Got a late start today, not sitting down to write until after 9PM or so. Busy day, working on my gift sale stuff, brunch with a friend, watching and listening to the thunderstorm and cloudburst, and generally doing anything BUT writing. Got a few hundred words in, then the magic of Facebook pitched in, and my sprint buddy, Kristi, suggested some late-night sprinting, so from 11 till midnight, we wrote in tandem, using gmail chat as our medium of communication. That got my word count up so that I ended with 2400 for the day. Not enough to clear out my entire 7K technical debt, but I got it down to 5.8K. Not that I’m obsessed with that or anything, but winning NaNoWriMo *is* all about the numbers.
The maintenance guy running the cars through their morning check heard the sound of wrenching metal and crashing somethings and hit the big red stop button next to his right hand. He heard people screaming as he ran through the tunnel to get a full view of the roller-coaster and he knew them that it was bad, very bad. His eyes started running the track as he came out into daylight, up, down, around, over, until he found the place where the set of cars had derailed. He stopped breathing for a moment, unable to process what he was seeing. The cars had left the track at the worst possible point, the one that every maintenance shift checked twice as much as the rest of the track because it was so close to the boardwalk, where thousands of people passed on any given summer’s day. It was winter now, the crowds thinned down to the serious runners or daily walkers with the occasional skateboarding crew thrown in now and then, so not as many people would have been on the boardwalk but from the screams, he had the awful feeling that someone had been in the wrong place at exactly the wrong time.