Here's Chapter two, and there will be chapter 3 soon, so please comment on
it so I'll know if I need to change or add anything! Ps. Let's pretend the
knife isn't broken, ok? He just doesn't use it to cut into worlds.
Chapter 2
Memories
Will sat bolt upright in bed, panting. He glanced at his clock, the red numbers shining 2:32 into the darkness. His dreams were back. They had haunted him ever sinve after Christmas, and it was midsummer now. He ran his fingers through his hair as he calmed down, trying to settle his pounding heart. The dream always started and ended the same-
He could hear Lyra crying. He was in a jungle, and the humid air pressed in all around him. The water from a recent rain dripped from large green leaves. His daemon, Kirjava, was running ahead, chattering happily.
He walked for ten forevers, but Lyra's voice just faded away. He parted a bush and there she was, just the same looking as when he had climbed through his window to Oxford. She had an enormous pink hibiscus flower in her blonde hair, and she was wearing a soft pink silk dress, which spread out around her in a cloud. She was gazing into a stream.
He ran to her and pulled her in a tight embrace, but she just cried and pushed him away. He would reach for her, but she seemed to get farther away. Kirjava and Lyra's daemon, Pantalaimon, were wrestling as lemurs. Suddenly, Lyra scooped up Pan and ran away, leaving Will alone with Kirjava.
He always woke at that part, even when he was thinking of running after her. Several times he had whimpered or cried out in his sleep, and his mother would come to lay a cool hand on his head. Will puzzled her; he would never tell her how his fingers were missing, or why he slept with a disgustingly ugly knife under his pillow.
Will hugged his pillow tightly, remembering how he had held Lyra in his arms after Gracious Wings had rescued her from the abyss. At that moment 3 or so years ago, he knew. This was the girl he loved and wanted to marry, even though he was 13.
He still saw Kirjava. If he turned real fast, or pretended to be occupied with something else, he would see a black tail whisk around the corner or out the window. His mother had seen an abnormally large cat sleeping on his chest one night, purring with an occasional mew when Will would utter a noise in his dreams. When she looked again it was gone.
Will reached under his pillow and drew out the subtle knife, running his hand along the scorched handle, and, carefully, the outlines of the pieces. He remembered closing the last window, reaching for Lyra and brushing her tears away, then fastening the invisible window shut. He laid back and silently made an oath: he would get to Lyra again, even if it killed him.
Chapter 2
Memories
Will sat bolt upright in bed, panting. He glanced at his clock, the red numbers shining 2:32 into the darkness. His dreams were back. They had haunted him ever sinve after Christmas, and it was midsummer now. He ran his fingers through his hair as he calmed down, trying to settle his pounding heart. The dream always started and ended the same-
He could hear Lyra crying. He was in a jungle, and the humid air pressed in all around him. The water from a recent rain dripped from large green leaves. His daemon, Kirjava, was running ahead, chattering happily.
He walked for ten forevers, but Lyra's voice just faded away. He parted a bush and there she was, just the same looking as when he had climbed through his window to Oxford. She had an enormous pink hibiscus flower in her blonde hair, and she was wearing a soft pink silk dress, which spread out around her in a cloud. She was gazing into a stream.
He ran to her and pulled her in a tight embrace, but she just cried and pushed him away. He would reach for her, but she seemed to get farther away. Kirjava and Lyra's daemon, Pantalaimon, were wrestling as lemurs. Suddenly, Lyra scooped up Pan and ran away, leaving Will alone with Kirjava.
He always woke at that part, even when he was thinking of running after her. Several times he had whimpered or cried out in his sleep, and his mother would come to lay a cool hand on his head. Will puzzled her; he would never tell her how his fingers were missing, or why he slept with a disgustingly ugly knife under his pillow.
Will hugged his pillow tightly, remembering how he had held Lyra in his arms after Gracious Wings had rescued her from the abyss. At that moment 3 or so years ago, he knew. This was the girl he loved and wanted to marry, even though he was 13.
He still saw Kirjava. If he turned real fast, or pretended to be occupied with something else, he would see a black tail whisk around the corner or out the window. His mother had seen an abnormally large cat sleeping on his chest one night, purring with an occasional mew when Will would utter a noise in his dreams. When she looked again it was gone.
Will reached under his pillow and drew out the subtle knife, running his hand along the scorched handle, and, carefully, the outlines of the pieces. He remembered closing the last window, reaching for Lyra and brushing her tears away, then fastening the invisible window shut. He laid back and silently made an oath: he would get to Lyra again, even if it killed him.
