Her eyes were blue. They probably still are. An understated grey-blue, neither pale nor dark, a shade which haunted both my dreams and my waking thoughts for every hour of my life during that time, and for years after. Sad eyes, looking at me from behind the glasses which she disliked so much, but which had become somehow synonymous with her image in my mind. My memories of that blissful time will always be of that grey-blue which attracted me so. And of silver, the silver light that played between her hands as she created.

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The first few chapters of a novel that hopefully I'll finish some day

It's been ages since I posted last. I've been thinking a bit (a lot) lately about writing, and what it means to me and what I want to do with it. I've said this before... but I'm hoping to post a lot more in the near future. I've got plans, man, big plans1, you just wait.

So anyway, I thought I'd post this to get the ball rolling. This is a story and a universe I've been working on in bits and pieces since the Planck epoch. The Richell Prize, a novel-writing competition, prompted me in 2015 to go ahead and get the first few chapters done. I didn't make the shortlist, and I wasn't expecting to, but it did succeed in getting me to put some actual stuff down. Two years later and I haven't added much - you know how it is - but I thought I'd put it up here anyway. It's a bit rough in retrospect, and it could definitely use some work. One day, man. One day.

1 Plans are at most mild to medium in size.