Welcome back to WIPpet Wednesday, hosted by K.L. Schwengel, a weekly blog hop wherein participants share excerpts from their WIPs related in some way to the date. 2+7+5=14, so I’m sharing 14 lines from the third chapter of my WIP.
Two weeks after the miraculous rescue of the Imperial children and two of their retainers, the assassins are scheduled to be publicly hanged. At breakfast, Aleksey speaks with the soldiers guarding the house about the possibility of walking for this event. He suggests lying about getting hurt during the attack to explain away the wheelchair, but one of the soldiers says that would never fly after everyone has seen the images of him being carried around, and the constant rumours about his health.
At age 23, I was run over by a car and pinned underneath for 15–20 minutes, resulting in four leg surgeries and a limp in my right leg. I couldn’t walk for 11 months after the accident, and was on crutches and a walker again for awhile after the fourth surgery, which removed some of the metal hardware. I know the helplessness of not being able to walk, and the terror of finally being able to start doing it again after being out of practice for so long. It’s a miracle only my right leg broke, since both were pinned under the wheel. My left leg was protected because the right leg had rolled on top of it.
Writing characters with leg injuries or limps is now second nature to me, and eerily enough, two of my limping characters had that written into their stories long before my car accident. It’s almost like I knew, even before I knew. The future Tsaritsa in this particular story also walks with a limp. I felt kind of ashamed and depressed about my newfound limp till I found out Curly Howard had a real-life limp. That’s pretty nice company to be in.
“I can bend my knee a little bit. Maybe I could try walking, and only have to walk as much as necessary till I feel like I’m completely healed. I’ve recovered from serious injuries and illnesses before, and God always performs a miracle for me.”
After breakfast was over, Alekséy wheeled himself away from the table and slowly stood up out of the wheelchair, holding onto two of the soldiers. He was able to bend both of his knees, though not as easily as he had prior to the hemorrhage of a few months ago. If only he hadn’t fallen while getting into bed, he would’ve been walking normally. Now that he was getting older, he should have the presence of mind to be much more careful and avoid such situations. If he wanted to be one of the blessèd few hemophiliacs who lived into adulthood, he’d have to watch himself much more carefully, particularly now that his parents were gone and he’d be under the care of court physicians only. And as loath as he was to admit such a thing, particularly so soon after his parents’ murders, perhaps they’d made some of his outbreaks worse. When everyone around him was panicked, that made him feel more panicked as well. Some good court physicians might be just the calming influence he needed to become healthier and recover from bleeding episodes more quickly.
Alekséy walked around the large former mansion, holding onto the kindly soldiers every minuscule, excruciating, painstaking step of the way. At this point, after the last few months, he was more used to not walking than walking, but it felt so liberating to finally be able to walk again. It wasn’t the world’s easiest task, but he shouldn’t expect it to come easily after being out of practice for so long.