Thoughts About: House of Cthulhu — Seventh Night

Today I began to write a fair copy of the seventh chapter of HoC. Why do I grant this literary event its own post, one may ask. Because ever since I have started this story in late 2011/early 2012, writing on it has been stalled and impeded massively. Sometimes external factor have been responsible, sometimes the considerable length of each section has made the continuous publishing I managed to uphold for Pony Boot Camp impossible. The last chapter was released exactly nine months ago. The material I will be using for the next chapter is about two years old, and I doubt I will be able to finish Seventh Night before the year ends.

HoC isn’t my most popular story, not by a long way, and it was never meant to become that long (or weird). But it is also a narration I worked very hard on, and a narration which shows its evolution to the reader. It was never an option for me to not keep working on it, for I am just too curious about its development myself.

 

Pony Boot Camp — Part Twenty-Four

A Letter

In the afternoon we had toilet duties – for the third time in five days. Kandrin was pissed about it, so to say. What was it to her? She wasn’t the one to wield the bog brush. I deprive the gentle reader of a detailed description of the cleaning activities. They weren’t nearly as eventful as they were ignominious.

Wiping down mirrors in one of the barracks, I could not but pity my own reflection. Ugly haematomata claimed the corners of my mouth and the adjacent tissue of my cheeks. My face still showed angry traces of bridle and blinkers. And if I were to bare my breasts, my nipples could be seen sore and discoloured. They were throbbing in memory of the fierce and prolonged clamping. For the first hour after the bells’ removal I had been positively sure that nerves had been permanently damaged.