Here are the first 600 words I wrote for NaNoWriMo this year. Warm out of the oven. (My brain, I mean my brain.)
Heethe sped down the street, threading the motorcycle between cars as bullets whished past him. More than once they slammed into the cars he passed. The city rose as the sun fled from the approaching darkness.
The steering wheel hit a car’s side mirror, broke it off. Heethe pulled his hand back and shook it. Unbroken. He checked to see if the bag was still in place. His hand didn’t matter, only the bag mattered.
He was wearing the Dreamkeeper’s white coat and, as the strange darkness took over the city, was becoming an easier target. Behind him, he heard the nightmare’s car chitter and rumble. It was getting closer.
He looked, just a single quick turn of the head.
The Nightmare’s car was a greasy black, the lights of the city reflected as the raced forward. The driver looked like a man with a wasp’s head and whoever was in the passenger seat was pointing a weapon at him, a gun of some sort.
It fired and Heethe turned just in time.
His mind raced.
How had they managed to get into the tower? Had any of the other Dreamkeepers gotten away?
Touched the bag again. Needed to feel that it was there. But what to do with it?
He took a sharp right turn, zig-zagged between cars on the wide city street but always heard the crashing and chittering behind him. This world didn’t have the same rules as the waking world, but he still worried for the people in the cars around him.
The skyscrapers he was speeding past seemed to lean in slightly. The whole city was taking on a more menacing appearance. Heethe heard a helicopter in the distance and hoped it wasn’t one of theirs. Looking for him.
The stones had to be kept safe. As long as they didn’t have the stones they couldn’t do any real damage. As long as they didn’t have the stones the dreamers would be safe.
The city had been enveloped in bright daylight for centuries, with only passing moments of twilight. The safe city of the dreaming.
The colors of the city seemed to be dimming, as if covered in dust. Fading from the blues and pinks into monochrome.
The car behind him was getting close, spurred on by some unnatural power. Heethe reached his hand behind his back and pulled out his quarterstaff. For the first time since taking on the role of Dreamkeeper, he was taking it out for something other than practice. He had prepared for something like this. But not this.
He turned, steering the motorcycle with one hand, just as the creature in the passenger side of the car reached two ragged-thin clawed legs out of the window and grabbed a hold of the roof and pulled itself onto it. Slithering out of the window. Half man, half grasshopper, it steadied itself on the roof and pushed off, using the car’s momentum to propel towards Heethe.
In one swift motion he swung his quarterstaff and struck the thing in the side of the head. It fell down onto the street and turned to smoke just before the car struck it.
A nightmare. Everything was a nightmare now. He had to get the stones to safety.
Heethe, the last remaining Dreamkeeper, turned his motorcycle into a small side street and drew on the power of the stones. The motorcycle widened slightly as the engine grew. Shimmered underneath Heethe as it became more powerful. The city blurred around him as it gained speed. The helicopter was getting close.
He twisted the steering wheel, turning sharply and heard with satisfaction as the car that has been following him missed the turn and crashed somewhere behind him. An alley to the left that he turned into.
Moments later, two creatures that were half-human half-insect found the motorcycle but no trace of Heethe.