Hi, everyone, and welcome to our last WIP Wednesday of the year!
If you are new to the blog, here’s the deal: on the first Wednesday of every month, I share an excerpt of whatever I’m working on, and if you want to, you do the same in the comments section. (We did one every week in November because it was National Novel Writing Month, but now we’re returning to our regularly scheduled programming.)
There are just a couple of rules!
No critiquing — we’re often sharing from first drafts that aren’t ready for beta readers. A friendly word is always welcome, though, and good luck for you as a writer.
Keep your excerpt under 500 words, with no sexually explicit material. Some cursing and some violence is okay. If it’s really violent or disturbing, I may add a content warning…which is not a criticism at all.
Well, I don’t need a content warning for mine this month, because I’m sharing one more excerpt from my super-sweet contemporary romance! Even though it’s the holiday season, you’ll have to imagine autumn again for a minute.
In this scene, Dylan has run into Paige a second time, while he’s with his nephews at a pick-your-own apple orchard. It turns out that Paige was the first-grade teacher to one of his nephews the year before. A lot of the trees are picked over, and the boys have been climbing the trees to reach the fruit.
[AdSense-B]
They decided their next stop would be the Golden Delicious grove—Paige’s favorite, she said—and they headed down the dirt road past families with small children. To anyone else, they probably looked like a married couple with children. The thought should probably disturb him more than it did. But Paige was easy to talk to, and the morning felt magical, a temporary escape into another world where he didn’t have to worry so much.
“You like being a teacher?” he asked.
“I do. Although the first couple of years were rough.”
He hadn’t expected that. “How come?”
“Oh, I had a lot to learn. About how to set up the classroom, and plan the lessons. And I wasn’t good at dealing with kids who misbehaved. I hadn’t learned my no-nonsense voice yet.”
That didn’t surprise him at all. She seemed naturally sweet. “Do it,” he said.
“What?”
“Let me hear your no-nonsense voice.”
“Nooo.” She waved him off.
“Oh, come on.”
She stopped smiling. “Dylan, I told you no.”
He stopped short. He’d been joking around, but somehow, he’d offended her.
“That was my no-nonsense voice,” she said quickly.
He laughed. “Okay, that was pretty good.”
“So what about you?”
“I definitely have a no-nonsense voice,” he said.
“No, I meant do you like being a…what kind of banker was it, again?”
“Investment banking analyst.”
She nodded. “You know, I’m sorry about what I said before.”
“What do you mean?”
“About your job sounding awful,” she said, with a wince of regret.
“I wasn’t offended.”
“Hey, stop!” Connor said. “We’re passing the Golden Delicious.”
Dylan welcomed the interruption. He’d rather talk about almost anything than his work. Connor walked from on tree to another. “The only ones left are way up there.” He scrambled up into the branches.
“These really are my favorites,” Paige said. “I’m going to climb. Are you?”
“Uh. No.” He hadn’t thought she was serious about this.
“Why not?”
“Because I’d look ridiculous.” She appeared unconvinced, so he added, “Those branches aren’t that thick. I’d probably break one.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she said, but he caught her giving him a quick look up and down. Then she said, “Watch my purse,” and dropped it at his feet. She sauntered over to the next tree and swung herself up to the lowest branch.
As she climbed a little higher, a couple walking by gave her a surprised look. Dylan smiled to himself. Paige truly didn’t care if she stood out. Dylan had spent most of his life trying to blend in. It hadn’t always been easy, when he’d been a kid. But the strategy had worked out well for him so far…hadn’t it?
Paige’s foot slipped on a branch and she squeaked. Dylan rushed closer. She regained her footing and laughed, looking down at him.
“You’re making me nervous up there,” he said lightly.
“You’re making me nervous.”
What did she mean by that? She tossed one apple to him, and then another.
If you want to share an excerpt, go ahead and do it in the comments! And if you’re not up to it today, well, you’ll get at least 12 chances in 2018. Thanks so much for reading!
I love it. Visiting orchards to pick your own apples is so romantic! <3
I think I posted my WIPW too late last week, so I am going to cheat horribly and re-post it this week…
It takes place the day after the spooky basement door scene I posted the first week of NaNoWriMo:
Jason stared at the basement door with a faint expression of distaste. Mina knew why she didn’t like it, but what was his problem?
“Have you been down there since moving back?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, I checked it out the last time I was here. It’s empty except for the old furnace and the new one. There’s something I want to show you, though.”
Mina swallowed, her heart shuddering. No way could she go down there after last night’s events. “Right now?”
“Yeah.”
If she refused to go down there, he was going to pressure her to explain the real reason why, and then he’d think she was crazy.
“Okay,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear the shake in her voice.
Together, they pushed the heavy kitchen table blocking the door back to where it belonged. When he reached for the knob, she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from begging him to leave it shut.
Nothing crouched on the other side. He stepped onto the little landing and pulled the cord to the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. She followed him down the steps, the ancient wood creaking loudly under their weight. Halfway down, the fear won and she froze.
He reached the bottom and looked up at her. “You alright?”
“I…I hate basements.” *Understatement!*
“I promise this will only take a minute. Hang on.”
She held her breath as he stepped out of her view for a moment, and then white fluorescent light buzzed to life. Jason came back to the foot of the steps. “It’s okay. This basement freaks me out a little, too,” he said.
This basement. Not basements, but *this basement.* She wondered if he even realized he’d said it.
He held his hand out and waited. Knees weak with fear, she forced herself down the rest of the steps and took his hand. It was warm, and rough, and somehow seemed to siphon off some of her fear. He had always made her feel safe, from the day he’d rescued her from those bullies so many years ago.
“Come on, it’s back here,” he said, tugging her toward the furnace room. He gestured at a blank wall. “There. What happened there?”
She was going to kill him if he was playing some kind of joke on her. “It’s a wall?”
“What? No. There was a door here. See how the masonry doesn’t line up?” he released her hand to step over to the wall in question, and she immediately missed his touch. “The brick isn’t quite the same color, and the mortar is fresh.”
Now that he mentioned it, she did see the faint outline.
“Huh,” she said, stepping closer herself, her fears temporarily forgotten. “I have no idea what this is.”
Jason scowled at the wall as if the bricked doorway was some sort of personal insult.
“Maybe it was an old root cellar or something? Don’t these old houses have those?” She shrugged. She couldn’t recall her aunt ever mentioning one, though.
“Maybe,” he agreed. He looked at her sideways, quirking a brow. His head gave a quick tilt toward the wall. “Can I knock it down?”
“What?” she laughed.
He grinned and nodded, then nudged her with his elbow. “Come on. You want to know what’s behind there as bad as I do.”
She hesitated. Her initial thought was *absolutely not.* But…maybe whatever was behind the wall would help her unravel some of the mysteries surrounding her family history.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
Really good spooky tension! And “this basement.” *shivers*
Eeeeeek!! DON’T DO IT!!! lol I feel like knocking that wall down is a really BAD idea… but I watch a lot of Supernatural.
Knock it down! I want to see what’s behind there! Really put me in the moment.
Chanting: “Knock it down!” Great WIP…always enjoy the snippets.
I remember reading it last week but can’t remember if I commented. Scary! And great read. Thank you for sharing and see you next year 🙂
Hi hon! Oh sorry, I think I did miss it last week. WHAT IS BEHIND THERE. Knock it down!
Why are basements so creepy? This is great. I’d love to see more! 🙂
LOL, “Dylan, I told you no.” Nice: Then she said, “Watch my purse,” and dropped it at his feet.
On Monday, I wrote 3,025 words for The Amatus and the Altus! I’m at 110,710 words. Next month I may tell you I finished—or that I haven’t done anything. You’ve been enjoying Karl and Dorian’s love story. At the same time, Karl’s brother Leo is falling for Lace, a dwarven scout. Karl has just closed a magic rift that alters the weather:
The rain suddenly stopped, the expansive clouds snuffed out as quickly as a small candle flame, revealing the full, white moon in a black sky.
Lace scrambled up the nearest ladder and looked out over the drained lake, toward Old Crestwood. “The rift’s gone!” she shouted down and everyone in the fort cheered.
She anxiously watched from the battlements until they returned a few hours later, dragging their weary feet. They’d left the horses at the fort, not wanting to leave the animals out front of the cave, where stray demons might roam. She ran down to greet them.
“You know, not every dwarf likes caves,” Varric announced as they cleared the gate. “Hey, Harding, could have used you down there.”
Lace smiled, perfectly content to leave all the spelunking to the city dwarf. “Write me a story, and I’ll consider it.”
“Hmm,” Varric frowned pensively, like he was already composing a prologue in his head. Shit, if he wrote her a story, she’d feel obligated to go on the next cave mission.
“Do not get your hopes up, Scout Harding,” Lady Cassandra huffed out, limping off toward the healer’s tent. “Varric only spins the tales he wants.”
Varric shrugged. “There were plenty of demons for your bow: Wraiths, shades, rage, terrors—spindly bastards. Despair.” Dorian scrunched up his pretty face and put on an exaggerated shiver, making Varric laugh. “Sparkler, here, can’t handle any temperature less than boiling.”
Karl coughed into his glove and Leo pursed his lips, eyes twinkling with unspoken mischief. She dearly hoped she could someday make Leo’s eyes sparkle like that.
. . .
He came to stand at her side, look up at the freshly-cleared sky.
“This is nice,” she said. “I haven’t seen the stars since Haven.”
He looked down, as if searching her face, but his expression was difficult to read in the watery moonlight. “I wish I could say I’m the one who gave them to you.”
“He did,” Karl called up from the base of the ladder, craning his neck to look at them. “He saved me from plenty of terror and despair demons down there, Lace. Even ‘the green ones’ he hates. Leo definitely secured a clear view of those stars for you.”
Lace laughed and smiled down at the Herald.
“Good-night, little brother,” Leo said tersely.
“Goodnight!” Karl answered brightly, waving to them and heading back to the fire, where he bent down and kissed Dorian on the cheek.
“The green ones?” Lace asked.
“Wraiths,” Leo grumbled. “Got a face full of poison the first time we met one. No permanent damage—except I get pissed just thinking about the little bastards.”
She chuckled and reached out to take his hand, give it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you for braving the little bastards so I could have this marvelous view. Do you like it?”
“Yes,” he said. But he was looking at her, not the sky.
This is really good. I wanted to keep reading!
Thanks, Pamela! The first 17 chapters of The Amatus and the Altus are on Archive of Our Own (with character screenshots!) for all to read — no registration required. Happy writing!
Oh! And a friend of mine drew and painted a Disney-style picture of Leo and Lace sharing a romantic boat ride.
Love and victory all around…this is great. And the picture of Leo and Lace is gorgeous. 🙂
Thanks, Lisa!
Awesome read as always. And, I’m a sucker for romances lol. See you next year and thank you for sharing :).
Thank you, KC!
Ahh, so nice! And this made me laugh! “Shit, if he wrote her a story, she’d feel obligated to go on the next cave mission.”
Over 3K in one day! Send some of that writing mojo over to me, please 😉
Oh, that was so cute, Bryn! Gotta love any adult willing to climb a tree like that! I really like Paige and how she’s going to bring Dylan out of his shell.
Since NaNoWriMo is over, I have gone back to revising my first oracle story. Same characters, but they’re only sophomores and Claire and Gareth aren’t dating yet.
Well, of course it’s a date,” Danica says as we head to biology class together. “I saw it coming a mile away.”
“I didn’t!” I yank open the door with more force than is strictly necessary. Guess I’m still a little peeved she only caught up with me at the end of lunch, leaving me no one to do the “I have a date” squeal with—or to tell I made another prediction. And now the moment has passed. We’re surrounded by people and class is about to begin.
Dani catches the door and snorts. “Some oracle you turned out to be.”
I spin around to face her. “Please don’t use the O word here.”
Jimmy Kwan pushes past us and snickers. “The O word.” He reaches his desk and high fives his lab partner Jason Moritz.
“I didn’t mean—whatever you’re thinking–oh, shut up.” Face burning, I plow through the crowd towards our workstation.
Dani gives me a sympathetic pat on the back. “Come on, C. You don’t think it’s just a little bit funny?”
“About as funny as you hooking up with Billy Tremaine.”.
She freezes, half deer in the headlights, half Gorgon-stare. “Do NOT even joke about that. Do you know how hard I tried to convince him ‘screw your courage to the sticking place’ was NOT an innuendo?”
“Well, it’s Shakespeare, so—“
“I am not getting into nuance with him, he’s twelve. And we weren’t talking about Billy, we were talking about you and Gareth and—” She hugs herself and smacks her lips.
“Stop it!” Everyone is staring and the back of my neck tingles. I get out my pen and notebook, take an incredibly long time jotting down the date.
“I can’t believe you’re not more excited about this,” Dani says. “You and Davies have been making moon eyes at each other since the ninth grade.”
“We have not!” My cheeks burning now, I lower my voice and mumble, “If it turns out I’m an oracle, I can’t go out with him. With anybody. Metis’ oracles had to be chaste.”
Dani stares for a moment, slack-jawed.“Chaste?”
“Chaste.”
“Chaste— “
“The word isn’t going to change its meaning the more times we say it.”
Oh, such pain for her at the end there, to know the possibility of being alone grows stronger. Great read. Thank you for sharing and see you next year :).
Kimberly, I am getting such a strong “early Buffy the Vampire Slayer” vibe from this. (Which is a compliment — I loved early BTVS!) It’s so entertaining.
Oh my gosh, Dylan is just adorable, and what a cute setting for this scene—I love the apple orchard!
Here’s my WIP excerpt for the week: the previous two were from MC Madeline’s POV, so here is Love interest Colin’s POV.
“Leave it to Liz to be a cock-blocker,” Will said, shaking his head.
Colin flung his hand across the center console to thump his friend in the chest with the back of his hand before gesturing to the back seat where Tyler sat listening to music on his device.
“What?” he said, glancing back to Tyler. “He’s got his headphones on. Don’t you, dude?” he yelled toward the backseat.
Tyler looked up and loudly said, “Huh?”
“See? He didn’t hear anything.”
“If he asks me what a cock-blocker is later, I’m going to make you explain it to him,” Colin said with a glance to his son in the rear view mirror.
Will chuckled. “You act like that’s punishment, or something. What’s this I’m holding?” he asked, holding up the pink and purple striped zip-top cooler bag holding the container of leftover Thanksgiving food Madeline had given him.
Colin checked for traffic as he turned out of the parking lot, thankful that he could keep his eyes averted from his friend, who would no-doubt taunt him over the contents of the cooler.
“Food,” he replied noncommittally.
“Food?” Will repeated. “This sure as shit didn’t come from Liz.”
Taking his eyes off the busy DC traffic for a moment, Colin shot Will an impatient look–the thought that his ex-wife would give him anything but grief was laughable.
“So where’d it come from?” Will asked as he unzipped the bag and lifted the container.
Colin cleared his throat and tried his best to sound casual when he said, “Madeline Talbot gave it to me.”
“Madeline Talbot?” Will asked incredulously.
Colin could hear the smile in his friend’s voice and glanced over to find him smiling knowingly at him. He continued his fruitless attempt at sounding casual as he merged onto the Beltway to take them to Alexandria and said, “Yeah, she just gave me some leftovers–I mentioned the other day I wasn’t celebrating Thanksgiving.”
Will’s laughter filled the Tahoe as he lifted the lid and peered inside the container. “Dude, she wants your cock.”
“Would you stop with the cock nonsense,” Colin hissed, jerking his thumb to remind him of the ten-year old sitting behind them.
“Fine. She’d like to take a look at that sad specimen of manhood you carry around with you that desperately needs dusting off.”
Colin rolled his eyes. “Thanks for that, mate.”
As Will chuckled while checking out the perfectly portioned out food Madeline had packed up for him, Colin couldn’t help but be curious about his friend’s assertion. Mentally berating himself for thinking of asking Will a question that would make him sound like a bloody teenager, Colin ignored his friend’s exclamation of, “Is this apple pie?” and glanced in the mirror to make sure Tyler was still absorbed in his music and asked, “All right, what makes you think she might be interested?”
hahaha! This scene is cute/funny!! Your dialogue feels so real, too. Will seems like he’s *that* obnoxious friend you can’t help but love. (Everyone needs a friend like that!)
Lol love it. Would love to read this when finished. Thank you for sharing and see you next year :).
Thanks, Erica! Haha, loved him talking in front of the kid. And finally asking that question at the end 🙂
Apple-picking has got to be one of the best activities in the world. I haven’t done it in years, but I remember it well from my younger days. And the interaction between Paige and Dylan continues to be great. I love Paige’s voice…and any girl who wants to climb trees is awesome in my book.
Here’s a recent bit from my WIP. One F-bomb, but otherwise the scene is harmless. Just for clarification, Aria is a teeny dragon (about the size of a thimble in this scene), and she speaks directly into people’s minds. Vaisgarron is the most powerful dragon in this world. Gabrielle, the main character, leads the dialogue.
———-
“You know him, don’t you?”
Aria hesitated in her reply. ‘Yes, I am well-acquainted with your uncle.’
“What kind of vardi is he?”
‘The kind I would rather not discuss with you at this time. Please, Gabrielle, accept my gift and leave it at that. Vaisgarron would frown upon me enabling your obsession.’
They entered the Zaha’ai Centre through a small door at the side of the building. Gabrielle sprinted up the stairs to the second level with terrific anticipation. At Aria’s suggestion, she found a place near one of the large windows and waited, twisting her fingers together while fighting queasy anticipation in her stomach.
‘Here they are.’
Gabrielle held her breath, trying not to press her face against the glass like a peeping toddler. Aeoulys and Commander Yelrynnyn entered the clearing first, and she drew a sharp breath when her eyes settled on Syrach’s dark figure trailing behind them. “Wow,” she exhaled as her fingers leaped to her pendant.
The three of them stopped at a small bench near the footpath, and Syrach was the first to unsheathe his sword. While Aeoulys and Keerlyn talked, he moved toward the clearing, swinging the sword about himself in perfect arcs, stretching his muscles.
‘He is an impressive male.’
“He is.” She narrowed her eyes, taking in every detail. He had the effortless confidence of a predator…a *dragon*. The silver tips of his black fur rippled when he moved like a fog of mercury dancing about his body. Dangerous and graceful…she could understand part of the reason for his eerie reputation.
As he practiced his technique, Gabrielle recalled [her sister] had found him unattractive. From a distance, Syrach was easily on par with Aeoulys in the looks department. Even the patch over his eye blended so discreetly into his colouring that she barely noticed it. As Keerlyn approached Syrach, Gabrielle wondered why she felt jealous. Before she could stop herself, the question stole past her lips, “Does he have a mate or a wife?”
A hint of wariness curled about the edge of Aria’s answer. ‘He has neither, but I recall he enjoys the companionship of a lesser female noble. His exploits have not earned him the wealth or power a male of his standing should possess; according to Sykkhonian-Graeoran social rules, he is unlikely to marry.’
“I see,” Gabrielle bit her lip, studying him. Hearing he had a girlfriend unleashed a second pang of jealousy. She quickly chastised herself, ‘You fucking idiot! What the hell are you thinking? You’re not actually *interested* in him, are you? He’s your uncle…through marriage… Get over it.’
Keerlyn bowed to Syrach and saluted Aeoulys. She stopped for a second and turned toward the centre.
‘I have informed her of our location. She is coming up.’
“Thanks, Aria.” Gabrielle tilted her head to the side and shifted her weight, watching her brother retrieve his sword to join Syrach in the clearing.
An eager smile slipped across Gabrielle’s face. She couldn’t wait to see them spar.
Argh, forgot to mention the most important thing: Vaisgarron has forbidden that Gabrielle and Syrach should meet at this time. Hence, why she’s “spying” on him.
Awesome read and the reason for the spying. Forbid someone of something and they’ll find a way around it lol. See you next year. Thank you for sharing :).
I love the spying…and the TINY TELEPATHIC DRAGON. I want one! ~ Thanks for posting, Lisa!
Everyone’s WIP Wednesday sounds so interesting and intriguing. I want to read them all. LOL This is the first time that I’ve shared anything of mine, and I have a romance suspense to share. This is a prologue at the start of the story.
Prologue
10 years earlier
There was a knock at her apartment door. She zipped up her suitcase and placed it on the floor. Excitement raced through her veins in anticipation of leaving Sage Brush with the love of her life, the father of her unborn baby. She stepped out of the bedroom and headed to the door when she stopped and glared at the person who stood in front of her.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“I…I’m leaving town. Wha…what do you want?”
“You think you’re going with someone?”
“That’s none of your business. Please leave. I have someone meeting me here shortly.”
“You won’t be meeting someone.”
“What do you mean?” she stammered.
Gunfire erupted. She went down to her knee grabbing her chest. “Why did you shoot me?” Her baby. She had to get to safety and save her baby. She ran her bloody hands from her chest to her abdomen. She couldn’t breathe, she heard gurgling noise and it sounded like it was coming from her chest.
Phillip, where was Phillip? Phillip, please walk in the door now! Feeling faint, she fought to keep from passing out. No. I got to get out of here. My baby, I need to save my baby. She gripped her stomach as she collapse to the floor.
She came through for a few seconds. She heard a voice that sounded familiar to her.
“Where do you want me to take her?”
She tried hard to think, who’s voice was that.
“Take her to Mansfield’s Ranch. Follow me and I’ll take you to the exact place I want her buried.”
Buried? They were going to bury her? No. She was still alive. She felt something torn from her neck. Her necklace, that Phillip brought for her. Someone lifted her up and carried her. She couldn’t focus her eyes. Phillip, please, Phillip, save me.
“Phillip will save me,” she whispered as she was being carried.
“No, he won’t be coming for you, sweetie.” The voice was cold, calculating, and sent a chill down her spine.
She was placed in the backseat of an auto, but she couldn’t see the inside. Her vision was cloudy and she felt a stringy blanket cover her body and face. Gasping for air, she knew she was suffocating, then everything turned black.
Pain in her chest was excruciating. She felt the dried blood on her hands, and she felt a tumbling motion in her stomach. Was that her baby moving? She ran her hands to her stomach and rubbed the sides. Why couldn’t she focus? She had to get out from under this pit black blanket. It was scratchy and kept her from breathing normally.
A door opened and someone reached in and picked her up. Finally, someone was going to help her. Someone came to her rescue. Yes. Please, help me, help my baby. She screamed silently. She was immobile, she couldn’t talk, and she couldn’t move.
“She’s still alive,” a gruff voice said.
“She won’t be for long. Just put her in the ground and bury her.”
Bury her? Why would they want to bury her? What did she do? Who were these people? God she wish she could move. She felt weaker and weaker, her breathing was shallow.
She felt a hard thud, and pain shot through her entire body as if every bone broke. She knew she was dumped in a grave. “No, please don’t bury me,” she whispered, but no one heard her. Where was Phillip? She felt the dirt as it hit her chest and face. She gasped for air, trying to inhale but couldn’t due to the pressure of the earth on her. With each shovel of dirt, it became painful for her. My baby. She inhaled dirt…..
omgosh!! I have chills. I’m guessing since it’s “10 years earlier” that she somehow survives this… Please tell me she gets some kind of justice! Okay, maybe you need to keep me in the loop when you’re ready to publish. Or if you need a beta reader lol. Your suspense in this scene is on point! I want to find out what happens!
You better share more of this next year, I wanna know what happens. But, gimme a moment to get my heart back where it belongs, oh my goodness indeed. Hope to see more from you next year. Thank you for sharing.
Constance! Welcome! Oh, my heavens. This was intense. Is it Phillip’s doing?! I want to her to get revenge!
wow that was so tense and eerie! I’m waiting to see what happens next!
Now I want to go pick apples!! (too little too late, I suppose lol) I like the sense of innocence and curiosity between the two. Like it doesn’t matter how much his job might weigh on his mind, when she’s around, it’s like a breath of fresh air that he can’t ignore.
Today is my first day back to my WIP since NaNo (between work and just resting up, I had some recuperating to do). It’s good to be back with Ellie and Wes. 😉 In this scene, they’re at his parents’ ranch so they can meet Ellie (the nanny) before Wes heads off to start filming his movie.
***
A low-pitched guttural noise caught Ellie’s ear. “That’s Sammy,” Harry said, pointing off toward the pasture. “He’s probably heard us fussin’ in the barn and wants to say hello. Why don’t you take Miss Ellie to meet Sammy, Wes?”
“Pop, I don’t think Ellie—”
“I’d love to meet Sammy,” Ellie interrupted.
Wes nodded. “All right. We’ll meet y’all inside, then.” He fell back as Harry, Beth, and Andy continued on toward the house. “Sorry if my dad seems a bit… cliché.”
“What do you mean? I think he’s wonderful,” Ellie said. “Let’s go say hi to Sammy. I think Liam will be disappointed in me if I don’t meet his Pop Pop’s best friend.”
Wes kicked the dry ground as he turned them toward the pasture, clicking his tongue as he called out for Sammy. “This poor thing is so old,” he said, craning his neck to search for the waiting horse.
“Beth told me he’s losing his eye sight.”
“He is. He’s got scars on his muzzle from hitting his face on low branches and the stable walls. You’d think he’d learn to be more careful, but he doesn’t.”
A nicker answered Wes’s calls, and the gentle clop-clop of hooves on the pasture brought the old horse into sight. “There he is,” Wes said, pointing toward the tree line. Ellie stood by the wooden fence and watched the old brown horse make his way toward them, stopping every so many feet to gage the new face beside his old friend, Wes. “He’s judging you.”
Ellie chuckled. “What? Really?”
“Yeah, look at him,” Wes said, leaning on the fence post.
“So he can see me?”
“Not really, but he can probably smell you. And hear you. His hearing is sharper than a tack.” The afternoon breeze carried the scent of his cologne to Ellie’s nose, filling her tummy with those pesky butterflies.
“Well, I hope he likes me.”
“He will.”
They watched together in silence as Sammy gradually approached them. Wes stuck his hand out first, allowing the horse to recognize his scent. “Here,” Wes said, taking her hand. His touch reverberated from her arm through her core, and though her first instinct was to pull away, she didn’t. He helped her hold her hand out for Sammy to inspect.
“His nose is so soft,” she mused, watching the horse’s ears angle like little satellites. “Hey, Sammy. I’m Ellie. It’s nice to meet you.”
Sammy dipped his head and neighed softly, moving closer to the fence. Too close, actually; he bumped into it and knocked Wes and Ellie a step back. “Yeah, his depth perception isn’t so great anymore,” Wes said as they stepped back up to him. “He wants you to scratch his head.”
“Does that mean he likes me?” she asked, reaching through the fence to scratch Sammy’s muzzle.
“It looks that way,” Wes said, patting down the horse’s neck. “Told you he would.”
“Hey there,” she cooed at the old beast. His breaths were heavy, just like Harry’s. “You’ve had a lot of good years here on the ranch, haven’t you?”
Aww how sweet. While Sammy’s condition is sad, it also makes me smile because he’s not letting it stop him. See you next year and thank you for sharing:).
“watching the horse’s ears angle like little satellites” — great. I love the old horse and the interaction between these two.
Such a nice scene. I remember picking fruits in an orchard like that somewhere in my home country, the Netherlands. I was very small though, so I can’t recall much of it. But the feeling of being able to pick your own food was pretty amazing.
Recently, I’ve gotten a new idea for the ending scene of my first WIP. Instead of ending it almost directly after the big battle, I’ve decided to go for a more campy scene. It takes place where the story begun, Morgan’s house. All five of the main characters come together for a bit of small talk after the crazy happenings of the book. Here’s an excerpt from that scene.
Half an hour later, she sat down by the dinner table. Leisurely, she summoned a plate and utensils from the kitchen drawer. The rush of magic went through her chest, and she was so glad for it. While concentrating the awake part of her brain on making her knife hover above the table to smear a thick layer of butter on her toast, she heard the doorbell ring. Once, twice, five times in total. It was followed by a fervent knocking on the door. Someone laughed, and she could hear Helene say: ‘Technically, I could just magic the door open…’
‘I’ll make the knob punch you in the face if you try!’ Morgan yelled down the hallway as she let them in. If Helene could do it with magic, so could she.
‘A good morning to you too.’ Her friend strolled into the room, closely followed by Kirsten. For the occasion, both of them were wearing capes. A deep blue for Helene, and a surprisingly bright jade for Kirsten.
June bounced in not long after that. ‘Hey, Morgan! You excited for today? I know I sure am! Also, why is there a set of antlers hanging above the coat rack? I mean, in the living room I’d understand, but why there? Also also , Iris in the hallway still. She’s having trouble with her shoelaces, all tangled up because Helene claimed she could magically tie them. Also also also…’ While she prattled on, Morgan felt the need to quietly interrupt her.
‘That’s called art. My mum has a bad taste in it.’ She took a big bite of buttered toast with cheddar, and continued: ‘Why don’t you sit down.’ With a rhythmic clunk, four out of six chairs by the table moved back.
‘Show off…’ Helene drawled, making a mockingly sad face.
June gasped softly. ‘Cool. I’ll be able to do that too, one day. I hope.’ She sat down, shuffled around on her chair until she found a comfortable position and started plucking little bits of fuzz off her shirt. It was a bright yellow shirt, and matched horribly with her light green jeans.
At that moment, Iris walked briskly into the room, swatted at the back of Helene’s head and said: ‘’Sup, Saviors of Greenfield. How’s the mood?’
‘Savior of Swan Lake, not Greenfield,’ Morgan corrected her. ‘The mood’s tired. And not all that glad about you lot barging into my house this early in the morning.’
‘It’s half past ten.’ Kirsten commented. ‘Were you asleep for that long?’
‘Yeah, I was completely knackered. And not having nightmares helps a lot.’
‘Right… It must be assuring for you, to have your magic back, to be able to go back to Odette’s castle and learn so many new things. I can’t imagine what it would be like -’
Iris chose that moment to swing her feet onto the table. She challenged everyone to say something about it with the look in her eyes. Helene squinted a bit, and Morgan knew that she was planning something. In a split second she saw her glass of orange juice begin to shift over the table. Luckily, before anything was spilled, June reached forward over the table and jabbed her finger into Iris’s foot. ‘There’s a hole in your sock!’
The blonde girl yelped. ‘Aah! I forgot about that! Stop poking me!’
(If you want to read my fanfiction story RedFang, which I’ve been working on much more actively recently than this book, you can read it here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10271264/chapters/22748141 )
Lol funny and mischievous. Great read. Thank you for sharing and see you next year :).
Oh wow! These are all so good! I want to read each and every one! Ahh! What happens to the girl getting buried??? Talk about a cliffhanger – I need to know how that one ends.
That was so wonderful and cute. The way he reacted to her “no nonsense voice” had me smiling from ear to ear. It was just perfect.
Since my first novel, Batter Days, is going through a massive rewrite, I decided to take a step back from it for a minute and work on another idea until the first of the year so as not to get to disheartened. In this scene, Jensen and Sarah are talking about Sarah’s past. She has shared little of it with him at this point. They recently had a massive fight, and Jason is trying to understand why she reacted the way she did. (I know. That sounds weird, but it would take too long to explain all that has lead up to this point in the story.)
“What did you mean?” he asked her. “Upstairs when we… you said you didn’t want to be pushed aside again. What did you mean by that?”
Sarah’s eyes shot up to his. There was a brief flash of fear in her y/e/c eyes before they returned to the sad expression he’d seen before as she looked away again. Jensen watched on in silence as Sarah struggled to find the words to tell him about her past. She closed her eyes tightly and took a slow, deep breath before hesitantly fixing him with her gaze.
“My dad died suddenly when I was 8,” she told him, and Jensen’s eyes went wide at this new piece of information. “My mom didn’t handle it well. She basically shut everybody out for a year. There were times when she would even forget to send a lunch to school with me.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “That’s actually how Gen and I meant. She saw me sitting in the corner by myself one day and came to sit next to me. Next thing I knew, she’d started sharing her lunch with me too.”
Jensen mirrored the little half smile that had formed on Sarah’s face. “That sounds like Gen.”
“Yeah. She’s too nice for her own good sometimes.”
Jensen nodded in agreement before gently encouraging Sarah to go on.
“Eventually my mom went from sitting alone in a room looking at his photo to having a constant string of guys in and out of the house. She’d be serious about them for a while before she started comparing them to my dad and deciding they weren’t good enough because they weren’t him. So she’d kick them out and go back to being a ghost for a while until she found another one, and the whole thing started all over again.”
Sarah stopped and took a long shuddering breath to try and keep control of her emotions. Jensen could see how hard she was fighting to keep it together, and he wanted nothing more than to just pull her into his arms and tell her not to say anymore, but he didn’t. She needed to get this off of her chest almost as badly as he needed to hear it. So he sat quietly and waited for her to continue.
“I was pretty sick of it by the time I reached high school,” she told him. “I started acting out and getting into trouble at school. I guess it just got to the point where she didn’t want to deal with me anymore because I came home from school one day near the end of my freshman year to find her throwing my stuff into a suitcase.”
Jensen’s heart dropped when he saw Sarah lose her internal battle as tears began rolling down her cheeks. She was sniffling and shaking. All Jensen wanted to do was take her in his arms and shield her from the memories that had caused her so much pain, but he couldn’t. All he could do was take her hand and listen while she fought to finish her story.
“I went to live with Gen and her family after that. She was my only friend for a while. No matter what I did, she always stood by me. Her mom got me some help, and eventually I got my act together. I started doing better in school. I started making friends and even got onto the cheerleading squad with Gen my senior year. Her parents helped me get emancipated when I was 17. The last time I spoke to my mother was when she came to the final court hearing. They declared me a legal adult, and she just walked out of the room without saying another word. I haven’t seen her since.”
Sarah intertwined her fingers with Jensen’s and ran her thumb back and forth across his knuckles. Jensen just sat there in silence. He finally understood. It wasn’t that she had been mad at him. She had been afraid. She was afraid that she was going to be pushed aside for a memory…again. All of the pictures, the little reminders, all of it served as a constant reminder to her that she wasn’t his first love, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be the great one.
So sad but it sounds like, by the ending there, that he’ll be good for her. Hopefully. Thank you for sharing and see you next year :).
You have a new profile pic, right? I was like, “Oh, who’s that…hey, it’s Erin!” Nice to see you!
I always toggle between projects. I like being able to come back to something with a fresh point of view. Great scene…Jensen’s such a good listener. Thanks for sharing!
LOL. Yep. I finally put a picture on there.
Oh! I forgot to ask what the name of your new novel is going to be? I want to be sure to keep an eye out for it.
Oh, thanks for asking! It’s undetermined at this point, though. I had a title, but now I’m not feeling it. I’m going to get some help with a new title. 🙂
Love it Bryn!
“Wheels up in four hours,” Mac informed the team.
“Where we going Chief?” Cowboy asked as he tossed popcorn at Yooglie. They were playing some sort of game. Cowboy tossed the popcorn and Yooglie tried to catch it before it hit the ground. So far it was 3-1 in Yooglie’s favor.
“Back to Colombia.”
“Ramos got the message to Gutierrez?” Rooster asked. Cowboy tossed some popcorn at Rooster, causing Yooglie to try to snag it out of his lap. Rooster pushed the dog’s nose away from his man parts and glared at Cowboy. 3-2.
“We had to pull a few strings in the prison to get the meeting set up. Grant didn’t give Ramos much choice. Promised witness protection to him and his family if he worked with us to take them down.”
“So Gutierrez is about to give grief to Syria and Syria is about to give grief to Deisinger.” Cowboy assumed. He sent a kernel flying across the room and Yooglie skidded across the tile in pursuit. 3-3.
Rooster patted the dog as he sat back down in front of Cowboy in anticipation. “And if my guess is right, Deisinger is about to give more grief to the Doc to try to hurry her up.”
Cosmo had been quietly thinking. “Mac, Can I talk to you for a minute… in private?”
“What you got Cosmo?”
“You know I’d never ask this if it wasn’t important. Can Rico or Wildcard go in my place for this mission? I really hate to leave Jess to handle this mess all on her own. And we still don’t know where Cassidy is or if Deisinger or Gutierrez have anybody else tasked with hurting her.”
“You have any idea how many strings I’d have to pull to make that happen this close to deployment?”
“No Chief. But I can imagine it would be quite a few.”
Mac looked at him hard. In the ten years he had known Cosmo, he had never requested a leave. Mac always had to make him take the down time. He was also still recovering from his burns. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The loud crash of a lamp falling, a yelp, and a loud “you dumb dog!” signaled the end of the popcorn game.
Lol re the popcorn game. Always funny to watch a dog in that situation. Great read, loving these characters. Thank you for sharing and see you next year:).
I *just finished* eating popcorn and tossing some to my dogs before I read this! Good interactions in this scene. Thanks for posting!
Great start! As a New Englander, apple orchards symbolize fall, the dying of leaves, the foreboding of the dark cold winter to come. But it’s also beautiful and full of romantic potential. This excerpt captures that romance.
OK, so this is the beginning of my cat detective story. The first draft is in the can, and I’ve already started editing (using your 7 steps!)
I’m standing on my couch staring at the spot in the corner where I last saw a fly. My radar dish ears are pivoting, scanning the room for that familiar buzzing, filtering out the hum of the ceiling fan above me and the city noises coming in through the open window. I know if I just keep staring, the fly will come back to this exact spot.
My doorbell buzzes, and I spring so high into the air that the fan nearly decapitates me. The bell rings three more times before I make it over to the intercom.
“Snowball, cat detective,” I say into the intercom. “What can I do for you today?”
“I, uh…want to hire you to see if my wife’s cheating on me.”
Normally, potential clients wait until they get upstairs—away from the prying ears of passers-by on the street—before they blurt out their embarrassing problems to me. It’s called discretion. And people are always here for the same embarrassing reason. It’s never about a priceless stolen artifact or a missing sister or a murder that the police think is a suicide. It’s always about a cheating spouse. I can already tell this guy’s going to be a pain in the ass. But as much as I’d rather go back to hunting the fly, or napping, or batting around a wadded-up ball of tape, or anything other than my actual job, I’m not exactly in a position to turn people away right now. I haven’t had a client in two months, and I need to pay rent eventually.
“Come on up.” I buzz him in, unlock the door to my office and take a seat at my desk.
My office is also my home: a studio apartment with an open kitchen/bathroom a closet and a window. It’s furnished mostly like an office, with a desk along the back wall facing the door. The ratty couch along the adjacent wall in front of the window doubles as my bed. On the hardwood floor is a faux bearskin rug complete with a rubber bear head that looks somewhat real but squeaks when you step on it. For late-morning naps I often prefer it to the couch because of the way the light hits it as it comes in through the window.
As I’m waiting for my potential client to come up, I dig my claws into the mahogany desk and stretch. We’re in the middle of an early summer heat wave, which has become my latest excuse for lethargy and lack of motivation. Cats don’t necessarily hate the heat, but makes us even lazier than normal. I’ve slept away all but the last twenty minutes of the day, waking only when that fly landed on one of my whiskers.
Mousy, my catnip-filled chew toy and confidant, looks up at me from atop my dust-covered printer.
“Well, Mousy, it looks like we finally have some business.”
Oh my goodness, I so want to read more of this. Being a lover of cats after all, it just suckers me in lol. Thank you for sharing and see you next year :).
thanks, for reading!
Ryan! I was just thinking about this story! It’s really something how it mixes that noir-ish, hard-boiled detective voice with…you know…being a cat. Congratulations on the draft, and good luck with the editing!
thanks, Bryn! You’re already helping me edit it with this blog.
Lol love it. I so want to read this in full, Bryn. Wow, last month of the year already. I look forward to WIP Wednesday next year :).
Thank you, everyone, for feeding my reading addiction this past year. I have immensely enjoyed reading your works and the emotional responses they’ve drawn from me. Happy Holidays / Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year <3
In this final share for the year, Blake finally manages the push Scott into action.
~*~
Waking up at dawn, I lie there watching the light slowly grow in intensity. It takes a moment to realise I’m hearing the shower running. Seems I’m not the only one to wake up early. Laying there until he’s finished, I get up to have my own shower. Once done, I dry, dress then head out into the kitchen.
And stop like I’ve hit an invisible wall.
Blake is standing at the kitchen sink staring out the window while having a cup of coffee. Not a problem. The problem is that he’s dress in only a towel wrapped low on his enticing hips. I stare at his back where I can see faint pink scars criss crossing all over it.
After Zac arrived, I had turned away to give a brief report to Kaelan, so I hadn’t seen his back that night. My teeth clench hard as the memories of the state he was in flood my mind. Working at ridding those thoughts, I watch him turn around.
“Morning.” He grins and walk towards me.
I mentally groan as I note the towel, while wrapped tightly, just comes up high enough to keep him decent. Unfortunately, I have an active imagination. “Morning.” I clear my throat after croaking the greeting.
“Kettle should be hot enough if you want to make yourself a cuppa.” His smile appears both innocent and inviting at the same time.
The moment he’s beside me, his scent of sun warmed sea air, combined with the toiletries he’s used, engulf me. It’s a heady fragrance. I push him against the pantry behind him and kiss him and I can feel both our bodies respond.
His arms snake their way around my chest as my fingers slide into his hair. As my fingers hold onto his head to control the kiss, his arms are tight around my back with his fingers digging into my shoulder blades.
As he moves to wrap a leg around me, I growl and push away from him. Both of us are panting like we’ve just run a marathon but he’s frowning at me. I’m guessing in confusion because he didn’t seem unhappy with that kiss. While I have a death grip on the island behind me.
“What the hell…?”
“Go get dressed.” I practically growl at him, not letting him finish.
“What are you on about?”
“Just bloody well get dressed!” I snap at him.
Watching him storm off to the bedroom, I run my fingers through my hair in frustration. I’m so not handling this well. I don’t move while waiting for him to come back out. When he does, he storms towards the front door. Rushing to him, I grab his upper arm. Not harshly but not gently enough for him to break from.
“Where’re ya goin’?”
“It’s quite obvious you don’t want me here, regardless of the mixed signals,” He retorts.
“Stop acting like a kid and sit down.” I try to guide him to the seat he’d occupied yesterday.
“Why should I?” Now he does sound like the petulant child.
“Because we need to talk, ya dork.”
“Only if you stop calling me names.”
I roll my eyes. Twenty five going on seven, I swear.
I just love the intensity of the scene, KC! Ah, they need to get their relationship sorted…
I hope you have a wonderful holiday season (not too hot up in Brissie…lol, I remember it well), and I look forward to reading more of your snippets in the New Year! All the best from Tassie! 🙂
Thank you, Lisa, and we’ll see how they go lol.
You have a great holiday season as well. The weather can’t seem to make up its mind here and have been having some storms but has been muggy as. I’m not a summer person lol. Never been to Tassie.
I lived in the Gold Coast Hinterland for 14 years after moving from Chicago…omg, I’m not a subtropical kind of girl at all. The weather here is crazy, but I love it. Last week we had aircon going; today it’s the heater. The natural beauty here is amazing.
I’ve only ever been in Queensland and, after 50 years , I still don’t fair well in summer lol.
Ah, really conflicted characters! I enjoyed it!
KC, thank you for your reading and thoughtful comments all throughout the year! Happy Holidays!
Thank you, Bryn, and my pleasure.
That’s hot! I really love the build-up of the tension. “The Kettle should be hot enough” right as it reaches a fever pitch and is suddenly stopped. And it’s refreshing to see someone else write in First Person Present Tense.
Thank you, Ryan. I tend to write in whatever voice the story talks to me in.
the apple orchard scene was so funny and adorable, love it!
It’s hard to believe this year is almost over! I really need to get my writing life together lol.
The scene I have here is from my sci-fi book called The Roman Project: The Masked. Which was previously called A Visionary of Peace. Some of the characters names have changed as well, (and their appearances) but they don’t appear in this scene, which is the intro of a side character named Wen Paxton:
The sound of a transfer engine in the dead of night, and a road all his own made Wen feel cockier than usual. Maybe it was the fact that he could drive as recklessly as he wanted to and no one could tell him not to. He pushed the speed higher with a grin on his face. He was nearly home from Ran’s party – which he had been at since ten this morning… or maybe that was yesterday morning. It didn’t matter when he had left for the party, Gabriel would still be furious.
And disappointed. But Wen tried not to think about that.
The car drove over the bridge that crossed the aqua canal. He glanced out the window for a brief second at the view of the island he lived on. He looked back at the road. But then glanced back. He shoved on the brakes, smoke pooling out behind his transfer as the tires skidded and screeched. The transfer finally paused, Wen flew a few inches forward and smacked into the wheel. He turned his head and gazed at the shadowed figure that jumped roof to roof, getting closer to his house.
Wen’s mischievous grin wilted.
He shoved the transfer door open and slipped out, so quick it that would’ve looked strange and unnatural to onlookers, but to Wen felt normal. He slammed the door and jumped over the hood of his transfer with agility that came naturally. He walked to the railing of the bridge and gazed down at the figure who slid across the rooftops of his neighbor’s homes. He watched for a few seconds before he slid back into his spotless Aro 412.
The transfer sped down the bridge, bumping a few inches in the air when the bridge turned into a black asphalt road. He lost sight of the person on the roof, and instead of following them with his car he had a better idea. He stopped abruptly in front of a house with an open garage door, he shifted into reverse, backed up, then drove forward into the garage. He had no idea who’s garage this was, and didn’t care. He shoved his door open, but closed it quietly. He walked out of the garage casually, and turned so he was walking backwards for a view of the roof. His normal approach to practically anything was usually loud and reckless.
But that was mostly a big show he liked to put on. When he was just around Gabriel – his adoptive father – he was different person. He spent most of his home life training and perfecting his abnormal ability, but everyone else he was a just a wealthy party-goer.
Gabriel never lied to him about anything, he was the most honest person Wen knew. But sometimes he was a little too honest. Especially when Wen wasn’t putting all his effort into his training. Though Wen didn’t see the point of it. The only reason Gabriel made his do it everyday was because of his paranoia and superstitions. Which were mostly made up theories about someone wanting revenge for all the things Gabriel did as a scientist. And Wen hated to admit it, but he shared some of the same fears. He surveyed the roof for a few seconds, then ran and jumped in the air, latching a hand on the roof edge and swung himself up. He stood up straight and ran silently on the slightly tilted silver housetop. Once he got to the other end of the house he ran and jumped to the next roof. Wen got to the highest point of the black house, scanning out the neighborhood. After a second he spotted a dark figure running silently towards Gabriel’s house.
Oh wow, such a mixed sense of things in that snippet, I was torn between smiling at his self appraisal to sitting on the edge of my seat waiting. I look forward to reading more. Thank you for sharing and see you next year 🙂
Thank you for reading! Your feedback means so much:)
See you next year!
Hi, Tatyana! Thanks for the kind words! It’s so interesting to read a piece that’s so focused on the action. Very evocative. Thanks for posting!
thanks so much reading!
I hope you have a great new year:)