I wrote this originally at the beginning of August, when I was having a hard time with inspiration. I couldn't find anything worth writing about in my head and I almost stopped.
The bus pulled up to the station, and they got on. It was ten minutes to their stop. They were silent the whole time.
The novella. The classic story that’s not quite long enough to be a full novel, but not quite short enough to be a short story. The middle child of literary works.
I'm currently writing a novella called A Man Named Eustace. It's about a cowboy named Callum Bane who is on a quest to find a woman's husband. Here is the rough draft of chapter 1.
The Martian soldiers readied their weapons but the super-soldier didn’t move. One of the Martians started firing at the super-soldier which recoiled when the shots started hitting it. The plasma rays tore open its skin sending black globules of chitinous filament glittering out behind it. The super-soldier’s flesh closed around the wound almost as quickly as it was created.
“Shit, Darius, I think something just shot torpedoes at us."
Callum didn’t like being tied up. Not even for fun. He didn’t like small spaces. He didn’t like being without his gun. All of those things occurred at the same time as Deke, Darrell, and their bearded boss tied Bane and John together in John’s small cabin. They searched through John’s things, and after deciding not to kill John purely for not having a lot of money, they left.