Hey, welcome to another WIP Wednesday! On the first Wednesday of every month, I share an excerpt of what I’m working on, and I invite you to do the same in the comments. We don’t mind if it’s rough. If you’re a regular (YAY, thank you for being a regular!!), you know the drill, but if you’re new, here are the guidelines!
1. You can share anywhere from a paragraph up to a couple of pages. It’s also fine just to share some comments about how your writing is going… or not going, as the case may be. We just like hearing from you!
2. Don’t critique other people’s writing — even if you have the best of intentions. This is a space for work that may not be ready for a critique yet. Sharing a kind word or even a “thanks!”, on the other hand, is not only encouraged, but also good karma for you as a writer.
3. Minors read this blog. Your excerpt can be rated G, PG, or PG-13, but not R.
4. Feel free to link to your blog or another website that features more of your work! Please don’t share an excerpt of your already published work, however. This is “WIP Wednesday,” not “Part-of-a-Thing-I-Already-Published Wednesday” (though I’m thinking about setting up posts like that, now and again — what do you think of the idea?)
[AdSense-B]
Okay, let’s get rolling!
I’m writing book two and book three of my trilogy more or less concurrently. I feel like I should focus on book two first, but my imagination has other ideas!
This one does have a mild trigger warning for suicide. My character, Dominic (Nic) Joe, shot and killed his brother in arms while under the influence of a demonic spell. For days, Nic’s been in despair over killing his friend. After the memorial service, he asks to speak to his commander, because he doesn’t think he can resist his suicidal thoughts much longer.
The Russian transliterations may not be correct — I still need to find an expert for that. If you are one, let me know!
Nic had never thought much about his drop code before. It was only a fail safe. An easy way to stop his own heart, in case he was interrogated and about to break.
Now, he could hardly think about anything else. The words repeated in his head, daring him to speak them out loud. V trave, na l’du, v snagu… In the grass, on the ice, in the snow… Volk vsegda budet rasstrelyan. A wolf will always be shot.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, Capitán Renaud asked, “What do you want, Joe?”
“Sir, I can’t continue as a Knight.”
Capitán regarded him steadily. “Kazokov is a terrible loss. But he’s not the first to die by friendly fire.”
“But I…” He burned with shame. It would be so much easier to die than admit this. “My drop code has to be deactivated. And I can’t have a gun.” Would Capitán understand what he was saying? “I know forsaking my vows means a prison sentence.” He’d pay for what he’d done, while getting away from those he’d hurt and disappointed.
Capitán folded his arms and looked away, pondering this. “We can deactivate it for a short time. You’re not breaking your vows. I’m reassigning you.”
Nic blinked. He hadn’t considered this possibility. It was better than he deserved. If he could overcome his suicidal urges, he could contribute in some more ordinary way, posing no danger to his own. Maybe he could be sent to a faraway guarída, like Tangiers or Shanghai.
“Did you know that Rafaela Bravo in Sao Paolo is retiring as mission runner?”
“Yes.” He’d never worked with Gabi Bravo’s mother, but people loved her.
“I’m sending Török to Sao Paolo in a few weeks’ time. You’ll take Török’s place here in London.”
No, this was crazy. He’d expected to fulfill some less visible role—building maintenance, or ordering supplies. A mission runner had to make the right calls on the fly. “I’m not right for the job.”
“Not yours to judge.”
He did know, more than ever, how badly and how easily things could go wrong. But wouldn’t the Knights dread working with him? They’d been supportive in the past week, saying variations of I could’ve made the same mistake, but it was easy to say those things when you didn’t have to trust someone.
At least Nic wouldn’t have a gun, and wouldn’t accidentally shoot the wrong person. And as daunting as the prospect was, part of him was still absurdly grateful. His leader still had a high opinion of his competence and worth, even if he didn’t. It made the voice in his head that kept repeating his drop code fall silent.
Capitán drew closer to him. “Keep my Knights safe.”
Simon’s pale dead face, his unseeing wide eyes, filled Nic’s mind again. He swallowed down a fresh wave of guilt and grief. “Yes, sir.”
“All of them.” His gaze bored into Nic. “Your life is still pledged to us. It’s not yours to take. You understand?”
Even in his misery, having his commander speak those words over him was a benefit. It gave him a thread to hang onto. “Obedezco.”
Incidentally, Nic’s drop code is from a poem by one of my favorite poets, Anna Akhmatova, whose work is in the public domain. I didn’t want to take credit.
I’ll share something more light-hearted next time, maybe!
Have you got something to share today? Or do you have have something to say? Go ahead in the comments section below! Thanks for reading, and happy writing!
I am doing yet another edit of my manuscript from 2016 NaNoWriMo that I am wanting to get published, thinking of submitting to TCK Publishing. And I just this week went live with my new website http://www.lindasholbrook.com Would love feedback, especially if I should change anything. The first chapter of the manuscript is on the website.
Way to go on editing your NaNoWriMo manuscript! A lot of people never do anything with them afterward, which I think is such a shame. And congratulations on the new website! If it’s anything like mine, it will grow and change over time, but it’s nice to see you and the kitties, AND I really like it that you have clear navigation at the top. Thanks for sharing!
Bryn – Really liked the tension in your excerpt – made me curious and wanting to read more. Recently, I’ve been working on a soft-horror short-story, not my usual genre or venue, but I was more or less compelled. I am sure you know what that feels like! Although it is still in the final editing process – here is a bit:
“It is always mid-winter in my memories. The moonlight shining through my only window creates a rainbow of frosted lace on the glass. When the moon sets, I know it will not be much longer. Staring at the ceiling, I pray…and wait.
“His pacing ceases with the light. My hands tremble and I can barely breathe for listening. He taps his walking stick softly on the tapestried floor. Twice. Not loud enough to wake me if I am sleeping, or loud enough for anyone to hear who is not listening for its whispered plea. Easing from my warm nest, I quickly wrap myself in a thick grey robe and pull on short stockings to keep my feet warm and my footsteps silent.
“Walking easily through the dark shadows that I know well by day, a lamp is not required to find the steps. Without a stumble, I grasp the rail and cautiously climb the winding back staircase. Without hope, I pause at his door, without knocking, I step inside the room.
“’Hurry, girl!’ he says, trying to keep his voice low.
Whoa! I need more!!! Seriously, this submission is great. Very intriguing.
Artemis, thank you for your kind words. Still polishing. Re-reading it online today, I can see where the cadence is off a bit in the last paragraph. Always need more eyes. 😉
Wha…? Where’s the rest? You can’t leave us hanging like that? A hook of a snippet.
I feel like I was there. I am like a fly on the wall. Thank you.
Hi, PJ! This is different from what you shared before, though your lyrical writing style is distinctive. It’s a great time of year to work on something spooky. That first line is killer. Nice going.
Wow! So many nice comments. Looks like I am on the right track. Thank you all for the encouragement – and you especially Bryn, for sharing your wonderful work and allowing us a place to bolster our courage for the next step. <3
Beautiful imagery!! This brings to mind a very tense, moody kind of horror where most of the scary stuff is implied and left to one’s imaginings (my favourite kind!). Would definitely love to read more.
Hey Bryn, Is this excerpt from the 2nd or 3rd book? I want to know so I can patiently (not) wait for it to be released. What I loved about it was you could feel the pain and shame Nic is suffering. I’ve had some embarrassing moments in my life but nothing like losing a friend because of a mistake. The passage immediately made him sympathetic, his despair and willingness to sacrifice himself painful to read but felt so real. Brava!
So in the last post, I submitted the end of chapter 1 of Libra’s Limbo. Chapter 2 introduces the antagonist love interest and explains why she decides to rescue Libra. Today’s excerpt is the start of the chapter where she shows up to break him out.
___
The door to his cell opened and the burly Corvus Ward guards threw Libra inside. The door slammed just as he crumpled to the concrete floor, the loud bang blessedly hiding the moan he could no longer repress. Goddess be damned, he hurt. Everywhere.
He squinted to clear his vision then flinched. A touch of the skin around his eyes explained why he couldn’t see very well; the punches had swollen the lids almost shut. The rest of his face hadn’t faired any better. Lumps and bumps covered his normally sharp cheekbones and square jaw; his lips had split under the force of the blows.
He flattened his body onto the floor and pressed the right side of his face against the cold to ease the aches, too tired to check the rest of his body for the insults the warriors dealt the flesh hidden by his clothes.
Libra stared past the bars of the shiny new cell to the shadow-filled ceiling of the rust- and dust-covered warehouse. He had no idea where they had hidden him, but he was above ground. The air was too fresh for underground, yet there were no smells to help him figure out if he was in a city or the country. No plane, train or cars sounds—just cameras and locks and a Hannibal Lector-ish freestanding cell with thick metal bars that had so far withstood his attempts to bend them.
Who knew the Corvus Wards had spent any time in the human world?
Hulking warriors that could be mistaken for trolls fed him three square a day. Not that the food was palatable—most gray gruels weren’t in his experience. That dubious joy, interlaced with the torture, made his days perilously close to tedious.
He didn’t do tedious.
The torture was excruciating but tolerable; the true pain was the filthy sackcloth they forced him to wear. He rolled his shoulders against the rough fabric. Unbearable. Who the hell can get away with wearing orange, much less orange covered in someone else’s stink? Many people tried—didn’t mean they carried it off.
He watched the valiant shaft of sunlight that had raced across the ceiling disappear, its fight against the earth’s rotation lost—time for another long night. He closed his eyes but his mind was too busy trying to sort out what had happened to allow for sleep.
Why had Aubrianna aligned herself with the Corvus Wards? What could she think to gain by being the paranorm and InBetween ambassador? She’d ranted more times than he could remember about the paranorm dreck she had to deal with. More importantly, what were the Zodiacs doing about getting him out of here?
He shifted, wincing when the itchy fabric of his clothes scrapped across his injuries, and pulled the sole blanket off the cot provided him. He covered his body the best he could with minimal movement and closed his eyes. He needed sleep more than the gruel if he was to hold on.
He sagged, exhaustion leading him into blissful oblivion, when a door at one end of the warehouse screeched open.
Soft footfalls hurried to his cage. Definitely not the Cro-Magnon steps of his guards, their knuckles scraping on the ground. “Come on, grackles. What do you want? Are we starting a nighttime torture schedule?” he asked without opening his eyes, hoping, by not acknowledging them, would make them go away.
“Not exactly,” a female voice answered.
He opened his eyes, tried to push his chest of the floor until he saw a familiar oval face that appeared out of the shadows. He blew out a gusty sigh and settled on the hard concrete again. “Taryn? What the hell?”
“Hello to you, too.” Taryn stopped at the bars. “I’m here to break you out.”
He studied at the frump’s cloud of black curls, her long, wild-colored, gypsy skirt, and the white blouse that had seen better days. He willed his body not to shudder. “Yea, yea. You and who else?” He rolled onto his back and struggled to sit up.
“Just me.”
“How did you get in here? A spell? Or did you slay them? Goddess knows that outfit could do the trick. The colors alone could blind a man.”
She scowled. “Do you want out of there or not? Because I’m willing to walk out of here alone, if I don’t start feeling the love.” She wiggled her fingers, beckoning him to declare his undying.
“You managed to get in here, but how do you expect to get me out of this cage?”
“First, change.” She shoved a garment bag through the bars. He opened the bag and sighed—she had brought one of his favorite outfits: a black slacks and cashmere sweater, a white silk long-sleeved tee, and Tod loafers—comfort and elegance in one combo, but noted she hadn’t brought him any boxer briefs. ‘Commando’ crossed his mind and he wondered if her omission was an admission of her view of undergarments in general. He snorted then banished the thought.
“That’s the most inconspicuous set of clothes I could find but don’t get used to them. We need to get you dressed in clothes that don’t stand out. Work clothes like normal people wear—jeans and tees shirts and a non-descript coat so you don’t look like a penguin in a pile of puppies.”
“Clothes?”
“Work clothes, preferably used.”
He didn’t need to hear more, the horror that the word ‘used’ instilled was enough. “Damn.” He staggered to his feet, turned his back and unzipped the jump suit. But when he tried to shrug out of the sackcloth his muscles and bones weren’t having it. He tried to pull a sleeve off one arm. The agony made his vision swim.
“Son of a—” He rezipped the jumpsuit and closed the garment bag before handing it back to Taryn. “That will have to wait. Where are the Zodiacs?”
“Lyon had no choice but to leave you here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“What’d you expect him to do? Your chance of becoming the paranorm ambassador was blown when your mom walked into the InBetween. Seems pretty obvious she and the Corvus Ward king planned this, and now she’s the ambassador.”
“Then why are you here? Does Lyon have a plan?”
“He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“What?” His face grew hot—the need to reach through the bars and throttle the woman epic. How Taryn got under his skin so easily was beyond him, but she always did. She was the only woman he’d met who was born to tip his zodiac scale to the darkside. He’d already deemed her an enemy—her appearance here didn’t change that—instead this example of impulsive recklessness won her a lifetime membership to his to-be-assiduously-avoided club. He backed up and sat down hard on the cot. “What exactly were you planning?”
Her cheeks flushed, her jaws clenched as if she was grinding her teeth. “Get you out. Learn how to find the ley lines.”
“Find them? What the hell does that mean? With a divining rod?” He snorted, “Or maybe you think you have some long-lost ability from your insane, familicidal, witch goddess mother?”
Taryn grabbed the bars of his cell and sneered. “At least my mother has enough passion in her to want to kill me, yours wouldn’t lift an anything to help you. She shoved you aside and took over the ambassadorship, leaving you here to rot.” She waved a hand at his brutalized face. “Or be beaten to death.”
Libra’s fingers tingled. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath but it didn’t quell his rising rage.
“Come now, nothing to say? No smooth comeback meant to put me in my place?”
“Shut it, you little termagant.”
“Aw, five dollar words. You’ll have to do better than that.”
He charged, his arms raised, his hands open like claws ready to grip her skinny neck and squeeze. His rage tipped over and pulses of blue energy exploded out of his hands. The bars hummed and quivered under the onslaught.
She danced out of reach of his power. “I love it when you lose your temper, makes you positively human, but you might want to step back. My witchy skills are not very developed. I could be opening the cell door,” she said pulling a sheet of paper out of her skirt, “or neutering you.” She clucked as she unfolded the page with a snap of her wrist. “Right now, either one would do.”
Oh my goodness, I so feel his pain but there’s a couple of lines there that had me smiling. I love your excerpts. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much for reading my excerpt, KC. The feedback is so wonderful!
This is from book three! You are too kind as always, Artemis. ☺
I was really wincing with Libra… especially at the itchy fabric against his wounds, for some reason… and I loved the exchange between him and Taryn. I’m really invested in Libra at this point. When can we get this book?!
Thank you so much Bryn! I was supposed to release it this fall but I lost my editor to a change of career. My new editor can’t start until December 1st. Yikes. But…during the book the vernal equinox is featured so I thought doing a release on March 20th of next year would the perfect date! I will let you know!
I really enjoyed the way you described Libra’s agony in this scene…I really felt for him. I also liked the line: “Aw, five dollar words. You’ll have to do better than that.” That made me giggle and really sums up their interaction/relationship for me (at least in this scene). Now what happens next??? 🙂
Half-way through the final edit of a fantasy novel before sending the manuscript to beta readers.
From “An Easterly Sojourn” (working title)
A solitary figure paced in the darkness. Intense humming in Dagorat’s ears had roused him from sleep almost an hour ago. The high-pitched noise rose and fell over and over, wailing like a relentless sentry until he awakened. His Mage-Sense had reached out to him and dispensed a warning. Four years ago, the last time this had happened, it had caused an abrupt change in his life; a change not for the better.
Also, a collection of seven shorts is in the making. Already written but once again editing. Here’s the opening paragraph of “Roadkill”
The man in black always brought out the worst in people. A dark aura hovered around him and circled those he encountered, like a predator anticipating the right moment to pounce. Sometimes in mere minutes, hostility would arise in the most easygoing guys and grab the spotlight, as if summoned by the deadly ringmaster of an evil circus.
Two interesting snippets. Thank you for sharing.
Just the first paragraphs.
Ernesto, nice to see you! Congratulations on getting to the final editing stage with your fantasy novel. That’s an accomplishment already. I really enjoyed these two snippets. The noise waking him up, presaging change… very cool!
Thankies Brynn. I may not always post, but I always enjoy reading your posts.
Wow, that was a gripping snippet, Bryn! My heart really aches for Nic. Such turmoil!
I am planning the next draft of my YA oracle story. I didn’t get into Pitch Wars, sadly, but I took a great revision webinar and have been following your editing posts to add to my tool kit. I keep going!
Here’s an exchange I wrote between Claire and her cousin Alexa, who claims to be oracle of the goddess Metis:
“Lonny nearly fell, you know,” I tell her.
She doesn’t even turn to look at me as she tries on a necklace, golden leaves gleaming like laurel against her olive skin.
Like she deserves them, Alexa, the champion of lies.
“Yes, of course dear Ronny almost fell,” she says. “It would have been dreadful tragedy if he did. Thank Metis I saw it and warned him.”
No, she didn’t, Simon did.
“His name is Lonny, and did you even try to stop it? Simon was the one who caught him. I was the one who screamed.”
She slides a golden snake onto her perfectly toned arms. “You did a good thing, little Claire. Use your talent. If you work hard, you could be one of my priestesses one day.”
Screaming is not one of my talents. “I don’t want to be your stupid priestess.” It sounds almost as tedious as being the oracle herself—probably worse, if I have to work with Alexa all day. “A man almost died. I want to hear that it mattered to you. He’s our cousin.”
“Of course, it mattered. I saved his life— “
“You haven’t even checked that he’s okay!”
This outburst finally tears her away from the mirror. “Did the oracle check on Oedipus when he killed his father and married his mother? How about Croesus? When Delphi predicted he would destroy a great empire, and it turned out to be his own, did she go back to him and say, ‘I’m sorry, I should have been more clear?’”
She isn’t wrong. Terribly callous, but not wrong.
“Of course, they did not,” she continues. “Because that is not what oracles do.” She slides her second bracelet onto her arm, looking smug.
“Then why would anyone want to be oracle?” I say it mostly to myself. “If you can say the future but not affect it?”
“It is not the fault of the oracle of people will be fools.”
“No,” I agree. “But I would still try to save them from themselves.”
I love the conflict Claire feels. I love reading the snippets you share, thank you.
Kimberly! Hi, friend! I am sorry to hear about Pitch Wars – though, I’ve got to say, so much of that is subjective. You’ve got the right attitude about perservering – it’s a numbers game, and the more you put things out there, the more likely it is that you’ll find the person who vibes with what you’re doing! But you already know all this! You’ve worked hard at your craft and it shows, and I believe good things are coming.
I’m really enjoying your story, and this feels like such a pivotal scene. I think that first person present tense really fits for this.
PS Thank you for your kind words!
I love Greek mythology, and I always like stories with a new way of incorporating the old myths, or – in this case – the mysticism of Greek mythology. I enjoyed Alexa’s attitude toward her oracular powers.
I’m working on my second novel. It is about a woman who was engaged and on the night of her engagement party there was an automobile accident and she lost a leg. Shortly after, her fiance found someone else. Now she finds herself five years later, playing the role of a fiance to keep her sister out of jail. Below is the first chapter.
Chapter 1
Hauck slammed his palm against the steering wheel. How could he have been so stupid? He shook his head and pushed on the gas exceeding the speed limit. She had damn well better be at home. He’d already wasted enough time waiting for her to show up. Their agreement had been to meet this morning at 7:30 a.m. at the coffee shop. He’d waited until 8:30 for her to show; now he was running late, and his grandmother would be worried.
All he’d wanted was for her to show up and pretend to be his fiancé for a few weekends over the next couple of months. He’d paid her a handsome advance for her time. All he could think about was his ailing grandmother and the hope and joy this arrangement was supposed to have given her. Crap! What if his faux fiancé had taken his money and run? He hated people getting one up on him. It rarely happened, but when it did, he took pleasure in making sure they regretted it.
He pressed the gas pedal a little more, frustrated with himself for not thinking this idea through better.
“You have arrived at your destination on the left.” The GPS broke into his thoughts.
As he approached the quaint cottage, hidden among poplar trees he had a déjà vu moment. The wraparound porch held two rocking chairs and a small table. The steps held pots of various colors of chrysanthemums reminding him of his grandmother’s house before all the improvements. Simpler days.
Hauck opened the door of his Mercedes and stepped out onto the gravel driveway. He straightened his six foot two inch frame and headed for the front door.
He took the steps to the porch two at a time. Inside a dog barked, as he rang the bell. The dog barked louder, and when he used his fisted hand and banged on the door. “Ivan, hush,” a woman’s voice called. Through the sheer curtain that covered the window, he saw a shadowy figure approach the door, “Okay, okay, chill out!”
When the door opened a woman, wearing black trousers and a mauve silk blouse, two sizes too big for her slender body stood in the doorway. Something about the fluffy, pink pig sleepers she wore on her feet released the tension he felt. At a quick glance, she looked like a slightly older version of Kelly. Except that Kelly had been well groomed and dressed to flaunt her good looks; this woman was just the opposite. This woman had raven black hair that hung down around her face. She wore tinted oversized black framed glasses. The hair and the glasses concealed her face. The only jewelry she wore were a small pair of leaf earrings.
“May I help you?”
Despite the annoyance in her voice, it was soft. The dog sat down next to her pig slippers. Her hand ran along the dog’s head. Ivan had stopped barking and wagged his tail. “May I help you?” she repeated.
His eyes left the dog and traveled back to Ivan’s owner. This must be Kelly’s sister. When she looked up at him, he saw a delicate cylindrical nose and classic high cheekbones that were slightly flushed. “I’m looking for your sister Kelly.”
Ivan’s nose peeped through the door, and his tail wagged. “I’m looking for Kelly Brewster, is she here?”
“She’s not here.”
His frustration grew as he realized his worst fears were coming to fruition. Kelly had taken his money and run, and he still needed a fiancé. The woman in the mauve blouse, started to close the door, but he inserted his foot into the opening. He wasn’t leaving here without finding out where Kelly was.
The dog had been sitting very regally, alert and waiting for Madame to open the door. His nose was twitching trying to get a good whiff of the visitor. Suddenly, the dog broke through the opening and jumped up on Hauck. Hauck stepped back to regain his balance surprised by the height of the dog. Standing on its hind legs, with its paws on his shoulders, the dog was almost as tall as he was and he had to turn his head to the side to avoid being licked in the face.
“Ivan, get down,” the woman commanded with a disapproving tone in her voice. Her tone had reduced the dog to cowering, and Hauk felt sorry for him. He wondered if she could made men] cower with the same disapproving tone. “I’m sorry; he’s not mean if anything he loves people.
“My sister is not here.” She grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled him into the house, then kicked the door shut with her piggy foot.
He stood on the porch a few seconds miffed that she hadn’t given him a chance to explain.
He knocked on the door again, this time, a bit more impatiently. “My name is Hauck Devearux. I need to talk you; about your sister.”
She yanked the door back open. “I told you she is not here; I don’t know where she is.”
“May I come in and talk to you?” he pleaded.
He stood there, as she looked him over. He could see by the way she looked at him, she was assessing whether or not he was dangerous. He couldn’t help it his lips twitched. Opening the door wider, she motioned for him to step in while she held the dog’s collar.
“I am running late for work.” She let the dog go. she snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor in front of him. In an authoritarian voice she said, “Sit.”
Ivan sat erect, and head held high. Ears were perked, and his nose twitching as he became familiar with Hauck’s scent.
Hauck rubbed his hand down his face. “I’m late for an important meeting. One in which your sister was to play a crucial role.” An edge of impatience filled his tone. She looked up from changing into shoes and gathering her belongings for work.
“I’m sorry Mr. Devearux, I don’t know where my sister is. I’m late, and I have to get going.” She seemed to pause and then take a deep breath, “What is it that you need to discuss about my sister?”
A muscle flicked in his jaw. He looked at his watch and frowned and then looked up at her. He was used to dating beautiful, sensual women, and this woman seemed to go out of her way to make herself appear dowdy. Still, there was something that made him wonder what she would look like with her hair up and little tendrils falling around her face and neck. He liked the sound of her voice even when she was put off, and it came out soft and breathy. He shook his head getting back to the issue at hand.
To him, $25,000 wasn’t all that much money, but it was the principle, and he didn’t like being taken. There wasn’t time to find someone else. A thought was beginning to take shape. Would his grandmother accept this woman as his fiancé? She was the opposite of the women he had dated, but maybe that would make it more believable that he is was ready to settle down. It might end up better than he hoped. “She left me in a lurch. Who is going to take her place?”
She shrugged her shoulders in an I could care less gesture and picked up her mug, stooped to give Ivan a hug and opened the door. Anger came out of nowhere and burned in his gut. Before she could step through the open door, he reached above her and pushed it closed. He didn’t like being dismissed as if he were nothing. He’d given her sister $25,000 he deserved a bit of assistance finding her.
She whipped around to face him her back against the door. Her mouth parted. Fear had dilated her eyes, and her face had paled. Ivan lowered his head and fixed his eyes on Hauck and growled a long deep growl his teeth showing. Hauck regretted his action immediately. He had taken his anger out on her, it wasn’t her fault her sister had bilked him.
Hooked! I want to read the rest. Will this be a stand alone or is it linked to your first novel? Thank you for sharing.
Well, dang, Carol, this: “It is about a woman who was engaged and on the night of her engagement party there was an automobile accident and she lost a leg. Shortly after, her fiance found someone else.”
Is one heck of a premise. Can I say I’m a little jealous of this guy, because he doesn’t feel like 25K is a lot of money? Haha. Thanks for posting! Hope you do it again next month!
Nicely done. It seems like a set-up for a romance.
Thanks for sharing, Bryn! I’ve posted a link on my blog. I can feel and follow the conversation, even though I’m not familiar with all the names and places yet. You slip in relevant details without interrupting story flow: “He’d never worked with Gabi Bravo’s mother, but people loved her.”
In July, I shared about fighting in “no breeches,” part of the chapter I hope to post in the next week or so to my Dragon Age adventure romance The Amatus and the Altus (rated Mature). Up next in the Trevelyan brothers’ adventure is Chapter 11, No Safe Haven, for which I have a handful of paragraphs written:
[Cremisius Aclassi (Krem) arrives at the Village of Haven with an offer to meet The Iron Bull. Haven’t decided yet if I’m going to have Krem and Bull in this story. March on the Breach, The Elder One attacks. FALL OF HAVEN. “The Divine” is their version of the Pope. “The Maker” is their name for God, the creator.]
“Sorry,” Karl shook his head and pointed toward the scarred heavens. “Much as we’d appreciate the help, I am this close to closing the Breach. I can’t run off to the Storm Coast now. After it’s closed, if you’re still interested in lending aid, we can discuss your captain’s terms. The Divine’s murderer is still at large, possibly planning another attack like the Conclave explosion.”
The young man smiled. “You are deserving of your reputation, my lord. The good parts, that is.”
[Karl’s squad distracts The Elder One and his Dragon while the refugees escape via the secret Pilgrimage path. Karl and his brother (or Karl and his crush) are separated from the others when the dragon destroys the trebuchet.]
“I am who I am,” Karl said. “You cannot change me.”
Corypheus sneered. “Everyone can be broken. You. Will. Kneel.”
–
Thanks for reading! I’m DAfan7711 on Tumblr, Pinterest, and Archive of Our Own (AO3), where guests and registered users alike can read my stories. I’m Paragade Blues on YouTube.
Just enough to ensure then… wha? Gimme more! I do enjoy your snippets. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, KC! I
Okay, “No Safe Haven” (chapter 11) is now a bit more robust; it’s off to beta readers and some of the above will actually be in chapter 12: Here’s a sneak peek of In Your Heart Shall Burn (Haven Falls).
Hi, DAFan! THANK YOU as always for sharing. And, uh… “scarred heavens”? Did they break the sky? Wait… did they break the universe?! I love this: “You are deserving of your reputation, my lord. The good parts, that is.” Great, tempting little snippet!
Thanks, Bryn! Yes, the explosion at the Conclave (peace talks) made a green hole in the sky (“The Veil” is what separates the waking world from the world of spirits and it’s torn open). In game, Cassandra says, “We call it ‘the Breach.’ It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” Here are three screenshots: https://dafan7711.tumblr.com/post/160869509068/the-breach-karl-trevelyan-dragon-age
here is some of Chaperone, my first attempt at writing:
“The Winston’s are looking for someone to chaperone the eight years old twins,
to England as they were to live with their father’s brother, the Baron of
Highstone. The grandparents do not want the children to travel back to England
alone,” explained Janey.
“They had placed an ad in the local papers all applied were not the response
that the Winston’s approved. Melissa you would be ideal for this position,
it is better than the waitress or maid job,” Janey claimed, “I would take the job
if I were single, I would jump at the chance for a trip to England and back, and
earn a salary.”
Melissa thought it best to hear all the Winston’s had to say and meet the
twins. Also, see what the requirements for the position. Janey took Melissa over
to Mr. and Mrs. Winston introduced her friend. Melissa told them she had lost her
parents to the fever several years ago and lived with the Scogin’s since. And now
Mr. and Mrs. Scogin are selling and moving away from the area, and Melissa would
need a job and place to live.
Mr. Winston indicated “we are looking for a reliable person, preferably a young
lady like yourself to be with Anna and Adam, as they crossed the ocean returning
to England.” He went on to explain “Arrangements have been made for the Baron to
meet the twins and the chaperone at the hotel just a few blocks from the docks.”
He shrugged his shoulders “The docks are not very savory, but this hotel will be
comfortable and pleasant for the chaperone and twins to wait till the family to
shows up. Without knowing the weather conditions for the whole trip predicting
when the ship would arrive in London.”
“The ship, room, and board would be paid for, as well as the hotel and meals
until the twins were with their Uncle. And of course a salary, some paid as the
chaperone agrees to take the position and the rest upon when the chaperone is
turning the twins over to their family members.” Mr. Winston affirming the details.
Melissa explained ” I have worked with children at the local school and church,
I have mostly worked on the farm doing whatever job necessary. But I did not know
a lot about England.”
Janey jumped in ” I vouch for Melissa she is very trust worthy and can tackle
most situations she comes across.”
Mrs. Winston nodded her head to her husband, “I believe we have found our chaperone, dear.”
Plans were made for Melissa, and the twins would meet in an hour at the hotel.
Letting each one get to know another before Melisa would make her decision about
taking the job.
Melissa left word for Mrs. Jones that she would return, something came up, and
she had to go.
Anna and Adam were very quiet during the meeting, still grieving the loss of
their parents, and not sure
about leaving their grandparents to go live with a family that they had never met.
An interesting twist at the end there. It will be interesting to watch your writing grow as I enjoyed your first attempt. Thank you for sharing and don’t give up.
Hey there! Thank you for sharing your first writing with us! That’s quite an honor for us. 🙂 This is a great premise for a story, and I’m really wondering where they went!
It appears you have a clear picture of all of your characters. This has the makings of a very good mystery! Keep writing, and keep sharing.
Wow, poor Nic. Another snippet to hook me. I have to admit that this is a highlight I look forward to every month.
This is the last excerpt of this wip I’ll be sharing. But, don’t worry, I have many more wips lol.
~*~*~*~
End of chapter two…
Despite the constant napping I was ready to leave the hospital. The next time I see her I tell my doctor so.
She sighs. “You’ve only been in here three days. Do you have someone who can care for you full time for the first two weeks at least?”
Only three days? It feels so much longer. With all these naps I’m losing track of time. I’m surprised she’s willing to consider it. I nod and hand her my mobile phone I’d noted earlier on the bedside cabinet. “Sally.”
While she’s finding Sally’s name to call her, “I’m only agreeing to this because we’ve just had a major accident out there. A third of the survivors are coming here with the rest being sent to two other hospitals. That’s an emergency of twelve new patients in here so…” she sighs. “…we need the beds. All we’re doing with you is watching over you and giving you meds as you need them. If someone can do that for you then you can go home.” She turns her attention to the phone.
“Hello Sally? This is Doctor Rammon… Yes that’s right. She wants to go home…” The Doctor chuckles. “Yes. Are you able to care for her and keep watch over her…? It’s the only reason I’ll let her go… Good… As soon as you can… I’ll have instructions for you when you arrive… See you then.” She turns back to me and places my phone on the bedside cabinet.
“I’ll organise the paperwork for your release and I’ll make sure Sally enforces my instructions. You’re not going to be doing much as you’ll be in too much pain for the next few days to do so. In three weeks’ time come back and we’ll remove the wiring. Come back sooner if there are any problems. Now rest.” Then she walks away.
~*~
The day is a lovely summer’s day with blue sky and small fluffy clouds. There’s even a little breeze even if it is a fraction on the warm side. Thankfully, Sally had the air conditioning on. She helps me out of the car, into the apartment complex, which unfortunately doesn’t have lifts – so slow going, and into my apartment.
The car ride had been the most agonising I have ever endured. It felt like she’d hit every minute and gigantic bump and pothole she could find. Combine that with it must have been ‘idiot drivers’ day out’ as Sally had to slam on the brakes a number of times to stop quickly enough from rear-ending the jerks in front.
The pain of being thrown against the seatbelt throughout the drive over and over was excruciating. I was sure I could feel every single movement of each individual rib. The vehicles just cut in front of us in gaps more suited to mini minors and motorbikes. I didn’t know whether to brace my hands against something or around me. Hissing with agony every time, I ended up sounding like a really pissed off snake.
While I wasn’t feeling that charitable due to the pain I was in, poor Sally must have used up a good ten years’ worth of apologies to me. I was kind enough to absolve her of her remorse but privately I thought how smoother rides and roads – with weather proofing to prevent potholes – needed to be invented. And mandatory better driving instructions!
When my apartment building came into sight, I never thought I would be so happy to see home; let alone getting there in one piece. I’m sure I ache from head to toe and everywhere else in between after that drive. Okay, okay; I exaggerate that last part, but honestly, it’s the way I feel.
The only one true good point during that trip was seeing Mallin alive and well. The moment he saw me coming towards the car in the hospital pick-up bay, he was jumping from back seat to front and back again over and over with excitement. He whimpered, barked and practically wagged his tail off while it nearly thrashes the daylights out of the upholstery. I was surprised to see the upholstery still intact from his enthusiasm.
Keeping my upper arms against me, so I wouldn’t hurt my ribs or bump the cannula still in my arm, I gave him a semi vigorous patting between his ears while he tried to lick me to death. In the process I hurt my fingers because I’d forgotten about them being injured as well since they didn’t hurt all the time.
Trying not to laugh but failing and therefore crying from the pain, I had to order him to stay put so I could get into the front seat, which was an agony all by itself. Once settled I patted my shoulder and he placed his head there. Throughout the drive home his tail never stopped moving and he gave me little licks on the side of my face along with small whimpers. He’s always a big sook when I’m injured.
After settling me on my lounge with Mallin on the floor beside me…
“I have to go home and care for the kiddies and hubby. I’ll be back as soon as I can Sweetie.” Sally states as she heads towards the door.
I nod, she leaves and I fall asleep.
Chapter 3
I’m standing in the doorway of what appears to be a massive living room. The lighting is down low enough to emphasise the fact it is night but bright enough to still see some details within the room. However, after stepping across the threshold, I ignore the smaller details as I gaze around. The floor is highly polished wood which seems to be stained a dark golden brown of some sort.
In the centre of the room are two three-seaters and two single-seaters; all upholstered in soft old-brown leather arranged into a comfortable chatting area. This room is a social room, maybe a reading room, but not a room for watching movies, sports or the like. Although, there is a surround sound stereo system set up for music if wanted.
Sitting in the middle of the seating area is a dark brown wooden framed coffee table which has a smoky grey glass top. In its centre is a shallow wide vase filled with a selection of beautiful Australian native flowers – such as wattle, callistemons, banksia, a waratah and a few others I don’t know the name of – which must have cost a fortune but looks wonderful in the room.
While covering the floor – to part way under the lounge setting – is a huge thick plush rug in a geometric design; the colours of which complement the colours in the room. The room is painted in a soft dusty rose colour while the feature wall is painted in a darker dusty rose colour with inset panels painted in a more vibrant rose-purple colour. I’m not really up on colour names; I just choose what appeals to me at the time. The combination of all three goes well together and I’m surprised I actually like it.
As for the feature wall, it’s divided into three sections: two narrow solid walls on either side of a large glass wall. The glass wall itself is also divided into three sections with double sliding doors in the centre of two single glass panes. The doors are currently closed and standing in front of the centre of those doors is a…
A man.
A tall man is standing there with his back to me. He’s dressed in a dark suit with his hands in his trouser pockets, head down slightly and tilted to one side a little. His collar length dark wavy hair looks familiar. Suddenly, he straightens up, pauses then slowly turns around. He stares at me in surprise. Hell! I’m just as surprised as he is since I don’t even know how I come to be here.
Removing his hands from his pockets he slowly, purposefully, walks towards me. His expression is intense and filled with hunger. I’ve seen that look on his face before. Many times before. As he reaches me his hand rises towards me…
With a start I wake up and hiss in pain. I lay still and try to work out what has awakened me. Then I hear knocking at my door. I close my eyes and decide Sally can use her key to let herself in. Only, the knocking continues a little harder, louder and faster than before and figures she must have forgotten her key and must think I’m still asleep.
Laying on the lounge was a good idea at the time; or so I’d thought. Now, I didn’t think so as I groan in agony as I struggle up off my resting place. I pause for a moment or two to catch my breath then, slowly, I walk to the door and open it.
Like an idiot I stare at the person in front of me.
“What the hell were you thinking leaving the hospital so soon?!” The man before me chastises me as if he and I have known each other for years if not all our lives. As he speaks his hands reach up and grab the door jamb in frustration.
While at the same time… “Man of my dreams…” I murmur in surprise as he grouses at me. Then I feel the floor rising to greet me.
~*~
Aww KC! Thank you! And thank you for giving feedback to other people who post… writing can be lonely, and I think it means so much that you take the time and go out of your way, and… well, you’re pretty much just the best.
I think your MC’s muddled sense of time after being in the hospital is so realistic. “You’re not going to be doing much as you’ll be in too much pain for the next few days to do so.” Hahaha. Honestly, and sorry to make it about me, but a LOT of this resonated with my memories of my kidney donation and riding a few hours home, a few days afterward! Your writing about this is so good. I know you’ve been through some ordeals lately (and I hope you’re doing all right.)
And who is this guy at the end?!
You’re most welcome, Bryn. And, how can I not leave feedback when I have so much fun reading them all? It’s just a shame I can’t add your sight to my goodreads’ reading challenge lol.
Operations always leave me time muddled because I’m always dozing off. I think all of us who’ve travelled home by car after surgery can relate to that pain regardless of where the operation site might be, but I have noticed torso hurts more. As for my ordeals, I’m recovering nicely. I’ll always need crutches but my feet now sit flat like they’re supposed to. While I’m still experiencing pain for months to come, it is slowly disappearing.
Now, as for the guy at the end; her last comment is a hint even though one word was mis-spoken :).
Oh no, KC! No more of this WIP!! Love the descriptions, and loved the Aussie references (there’s a wattle tree two doors down that I can see from my office window when I write 🙂 ). And the “Man of my Dreams” appearing in real life…omg, want to read the finished product.
Another terrific WIP Wednesday!! Love the excerpt, Bryn… I can really feel Nic’s emotions, and it’s always interesting when the (main) character wants to give up on himself/herself, but other characters around them refuse to do so…a chance at redemption. 🙂
Gabrielle’s journey continues. Here’s my offering for this month. (Just an aside: Aeoulys is pronounced “ee-YOW-lis” — hence, the nickname, Yow.)
And I’m proud to announce that I’ve completed just over 200 pages in this manuscript…never had so much continuous story before…might get an actual first draft done by Christmas!! 🙂
—-
“Ah, so they’re here for training. I was wondering why there were so many troops travelling with us from Rhoenglasz,” Gabrielle commented, taking a bite of the yablik – a crisp, pinkish-yellow fruit that tasted like a combination of an apple and a peach and contained three hard seeds.
Aeoulys worked the last seed out of his mouth and grasped it with his fingers. Throwing it into the small garden bed of the restaurant he’d chosen to share with his sister, he wiped his fingers on his breeches and took a sip of water from the blue goblet the female attendant had brought to him with a flirty smile. “You didn’t think all those soldiers were there for you, did you?” he grinned.
“Absolutely,” she replied, taking another bite of the fruit and placing it on the colourful ceramic plate in front of her. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, challenging him.
“The lady has high hopes,” Aeoulys laughed, thoroughly enjoying his sister’s company. He was glad to still have the airship journey ahead of them; this had been one of the best phoney assignments his father had bestowed upon him in a very long time, and he didn’t like pondering that it was halfway done. Then Gabrielle would be gone for several years, and he’d be all the more lonely for it. “In reality, my skill and authority takes the place of at least twenty-five soldiers…” he motioned as if counting on his fingers, “perhaps, eight lieutenants…and – I’m not certain – four or five generals. So see, you’re lucky I decided to come along. Much more efficient.”
Gabrielle’s head tilted back in laughter, and she put her hand to her mouth to regain some degree of control. She couldn’t remember the last time her stomach muscles hurt from laughing so much. “You’re so full of crap, Yow…God, I love you.” She picked up the cloth napkin and wiped her mouth. Regaining some sobriety, she folded the cloth and draped it across her lap. “I missed home for a few days after I got here, but now I’m just going to miss you when I go to school. You’ve become my best friend.”
He was overwhelmingly flattered by her admission, but his upbringing made him reluctant to voice much sentiment. His grandmother had always used emotional manipulation to hurt him and his mother, so he kept important feelings under lock and key. “I’m merely your best friend by default. I promise, three days in Szkolnieba, and you won’t even remember my name…well, all right: maybe five, or a week at most.”
“Three days,” she replied with a warm and cheeky smile. “And that’s if you’re lucky.”
Their lupine waitress returned with a tray of small, ceramic bowls. She stood close to Aeoulys and ravaged him with her eyes. “Jarus Emparti,” she nearly purred, and turning to Gabrielle, her words morphed into concrete blocks. “My Lady,” she hailed the young woman as if offering a greeting was the most tiresome task on her busy schedule.
“Thank you,” Aeoulys bowed his head politely, sensing his brain turning into soupy custard. He had no interest in her advances, even though he could easily appreciate her lovely figure and delicate features. He’d never been skilled at exchanging seductive banter with pretty females, and he couldn’t think of anything clever to say to her. “We appreciate your attention to our needs.”
She began placing the ceramic bowls on the table, frequently glancing in Aeoulys’s direction. “If you have any other needs that require attention, please don’t hesitate to get my attention.” With lust-laden eyes, she put the tray to her hip and sauntered back into the restaurant.
“Not a word,” he whispered fiercely to his sister, the fur on his neck bristling and his collar feeling very tight about his neck all of a sudden.
“Take it as a compliment,” she replied, clearly amused. He looked upset, and Gabrielle decided to show a little mercy by ignoring the incident. “This looks very tasty,” she commented, surveying the little bowls.
“Although it’s tradition down in this region to have a large meal in the morning,” he explained, clearing his throat and jumping on the opportunity to change the topic, “the rest of the day, they eat bits and pieces. This offering is just a series of small savouries called entzakiek, which means something like ‘snack’ or ‘light meal’. There’s often one more round of this in a few hours just before bed and then it’s usually served with alcohol.”
“Fair enough,” Gabrielle commented, picking up her spoon and tasting a little from each of the bowls before her. “Very nice…like tapas.” She noticed her brother’s questioning expression and explained, “Something similar from back home. My uncle took us to a great Spanish restaurant one year for my mom’s birthday. Tapas are a bunch of small appetisers.”
“I see…something in common.” He smiled as he took a deep breath of the late afternoon air and looked up at the sky. The bright blue of the afternoon was beginning to fade, and wispy clouds in the west started to take on a warm, pinkish hue. The air temperature was quite warm compared to Rhoenglasz, which helped accentuate the many spicy food smells and the salty-sweet ocean breeze perfuming the air. He tore a piece of bread from one of the tiny loaves on the plate in the centre of the table and closed his eyes, savouring the peace of late afternoon.
“Aeoulys.” Gabrielle’s tense voice stabbed into his peace like an ice pick.
He opened his eyes and looked at his sister. She pointed over his shoulder, and he turned to see Lieutenant Garzyk and two other soldiers riding down the street with a saddled Resky in tow. Following up the back was young Tashnik on his own, smaller szukar. Aeoulys stood up and turned to face them just as they pulled up near the restaurant. “What is it?”
Garzyk jumped out of the saddle and strode over to Aeoulys’s side, whispering in Sykkhonian, “We’ve just had news that Lordane and his bunch are causing a disturbance at a nearby estate. Lord Hesgryn sent word for us to come immediately.”
Aeoulys clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “By the gods,” he hissed. “I was hoping he wouldn’t double back, but…”
Garzyk frowned. “I think he heard we were going to be here. His activity is a deliberate attempt to get your attention.”
“Well,” Aeoulys grimaced, his eyebrows drawn fiercely together and his upper lip lifting to expose gleaming canines, “he’s got it.” He tried to relax the fury seething under his skin as he stepped to his sister’s side.
“What’s happened?” she asked. Even though she hadn’t understood a single word of their exchange, she could read their behaviour. Tight shoulders, strained necks, hushed words exchanged in agitated tones…none of it put her at ease. “What are you doing?”
“My duty,” he leaned in close. “There’s been an incident, and my presence is required. I want you to finish up quickly and go back to the inn.”
“But – ” Gabrielle’s stomach lurched nervously, and she put her hand on her brother’s arm.
“Master Tashnik!” Aeoulys called. Tashnik quickly jumped off his animal and approached the Imperator General. “I want you to ensure Lady Gabrielle returns to her quarters safely. When you arrive at the inn, tell one of the sergeants that I’ve ordered a heightened detail…they’ll know what to do. And you,” he turned his attention back to his sister. “I want you on that airship tomorrow, with or without me.”
“Without you?” Gabrielle’s eyes widened as a great hand constricted her chest. “But you’re supposed to – ”
“Chances are this is nothing and I’ll be back before the southern star appears on the horizon. But if I’m not there tomorrow, you are not to miss that flight for any reason whatsoever. Your safety could depend on it. Do you understand, Lady Szapiorus?”
He was no longer her brother; he was the Imperator General: a logical, ruthless soldier entrusted with a mission he refused to fail. She wanted to hug him, but the male standing in front of her wouldn’t appreciate that gesture. She straightened her shoulders and bit her lip, steadied her nerves, and bowed her head in acquiescence. “As you request, Jarus Emparti.”
He brushed his fingers across her cheek – the only gentle expression he allowed himself – and picked up his coat from the back of his chair. Slipping into his duster while hurrying to Resky’s side, he found his weapon belt wrapped around the pikra. With grace borne of much experience, he fastened his sword and pistol about his waist and pulled himself up onto the creature’s back. He flashed the young woman a final, piercing glance and ordered Resky into a full bolt.
“Be safe,” Gabrielle whispered, knowing he hadn’t heard. Nevertheless, she hoped her intention could – like a magic spell – offer him some protection.
Lisa, hi! You know what, I kept meaning to tell you that a comment of yours on another post made me laugh. You were talking about opening the café and thinking, “How hard can it be?” and the answer to that turned out to be, “Very.” I have thought that exact same thing many times with my new enterprise! Hahaha.
Congrats on being 200 pages in! I bet the manuscript is starting to feel like a very solid thing at this point. I really like the complexities of the brother and sister relationship, and the details of the world are really convincing. (I had to look up that fruit to see if it was a real, exotic fruit I’d never heard of, but you made it up. ☺ )
Thanks for sharing! Thank you for the kind words, too.
I like it. Definitely inspires a desire to read more. Thanks!
Hey! I’m late, of course. 🙂 This section begins after “time has passed.” Basically, I jumped forward 2 years and a country and I’m setting the scene for the next section of my book. Everything in here is meant to demonstrate changed relationships between characters, set the ground for a new setting, and indicate that my FMC has recovered from a long illness. Everyone in this scene is a (demon-possessed) half-vampire, and the FMC has vampiric strength.
___
Shrill, atonal beeping dragged me out of my sleep. My hand automatically slapped the clock as I blinked and yawned. The dream my alarm had pulled me from involved running through the rainforest, but I couldn’t remember if I’d been running to something, after something, or from Dr. Almeida. Since coming to Chiapas, I’d had all three kinds.
I extracted my right arm from under Diego and slipped out of bed. It was five in the morning, the darkness outside only a few shades lighter than midnight, but my demon-enhanced eyes had no trouble making out the pile of clothes I’d left on the chair in my room in anticipation of dressing in the dark. I slipped into clean underwear, put on yesterday’s pants and my boots, and slid on a clean shirt, trying not to wake him. The poor man had just returned yesterday and needed all the sleep he could get.
I padded down the hall to the bathroom. Florencia’s light was still on, her door cracked open a little. I peered in. Sure enough, she had slumped over her desk. My lips twisted in a rueful smile and I pushed the door open. Florencia took forever to fall asleep, but once she passed out, she slept like the dead.
With the ease of much practice, I squatted beside her, pulled her over one shoulder, and then stood, pulling her up until her feet dangled off the floor. She made a tiny snorting sound. I laid her in her bed and covered her with a sheet, then turned out the light on my way out of the room.
In the kitchen I grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot the night sentry had made, and then I slipped out of Florencia’s house. Outside, in the pre-dawn coolness, my feet crunched on the dirt path as I made my way to my work shed and my patient.
We’d had to build the work shed when proximity to injured, bleeding, delicious-smelling patients became too much for the rest of Florencia’s House to deal with. Not that anyone had complained, but the tension, snappiness, and general cranky attitudes of eight adults, all of whom hungered for blood, and all living under one roof, had become noticeable. Not to mention the newer vampire hunters sometimes had trouble controlling their blood hunger. Now the injured were housed a good bit away from the main house and everyone was happier.
I passed the chicken coops, passed the garden beds, and about five minutes later I reached the building. I paused a moment, eyes closed, and invited/pulled my demon closer, so that I could use its sight. It didn’t want to come, but I willed it forward and sullenly it answered. It had taken me over a year to learn to compel it. No one else could compel their demons, but then again, most of us had demons who wanted to come to the front and look out through our eyes. I opened my eyes, checked my hand to ensure my demon was where I wanted it to be, and turned my key in the door lock.
It was quiet inside. My patient laid on his bed, his breathing regular in the darkness. I scanned the area for anyone else. Convinced we were alone, I let my demon go and it scooted further back into my mind and curled up in a ball.
There were candles and matches on a shelf just inside the door. I lit a candle and went to go check on my patient’s incision.
We couldn’t catch disease or become infected, but bodies still swelled, and swelling could put strain on sutures. I pulled back the bandaging and inspected the incision in the flickering yellow light. It looked fine. After I swapped out the bandaging for a new one, I retreated to the far side of the shed and updated my treatment book. Jonathan looked fine, and in a couple of weeks he’d be good as new.
This was becoming a regular thing. More often than not I had a patient on the mend. Vampire hunting was hard and dangerous work. We could smell fear and blood, which made hospitals dangerous places for us. Florencia hadn’t been kidding when she said they needed a doctor. I was technically far too junior to be repairing hernias and stitching up ruptured Achilles tendons, but I had two things going for me. One: no possibility of infection. Two: if I messed up, I could feed the poor patient blood and he’d instantly heal.
Not that I wanted to. Blood healing caused problems. If one of us drank blood too often, we risked vampirism, and no one wanted that.
So I performed surgeries that were too complex for my skill, trusting in supernatural elements to carry my weight if necessary, and I studied the hell out of the textbooks I had the others bring me.
Interesting. It doesn’t let me leave a comment using Google Chrome (the “post” button disappears) but I can leave one using Microsoft Edge. I wonder why it is that way?
Also, I wish there was an edit function. spacing! >.<
I really felt like I was walking with the main character. I really liked the line, “I let my demon go and it scooted further back into my mind and curled up in a ball.” The idea of learning how to perform surgery on the fly is great, too – scary and exciting at the same time.
Hi, TM! Well I am very late in commenting! “injured, bleeding, delicious-smelling patients” — oh my gosh. Love the particulars of the medical procedures with these characters!
Poor Nic! I enjoyed your snippet, Bryn.
Aww, thanks 🙂
Hi Bryn! This is something I’ve been working on since last winter. And it’s a very, very, rough draft! When I finish it (and I hope I do!) I plan on re-writing it all together. The name isn’t a done deal yet but I’ve been calling it A Visionary of Peace:
Maybe he wasn’t kidnapped.” Madge finally said as her eyes stayed on the people. Then she turned her head to Michael, studying his face. “Maybe he went willingly.” She pondered. Michael furrowed his blond brow as a soft breeze blew some of his hair in his face. He didn’t answer for a few minutes. “I guess. But-but why?” His voice became quieter as he finished. Madge wished she hadn’t said anything when she saw his troubled face. Yet again his expression was one of an adults, she wished more than anything he could go back to being her silly younger brother with a bad sense of humor. Now he hardly cracked a smile and she couldn’t remember the last time he’d joked. Michael bit his lip and stared at his shoes and had a small trace of what looked like guilt on his face. “What, what’s wrong?” Madge asked with a voice full of concern. He lifted his eyes from the ground, the noon sun reflected in them, making them look a much lighter shade of brown. “I think I know who took him. And I think it’s my fault.”
“Why would it be your fault?” Madge asked completely confused. “I asked him about them. And he told me to never talk about it again, but I did.” His voice cracked as he said it. Madge couldn’t get her words out fast enough. “Who? What are you talking about? Who’s them? Who did you ask what?! Answer me, Michael!” She shouted, not paying the slightest attention to anyone around her.
“Dad. I asked him about mom. He said it was the Swarm and that I never should mention their name ever again. B-but I did b-because I needed to know more than he would tell me. This all my fault Madge. All mine.” He cried, putting his head in his hands and leaning so his elbows rested on his knees. His back began to shake with tears. Madge still didn’t understand, she wanted to comfort Michael desperately, to make him feel happy and better. But at the moment she made Sigfrid her first priority. “Who’s the Swarm?” She asked softly as she draped her arm over his back and rubbed gently, trying to reassure him. “I-I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me anything. All I know is that-” He sat up straight and tried to compose himself before he continued. “-Mom was part of it. I guess they had something to do with her disappearance. Dad said that they’re really untrustworthy. Every one of them.” He sniffed and his eyes were slightly red and puffy. “Do you have any idea where we would find them?” She asked with her eyebrows up in worry.
“No. I can’t think of anyone besides Shane, and I think he’s done with my favors.” He sighed in a defeated voice. Madge thought for a minute of all the most untrustworthy people she could think of. She sighed when a very familiar face came to mind. “I think Bassma knows something about the Swarm.” She said. “Bassma? Why do you say that?” Michael’s clearly confused voice asked. “I don’t know. But she just seems secretive sometimes. Maybe I’m wrong – and I hope I am – but I want to make sure.” Madge stated. She wasn’t sure why she thought Bassma was the type to be part of some secret society. But she just did. “I think we should go see her. At least ask her if she knows what the Swarm is.” Madge said as she stood up. Michael followed in suit. “Let’s go.” She said and then they began to walk back.
Hi, Tatyana! It sounds like you’ve been making steady progress on this one… way to go. A secret society? You know I’m interested, haha! Really intriguing excerpt, and I’m wondering what happened to him.
Bryn, you keep getting me more and more excited to read the second book. I also love the fact that you’re not afraid to address something like that in your world. Kudos!
I finally finished the rough draft of my first novel, Batter Days, last week. After a week off, I’m ready to start editing. Ugh. May God have mercy on me. The scene I have for you this month takes place after my two main characters, Ally and Derek, have reached a crossroads in their relationship. Derek took a job on the other side of the country, leaving Ally behind with no hope for their future. This scene takes place when she decides to surprise him with a visit.
THE BUILDING IN FRONT of her wasn’t particularly menacing, but it may as well have been an impenetrable fortress with the way Ally’s heart was hammering in her chest. She looked from the apartment building in front of her to the address on the postcard in her hand. “Yeah. This is it.”
For a moment, Ally seriously thought about calling the cab back and trying to exchange her ticket for an early flight back to New York. Ally’s mind was racing with a million and one reasons not walk through the door. It wasn’t like he had asked her to come. He’d just wished her good luck and given her an address to send his things to.
Ally closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She let all of the tension ease out of her neck and shoulders before walking up the cement steps to the front door.
It was a fairly standard layout for an apartment building. The apartment number indicated what floor they were on, and the letter told the different apartments apart. She’d looked at the card so many times in the last few days that she could recite the address from memory, but she found herself looking down at it again anyway, double checking the address yet again. 4B. Her eyes landed on a bank of elevators on the far wall and smiled. “Definitely an upgrade.”
The ride up was silent. There was no horrible elevator music to distract her. So by the time she found herself in front of Derek’s door, her nerves had not only returned but tripled. She raised her hand to knock and paused. He doesn’t want to see me. I can’t do this.
She quickly spun on her heel and started marching back down the hallway towards the elevator. She was so focused on getting out of there before her heart exploded that she didn’t notice anyone else in the hallway until she plowed into them.
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry,” she gasped.
“Als?” Her eyes shot up, coming face to face with a bewildered Derek. “What are you doing here?”
Ally just blinked at him. It was like her brain had short circuited. All she could do was offer him a weak shrug.
“I, uh, I came to see you,” she offered.
Derek’s eyes lit up for a moment, and Ally saw the corner of his mouth start to twitch up into a smile before a deep scowl formed on his face.
“What about the bakery? You guys just opened.” His eyes suddenly went wide. “What happened?” he asked, taking hold of her upper arms. “Are you alright?”
Hearing the clear concern for her in his voice was oddly comforting.
“I’m fine. Everything’s okay. Really.”
Derek let go of her arms and slowly stood up straight.
“Then why are you here?”
“I told you,” said Ally. “I wanted to see you.”
He shook his head at how ridiculous she was being. She was well aware that she was taking a huge risk by running off the first week her business opened, but seeing Derek standing in front of her made it well worth it.
“Come on,” he said. “We can talk inside.”
He lead Ally down the hall and into his apartment without another word.
Very gutsy of Ally to do something like this…and what will Derek say when they’re behind closed doors???
Congrats on getting through the first draft, Erin!! That’s an awesome accomplishment, and I hope you enjoy the editing process, knowing you’re getting closer to a finished product. 🙂
Erin! Thank you so much for the kind words. 🙂 Ahh, it’s SO exciting that you’re getting ready to edit! In my experience, it can seem really daunting, and then once you dig into it, it’s not so bad… and even fun. I hope that’s your experience, too. Well I LOVE this excerpt… I’m nervous for Ally!
Bryn, you never cease to incite interest with your excerpts!!
This is a piece from a YA story I’ve started working on:
I was still too angry with Mrs. Larabee for treating me like a little kid to bombard her with all those questions Freddie suggested. She made us take turns reading lines from the play while I watched the minute hand tick slowly around the clock, focusing on the buzzing lights so I could drown out the sound of that vase in my head. Part of me wanted to get home and hang out with Enzo. I felt like I owed it to him. But the other part of me didn’t want to be anywhere near either one of my parents. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair since everything was up on the white board anyway, like a giant e-reader. I hated e-readers.
The halls were eerily quiet at four o’clock when we were finally released. “See ya, Waverly,” Rory said as he and Lincoln walked off toward the South Wing.
I nodded and made my way around the deserted halls to my locker, grabbed my backpack, and turned on my phone. Three missed calls and five text messages waited for me, and every one of them was from my mom. Dammit.
The sporadic door would close as I walked, its echoing click following me down the hall toward the East Wing, shoes squelching on the tile every now and then, feeling more and more like a failure every time I hit play.
I dialed my mom’s cell as I pushed through the doors and stepped out onto the sidewalk, steeling myself for the tone of her voice.
“Waverly Rowan Howell, where the hell have you been?” She yelled so loud it hurt my ear. Nope, she hadn’t calmed down.
“I got held after. I forgot to call you. I’m sorry.”
“Held after? For what?”
I didn’t want to say it. I wanted to make something up, but there was no getting around this. “Mrs. Larabee is making me stay for tutoring on Tuesdays and Thursdays now.”
“Which one is she?”
“Shakespeare.”
“The class you hate?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Why is she making you stay?”
“Because… I’m having a hard time in class.”
Mom gave me a moment to go on, but when I didn’t, she said, “What do you mean, you’re having a hard time?”
“I…” The wind turned just then, carrying the voices of the boys’ basketball practice from the gymnasium’s open windows. I could even hear their shoes squeaking on the polished wood floor.
“You’re having a hard time, or you’re not even trying? Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you give up.”
Of course Mom would turn this around like that. “I failed the last test.”
“You failed.”
Her silence afterward burned at me. “Yes.”
“What is going on with you? Your grades have been horrible, Waverly.” The big, heavy sigh didn’t make me feel any better. “We will talk about this when you get home. Are you on your way?”
“Yeah. Almost at my car.”
“Come straight home. Your dad and I have to be at the gallery at five forty-five. And put your phone away while you’re driving.”
“Yes, Mom.”
The afternoon sun hid behind a thick blanket of gray as I crossed the parking lot. I shivered and pulled my jacket tighter, bracing against the chilly fingers of the breeze. Summer seemed to end early this year, replaced by a cold, dismal September. I wished it would snow ten feet so they would close school for a month. It wasn’t too much to ask for snow in September, right?
The parking lot was almost empty when I reached my car except for the handful belonging to those who stayed behind for whatever they were practicing. I chucked my bag onto the passenger seat. While the car idled and the heater warmed up, I scrolled through my Facebook and Twitter apps. I wasn’t really looking for anything, but I wasn’t in any hurry to get home.
It wasn’t until I finally put my phone down in the center console that tiny raindrops spattered my windshield. Of course it would be rain, I thought, miserable at the sky for screwing up my snow. Can nothing go right today? Snow could have turned everything around.
I backed out of my space and started the 15mph drive around the building. I spotted Silas Flynn standing near the front of the school, looking up and down the street. I pulled up next to him when he kicked the empty bike rack, and lowered my window. “Hey, Silas,” I said, praying I wouldn’t sound stupid.
“Hey,” he answered, shoving his fists into his pockets. The bones of his jaw clenched when he looked back at the bike rack.
I really felt for poor Waverly in this scene…I remember wishing for those snow days when I was in school. lol Looking forward to seeing what happens with Silas…
Hi, Star! Thanks so much for the nice comments… and thanks for posting! It really brought back being a kid, when a bad grade could seem like practically the end of the world. I really liked “her silence afterward burned”. And yeah, I can remember wishing for those snow days, too.
I find it a little odd that a place I mentioned in a story written almost ten years ago mentioned a city that recently been involved in Hurricane Harvey. The story is about an 8 year old girl named Bea Wyett and her encounters with the supernatural. Yes, I used the town fictional.
https://wordpress.com/post/unholypursuit.wordpress.com/5226
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Small Excerpt from “Bea’s Halloween”
I like my new school and hopes we can remain here in Beaumont at least until the school year is up. I’ve never stayed in one place long enough to complete a school year and definitely haven’t made any friends at a school for we always moved before I got to know anyone. I have never had a friend besides Daphne who lives in France who I met after her my mom remarried.. All my life…I’ve never had a friend except my mom and grandma and they don’t exactly count as friends. I love them very much but I simply counts them as mom and grandma.
Poor Bea. I hope she does find that friend… I could imagine my daughter writing in this style (she’s about to turn 8). Would love to read more.
Hi, Lisa, I won’t say did she find the friend or not. But I will say it was a challenge to write as an 8 year old would speak. It’s been quite some time since my daughter was 8.
Hi, Alma! Ahh, that is strange about the story, and the hurricane. This excerpt made me want to give Bea a hug. I’m hoping she finds a friend. Thank you so much for posting!
Hi, Bryn, thank you for allowing me to post. Yes, it was strange. So strange I pulled out the manuscript and re-read it. I would’ve never guessed in all the years I’ve traveled that anywhere I mentioned in a story would end up in actually facing the same situation in real life. Although,I created the character, I, too have to stop and hug her. Poor Bea didn’t ask for the life she was born into. She could use all the hugs she can get.
Well-written, Bryn! Your military-type dialogue really shines, here. More, please!
Here’s my own light-and-fluffy excerpt from forthcoming “Tempest Road” (you know how I roll). This is background material–not super-critical for the present-day story. MacLeod and his brother have been flown to Scotland to train in soccer with their uncle Mortimer, their deadbeat father’s brother. They have not had a charmed life. The disaster discussed is the real-life nightmare of Piper Alpha. In 1988, some 167 Scottish oil men perished when the largest-ever oil platform was destroyed by capitalistic human error. This is still a sore subject for many Scots (and, apparently, a lesson that we still have to learn). Thanks for reading.
That night, Aunt and Uncle took the boys to a pub in Dunbarton to meet their friends. The one with the beard, Charlie or Drummond, asked a lot about the States, life in Cleveland and all. He soaked up the boys’ lovable-losers bit about the Cleveland Browns, as he was a Hull man himself (consigned to rooting for a bottom-third team).
While the boys worked through pork chops and apples, the conversation bounced around. Rufus was enjoying his fare (and eyeing two plates of haggis warily) when Uncle suddenly accused them of having led a charmed life.
“Mortimer, that’s not true! What a pile of rubbish,” Aunt Molly chided.
One of the others signaled that Uncle had had quite a few pints.
‘Us? A charmed life?’ Rufus wondered.
Uncle knew damned well, after all, that it was his own kid brother who’d decided to bail on fatherhood when the twins were four.
“It is true,” Uncle said. “Next fall, they’re off to university.”
“Which they’ll have to pay for! Just because the boys want to use their sharp brains instead of being a blockhead like you doesn’t make ‘em soft.” Molly, red-faced, gave Rufus a reassuring look.
“You should get a job while you’re there,” Uncle said. “Books don’t teach you everything.”
“Aye,” Charlie agreed.
“Stay out of it, Charles,” Molly warned. “Your own girls are doing just fine not working in the yards. Am I wrong?”
“I’ll get another round,” Drummond said, looking to make a getaway.
Molly turned to Mitch and said, “Never you mind this rubbish. You’re uncle’s just trying to make up for not being there to set your dad straight. Think nothing of it.”
“Maybe he’s right, though,” Rufus said, catching his aunt off-guard.
“O’ course I’m right, Roof! Couple years slinging cement will help build you up, so you can shove those defenders off. Am I right?”
Charlie banged Uncle’s mug with his own, spilling a bit.
“It’s not the eighties anymore, Mortimer. Mitch and Rufus are going to school so they don’t have to sling crap in a damned factory, right? As if that ever made anyone a better person.”
“It would give ‘em a taste of the life,” Uncle said. “The other life, I mean.” Uncle leaned toward Rufus, the “older” of the twins. “Believe me, having both perspectives would do ya some good. Be good for all your countrymen,” he proclaimed. Sitting back, he said, “Maybe then you wouldn’t have so many thieves. The bankers and lawyers. They knew what it was like to work hard, change their wicked ways.”
“Now your uncle’s just spouting ‘cause he didn’t get a choice,” Aunt Molly told the boys. “That old saw. Pay it no mind.”
“Connie and Liam didn’t get a choice,” Charlie said conversationally.
“That’s right,” Uncle agreed.
“Christ, not again,” Aunt Molly said.
Drummond returned with more drinks. “Connie and Liam. No they didn’t, no sir.”
“They followed…” Aunt Molly’s voice trailed off with a look from Uncle. “The money,” she finished in a whisper, for Rufus.
The air in their corner of the pub seemed to have gotten colder, though it looked like Uncle was burning up with something. Rufus didn’t know who Connie or Liam were. More importantly, judging from expressions around the table, he didn’t know what had happened to them.
Uncle must’ve read his confusion. “Good chaps,” he explained. “Lost on Piper Alpha.”
“What was that?” Mitch asked. Like Rufus, he was just a curious seventeen-year-old. The world was wide open.
“Bad oil rig fire. The worst,” Molly told him, leaning close as if to crimp a water hose ahead of a flood. “Tell you later,” she added, with a look to Rufus.
“To hell with Occidental,” Charlie said, raising a glass. Uncle and Drummond raised theirs.
As if rehearsed, they chanted, “F— ‘em hard and f— ‘em again!” They clinked glasses and drank. Molly drank as well
Man, that sounds like some of the conversations my family has had over the years. Very realistic.
Thanks, Erin! I learned a lot from reading Andre Dubus II (primarily short fiction) who had an ear for what people actually say in normal situations. Going to read your stuff now!
Justin! Aw man, I suck at keeping up with comments after Wednesday has passed—I’m so sorry. And you know I love seeing pieces of this! I love Aunt Molly here especially. My siblings and I were the first ones in our family to go to college, and we grew up in a factory town, so I can relate to this even as an American. Great background for MacLeod and a great scene—the dialogue really rings true.
Thanks for posting! I’ll try to be quicker reading next time! Thanks for the comments, too. ☺
Thanks Bryn! Handing the manuscript to a proofreader this week. With luck, Tempest Road will be out mid-October!
Hello, my name is Jennifer Rhae, Twitter handle @LairdLady. I am working on a Romantic Suspense, centered around a treasure hunt which reveals that the main character has a troubling family secret. She must also learn to trust the handsome treasure hunter, hired by her father.
I am learning a lot as I go. From writing deep point of view, to making sure my dialogue tags are more interesting than, “he said” “She said”.
I am really hoping to be published soon and wish you all the best of luck in your writing goals!
Jennifer, it’s great to hear from you! That sounds like such a fun premise. I hope you post an excerpt sometime! Good luck with the story!