A taste of what is to come.

Being a light novel, the way I write will have a large impact on the type of readers I will have, along with the way that they think/imagine the story I will paint. Here's a taste of what's to come.

With numb hands, and sluggish legs, I walked towards the alleyway. Was it December? Or maybe it was January? I had long lost my perception of time – something that was no longer needed after I had adopted my new lifestyle. My life was experienced by the day, each one being another misadventure, another struggle. The people I met used to matter beyond my daily excursions; however they quickly disappeared into memory. Food and material wealth was something that mattered – its effects lingered beyond when it was first obtained. Acquaintances could be forgotten easily, bread in the stomach could not. Substance and wealth were of the material world, they provided the means of power. After stepping into the alley, I slowly eased myself by the wall, and sat down. A chilly breeze intruded through my thin hood and nipped at my face. However I paid no heed to it, as the winter’s touch was gentle compared to the winds of the previous day. The dark alleyway was dank, with a pungent odor emanating the numerous trashcans. It was a place to rest, and only served as that. Keeping that in mind, I closed my eyes, ready to repeat my routine once I awoke.

The shattering of glass interrupted what rest I could have gained. A squat, well-fed gentleman stood in the back entrance of the building in front of me, his cheeks flushed and eyes irate. He wore smock, however even that failed to hid his well rounded gut. His head, frazzled and balding, bounced up and down as he spat his words toward me.

“Get out of here you useless scum! Go find a job, even the lowest of the low like you can be put to work in the factories as workers or slaves in the mines! Or better yet, go immigrate to that hellhole of a country Sukhoivakia! Perhaps with the subhuman apes, you shall find solace from your suffering!”

Another bottle was thrown at me, it too shattered by the wall behind me. I scrambled to my feet, and ran from the curses of the man. Even after the third bottle hit me, I still ran. I passed warmly lit houses, with lively fireplaces and comfortable families as I ran. Luxurious, and comfortable, those houses represented something that society was supposed to work for. Even the middle and lower classes had shelter that they could feel secure in. All it took was completely selfish ambition and the ability to please others through material gain. Despite those relatively simple requirements, I still found myself sleeping in parks and working, not to pay for the education I could have finished, but for the simple nourishment of bread and butter. Society said that there was a place for me – a place for everyone no matter economic, religious, or social background – however even that is false. In a system that seems work for everyone, I am left behind, and even compared to lowly Sukhoivakians.

I caught my breath by an old lamppost, its bulb sputtered incessantly as snow landed on it’s exposed wires.

This is just a little something I typed out. I'm going to try to tackle all of my themes and messages in a more... subtle manner, however I will not force the reader to comb my reading to figure out what I mean. It'll be interesting, since I am personally not that great at the "Show, don't tell" principle.

Until next time,

Yuan-Huei