Hello everyone. Checking in again... I know it's been a while since I have, seriously not as long as some of the other times, but it's been a few months... I'm working at putting some time together for writing. I've finally started jotting notes again, which I hope is the sign of more progressive things to come. I've done a little reading, a little bit of rewriting, but nothing big yet, I guess I'm kind of working my way up to it. I started to read a little bit of the original clearing, the one that I have always thought was horrible. I was surprised, it wasn't anywhere near as bad as I remember....

15 inches of fresh powder coated the frozen michigan soil. Making the 20 feet to my ‘75 chevy nova seem like 20 miles. The storm had hit suddenly, seeming to coat everything in it’s harsh winter whiteness. Any other day I would have given in and returned empty handed but, I had not fed in a week. Faced with no other choice I remained.. To wait longer would have been reckless. The door had frozen shut, forcing me to work hard to break the seal of ice. Smack! It came open with a bang and collided with a old tranny laying in a drift of snow. I winced in pain thinking of the damage done. My eyes patrolled the snow drifted remains of my front yard. Catching sight of many other derelict parts. Most left overs from my random transformations. Describe some, maybe suiciding doors or the reverse hood on the nova.)Hoods, doors, fenders, engines, trannies. If a car needed it, odds were it was laying around here somewhere.
“Man this place looks like shit,” My voice came out harsh in the quiet (empty) winter stillness. I knew what my project was going to have to be once the warmer days made a come back. I didn’t make it out here often. Least of all for leisure. Today had been an exception, it was the closest of my feeding grounds.
Settling into the seat I caught my image in the rear view mirror. At roughly six one, I didn’t exactly tower over my peers, but then I still had some beat. My shoulder length dust blonde hair dangled annoyingly over my pale skin. It needed cut bad, it wasn’t going to be. The bright blue eyes that spakled back at me had to be my best feature. Both bright and faintly luminescent. The nose crooked to one side ever so slightly that you’d have to stare to notice. A tight, smirky smile crossed my thin lips. They parted. A flash of fang.
My clothes were generic,(in style, grace, and manufacture.) all knock offs. A tight fitting black t slightly overlapping the exposed belt loops of a new pair of black jeans. A pair of black Steele toed boots completed this highly neurotic winter outfit. The cold wasn’t a problem. I reached over to the back seat, groping for my one single embellishment. A black Italian stone pressed leather jacket. Hey everyone needs a little style.
I quietly slid the key into the ignition and turned. The Nova roared to life and died in the same breath. Giving up on being polite my foot jabbed the accelerator petal to the floor repeatedly and gave the key another twist. She roared to life and purred like the tame little lion she was.

Maybe not the greatest, but seriously, that opening used to drive me insane, I hated it... Now, not so much... but I glad that I got rid of it. Mainly because now that I'm rewriting, so much has changed of the story, that opening would no long fit. More characters have emerged, and the whole thing is nothing like it was... Originall Cam was still living in the town, now, he's been gone for something like 18 years... So, this place isn't his anymore. In the original it wasn't a home, it was a hunting ground. A place he went to feed, and tinker on vehicles. Now, returning to Black Mountain, this the place he goes first. It was, and to him, still is his home.

So what's the point to all this? Nothing, I just felt like talking story for a few minutes. Thanks for listening...