by V Rose Dahrke
Now, before I get “you said this weekend” (as though I ever get comments) bear in mind that because my first class of the week is on Tuesday (i.e. tomorrow) today is still technically my weekend. Besides, as South Park‘s Stuart McCormick put it, “Weekends are meaningless when you’re unemployed.”
To add to the fun of this, I have stats homework tonight, so I’m stopping in fourteen minutes regardless of how much I have actually revealed. And…Go!
So, I’ve been working out.
I’ll be the first to admit it: I’ve put on a bit of weight over the past two years, and I’ve been looking to get rid of it for just about as long. Tried eating this, not eating that, etc., and finally decided, as a last-ditch desperate attempt, to do the one thing I hadn’t tried.
I hauled my stupid ass to the gym.
In another time and another country (another life and world, it seems), I was a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. I lifted weights. I was never skinny, but I was tough. I had forgotten of late how good it feels to work out, how much I loved the soreness and pains that mean that, even if not spiritually, you are physically better than the day before. I never realized how much I’ve missed the ache of becoming.
Now, all of this is just a meandering preface to the statement “I was on the elliptical the other night when an idea which has since set A Story Twice Divided on its head came to me.”
Now, if you’ve been listening, you know I’ve had a few of these moments recently. This, however, is a little different. My epiphanies usually involve killing someone, changing how someone is killed or, changing the implications of someone’s death. This, however is happy. This is beautiful, or at least I think so.
Reactions from those I have explained this too have ranged from “That’s great” to “That’s disturbing”, and I like to think it’s somewhere in between the two.
Seven minutes left.
Anyway, so the third book of the series, about which I have said very little if any at all in this medium, takes place, essentially (one of those words I overuse), in the netherworld of the focal group of people, the Orphans. “Land of the Dead” is a better term, really, as netherworld implies a sort of underground-ness where, the Orphans being a troglodytic race of beings, this particular afterlife is an above-ground…sort of place. The protagonist of the second and third books, Queta Uewen, and the remainder of the now-decimated Orphan army escape to this place, not realizing onto what they’ve stumbled. Of course, there they encounter characters who have died over the course of the series; families are reunited, loves are requited, and general happiness ensues before they must face a final battle with the Citizens.
…And that’s not even close to all I have to say. As usual, the background information will take me longer to reveal than any actual revelation.
If I have time after math, I shall return.