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- I’ve written again. I am not completely whole, but I am no longer damaged goods. Just a little rattled in the box.

I wrote a few pages on my Space! story this afternoon and I feel great after having done it. A persistent cough and a killer lower back cannot hold me down, no way, no how!

But I can admit my limits, so a few pages it must remain, perhaps working my way up to the good stuff later in the week, or weekend. Though, when I think of Stephen King writing after his truck accident, and the pain it caused him to do it, but he still did it, I realise I need to man up, quick smart, haha.

- I’m going to go read more of The Ruins, it is getting pretty good, right into the complication right now.

- Here is a little two minute scene, my own Iron Fist: Year One. I have tried to emulate the old school Iron Fist approach, where it is almost written in the second person, that always cracked me up, and has been the only time I have ever encountered that style of writing. How cool is Iron Fist? He gets his own style of writing.

Daniel Rand was walking down a street. This street was not an antique, it was not packed dirt, it was not surrounded by huts. It was a simple New York street, but he was no longer a simple New York man.

Nineteen was not old enough to have the powers that he did, but his maturity was well beyond his years. Sadly, so was his grief. A murdered father, a sacrificed mother. All that Daniel had ever known had been stripped from him at the age of nine. It was too early to be shown how cruel the world could be.

Daniel focussed away from the grief, the hatred, the sadness. Daniel pushed himself into a rigid lifestyle that would accommodate none of those vices. Daniel turned himself into a living weapon.

This living weapon now walks the streets. He has come with the notion of finding his father’s murderer. He does not know what he will do when the time comes, but he did not know what he would do when confronted with Shou-Lao the Undying. He managed then and he would manage now.

He was wandering, for the moment. Getting the feel of a city he had not visited in a decade. To see something at nine and then nineteen is a great difference. Daniel could feel the difference.

There is a girl standing in a phone box, she is talking to someone. It must be an important conversation because she is crying. She is sobbing with the tears of someone who is giving up. Perhaps the city has not changed that much after all. People still weep. Things still have the ability to turn bad.

Daniel was not sure of how to work his plan into action. As Daniel Rand he could get just about anything he needed. As the Iron Fist he could take just about anything he needed.

There are a group of young men approaching the phone box. Daniel can see where they are specifically headed. He can see it in their eyes, their leers, their bodies, their weapons.

Without a second thought Daniel races into the fray and disarms all of the men. He doesn’t even need to summon his chi to do it. They are amateurs.

Daniel looks at the girl in the phone booth. Her eyes are so wide, she is so scared. He walks up and gently opens the door, he shows that he is safe.

She collapses in his arms. He tells her that she should call the police. She tells him that she already has.

He leaves.

Being around the police is no place for an immortal weapon with a death to repay.

Posted on April 30th, 2008 by ryan
Filed under: Writing