average runs about 7k), so I hope you all enjoy it, because I may sleep through the entirety of next week.
As further indication of just how sick I am, I only just yesterday realized that we are halfway through November, which is National Novel Writer’s Month, or NaNoWriMo, and although I have been diligently applying myself to the time-honored challenge of writing an entire novel, or 50k words on an existing one (can I just take a moment to say that’s cute that so many people think 50k is a novel’s worth of words?), I have completely forgotten to post my progress here on this blog. Having a place to post stuff like that was one of the reasons I even made a blog. So I apologize for that and I’ll get that progress bar up there changed as soon as I publish this post.
But while we’re on the subject, is anyone out there participating in NaNoWriMo this year? What are you working on? How’s your progress? Does having a communal goal like NaNoWriMo motivate you to write more or, like me, does it feel like a stressful deadline you will inevitably fail year after year after year after year? And if anyone out there has always wanted to turn that idea that’s been rattling around int he back of your head into a book, but you just need that one more push, allow me to issue a personal challenge! Since the month is half over, we’ll trim the goal down to just 25k words. That’s less than 2k words a day, which is less than half an average-length chapter. If you jump in, be sure to check back in and let me know how you did!
And in the meantime, keep reading along with EIAR p IV: NF,OB (for some reason, I thought an acronym would be easier than typing it all out again, but now that I’m looking at it, it’s just ridiculous) over at fanfiction.net and archiveofourown.org, whichever platform you prefer. If you’re not reading this yet, either because you’re not sure what it’s about or you’re waiting for the whole thing to be complete before you start, I’ll just leave you with a teaser from the latest chapter, and I’ll see you all next week!
The security camera followed her into the hall and went ahead of her into the dining room, lighting up the show stage where Bonnie sat playing his guitar. Her day pack was next to him. He picked it up before she even asked and showed her the tablet inside before zipping it up—she could feel the sound inside her goddamn sinuses—and holding it out. She went to get it and even though the camera was aimed right the hell at him and she had a hell of a long walk on a hot desert road ahead of her, she sat down beside him. Closing her eyes against the camera’s painful stare, she let the weight of the world push her into Bonnie until her aching head came to rest on his shoulder.
“Sorry about last night,” she whispered, because she had to say it. That was the one thing that could not wait.
He nodded, servos whining like mosquitoes in her skull, and did his best to match her whisper, not very successfully. “You okay?”
“Hangover. I deserve it. I’ll live. But listen…listen…” Intensely aware of Freddy looming just off to one side, Ana carefully said, “I’m sorry for what I did…but I’m not sorry I came. You were just what I needed. Thanks for being here.”
“I kind of have to be here. I can’t leave.” His arm twitched and eased around her. “But for once, I’m glad I was. You coming back tonight?”
She nodded, managing a dry smile. “I have an appointment for Freddy to yell at me.”
Freddy vented his cooling system.
“I can’t stay, but I’ll be back this weekend and we can catch a movie then,” she concluded and gave her pack, and the tablet within it, a pat. “Hopefully a better movie. How did It Follows end?”
“As far as I know, it’s still following.”
“Yeah, I figured. Sorry I fell asleep on you.”
“Hey, don’t be sorry. If I could have, I would have too.”
Her hangover faded enough to allow a small, soundless laugh. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you thought of it.”
Bonnie shrugged. “I’m not cerebral enough, I guess. What’d you think of it?”
“I only saw the first bit, so maybe I’m missing something…but that was a physical entity, right? Like, that was the whole deal, that it doesn’t walk through walls or teleport, it has to physically come after you?”
“Right, but it’s a demon, so I don’t think it can be killed.”
“Yeah, okay, but you don’t have to kill it,” said Ana. “Just stop it.”
“Wasn’t that the point? That even if you have sex with someone else, it’ll eventually get them and come back for you?” Bonnie must have caught a reaction from Freddy, because he glanced over and added, “Yeah, that was literally the movie. And it won awards.” To Ana, he asked, “How do you stop something that can’t die? Just lock it in the basement?”
Freddy grunted sharply.
“No,” said Ana. “That’s how you get sequels, Bon. Some doped-up dumbass always opens the door. So what you do is, you dig a hole, put an open oil drum at the bottom, cover it over with a towel or some shit, then stand there and be bait until the stupid thing walks over the top of it and falls in. You drop the lid on the oil drum, clamp it down, drill a few holes in the lid, and fill the thing with concrete. That shit will set up even underwater and it only gets stronger with age. At this point, you can bury it or you can drop it in a lake or whatever you want to do with it, and as long as no one sees you and gets curious about what you’re dumping, odds are good that thing is going to stay lost.”
“But the demon isn’t going to die.”
“It isn’t going to get out, either. By the time the barrel rusts out, that concrete will be set so hard, Superman with a jackhammer couldn’t break it apart. And even if he could, everyone alive when that demon was last moseying around will be dead. It’s got nobody to follow. It can sit down there until the end of time thinking about all the teenagers having sweaty teenaged sex without him. Problem fucking solved.”
The camera made a small noise, adjusting its focus.
Bonnie looked at it, then looked at Ana and said, “What if it doesn’t fit in an oil drum?”
Freddy grunted again, his most severe knock-it-off grunt.
“Everybody fits in an oil drum,” said Ana, climbing to her feet and dragging her pack onto her shoulder. “I could fit two people in an oil drum. Hell, I could fit you in an oil drum, if I’ve got the time and a few power tools handy.”