This post contains spoilers for my novel The Phoenix Codex. Just thought you should know!
Hey, everyone! Happy 4th of July to my U.S. readers!
I am so sorry that this is going up in the middle of the afternoon instead of first thing in the morning, like usual. The holiday threw me off, since I usually work during the week. All day, I was thinking it was Saturday!
I’ll go ahead and share an excerpt of a work in progress, and you can share one of your own in the comments section. 500 words or less, please, with no explicit sexual content. We don’t critique each other’s work here, even with the best of intentions, because we’re often sharing work that’s not ready for beta readers yet. However, encouraging words are always welcome!
Today, I’m going to share an excerpt from chapter one of The Equinox Stone, the sequel to The Phoenix Codex.
In chapter one, Michael West was walking naked in a freezing high desert, with no clue about who he was or how he got there. He got rescued by two men and a woman who were initially hostile toward him until they verified his identity.
[AdSense-B]
He said to the driver, “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Your name’s Michael West. I’m Jonathan West, I’m your brother.”
“You’re…” This didn’t seem right. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
The woman in the backseat said, “Look in the mirror.”
He flipped down the visor over the seat and then turned on the light over the dashboard to see better. He was white, with blue eyes and light brown hair, the same age as Jonathan—or younger, maybe? In the cast of his features he could see a resemblance, but that wasn’t the reason his stomach did a sick roll.
This was his face? He’d never seen it before in his life. After being lost and freezing, threatened with guns, and having his brain messed with somehow, for the first time he felt as though he were in a nightmare.
My memory will come back. Then everything will feel better. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
“You all right?” his brother asked.
“Michael West,” he repeated, and glanced in the backseat again. “And he’s Nic.”
“Yeah, Dominic Joe,” Jonathan said. “He’s uh, we work together.”
“I’m Cassie,” the woman told Michael. “I work with them, too. Well, this was my first time. Jonathan’s told me so much about you!”
“We don’t know each other?” Michael asked.
“No! You were… He should explain.”
Michael took another long drink of the ginger tea. It seemed to be settling his stomach. Jonathan took a deep breath and exhaled. “You and I were up here on the mesa to fight a demon.”
Michael stared at him. “Why were we doing that?”
“Because we’re Knights.” When Michael didn’t respond, he clarified. “It’s our job.”
“So…” He couldn’t figure out which of the dozen questions swirling in his mind to ask first. “Go on.”
Jonathan kept his eyes fixed the road ahead. “I have some shielding ability. But the demon hit me hard, and my control slipped. It took over your body and then—blew you up.”
Michael waited for this to make sense in his mind, or for Jonathan to explain further. Neither of these things happened. “What do you mean, blew me up?”
Jonathan’s jaw twitched. “I mean you exploded in a cloud of dust in front of my eyes.”
This was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “A demon can’t do that.” Throw you off a balcony, make you shoot yourself or your best friend, sure, but turn you into a tolvanera? Impossible.
“This one could.” Jonathan looked over at him. “You don’t remember at all?”
Anger flashed through him. “This is all some kind of mindfuck.” It would be easy to grab his gun right now, while he was driving and distracted. “No, I don’t remember. It didn’t happen!”
“I wish.” The sincerity behind his words stopped Michael’s temper short. Jonathan had apologized earlier, and he hadn’t understood why.
“How long ago?”
“Forty-three days.”
Michael’s suspicion couldn’t rest. “Why would you know exactly how many days?”
“Because you’re my brother.”
Please share some of your work below, if you like–we’d love to see it! If you just want to chat about how your writing is going this summer, or if you’d rather not comment, that’s fine, too. Thank you for stopping by, and happy writing!
Hi, I’ve been asked by my publisher to write a military romance. So, this one is called Operation Code Name: Desert Love.
The heroine is a humanitarian worker who’s been kidnapped by gangsters in Afghanistan, and the hero is the Captain of Special Operations, 7th Special Forces Group of the Green Beret. He’s about to be commissioned to rescue the heroine and two other American aid workers. Note: This is a very rough draft.
Len Roberts had a sneaky feeling in his guts that something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Usually his sneaky gut feelings had something to do with their missions. He has commanded the 7th Special Forces Group for five years now. Years of experience while handling wartime duties, and most recently, Operation Eduring Freedom has developed or honed in his skills at listening to the inner voice, listening to his surroundings, in addition to all the other capabilities they have in order to operate in hostile or denied areas. His team can operate for an indefinite period of time in remote locations with little or no outside support. While the Operation Eduring Freedom has been disbanded, there was a core group of special operations still working behind the scenes.
The next planned mission was to undermind the Taliban’s intentions in the southern part of the country in Kandahar. He and his men have been rehearsing the mission, waiting on the go-ahead from headquarters in the US. The command had to come soon, or they would miss the opportunity to strike a blow to the Taliban’s authority in that region.
He’d been over here for over two years now, and he wondered if he was just getting burned out. He didn’t really have a home back in the US. But he would love to just shake off his military garb and just be a man, living freely in the US and not worry about being attacked by people of Afghanistan who have no appreciation of Americans and what we did for them.
There was a knock at the door of his temporary office.
“Enter,” he commanded.
One of his men, David Copperman, one of his two Communications Sergeants, entered.
“What’s up, David?”
“You got a call from General Jannson, line one. He says it’s an emergency.”
Len grabbed the phone. “Roberts.”
“Len, this is George. I got a situation here, I’m going to need you to handle. Clarissa snuck out on me two years ago and joined a humanitarian group called The Child Immunization Program and they sent her to Afghanistan. I tried to get her before she left, but I was too late. Anyway, she, along with a nurse, and a translater, has been kidnapped by these guerillas who are demanding a ransom for their release. They want ten million dollars, and the release of one of their gang members who has murdered several innocent people. I’m going to go through the proper channels to get special ops to rescue them, but I’m giving you the heads up, because it’ll come directly to you.”
“What the hell is she doing here in Afghanistan?” Len asked, he couldn’t believe his ears.
“You know my daughter. She’s got an independent mind, and once she’s made up her mind to do something, she does it without considering anything or without checking with me.”
Without any consideration of the danger she’s put herself, and others in, obviously. “All right. Do you know anything about where she was sent?”
“Yes. The Child Immunization Program says they sent her, with Beverly Lightfoot, and a young translater named Dadvar, and six other workers, to the area of Chaghcharan, and the Dasht-e Leili desert. Apparently, only the three of them were taken. The other workers reported in to The Child Immunization Program headquarters that they were taken, and I was notified by them shortly after I got the message from your superiors there in Kabul of the kidnapping and what they gangsters wanted.”
“Did any of them have any kind of eletronics with them? Something we can tap into?”
“The group was given mobile phones, laptops, and GPS along with medical supplies and stuff they needed to travel from village to village.”
Shit. Why the hell did Clarissa do this? Was this to get back at him? The last conversation he had with her floated through his mind. He’d told her she was immature, silly, still a little girl in a woman’s body, and certainly not what he would ever want in a woman. The look on her face told him he broke her heart in two, and devastated her. But it was really better this way. He didn’t have any room for anything more than an occasional evening with a woman who knew who she was and what was expected. Someone who knew there would be no commitments of any kind, because of his career and life style. There was no room for marriage and a family. Those are things that Clarissa should be involved with, not humanitarian efforts. Yes, the job of a humanitarian is honorable. People in that field should be held in high esteem. They have truly a wonderful gift. But he couldn’t see Clarissa in that role.
“Okay, General. I will get the team working on it. I got this other mission going on at the same time, and we can’t risk missing the deadline on this one.”
“Looks like you’ll have your hands full then. I want my daughter brought back to me alive.”
Yeah, the General wanted his daughter back alive, and he wanted Clarissa back home alive.
Oho, sounds like Len is going to have a difficult time with this mission. Awesome read, thank you for sharing, I enjoyed it.
Thank you KC, glad you enjoyed it.
What an exciting project, Constance! Something tells me that Len may have really misjudged Clarissa. Great conflict. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks Bryn. I appreciate the feedback.
And here’s another Dave and Hank quiet moment from my ongoing story:
Hank huffed out a sigh as he unbuckled his holster. “You can always depend on Mark Caten to ruin someone’s plans. We just happened to be the lucky party this time.”
Dave struggled with the buckle on his holster. “Maybe there’s a way we can work around it. Maybe we can come up with a legitimate reason to go back to Pinkerlee.”
“Nothing that would convince Caten. You know how he…” He watched Dave’s futile attempts to unbuckle himself. “Here. Get yourself over here.”
Dave obeyed.
“I don’t know why you always have a problem with this one.”
“Well. It’s all stiff and uncooperative.”
“Yes. Yes. I can see that. Just hold still.” Hank stuck out the tip of his tongue as he fought with the difficult belt.
“Hank? What are we going to do?”
“I’m thinking. I’m thinking.”
“If we’re stuck guarding Caten all night, it doesn’t seem we have many options.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Silence fell between them.
Hank bit down on his tongue as he struggled to pull the prong out of the hole.
Why does this have to be so difficult?
“Haaank.” Dave lowered Hank’s hood and slowly untied the mask’s ribbon.
Hank’s ears burned as Dave removed the mask.
I feel like he’s stripping me bare.
Dave put the mask on the equipment room’s floor. “Unmask me.”
Hank smiled and obeyed. He set the mask next to his own mask.
The two guards looked at each other and got lost in one another’s eyes.
There were no words to be said.
Just simple and silent adoration.
Hank slid his hands through his lover’s brown hair. “mm. That new shampoo is doing wonders to your hair. So soft. So clean feeling. I’ll have to stock up on it next time I go to the—-”
Dave grabbed the front of Hank’s guard robe and pulled him into a kiss.
Hank put his hand on the middle of Dave’s back and pushed him closer.
Only to get jabbed in the gut by the half-unbuckled holster.
He chuckled warmly. “I guess I’ll have to finish taking care of that before we do anything else.”
Dave let out an excited squeak.
Hank smiled and went to work on the uncooperative belt.
Lol gotta love uncooperative things like that. What an interesting read. I hope you publish it. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much!
I am definitely thinking about publishing it. But right now I’m just focusing on getting it all written down. And then! 😉 We’ll see what happens.
Lol don’t mind me, I get a tad excited at times. I will put up my hand for beta reading, if ya like. You can say no and I won’t be offended. It’s all just part of my excitement 🙂
Thank you so much! I will definitely take you up on that offer when that time comes. ? It makes me happy that you’re excited about my story.
A testy ole belt buckle….hmm…. Sounds like a great read!
Thank you so much! 😀
Hi, Ambrose! Oh, this is so nice. I really enjoyed the natural transition into a romantic moment. Thank you for sharing! I hope you post more!
Thank you so much!
Dave and Hank are one of my favorite couples from my story. They are such opposites: Dave is so excitable and fluffy. Hank is more serious and level-headed. But they love each other like crazy.
Excellent excerpt, Bryn! I’m looking forward to this sequel! I shared a link to your post on my blog.
Some notes I wrote this morning for The Amatus and the Altus, about Karl retrieving his stolen memories from a demon’s lair, but—unlike canon—they’re not immediately visible to everyone (haha, no idea you’d have the same theme today!):
Karl looked between Ava and Solas, hesitating. “Ava, you’re a Dreamer?”
She nodded.
“Can—” he swallowed thickly. “Can you help me show the others?”
Also from this chapter, when the demon’s voice taunts them all from above, but they cannot see him:
“Ava, Ava, Ava. Shall I take your memory, just as I took the ‘Heralds?’ Who would you be then?”
“My heart would still know the truth, even if I became an empty vessel. You cannot win, no matter how many lives you ruin along the way.”
“Ah, but what if they learn who you really are? Shall I remove your shame, or brand it on you? Maybe I will just tell your friends in what Age you were born, and let them tear you apart.”
Ava waved her own hand in front of her face and her vallaslin disappeared. Not a trace of the intricate tattoo remained.
Solas gave a knowing smirk.
“Well, shit,” Varric said.
Lace wasn’t surprised by anything anymore. All she cared about was finding an exit to get their physical bodies out of the Fade.
“I am not ashamed,” the brown-skinned elf declared. “I have always shown my true self, whatever paint I may use. They know me already.” Her voice echoed off the slime-covered rocks, slicing through the poisonous green air. “I was born this side of the Veil, before the ages had names. I am neither the oldest, nor strongest of elves. But I am an agent of the Inquisition, and the Inquisition will see you and your master defeated.”
“Argh!” the demon gave a strangled cry and the voices stopped.
“Let’s move,” Ava strode ahead, not even looking over her shoulder to see if the Inquisitor would follow. “He will be back with reinforcements.”
I love your writings and have missed them the last few times I haven’t been around. Yes, I know I can catch up and I will once my banishment to just a small mobile device is over (translation: once dead poota is fixed). Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, KC! Good luck with your tech repairs!
Hey friend, thank you for the share! And good to see you! Great excerpt. I laughed at that one line from Varric. I always think that demonic taunting and possession is such a good metaphor for mental illness and depression, though you may not have had that intention at all. Really enjoyed this–and of course, I always do!
Thanks, Bryn! Good point about the metaphor of demons for depression; fortunately, that’s not one of Ava’s challenges (Karl and Dorian struggle with it, though). The Nightmare is a demon that preys on fears and makes them physically manifest, in his attempts to enter the waking world. The trick is going to be getting through the rift (door) and closing it before he can follow us through. Due to messed-up magic, we’re PHYSICALLY in the Fade, even the dreamless dwarves, when only your mind is supposed to visit the Fade in dreams.
The aftereffects of Karl and Dorian’s past traumas have been integrated into earlier parts of the story, including a desire demon that usually-witty Dorian is too depressed to banter with in chapter 18:
When Dorian eventually fell asleep, he didn’t even feel up to bantering with the desire demon who came to him in Karl’s form, offering peeled grapes. “Begone,” he said simply, and curled up into a ball on the brown ground of the Fade—it was as fucking cold as the stone he slept on in the waking world. With a mere thought, he raised a circular wall of fire around himself to keep the despair demons at bay. They were the only real danger to him tonight.
Don’t despair, gentle readers, I promise Karl and Dorian a happily ever after.
(By the way, Dragon Age: Inquisition despair demons are a pain in the ass to kill in-game, flying all over and casting debilitating streams of ice on you. They wear cloaks like dementors, but are smaller, quicker, and shriek like banshees. BRING FIRE!)
Oh, I am so eager to get the sequel as I enjoyed the first immensely. Awesome read, Bryn.
Sorry I’ve been away. My writing dried up for a few months but it came back temporarily. Temporarily because my computer died my Monday night; so not happy. But… anticipating this post, I managed to save this snippet from my file. The following writing prompt inspired me:
Super evil villain and the hero are siblings and they still go to family dinner during the holidays.
~*~*~*~
The suburban streets are quiet for a Wednesday morning. Especially at 9:30am. Perhaps being the public holiday, Australia Day, has something to do with it. It’s a beautiful looking day that promises to be a hot one. But then, what does one expect for the middle of summer.
The enjoyment of the lazy start to the day is shattered by the sound of two cars. The blue Audi cruises to a stop outside a house as a black Nissan shows no intention of slowing down as it makes a tight turn into the same driveway the Audi was about to turn onto. The Audi driver shakes his head as he lets the Nissan go first.
Heading towards the back yard, the Nissan parks between a huge shady jacaranda tree and the house. As the Audi gently parks on the other side of the same tree, the door to the black car opens then slams shut and the driver stalks towards the blue car. The Audi driver just manages to get out and lean back against his car when a hand shoves hard against his shoulder.
“You get in my way again, Orc, and I won’t hesitate to kill you.” The aggressor hisses in his face like a crocodile fighting for food.
“Honestly, Petra. Stop with the threats when you know you won’t do such a thing until mum and dad are dead.”
Grabbing his chin, he can feel her claws lightly scraping his face but not drawing blood. Yet.
“Don’t cross me, Orc. One of these days, their health status is going to be irrelevant to your survival,” she snarls, canines lengthening.
“Well, thankfully, it won’t be today, sister dear. Now, look down then sheath your claws.”
Eyes flicking down, she notes his claws positioned under her ribs with a good angle to her heart. Her eyes back on his, her snarl deepens.
“No point in going all Wolfie now, mum and dad are waiting for us.”
She leans forward until their noses are touching. His leaning on his car and her high heels grants her such an action.
“Don’t get all cocky, little kitty. You run against us big dogs and you’ll get eaten alive.”
Lightly grabbing her wrist with one of his hands, he chuckles as he gently pushes her away.
“Come on, before they start to investigate as to what’s going on. Oh, don’t forget Velvet, JuJu will be upset otherwise.”
Petra gives him a withering glare, letting her claws and canines retract and stalks back to her car. Both reach in to their cars to grab items from the back seat. After rounding the tree, he stops as a growl sounds. Near the Nissan’s bumper stands Velvet. The enormous Rottweiler hates him because his sister does.
Glancing at Petra, he notices her scowling at his hand. Looking down at hers, he grins when he sees she too is carrying a present. Spinning on the toes of her 12.5cm heeled knee-high boots, she stalks towards the house they grew up in.
Wonderful intercharacter conflict!
Thank you for sharing. 😀
Thank you and my pleasure. I had fun creating their characters and writing that scene.
KC, thank you so much! It’s so good to see you! Sorry to hear you had a dry spell…and sorry your computer isn’t cooperating now that you’re back in the flow again. That’s so upsetting! I hope everything gets sorted out one way or another. Love this urban fantasy…or suburban fantasy! The normal surroundings are such a great foil for the scene.
I can’t totally relate…my sister is a super-villain, too. Nice piece.
Super evil villain and the hero are siblings is a theme many of us identify with.
I’m so excited for this book. You have no idea. I loved the first one. That whole world is just fascinating. You’ve done an amazing job.
I’m going to share a bit from a new scene that has been added during the first round of revisions to my first novel, Batter Days. This takes place near the end. Ally has gone to Vegas to try and convince Derek that their relationship is worth fighting for.
THE GYM WAS impressive to say the least. Ally’d only ever set foot in the old gym Derek worked at once. She’d instantly been intimidated by the floors of machines and all the girls running around in her little outfits, and it had only taken her five minutes to decide she was never coming back. That gym had nothing on the one she was standing in now. It was four floors of steel and mirrors.
“Holy crap,” she said, coming to a stop just inside the door.
Derek chuckled and took hold of her elbow to guide her into further into the building. He gave her a quick tour of the facility, and Ally couldn’t help but notice the pride in his voice as he talked about what all they’d accomplished so far. The gym didn’t officially open for another week, but the patrons who had been given early admittance to the gym were raving about it. People were calling him almost every day asking about memberships. IT was great.
“I’m happy for you,” Ally said.
If Derek noticed the lack of enthusiasm in her voice he didn’t mention it. He just beamed down at her. “Thanks.” He motioned her towards his office and offered her a chair. “I have to go talk with one of the trainers real quick, then we’ll get breakfast okay?”
Ally nodded. She deflated the second he was out of the room. She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the desk and putting her face in her hand. What am I doing here? I can’t compete with all this.
The more Ally thought about it. The more she was questioning her decision to come to Vegas.
Erin, that is SO NICE of you to say…thank you!
And what a great scene – I really feel for Ally here! Her inner monologue is so relatable. I really want to know what happens next!
Hi Bryn. Happy 4th to everyone in the US; here it’s cold, winter…we’ve had about 2 inches of rain in the last 4 days. So happy for WIP Wednesday. I love seeing what everyone’s up to. I’m also really looking forward to the Equinox Stone; loved Phoenix Codex and can’t wait to get back into that world.
This last month has been such a stressful mess that I’ve regularly found myself resenting my story. Nevertheless, I’ve crawled ahead with it and have a clear direction to the end, even though it still feels like the end is a million miles away (not really, but it just feels that way – I’ve got about 30% left to go…I’ve written about 340,000 words to date — editing down to a size I can present to agents/publishers is going to be insane. Luckily, my husband is great at murdering my excess words).
Here’s my offering this time around. Gabrielle and Syrach are still dancing around their relationship. They’ve been rescued from their previous situation by the dragons and have returned to Syrach’s home.
—
Gabrielle folded her napkin and placed it atop her empty plate. She hadn’t expected to eat so well, especially in light of the tension caused by Evora’s presence. Phyrrendrys and Nartaalys provided plenty of light amusement with their stories from Anthierri. Gabrielle even found herself laughing out loud when they related something involving Commander Yelrynnyn. “Did Keerlyn get them aboard the Ryhmura in the end?”
“She did, and apparently the Ryhmura has not smelled the same since that incident.” Nartaalys popped a piece of fruit in his mouth, his eyes glowing like ripe oranges. “You know, sometimes I thank Blessed Fortune that I am too heavy to board that airship.”
Grinning, Gabrielle sipped her red wine. She continued listening to the two dragons with half an ear as they chatted about the daily affairs at University. Without turning her head, she let her eyes slide right to peek at Syrach.
He’d angled away from her in his chair, listening with slumped shoulders as Evora’s enthusiastic chatter held Vaisgarron and Aria hostage. With his thumbnail clicking against the stem of his wineglass, he appeared to be biding his time as he suffered through the meal. As he nodded…contributed a few words here and there to the conversation…shifted slightly in his seat…Gabrielle noticed he didn’t once drink from his goblet. Evora, however…
“Oh, but Grandmas-s-ster, I should like to s-s-see your Anthierri again. The las-s-st time I visited…was it with you, my dear heart?” The white female leaned toward Syrach, taking hold of his right hand and pressing it to her face. “I could’ve s-s-sworn —”
He withdrew his hand with a disgusted sigh. “No, Evora…you haven’t been to Anthierri since I’ve known you. Perhaps it might be time to retire?”
“I’m not in the leas-s-st bit…tired, my love.” She picked up her glass, tilted it back, and giggled when she discovered it empty. “I could do with s-s-some more wine, I think.”
“I think you’ve had quite enough.”
“Really, Lord Gendreyllen…don’t treat me like a child.”
“Why don’t you…” Syrach stood up, brought his mouth to her ear. He whispered something that made her close her eyes as a sensual smile tugged at her lips. As he straightened, he motioned for his chamberlain to approach. “Master Rynnell, please see Lady Evora to her room — make sure she stays there.”
“Of course, sir,” Rynnell bowed his head. Wandering to Evora’s side, he put out his arm to her. “May I see you to your room, my Lady?”
Evora stood, tipped under the weight of her drunkenness, recovered by latching onto Syrach’s shoulder. She reached out and cupped Syrach’s cheek. “Don’t be too long, my darling…I’ve mis-s-sed you.”
Syrach removed her hand from his face. He planted it on Rynnell’s arm. “I’ll be right behind you.”
By the time they reached the door, Rynnell had his arm around Evora’s waist as she writhed beside him in a giggling fit. Syrach exhaled hard and sat down, pushing the goblet away.
Suppressing a grin, Gabrielle leaned toward her dark uncle. “Your mistress seemed to enjoy herself tonight. You’d better go, or she’ll fall asleep without you.”
He swung around to face Gabrielle, his countenance hard as granite. “My FRIEND has no head for wine. Sleep will do her a world of good.”
Lisa, hi! Thanks so much for the kind words…it means a lot to me. I’m really enjoying getting back into the world of these stories!
Of course I knew it was winter there, but still…it’s so strange to think about it!
I’m so sorry to hear it’s been such a rough month! I really hope things smooth out.
What an intriguing scene! Love the vibe between Gabrielle and Syrach. Good stuff. Thank you for sharing!
Here’s an excerpt from my second novel, The Frontman
_
Avery listened intently to Clyde’s story. He needed to be writing it down! “Kerry told me once that he never felt at ease around those guys. It sounds like you weren’t crazy about them either.”
“Yeah, Kerry had a lousy few years with them,” Clyde said. “They treated him like hired help. Kenny Carney, their bass player, was the worst. He and Jarvis were best friends and he resented the hell out of Kerry being there. I had to put him in his place more than a few times over Kerry. Ultimately, he was the reason Kerry quit. Right after Kerry beat his ass in the middle of Sound City’s parking lot. I quit on the spot and left with him.”
“That’s awesome.” Jill said. “He never told me that story. Kerry was too good for those guys, anyway. I always thought their guitar player sucked.”
Clyde smiled. “Yeah, well, he was a big time rock-n-roll star, you know. He couldn’t be bothered to practice. That’s why he sells car insurance out in Palo Alto now.”
“So you helped Kerry put the Bastards together?” Calliope asked.
“Not really. Kerry found those cats on his own. I just hung out and paid the bar tab. He knew what he wanted. He had it all worked out in his head. His music was magic. It was intrinsic to his nature.”
Calliope nodded, solemnly. “Yes, it was.”
“He was a mystic of the highest order.” Clyde said.
Avery was so tired he thought perhaps Clyde was having a joke at their expense. . “Kerry Vance, a mystic? OK, you’ve got my attention, Clyde. Tell me that story.”
Clyde furrowed his brow. Avery got a sense of the savage intelligence at play in his eyes. The old man had something heavy to convey.
When he spoke, he had their full attention.
“The medium upon which the whole of creation is based, Mr. Clark, is a harmony; a tonal, musical harmony. It is created from the resonance of the underlying cosmic currents which define the void. It is the matrix of a static universe.”
“This resonance, this pulsation, scrambles the matrix to create matter and energy. The essential tone, the frequency which contains the lot of us, is based on a three beat pulse in the key of C-430. It is the mother of both rhythm and tone.”
Avery shot Calliope a quick glance of disbelief. Calliope smiled back and shrugged.
“Kerry understood this on a genetic level,” Clyde said. “All of the great musicians do. They are born to the task. Unfortunately, from everything thus observed, and Kerry notwithstanding, it’s a rough life. Creating and performing are the only things that matter. To souls that sensitive and intelligent everything else is a disappointment. Nothing else rings true.”
“That’s why Kerry never really stopped to enjoy his success. It wasn’t what he was after. It was the freedom of the stage that he needed, it was the music. That was where he escaped into the peace of the Universal tone. Kerry’s best grooves are all based on it. That was what set him apart from the beginning; his whacked out cosmic groove. Nobody had ever heard anything like it.”
Clyde smiled, but his eyes were awash with tears. He patted the side of Kerry’s coffin. “Kerry made a good life for himself, not because of the money, but because of the good he did for others, the man he became. That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?”
Hi, Lawrence! I like the mystic element of this. Good natural dialogue, too. Thanks for posting!
Sorry, had to break my comment up into two parts…I tend to get wordy….Been following the blog for a while, but now that the book is almost done I wanted to share a piece.
Really like what you’re doing Bryn…Thanks for the forum!
Oooo I can’t wait to read the sequel! btw, I love your new profile pic. Your hair is like beachy waves — so appropriate for your recent move. 🙂
So here is the intro of my first attempt at a novel.
Introduction
Discovery
Ricky and Lela were both breathing hard, trailing snot, and giggling wildly. Their hearts strained and thumped. The smell of sweat and fresh cut grass surrounded their nostrils. Lela abruptly dropped to the ground and slid like she was stealing homebase, streaking grass stains up the sides of her jeans. She rolled onto her back and kicked and wailed.
“Oh no I need help, Superman!”
“I got you!” shouted Ricky as he caught up to her. He grabbed Lela’s hand and pulled her up, which brought a quick end to the dramatics.
“Oh Ricky! You’re my hero!” She jumped up from the ground and hugged the small boy dramatically. On cue, he lifted his arms like Superman, turned around as if to say ‘grab on!’ and raced across the park to the playground, Lela trailing. They reached the tree line and Ricky turned to look up at Lela.
“Ok. Now you save me!” said Ricky.
And without waiting for her answer, he clambered up the tree next to them. Lela reached out and touched the bark of the oak. She forgot herself.
“You hold on Ricky, Supergirl is coming to save you!”
Lela crouched, folding her lanky adolescent frame. Then she sprung up to grab the bottom branch. But as she rose, her hand missed the branch. It wasn’t where she expected it to be. She waved wildly trying to make contact. But it was passing her on its way down. Somehow she knew what was happening. It was just like in her dreams. She was rising. Gravity had slipped off of her shoulders like water. It felt shocking, like her first earthquake. You don’t expect the ground to move. And you don’t expect to fly.
She rose and rose, converse knock offs dangling in the air. Suddenly she was facing RIcky, who was sitting on the third branch up. He lit up and jolted in surprise.
“YOU REALLY ARE SUPERGIRL!” He squealed. He lost his balance and Lela caught him, grasping him tight. She wrapped him in both arms and floated gently back down to earth laughing and kissing his round cheeks while he talked a mile a minute about the super group of superheroes they would assemble.
Joy dissolved when Lela reached the ground. Frozen in horror across the park were two adult women. There was a short silence and one of them screamed. Lela knew what that meant.
Rebekah! Ahh, this is really fun! I love the energy and her flying is so unexpected. I hope I get to see more!
(And thanks! I’d had the other profile pic for a couple of years, so I had Mr. Donovan take a picture of me today. 🙂 )
Hi Bryn, your sequel looks very interesting.
Today, I’m going to share the first couple pages of a futuristic suspense/romance. It takes place in 2063 and I keep telling myself that if I procrastinate on it, I’ll have to change the year OR change it to a historical 😉 For the moment, this is how The Rift begins:
With a jolt that threw her against the restraining harness, the ancient cargo-plane began descending. Clamps holding the vehicles, heavy with cargo, emitted a high-pitched metallic screech. Mercedes gripped the unyielding plastic seat so hard her nails broke. She prayed that they weren’t crashing. As is in answer, the plane abruptly leveled out.
From the cockpit, she heard the pilot cursing WoHF for not providing safe, modern transportation.
If the pilot didn’t feel the plane was safe, were they doomed?
Her gaze darted to the squad of Marines, many of whom were also holding on for dear life and staring toward the cockpit’s open door.
Knowing she wasn’t the only one who felt threatened by their situation made her feel better.
The angry tone from the cockpit didn’t make her feel secure. Worse, she couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. The pilot seemed to be talking to someone on the radio, and the more often he repeated his message, the angrier and louder he got, so by the fifth repetition, she began catching a word here and there, but not enough to know why he was furious enough to throw the handset at the copilot.
Mercedes focused on breathing in deep calming breaths, then blowing out her fears, but the copilot’s apparent fear and frustration, as she tried to deal with the radio transmission, wasn’t making this trip easy.
Over the intercom the copilot said, “No one is responding to our hails, so we will make a fly-over to gauge the situation. Please stay secured in your seats.”
Had she expected someone to be manning the tower, waiting to give them approval? From things Randi had said, the combination of poverty, disease and tribal in-fighting had crumbled the civili. structure of the entire continent, making the cities uninhabitable and unsafe for a lone person to venture far from civilization. In short, her grandfather would call Africa ‘a real catch 22’.
The plane suddenly tilted to the left.
Bile rose.
She clamped her teeth tight. A glimpse of earth outside the cockpit window showed her how close they were to the ground. The roads appeared abandoned and everything appeared to be shades of drab brown. Kenya didn’t look anything like the lush vegetation of Panama’s mountains. Why would anyone choose to live in this forsaken land?
The plane banked sharply three times over the next few minutes, and each time, the clamps holding the vehicles, which were loaded with cargo, strained and screeched. She shut her eyes and prayed she wouldn’t disgrace herself by throwing up.
Hi, Jeanne! Haha, I’m sure you won’t have to change it to a historical! This is such a different project from what I’ve seen from you. You describe a rough plane ride all too well (it made me a little queasy!)
It’s also a rough draft, but my first 3 novels were suspense/romance (contemporary) so this is sort of a backwards step for me,. I’ve had this idea for years, but was having fun with the cat stories. However, my beloved Mr. M died (cancer) last Spring and I simply can’t get into writing kitty adventures – yet.