Hey hey, it’s the first day of May (happy Beltane to those of you who celebrate it), and it’s WIP Wednesday! I do have a bunch of new blog subscribers (welcome!) so let me explain that WIP Wednesday is the first Wednesday of every month, when I share an excerpt of a work in progress and anyone else who’s writing something is invited to do the same in the comments.
It’s okay if what you’re sharing is rough! My excerpts often are. There are a few guidelines: about 500 words maximum (otherwise I’ll trim your excerpt). No graphic scenes, because I have many young readers. We don’t suggest improvements on others’ writing, because it’s usually not ready for critique yet, but encouraging words are good writer karma.
As a lot of you know, I’m trying to write my first-ever script: an adaptation of my novel with Hallmark, Sunrise Cabin. But I’m also working on my paranormal romance, and The Equinox Stone will be released into the world before the end of this year.
It’s the sequel to The Phoenix Codex, which is FREE on Kindle now through Friday only. So if you haven’t read it yet and you’re interested, grab it now!
Here’s this month’s excerpts, which does contain HUGE SPOILERS for book one! Sorry if the Spanish in this is wrong. My Spanish isn’t great and I haven’t made sure yet that it’s correct.
[AdSense-B]
Jon shook his head again. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
Jon was a soldier, clearly. It wasn’t just the haircut or the black utility jacket he was wearing, but the way he carried himself. Both he and the other guy, Nic, looked tough. If he’d attacked Jon, as he’d briefly considered, he probably wouldn’t have stood a chance. The woman wore a green Army jacket.
On the phone, Nic had switched from Chinese to Spanish. What the hell? He’d cupped one hand over the phone, so Michael caught only a couple of phrases. Sí, estoy seguro. Yes, I’m sure. No recuerda nada. He doesn’t remember anything.
“Who are you guys?” They’d talked about a mission. Terrorists, maybe.
Jon cast him a keen sidelong glance as he drove the SUV toward the road now visible in front of them. “Who are you?”
“I—” His brain yielded no clues, and he bit back his frustration. “I don’t know. I was in an accident or something.”
Jon gave a shaky laugh. “You could say that.”
“Debrief him,” Nic said from the back before returning to his conversation.
“Who is he talking to?” the woman asked Jon. “Has this ever happened before?”
“No.” Jon pulled onto the highway, accelerated, and then glanced at him again. “Drink. You might be dehydrated.”
He was thirsty. He removed the canister top, which doubled as a cup, and filled it up halfway. Steam rose. He blew on it a few times. Nic, in back, said, “Español o ingles, por favor.” How many people was the guy talking to?
He said to Jon, “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Drink first.”
His suspicion rose. “What’s in this?”
Jon grabbed the cup from him, downed its contents, and handed it back to him. Not poison, then. “Tastes like ginger. Drink some. Dehydration can make you confused.”
He opened his mouth to protest. But Jon could be right, and it felt good to drink something hot, so he muttered, “Fine,” and poured another cup. He didn’t like the guy’s attitude, though. Who did he think he was?
“Your name’s Michael West. I’m Jonathan West—I’m your brother.”
“You’re…” This couldn’t be right. He’d know. “How do I know you’re not lying?”
The woman 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.
I hope you’ll share whatever you’re working on below…or just let us know about how your projects are going, or about your plans for this month!
And if you’re not following the blog already and you’d like to take part WIP Wednesday in the future, be sure to sign up to follow below! That way, you’ll get a notification when WIP Wednesday rolls around. Thanks for reading, and happy writing!
After I posted, I noticed a typo (probably not the only one, but a hilarious one.) Instead of “HUGE SPOILERS” I’d written “HUG SPOILERS.” Hahaha! And there is plenty of hugging in this story (I especially like it when men hug), though not in this excerpt!
Hahaha! 😆 Even spoilers need a hug every now and then.
This snippet is of my two vampire hunters having a small conversation the day before their wedding.
****
Elsie pulled into Hildreth’s driveway, but she didn’t shut the car off.
“And here we are.” He leaned towards her and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later. We are hunting tonight, right?”
“Are you kidding? Do you really think I’ll let you go hunting the night before our wedding?”
“Uhh, yeah?”
“No. Not happening.”
Hildreth frowned as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “So, what? You’re going to hunt alone?”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel.
“Els? Are you?”
“I want to. It feels wrong not to do it. There are people out there who need our protection. This is our city. We have a responsibility to protect them.”
“But? Wait. There is a But…line about to happen, right? You aren’t going to just leave it unsaid, are you?”
She stared straight ahead at his house.
“Els.” He curved his hand along her face. “Hey. Elsie baby, I’m not doubting your ability to protect yourself. You’ve been a solo hunter all your life. You are a fierce fighting beast. You’re the freaking Marauder. But I don’t want to lose you. I’ve come close far too many times. I can’t lose you now. Don’t hunt tonight. Please. Just this once.”
She sighed. “If I say that I’m going to hunt anyway, what would you do?”
“Well, the obvious. I’d go with you.” He smiled. “Fair’s fair, Vansing.”
“Fine. I’ll stay home then.”
I must confess, other than Twilight, I haven’t read any vampire tales. This was all kinds of fun. What vampires do the night before their wedding. Something tells me the “Fine. I’ll stay home then” ain’t gonna happen, though??? 🙂
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
As for whether she’ll stay home or not… 😉 There’s a 50/50 chance either way.
I love how she’s the established hunter, trying to protect him on the night before their wedding, and yet ignoring her own argument for doing the same. I’d love to see more of these two!
Thank you so much! They are such an awesome couple to write.
It’s kind of interesting: He proposed to her early in the story. She accepted, but she really falls in love with him as the story progresses. Of course, that doesn’t mean that she made it easy for him. There were so many scenes and moments where I felt so bad for him. But they are currently in a much better place in their relationship.
Aww. This warmed my heart! I like their relationship!
Thank you so much! I have really enjoyed showing the growth of their relationship.
I really enjoyed this – vampire hunters aren’t so different from the rest of us.
Thank you! I enjoy showing how ordinary they can be despite their extraordinary job. 😀
I love the whole “Mr. & Mrs. Smith” vibe. The family that slays together stays together. 😀 Could totally see Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie playing the leads.
Thank you so much! That would be awesome! 😀
The last vampire story I read was the Discovery of Witches trilogy a few years ago… just haven’t been interested in the topic but THIS I would read. 🙂 And you have a fantastic dialogue flow!! It’s so “real”!
Thank you so much! 😀 This comment totally made my day!
I always read my dialogue out loud as I’m writing to make sure it has the right kind of rhythm and flow. There are times when I can almost hear the characters’ voices inside my head as I’m typing.
I looked for another way to contact you, but couldn’t find one. I found an OLD book with some fabulous lists. published in 1927, 1934 the Modern Word-Finder by Paul D. Hugon. Would you like to share any of my gold mine? I’d be happy to share.
Jessie! That book sounds amazing. Thanks for letting me know! I’ll find it!!
My favorite entry is, “say.” Whole lists under topics such as, he said yes, he said no, he told or stated, he argued, he pleaded… There are nine categories just for the word said.
That sounds fantastic. I often use this page. My stuff is so dialog-heavy that I need to come up with alternatives to “said”. 😀
http://www.spwickstrom.com/said/
Bryn: Is there a thread where folks can post their favorite online writing resources? I’ve got a bunch I wouldn’t mind sharing.
Hi, Steve! Well, I do want to say for the sake of other readers (but I know you probably already know this) that as an editor in my day job, I prefer “said” or “asked” most of the time (and most other people in publishing feel the same way.) Readers just glide over those two words.
If writers repeating “said” too much, you can use facial expressions, actions, or body language to tag the dialogue, like this. You’re already doing that in your writing, of course!
Bryn smiled. “I love talking to other writers on my blog.”
Steve set down his beer. “Let’s do this.”
Jessie shrugged. “I could go either way.
That’s why I have the lists of facial expressions and body language on the blog…and that’s why they’re always the top posts on the blog. A lot of writers have them bookmarked for when they’re writing dialogue.
But I agree, a list like that is great! Sometimes you do really want to use a synonym for “said.” Just not very often. 🙂
Yeah, I use that too. Probably overuse “grinned” and “shrugged”. 😀
It’s funny, repeated use of “said” never bothers me when I’m reading something, but it sounds really odd when it’s an audiobook. Not sure what the difference is. Maybe your eyes just starts to skip over “said” when you’re reading, and your ears don’t have that luxury.
Just for fun and because I didn’t think I used the word said very often in my writing, I did a word search on the novel I am in labor with at this time. I found the word, said 46 times in 354 pages. I didn’t think I used it that much.
One of the reasons I love Bryn’s lists is that I can find alternatives for “talking heads.” Characters showing by body language tells not only what they are are saying, but also what emotion is behind it.
A word of caution. Before I found Bryn, I did a google search for “body language.” Woah! Pull the plug QUICK! That’s NOT what I meant!
I wondered if “hug spoliers” was a new literary term I hadn’t heard about.
Your excerpt sounds very exciting!
Thank you, Naomi! 🙂
Hahahaha!
“Congratulations Layla!”
Layla looked around the circle to her three best friends toasting her in her new business. Bea, forthright and in your face, was the loudest of all. Her golden brown glinted mischievously as her long mane of golden honey locs swayed over her shoulders. With a wink and a clink of her wine glass on her own, she sashayed her way over to badger Jenna.
She took another sip of the red wine, as she let her own curious cat watch as Bea snatched her little spiral notebook she’d been doodling in the past few weeks. Layla blinked in shock as Jenna yelled carajo and chased after Bea.
Jenna rarely cursed. As their resident yoga guru, she was so centered and calm, watching her overtake Bea with her long, graceful legs and snatch the book back was like watching a unicorn doing the shoot dance. Clutching it to her chest and cheeks flushed with a hint of rouge on her cheeks. She twirled around, her ponytail swinging over her shoulder, and in a litany of more Spanish words, glided back to her large purse and stuffed it deep back inside.
During it all, Felicite` wandered the table to her right, picked up the bottle of the wine and made her way to soothe Jenna. Topping more wine into Jenna’s glass, she admonished Bea over the rim, to control her busybodiness.
“But you should’ve seen what she drew.”
“Quiet, Bea. Please.”
“But it’s beautiful. And hot. Why hide it?”
“When she’s ready to show, she will. Why couldn’t you wait?”
Beautiful and hot? Now she was curious. “What did you draw Jenna.”
I want to know too, Jenna!! 🙂
We all want to seeee! (I had to look up “carajo”! Even though the basic idea was clear in context, haha.) Thanks for sharing!
Such a fun, celebratory gathering! Reminds me of good times with girlfriends past.
Scene set-up: Deep space generation ship. Kendal and Mel are BFFs. Kendal’s just been on a date with Peyton, an agricultural tech (aggie) on the male-ish end of the spectrum (i.e. high-M). Definitely not Kendal’s usual type. Meanwhile, Mel has been investigating an anomalous sighting of a possible rogue asteroid in the ship’s path. Rogue asteroids mean tons of raw materials, which means Kendal might get a chance to work on the construction of a new ship.
—
“So, tell me everything!” Mel prodded. “What was it like?”
They were lying in the grass again. Mel was propped up on one elbow, looking down at Kendal.
Kendal blushed. “It was… different. I don’t know if it’s the high-M thing or all the aggie work se does, but Peyton is strong. I mean, I’m not exactly a big person…”
“You are tiny and perfect,” Mel interjected.
“Yes I am,” Kendal agreed, laughing. “But even so, Peyton could just pick me up like I weighed nothing! Tossing me around… spinning… flipping…”
Mel’s face hardened. “Se wasn’t too rough with you, was se? Because…”
“Oh! Oh, no” Kendal assured ser friend. “It was nice. I enjoyed it. A lot.”
Mel’s expression shifted to a wry smile. “A lot?”
“Several times,” Kendal clarified, waggling ser eyebrows. “I lost count, to be honest.”
“Oh my…” Mel stared into space for a while. “And then?”
Kendal sat up suddenly. “Oh! And then, out of nowhere, se just said ‘your turn’, and lay there. I said ‘what?’ and se said ‘do whatever you want with me.’”
Mel’s eyes widened. “And?”
Kendal grinned wickedly. “And I did.”
Se flopped back down on the grass and stared up at the sky. “Honestly, I don’t know what I enjoyed more: being tossed around like that, or having total control over someone twice my size.”
“You ‘enjoyed’ that a lot too, hmm?” Mel asked.
“Mmm, yeah,” Kendal replied, smiling dreamily. “Several times.”
Mel regarded ser friend. “I’ve never seen you like this. We talking wedding bells here?”
“I don’t know.” Kendal laughed. “Part of me says ‘oh, yes please!’ but I really think we should get to know each other a bit better. If only we could keep our hands off each other long enough.”
“Oh, what a terrible burden!” Mel laughed.
Kendal lay ser arm across ser forehead. “I know! How will I cope with all this lasciviousness? It’s getting in the way of my day-to-day drudgery.”
Se rolled onto ser side. “But enough about my wantonness. What’s the latest on the mystery object?”
“Not nearly as titillating, I’m afraid,” Mel replied. “I was able to round up several videos that contained the occultation. Unfortunately, the position data isn’t as precise as what you’d get from the cameras mounted on the ship, so I’m having a little trouble getting all the sightings to fit together into a coherent record of the event. I mean, every time I try to run the numbers, I come up with an object much too far away. It just doesn’t make sense.”
Kendal smiled at ser friend. “Don’t worry. You’re bound to figure it out eventually. And, if all else fails, maybe the ship’s cameras will pick up another occultation, and you’ll get your answer that way.”
“Maybe,” Mel agreed. “It’s just… I don’t know. Maybe all I’ve got is garbage data and there’s nothing there.”
“Don’t even joke about that!” Kendal protested. “You know I’m counting on a rogue asteroid. I need this. We haven’t encountered a decent chunk of rock in ages!”
You really pulled me into the ordinary conversation while at the same time conveying how very different their existence is. Nicely done!
Thanks! That’s kind of what I’m shooting for. Trying to portray the characters as ordinary people with jobs and private lives and relationship issues, who just happen to live in a city wandering around between stars. 🙂
Hi Steve! I am really enjoying this! Love the gender spectrum and the idea of mining rogue asteroids. And the conversation was so fun!
Thanks! That conversation was difficult to write. I’m trying to avoid profanities or anything explicit. A bit of a stretch for me, to honest. 😀 I’m not specifically targeting YA audiences but I want to make sure it’s accessible to them.
I enjoyed the rapport between these two characters, it looks like they’re in the honeymoon stage of their relationship.
Kendal and Peyton have been dating for about a week, and have just gotten past that awkward “third date” stage. They’re both out of their comfort zone, though. I wouldn’t say they’re “star-crossed lovers” but aggies and techs typically don’t socialize, so there’s potential for some tension farther down the road.
Fun thing: I haven’t actually decided where Kendal fits on the gender spectrum. I guess I’ll find out eventually.
Sounds like a very interesting relationship with lots of challenges.
Wow, great snippet, Bryn!
So here’s a scene in Gemini Asunder, part of one of the subplots. Abella, Persephone and her adopted paranormal children have returned to the InBetween expecting to find Lyon and the other Zodiac Assassins.
The group continued lighting the passage, not speaking, their footfalls barely making a whisper. The InBetween was cold and hulking and dark, but it was the silence that worried Abella the most. She wanted to shout just to relieve the tension coiled inside her, but she had to provide a semblance of calm for the children’s sake. No nervous giggling or retreat allowed. They had to find the paranorms that called this place their home.
It took twice as long as it should have, but finally they reached the massive cavern at the center of her new world. Abella stopped before entering and held out her arms to keep the group back.
The silence had been concerning, but the empty cavern was so anomalous, Abella belly roiled with fear that filled her from the center out. She hadn’t known about the InBetween for more than a few weeks, but in that short time, the Great Cavern had never lacked the presence of paranorms and activity, not once. Even at it’s lowest number there had always been several people moving around, and at least one troll guarding the huge hole in the cavern floor.
But the vast expanse was so devoid of life she half expected to see several tumbleweeds roll by. Hell, at least that would be some movement, not this completely lifeless space.
“Abella?” A hand touched her shoulder bringing her back.
“Yes, right, I want you to pair up and start checking rooms. See if you can find anyone. But no heroics—if you see something you don’t like, or you get scared, come find me immediately. Got that?”
The group nodded.
“I’m going to check Lyon and Persephone’s rooms first, then the kitchen. If you find someone, bring them with you. We’ll meet here,” she looked at her watch, “in half an hour.” She placed her fists on her hips. “Let’s get this done so the babies can get some food and rest.”
The boys found partners and left the cavern at a jog. But Arrona remained by her side. “What about you, baby girl?” Abella asked.
Arrona lifted her chin. “You need a partner, too.”
Abella had to repress a snort; she’d wanted that as a very young child but the world had proven to not be a good or safe place. That reality had been ingrained in her much too early in life. Only in Persephone and Taryn had she found friends, sisters in crime. The pair had been her touchstones, the only two souls who had been able to reach hers under the thick of layers of rage and suspicion and belligerence.
Abella saw herself in the Kellas Cat and that saddened her to no end.
Really compelling world-building here!
Hi, Artemis! Such great tension in this scene. I really felt it. And I love that last line.
I didn’t ready your WIP because I just downloaded Phoenix Codex and didn’t want the spoiler! I’m excited to ready your book, Bryn! In my WIP, a girl just woke up under a bridge and was found by a homeless man.
————————————-
Pops led her to the Lawrence Avenue viaduct under Lake Shore Drive where a rather large gathering of people were camped. A rusty, black charcoal grill fed by litter, and anything else they could find to burn, was being used for heat, People of all ages, shapes and colors huddled around it wearing heavy jackets, hats, and mismatched gloves. He nodded at, touched, or in some way acknowledged every single person he passed. “Mornin’ Miz Bethany. You seen Ethan yet today?” he asked an elderly black woman huddled in an oversized coat near the grill.
She gave him a toothless grin and pointed toward another large gathering of bodies down the way. “Just got back from the grocery. Today’s Tuesday,” she said with excitement. “You’ll bring me an orange if they gots any left?”
He leaned over to kiss her leathery cheek. “You got it, beautiful.” He continued toward the gathering crowd gathering and explained over his shoulder. “Tuesdays, the grocery stores toss out the old bread and produce. Ethan talked ‘em into lettin’ him have it instead.”
The girl nodded as she tried to keep up. Her shoes felt like lead weights. Her belly growled again and she looked forward to whatever they would give her to silence it. She stood at the edge of the small crowd as Pops waded in. “Ethan, I need me an orange for Miz Bethany and the welcoming committee for my new friend.”
A handsome, dark haired man in his early thirties stood in the bed of a pickup truck, handing down boxes of produce to the hungry throng. He nodded then snagged a couple oranges and some rolls, then hopped down to the ground.He passed the oranges to Pops who cocked his head at the blanket-covered girl. Ethan held out a roll and watched as she snatched it out of his hand and shoved half of it into her mouth at once. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She chewed until she could swallow, and then spoke softly. “Meghan. Meghan Calhoun.”
Ethan’s eyes rounded in surprise. He looked at her closely. If you looked past the fear and filth, the blue eyes and blonde hair were a match. Age looked about right too… 26 if he remembered correctly from the case file he had been analyzing for months.
“Found her this morning under a bridge over by Foster Avenue,” Pops explained.
She now had the rest of the roll in her mouth and was licking at her dirty fingers for the crumbs. “Slow down or you’ll be sick,” Ethan instructed her. “I can get you more if you need it. You from around here?”
The dizziness was overwhelming now and she rubbed at her temples. “Yes,” she answered wearily. “But my family is in San Diego… my sister.”
That was enough confirmation for Ethan. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “It’s Agent Bartolli. Tell the Chief I think I just found Meghan Calhoun… yeah that one… I’m bringing her in.”
————————————
Thanks for reading! Diana in Indiana
Love Miz Bethany. I can just imagine her being a key witness in an episode of CSI.
Wow! Kindness knows no station. Hope Agent Bartolli is another good guy. I’d keep reading!
I’m riveted–and dying to know what happens next!
I love the setting and the mystery of who the girl is. I would like to find out more about how she got there, and Ethan’s search for her.
Diana, thanks for downloading THE PHOENIX CODEX. I hope you enjoy it! And thanks for posting! When I was young and in New Orleans with no money or place to stay, one really nice homeless man kind of looked out for me.
Ooh, love the Chicago streets!! (Grew up in Chicago, so it’ll always have a special place in my heart.) Great set-up…definitely would love to see where this goes. 🙂
Nice excerpt, Bryn! I particularly like your description of Michael’s reaction to not recognizing his own face.
I posted two chapters of Soldier’s Heart last weekend, and now I’m working on chapter 12, “Leaving Earth.” The Reapers are going to hit Earth in full force within the hour (388 words):
Soon, she was back up to her full stretch and strengthening routine each morning, but she still needed a two-hour nap every afternoon. The nap had been a luxury before. Since the poisoning, it had become a necessity.
Another week dragged by and she would have gone bat-shit crazy if she didn’t have EDI to keep her company. James hadn’t tattled on them.
Jane was sitting on the rock-hard couch, trying to read a poorly written true crime novel on her omni-tool when the invasion hit.
“Commander,” EDI said. “All sectors are on alert.”
“Damn it.” She jumped up. “Where’s James?”
“En route.”
Jane pulled on her N7 hoodie, zipped it, and waited by the door. She had it open as soon as he swiped his security card.
“What’s up?”
“Security Council needs you, Shepard.” He turned to the guards. “You two report to the fifth fleet liaison.”
“Sir!” They strode off in the opposite direction. The hall was bustling with everyone on site, on- and off-duty personnel in every state of dress rushing to their report point.
Jane hurried to match James’ long stride. “What do we know?”
“Nothing. Just that they need you.”
“You coming?” she asked.
The determined set of his jaw was sexy as hell. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Good.”
They reached Anderson’s office just as he was stepping out. “Shepard. Let’s go.”
“What’s going on, Admiral?” she asked.
“Long-range scanners have picked up something big headed our way. Scans aren’t definitive, but Byrd’s team thinks it moves like Sovereign did.”
“Just the one?” She trotted up the stairs beside him.
“Unknown.”
Jane had had it up to here with bureaucratic bullshit. “I’ve spent the last six months with ‘unknown,’ David, give me—”
They’d reached the metal detectors into the Security Council chambers. A glass wall separated the incoming and outgoing lines. Alenko was on his way out. He glared at her on his way by.
Rage bubbled up inside her. She had been locked up, ignored. While he got to tell everyone how she’d turned traitor. “You let them take his testimony first?”
“Shepard, we’re shooting from the hip on this one. Let it go.”
She glared, but relented. “Yes, sir.”
When James followed her through security, the metal detector beeped, but the armed guard waved him through.
Love me some solid military sci-fi–especially with a strong female lead!
Thank you, McKenna! Jennifer Hale voicing Commander Shepard (aka Femshep or female Shepard) in the original Mass Effect trilogy is one of my favorite things ever, and I’ve just written 11 chapters of what I think could have happened between the second and third game.
Hey friend! Ah, this is exciting. And I really feel for her!
Oh my dear, Bryn…It’s so nice to know that someone else is not perfect…simply human. I can read a piece ten times and put it wherever AND THEN…read it the eleventh time and sure enough there’s a typo…or something I don’t like….SO FRUSTRATING… Anyway…Here’s my WIP…
Luke reached across Adele to fasten her seatbelt in her first class seat. His awareness of her silence unsettled him. She’s never silent. Her mouth always flapped and he loved everything that came out of it. She was overthinking this trip to Nashville. He took her hand giving it a squeeze. He felt the tension in her body strangle her. Luke wanted to say or do something to ease Adele. He didn’t like that she felt so uneasy about meeting his family.
“You’ve been so quiet. It’s not like you. Tell me what’s going on.”
Adele gazed at Luke’s hand wrapped around hers. Her corrupted emotions had given way to the chaos of her fretful thoughts. She didn’t know how to handle it. She’d never met a man’s family she cared about in her life. She wanted to be good enough for Luke. She wanted his family’s approval. Approval had always been an issue with her. Adele blew out a deep breath as the plane ascended into the wide open spaces of the sky.
“This is a first for me, Luke. I’ve never met a man’s family that I care about. It’s scaring the shit out of me. I want them to feel that I’m good enough for you. I want their approval.”
Luke shook his head. Adele’s overthinking had gone off the rails.
“What the hell are you talking about? Good enough for me? Are you kidding? Look at me and hear me.”
Adele’s gripped Luke’s eyes.
You’ve become everything to me, Adele. Everything. My family will love you. Stop with all the thinking, okay?”
“Okay. But, we’re still not doing anything in your bedroom. I want to leave a good impression with your Mom. She’s important to you so she’s important to me. I have searched a good portion of my life for someone like you. I don’t want to screw it up. I want your family’s approval.”
Luke shook his head as a chuckle rolled through him.
“Whatever you want, darlin’. I’m hoping my charming ways will change your mind but if they don’t that’s okay. I’ll simply just have to step up my game. My mom has her own space downstairs on the other end of the house. She’s not going to hear a thing but I’m a patient man stop stressing over this visit. I want you to relax and enjoy your time at my ranch. It’s my hope that you will fall in love with my Lucky L ranch. I want you to love it as much as I do. It’s a significant piece of me. It’s my home. Can you do that for me?”
The plane pointed its nose to Tennessee transporting Luke’s reassuring words into Adele’s heart. She released her turbulent thoughts and placed her heart in the palm of Luke’s hand.
“Yes, I can do that for you.”
*****
Luke’s brother, Landon, dropped off his blinged-out Silverado pickup to the airport with instructions to its location. Everything on his black truck glistened from the gleaming paint to the chrome and the shiny rims on the oversized tires. After loading their bags, Luke helped Adele into his pickup. His finger brought Adele’s chin up to meet his eyes. He sensed her still warring with herself. Luke touched his lips to her forehead, nose, and mouth.
“It’s a little over an hour drive to my ranch. Stop worrying. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Luke’s lofty kisses calmed Adele’s adrenaline that insisted on working overtime in her mixed up mind. She never had been to this place in her life. A place of approval to attain a love she so desired. She was all in with Luke. He, in a very short amount of time, had consumed all her emotions and had taken up residence in her heart.
“I’m all in with you, Luke. I’m afraid that you won’t stay and your family won’t like me.”
”You need to just stop with all those crazy thoughts of yours. I’m staying. You don’t need anyone’s approval. You captured mine quite some time ago. That’s all that matters. Relax. Okay? I’m all in with you too.”
Luke wiggled his eyebrows. A smile seized his face.
“I love being all in with you. Best feeling ever.”
The wiggle of Luke’s eyebrows completely softened Adele’s mood.
“You have a one-track mind. Is sex all you think about?”
“Yep, it is when it comes to you, darlin’. You make me extremely happy. My goal is to make you incredibly happy. You’re every man’s fantasy. I’m lucky enough for you to be my reality. I plan to keep it that way. My family will love you. Trust me.”
Luke’s two words, “Trust me” settled around Adele.
“Okay.”
Love ranches. Love cowboys. Really enjoyed reading this, Jan. What will happen when they reach tarmac?
Never easy meeting the family of your lover! I have every sympathy for Adele’s nerves!
Hi Jan! Aww, I really feel for Adele here. Her situation is so relatable! (I still worry about rubbing Mr. Donovan’s family the wrong way, and we’ve been married forever, haha.) Thanks for posting!
Bryn! You should start a new trend of HUG SPOILERS lol
The tension at the end of that excerpt got me all anxious about where this story is going. Did he have his memory wiped? Or was it a body swap? I NEED TO KNOW lol At least I can read the first book in the mean time. I have it sitting on my nightstand.
I’m working on MFA school stuff right now (trying to play catch up; I worked a ton the last 2 weeks and didn’t have time for anything but showers, naps, and going back to work) but I will return later to post something because I’ve been looking forward to WIP Wednesdays again ever since this MFA journey. 🙂 <3
Hee hee! Well this is a HUGE SPOILER (not a hug spoiler) for book one, but I hope you don’t mind! I hope the MFA program is going well! Sorry to hear about work getting intense…how it calms down for a while!
First timer here. I love reading the snippets everyone has posted, so I hope this doesn’t disappoint. It was meant to be a short story, but it is demanding more. We will see where it leads:
Reginald Malcolm Trueblood III descended the creaky wooden steps leading from his one-bedroom apartment to his street-level shop. At the bottom of the staircase, he opened the worn gate and stepped onto the cracked, soggy pavement. The sodden canvas, installed to protect his short journey, concentrated the raindrops and formed a continuous waterfall under the canopy. The latch clattered, and the jamb rattled as he slammed it shut, before plunging through the deluge to the unprotected sidewalk.
He shuffled along the twenty feet to the opposite end of the building, skirted the torrent and stepped into the alcove to unlock the entrance. It was a trip he had performed every morning for the last twelve thousand seven hundred and seventy-five days. The bell tinkled as he opened the door and the familiar aroma of old books greeted him.
The main aisle stretched the entire length of the building, shotgun style, to the back exit. To his right towered rows of bookshelves. They touched the twelve-foot ceiling and extended to the far wall. He had read, cataloged and loving found a home for every book in his collection.
He snapped the light switch, shaking the rain from his coat while the lights flickered, and the ballasts hummed. At the mid-point, Reggie had carved out a small space where he worked. Neat stacks of books and piles of paper graced a large oak library table at the back of the area. A tattered leather couch faced two bedraggled mismatched chairs anchored by a massive, once brilliant, Persian carpet. Behind the couch, a pair of identical lamps sat at each end of a console loaded with more arranged books.
He shrugged, freeing himself from his damp coat which he hung on the rack. He petted the coat’s folds, making sure it didn’t touch his extra sweater, or the two wool throws draped on the adjacent hooks. Satisfied, he turned, and stroking and adjusting each tall book column, he inched toward the single straight-backed chair at the table.
Reggie was a zealous reader and vendor of rare books, although he had sold nothing in his collection. Only the curious or the lost entered his domain. The former he dissuaded, and the latter soon left of their own accord. Today he was looking forward to following another clue. He sifted through his organized notes, ready to begin his work when the shop bell tinkled. Reggie tapped the papers back into place.
“Hello?” a female voice called.
Exasperated, Reggie smoothed the wispy silver hair that hung across his forehead, tugging and pulling at his black cardigan as he scuttled down the row.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
Reggie poked his nose into the main aisle. It was empty.
“Eh,” he coughed and cleared his throat, “Who’s there?”
Hi JoHawk, I loved the mood, character, and setting. I’m hooked. I’d love to read on.
Thank you, Jessie. I’m still writing ?
I vividly pictured Reggie. I would read more!
How sweet of you Diana. I am working on it. ?
Love this–“only the curious or the lost entered his domain.” 🙂
Glad you liked it. Thank you.?
Jo, I always like your comments, and I’m so glad you decided to post! I’m really intrigued by this character. And I LOVED “Only the curious or the lost entered his domain. The former he dissuaded, and the latter soon left of their own accord.” I hope you share more next month!
Thank you Bryn. ? Your words are very encouraging. I am glad you liked it.
Great job with setting your scene! And the cliffhanger, man: WHO WAS THAT? <3
Oh, thank you so much for your kind words. The cliffhanger wasn’t intention, it was just where the word count fit. ? Glad you liked it.
Hi, Bryn. I loved your excerpt. Here’s mine. Sorry, it’s kind of long:
Faye lifted her eyebrows, then shook herself. She needed to get this done, then she could take a shower and relax. She stepped over to the sink and squirted soap into it, then turned the water on full blast to make bubbles.
She looked up, and saw Aunt Sully through the window, kneeling in front of the two-stall old barn they used for storing the shavings and hay.
Faye couldn’t see what she was doing from the back.
Aunt Sully sat back on her heels. She reached up and out with her arms, as if embracing someone very tall, or like a ballet dancer. Then she stood up and swayed from side to side.
Aunt Sully moved with some unknown chant — Faye knew she liked to say the words aloud when she was working a spell — and Faye realized she moved to a beat.
She lifted her arms again into a circle, and continued swaying, moving the circle from side to side, her hips leading the way. Faye noted her suppleness, which she knew came from all her years of riding. Then, she realized Aunt Sully was dancing.
Wait. She doesn’t dance.
Aunt Sully repeated the same moves over and over, repeatedly and rhythmically. The movements gradually became bigger and more pronounced. But the rhythm never slowed. In fact, as the movements became more animated, they also grew faster.
It was like watching a belly dance.
Faye wondered if Aunt Sully had taken some music out there with her. The movements became even faster.
Water dripped on her boot.
She looked down to discover the water had filled to the top of the sink.
Faye scrambled to grab the knob to turn it off, hurting her wrist. She plunged her am into the scalding water. She grabbed a plate to lift up all the dishes so she could pull the stopper out.
Faye looked back out of the window to see a change of light in the barn. The light had taken on a golden hue. It had a flickering quality to it, like candlelight, or like the light from a fireplace.
Maybe Aunt Sully had taken some candles out there to do her Beltane ritual. Faye frowned.
She knew that wasn’t a good idea,with all that dry hay and cedar chips stored so close.
Faye frowned again, thinking hard. Why would Aunt Sully do such a thing?
She never usually interrupted Aunt Sully’s rituals if she could help it. She was always at least that respectful, even if she didn’t always agree with Aunt Sully’s point of view.
Inside, Aunt Sully’s cell phone vibrated against the kitchen table. Faye turned slightly to look at it. The screen showed the time: 1:34, Universal Time.
She looked back. The color of the light had changed to a watery blue. The light swirled around Aunt Sully so that it looked like a whirlpool of gray-blue light.
“What the—”
Faye watched the light gradually turn into mist, and the mist turn into water, as it swirled around and around, faster and faster, spinning the water out of the humid air.
wow! great setting and sense of fantasy. I especially liked the water in the sink mirroring what Aunt Sully was doing.
Thanks so much!!
Really pulled me in!
That’s great! I’m glad you liked it.
Hi, Heather! Like I said in the original post, I do trim excerpts over 500 words. I really enjoyed this! What a great sense of magic (and stories with magic are always my favorite). Thanks for posting!
This is the first time I have left a passage from my story. If I didn’t do it right, please let me know how to do it properly. Thanks.
I started writing this Science Fiction story, Challenge of Makala, as backstory to Challenge of the Promise. I wrote a brief few paragraphs as a way to keep things straight in my mind about how the story came to be, but my son-in-law said he didn’t want to read ABOUT the story, he wanted the story so this is the beginning.
______
“Oalia!” Shayzer called. “Let me in!” The door parted, not with a swoosh of acceptance, but with a sound of grating reluctance. It ground to a stop midway.
He squeezed through the gap, dreading what he would find within. The sight of his consecrated one collapsed on the floor confirmed his fears. He ran to her and beamed a healing ray upon her.
Paint matted in her hair and spattered her face. Her arms were splotched with pigment. One of her hands clasped a paint brush and the other gripped a knife. He pried the weapon from her fist and tucked it in his belt.
“Did someone attack you?” He whipped his head right and left searching for an intruder, but found none. They were alone.
Shayzer gathered her into his arms and carried her to her bed. He laid her upon it. After treating her a second time with healing light, he pulled the paint brush from her hand, and placed it on a table beside the bed. He sat in a chair near her and began to explore the walls she had been painting.
Light of every imaginable hue swirled on the surfaces around the room. Some in great fountains, some rippled in eddies some twisted, forming vortexes. The most striking strokes converged on jagged lines. Not brush strokes, but crevices carved into the wall that originated from a circle knifed into the masonry. He glanced again at the blade. Why? What would cause you to fight like this?
Rumors from other places in the galaxy troubled him and he wondered if Oalia had succumbed to the same insanity reported by others who knew visualizers – those who could see with their minds as well as their eyes.
***
Consciousness returned to Oalia in stages, first she awakened to the dreams.
The pictures of destruction and jagged lines of terror pierced her.
The paintings upon her walls mocked her desperate need to express what she had recently experienced. Her mind and voice proved horribly inadequate to communicate.
She became aware of Shayzer beaming his healing ray upon her. With the inner powers of visualization, she gazed upon him, both wanting contact and dreading it.
Rescue my universe.
Rescue theirs.
None of her people knew there was any saving to be done. And now she looked with inner eyes upon her intended one. A terrible fear of rejection seized her, but she had to speak, she knew she must put the images into words. The consequences of silence dwarfed her personal risk.
She opened her eyes and parted her lips. “You will judge me insane, Shayzer.”
“Oalia.” He gazed into her eyes. “You are my consecrated one. I would never reject you.”
Jessie, this sounds AMAZING. I would read this. Am I pronouncing her name correctly? “oh-AL-ya” ?
I spent the first book and a half mispronouncing Hermione’s name… scarred me lol ?
Oalia – oh-AL-ya – I like your pronunciation better than mine! Thanks Starlately!
Jessie, I’m so glad you posted! And I enjoyed this so much! It’s so imaginative, and Shayzer’s devotion to Oalia gave me all the feels. We want more!
Do I have to wait till next month?
How do I get my photo in place of my beautiful quiltwork design?
“This was his face? He’d never seen it before in his life.” … Whoa! Goosebumps, Bryn. Love it.
My cowboy WIPs from last month are done. Need practice on wholesome stories, so I’ve begun a fishing village tale. Meet-cute: City exec meets fisherman at a bar in Maine (Ps. I know ‘squilched’ isn’t a word, but I like it).
***********************
A low laugh came from the bar, raising Brooke’s eyes to the young man who had turned to face her. He was messy and smelly, even at a distance, yet underneath the whiskers was a hint of handsome.
“Something amusing you, Ahab?” Brooke asked crisply, knowing if he threatened a handshake, she would sprint for a tetanus shot.
Brooke’s eyes drifted disapprovingly down the medley of innards squilched over his thick, yellow rubber coveralls. Clearly, hunger was a more pressing concern for the fisherman than hosing off the stinky squelch before stepping in to the crummy bar come sea shanty.
Bar man Mack reappeared through the beaded fly barrier separating the kitchen and service area and pronounced “Fresh outta moose meat.”
“No moose?” Brooke panicked. “How’s that possible? Isn’t it the state meat of Maine?”
“Fresh meat comes in once a week. Tomorrow’s delivery day,” Mack said maintaining his cheerful air. He tapped his hands on the countertop, triumphing, “Clam chowdah coming up!”
“Can you fix me a sandwich of any kind?” Brooke asked, horrified that the original choice of four menu items was now a singular creamy concoction of dread. All others were scratched off the blackboard as sold out.
“Clam chowdah sub? You got it,” Mack laughed heartily.
Brooke turned to the young man in desperation. His amused eyes had not left her. “Any chance you can change your order?”
“Nope,” he grinned and backed up against the bar, crossing one boot in front of the other.
Brooked cringed that he had the nerve to lean his filthy elbows on the timber and smile at her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
“You got the last moose burger,” Brooke recapped, feeling like a sulking teen the moment she spoke the words. “Can’t you have the chowder?”
“I had it last night, and also for noon supper,” he said with a steady, maddening smile that clawed under Brooke’s skin, inspiring her to slap his smug expression away with a fish head. “I feel like moose.”
“Please,” she agonized. “I can’t have clams and there’s nowhere else serving food.”
“Are you allergic?”
“What?” Brooke stuttered. “No. I just hate clams.”
“Why?” he asked with cheeky eyes boring in to her.
“Because they’re gross,” she snipped.
Mack winked again at the young man and noted with a chuckle, “She ain’t never ate clams.”
The fisherman uncrossed his feet and walked towards Brooke, extending his hand.
“I’m Owen,” he smiled warmly, drawing Brooke’s attention to his incredibly blue eyes. “And if you shake my hand like you’re pleased to meet me, I think we can figure somethin’ out.”
Brooke flinched at the unsanitary suggestion. She glared at his rough hand as if it were an eel slithering closer. She wanted to shake her head and back away, just like the time a bum on the subway approached with an offer to pop free candy in her mouth.
I’m with Brooke–I’d shudder at the thought of clams too! And fight for that moose burger. 🙂
Hi Kris! Thanks for the kind words. Oh, I feel for Brooke. I loved the humor in this! (“Squilched” worked for me.)
Well, Kris, you’ve got my attention even if I’m cringing like Brooke. Like to see where this is going.
Wow, Bryn! That was intense. How terrifying to look in the mirror and not recognize yourself!
***********
Max’s rich baritone drawl cut through her thoughts. “Tell me that just happened. Was that… was that a phoenix? Like…a phoenix?”
Fia moved her lips to answer him but didn’t have an answer. Instead she shrugged and rubbed her hands firmly over her face, pressing the heels of her palms into her temples. What had just happened here?
“Aren’t they orange?” It was a serious question but what threw Fia more was Max’s seemingly complete acceptance of what they had witnessed. She had brought the drummer home because he had sounded, in their few moments of whiskey-soaked conversation, fairly intelligent and accepting of the unusual. She hadn’t expected his perceived intelligence to matter much, in the long run, but it had turned her on in the moment. Now, this intelligent being was fully on board with finding random mythical creatures in the home of his random hook up, bothered more by the color of its feathers than its actual existence.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, I guess. Maybe I just assumed they were orange because of the fire.”
Fia began to laugh. A deep, rich belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes. Max watched her for a moment, his face betraying his confusion. Then he must have been infected by the same absurdity that had caught Fia because he joined her.
“Oh my …” she breathed after a full minute or more had passed. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and made her way to the glitter by the balcony door.
He followed her and crouched down. He picked up a shard and looked at it. “Bullet proof?”
“Yeah.” She snorted out another laugh, this one lacking any real mirth.
“Why do you need bullet proof glass on your balcony door?”
“In case someone tries to shoot me through it.” What the Hell? She’d brought him this far.
“And this happens often?”
“Never, actually. At least not yet. I guess the irony is that bullets are probably the least of my worries.”
He pulled himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen. Fia ignored him and gingerly made her way to the balcony. She looked over the edge to the street below then back up to the sky. Wherever the bird had flown, it was long gone now. When she turned back, Max was sweeping up the glass.
Who was this guy? She had known him for five minutes and here he was, accepting without question something she wasn’t even sure she accepted.
There was a phoenix in her apartment. She guessed it was a phoenix. There was the fire and it turned into a bird. She also guessed it didn’t matter, at least not really, what she called it. It was supernatural, that was all that really mattered.
That. And this strange man sweeping her apartment like he was the strangest thing in her life at the moment.
Where had this day gone so sideways? Four hours ago, she had left this building to find loud music, sweaty bodies, and a mosh pit.
I love this! Max is definitely a keeper. 🙂
Thank you! I think so, too. 🙂
Welcome, Des! Great excerpt, btw. I am intrigued by this guy, Max. I want to know his backstory!
This has been one of my favorite passages in the book since it made its way to paper. I’m really excited to bring this pair to the world!
Hi, D. Gabrielle! Welcome! And thanks for the kind words. Gosh, I really enjoyed this. Love your voice, love the humor. Please post more next month!
Hah! I’m grabbing that copy of your book–thank you! I’m a sucker for an amnesia story, so your sequel excerpt pulled me in! And congratulations on the screen adaptation with Hallmark! That’s HUGE! I’m still on the same WIP as before, sadly. It’s been a frustrating journey, but I’m happy to say I’m in the homestretch now, having worked out a big plot problem that was holding me up.
Through the thick smoke, what seemed like dozens of gold eyes gleamed ominously in the shadows. Several wolves came into the light, their canines gleaming as they bared their teeth. I edged behind some crates, hoping for some cover for when they attacked.
Suddenly, as if responding to some secret cue, wolves boiled out of the opening like angry wasps from a hive. I fired repeatedly, dropping several in their tracks, but more followed. The ray gun grew hot in my hand, and took longer to cycle up again with each shot fired. They’d be on me soon, and would show no mercy. Of that I was certain.
When the trigger clicked several times and nothing happened, I tucked the gun in my waistband and hurled everything within reach at the rush of bodies. China plates, small boxes covered with mysterious symbols that weighed as much as gold ingots, and even the Tiffany tea set rained down on my attackers with more sound than fury. Selecting a driver from a monogramed bag of golf clubs, I executed a textbook swing and connected with the lead wolf, who let out a high-pitched yelp and collapsed. I caught another one on the chin with the backswing, glad that all that time at the country club had paid off.
The little dog dashed in and out among the longer legs of the wolves, latching on to a flank or neck only to be flung to the side, barely avoiding the slashing of wicked teeth. He bounced up again every time as though on springs, unwilling to give up. A wolf snatched the driver out of my hands mid-air, and tossed it aside with a triumphant growl. I bashed him with a painting, forcing the canvas to split over its head so he wore the frame like a gaudy necklace. The force of the impact made me stumble backward, and I landed on my back with the wind momentarily knocked out of me. The ray gun was jarred loose from my waistband, and it landed a few feet away.
It didn’t move when I reached for it with splayed fingers.
The wolves closed in with lowered heads and lips peeled back to reveal every tooth in their mouths. A thin stream of drool trailed from the mouth of the wolf wearing the Picasso.
Hi McKenna! Amnesia is one of my favorite tropes! Sorry to say, congratulations are very premature with the script—I have no idea if I can write one good enough for them. But they will look at it, so I have to take my shot, right? ☺ But congratulations ARE in order for working out a plot problem! That’s a great feeling.
What a great scene. I love her little dog, and her throwing everything she’s got at the wolves. The Picasso!
Ahhhhh…I’m so happy for Jonathan, I can’t wait to read this! Your writing is like butter. I just fall right into the story.
I’m a bit late again, but here’s a little more from my current WIP. Mary and Wyatt have finally gone on a date, and are heading back to Mary’s place to get busy, but they run into a problem on the way. (There’s a few cuss words, hope that’s OK.) I wish I knew how to do italics here, lol. *Asterisks* will have to suffice. 🙂
******************
They left town behind, turning onto the two-lane backroad that led to the farm. Traffic was virtually non-existent this late, their only company on the road were the stars, the waning moon, and the homes and farms they passed. Soon they were surrounded on both sides by the woods.
No more than a mile from her driveway, a tingling sensation pricked at the base of her skull. Her excited anticipation of being alone with Wyatt evaporated as alarm bells blared in her head. The hair on her arms stood up as a crushingly heavy feeling of dark magick filled the truck’s cab. Her heart stuttered with dread, and she reached over and grabbed Wyatt’s bicep.
He looked over at her, concern furrowing his brow. “Are you alright?”
Mary opened her mouth tell him to stand on the gas, to get them the hell away from this area, but the feeling of weight pressing down on her became unbearable and robbed her of the ability to draw breath into her lungs. She felt as if she was in a vacuum, a bottle with no air in it.
“Mary?” Wyatt’s voice sounded far away.
*Oh, gods, I’m suffocating.* Pure panic seized her. She clawed at her throat, desperate for air. She was vaguely aware of Wyatt shouting something at her, and the truck jerking to a stop.
She wanted to scream at him to drive, that she was going to die if he didn’t.
*Please get me away from here.* Her vision was fading. Wyatt’s face was the last thing she saw before everything went black.
***
The truck died.
Engine, headlights, radio, everything went out as Wyatt swerved his truck to the roadside, slamming on the breaks.
Heart pumping with dread, he wrestled to unbuckle her seatbelt, then jumped out of the truck the race around the front to her side, jerked the door open and caught her as she collapsed outward. She was no longer struggling.
“No, no, no,” he said lying her down on ground. He checked her airway, thinking she must have choked on something. It appeared clear, and when he leaned down to give her mouth-to-mouth, her chest rose easily as he breathed for her.
In between rescue breaths, he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. The screen was black, as dead as his truck.
For the second time that evening, the horrible sense of history repeating itself crawled over him.
Precious seconds ticked by as he continued CPR. How long would it be before another car came along?
Taking another precious moment, he paused long enough to check her pulse. His fingertips felt it fluttering weakly, erratically.
“Goddamn it. Don’t you dare, Doc. Don’t you f*cking dare.”
Time slowed to a snail’s pace. His arms and back burned with the exertion of continuous chest compressions. It wouldn’t be long before it was too late for her. He prayed for another car to come along. He breathed for her. He forced her heart to move her blood. Just as he had for his wife all those years ago.
And just like his wife, he could feel Mary slipping away.
This was absolutely fantastic! I felt all their emotions. Good hook at the end to keep me wanting to know more.
Um, this was a terrible first date, Pamela! Seriously, great stuff. I really want to see the whole thing!
I tried to show you how to do html tags for italics here, but I couldn’t. It just made my comment italicized!
Thanks for the encouraging words 🙂
Just… WOW. I did not expect it to go there! Is Mary going to be all right??
Thanks to you and WIP Wednesday, I forced myself to set aside some time for writing. (Told you I’d be back later lol) My thesis for my MFA program is a total rewrite of Ellie and Wes’s story – now that I’m on a better path with it. (Seriously, I’m learning so much with these classes. Can’t get enough.)
In this excerpt, Ellie is in her 30s and she’s a teacher at the same middle school she went to when she was growing up.
**
I’m still standing in the middle of my empty classroom after Yashua’s mom arrives and takes him home. He’s usually my last one to go. His mom works hard. It’s just the two of them. Sometimes she gets stuck at work so late that I’m here for an extra hour after school. I don’t mind.
Today, she wasn’t late. In fact, Yashua and his crown of dark, fluffy curls was only here with me for five whole minutes after the other students had gone. It’s so quiet in here now that I can hear the blood rushing in my ears, even with the background noise of voices down the halls and rolling carts and slamming doors.
I need to snap out of this. I have loads of work to do that should keep me here well past six, at least. Normally I don’t rush, but Michael plays poker with his friends on Tuesdays. He likes to see me for at least a few minutes before he heads out. I’m his ‘good luck charm.’ So I can’t stay too late because he’ll be upset if I miss that window.
Today’s Tuesday.
But when I sit in the squeaky swivel chair at my desk, I can’t focus. The haphazard stack of homework assignments in the box on the corner of my desk need to be straightened and graded. I need to do that. Tomorrow’s quiz still needs to be photocopied, but that means going down to the main office, and I’m just not up for small talk. I could get here early tomorrow morning; that would give me time to get the copying done. My lesson plan for the next two weeks isn’t quite finished.
I haven’t logged into my email since lunch, so I do that. The messages loads in batches of two and three. The network isn’t all that great here, but Internet is Internet, right? I don’t see his name in the list of senders. Yet. Feeling along the edge of my desk for the top drawer, I dig out my phone. He hasn’t texted, either. Mom has. She wants to know what size shirt I wear because she ran into a clearance rack at Wal-Mart. I go back to my inbox when the computer pings, telling me it’s finished loading. The names don’t register the first time I scan through them so I have to go back and look again, slower this time.
The program dings and my best friend’s email catches my eye. Wes moved to Texas—well, he went to college in Texas and never came home. That was 15 years ago. I glance up at the door out of habit before clicking on it. It’s a forward, of course. Most of his emails are any more. He hasn’t been the same since his wife died a little over a year ago. But at least he’s reaching out. And just this little bit is enough to calm my nerves.
“Ellie,” Kristin pops her head in at the door. “You coming tonight?”
I try to match her smile but I’m secretly wishing her away. “Yeah, uh…” If I tell her no, she’ll come into the room and lecture me about how much fun I’d have at these work outings. “Yes. I can’t wait.”
“Awesome! I’ll see you there. Save you a seat!” And she’s gone again.
For a moment I feel bad that she’s going to save a seat for me. I think about how Kristin always hurries home. I mean she gets her stuff done but she does it quick. She doesn’t stall. She takes her work home and grades papers in her comfy pajamas.
Michael doesn’t like all that clutter in the apartment. I get it. Home is supposed to be the place you retreat to after a long day. He’s a dentist, so his days are always long, and sometimes gross, and often frustrating. I get it. So I keep my work here.
Oh yay, glad you got writing time in! How great that you’re enjoying and getting so much out of the MFA program. I love your handling of first person here. And I love the discussion about work styles at the end. Thanks for posting!
I’m late to the party this month, but I’ve really enjoyed all the snippets and comments. I’m seriously looking forward to this book, Bryn. I loved Cassie and Jonathan’s story, so I’m looking forward to reading Michael’s and seeing what happens with Val. 🙂
I won’t share anything this month, although I’ve added more to the beginning of my book. It explains what my MC was doing right before she got sucked into the story, thus (hopefully) grounding and clarifying what’s happened to her when she regains consciousness. I’ve also re-submitted my fully revised manuscript to the agent who invited me to do so. I’m gonna be nauseous until I get the rejection (or, trying some positive thinking…maybe I won’t???) Anyway, back to querying and working on editing book two in the story. If nothing else, it’s all keeping me entertained. lol
All the best, and hope everyone has a great month!
Ahhh! I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, Lisa!!!
Thanks for the good wishes and support!! Can’t tell you how much it’s appreciate. 🙂
im a little late to the party, but here is an excerpt from a story i wrote about a girl being resurrected in a time of revolt in a bulgarian inspired dystopian world.
Katerina was born for the second time in a haze of early morning mist.
She could feel the damp earth under her body, felt the cool breeze that flowed through the pines like a ghost. She could even smell the life that blossomed between her fingers and…something else she couldn’t quite place just yet. Smoke perhaps? It had been so long since she had smelled anything that she couldn’t remember what even that smelled like.
She made a failed attempt at standing and her knees buckled, causing her to fall forward and catch herself with her hands. A strangled yelp escaped her lips and her eyes widened. A single word followed behind it, “Ouch.”
Katerina brought a hand to her lips and sucked in a breath. It had been so long since she had even uttered a sound. Countless years of solitude had blurred together and taken their toll on her, eventually leaving her in silence. She could remember nothing but endless darkness, swallowing her whole and now seeming to spit her out all over again.
Another breeze blew over her and Katerina shivered, pausing to look down at her attire–or lack thereof. It seemed she was naked from head to toe, just as she had been during her first birth. She frowned at this, not sure where she would obtain clothing in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere.
A branch snapped from her left, causing her head to quickly turn towards it. Her pupils opened wide, collecting tiny particles of light that would have been invisible to someone ordinary. She could see another figure stumbling through the clusters of flora that collected on the forest floor. Thick dark curls framed his face and curled at his ears, a contrast to his pale skin. His face was shadowed by the gnarled tree he clung to, but she knew his eyes were brown like her own.
Katerina watched him for several minutes before calling out to him, her voice sounding small and fragile, something she most certainly was not in her previous life. “Malakai? Is….Is that you?”
“Katerina?” His voice took her by surprise. It was deeper now, made cruel by his own solitude. “Where am I?”
She forced herself to stand, steadying herself on her own tree. The air was crackling with electricity from his fear and she could feel and taste it as well as hear it. The bitter tang of magic.
Katerina took a shaky breath. “Malakai, do not be afraid. We have walked this world once before.” Her hands moved along the jagged bark, desperately trying to approach him, to console him–anything. She felt the instinctual protection deep in her bones.
“Is this real?” asked Malakai. “I simply cannot tell anymore.”
Is it? Katerina wondered to herself. The pair of them had spent their afterlife alone, for the first time in all of their existence they had been separated. Hallucinations were the only escape from their mental prisons and Katerina often found herself in a field of lilac trees and blossoms, a false sun shining warmth onto her skin. She could only hope Malakai found peace as well.
A deep spark of frustration bloomed inside of her at this thought. If this was all just another hallucination she didn’t know what she’d do. She couldn’t bear the thought of herself trapped in the darkness for much longer, but there was no death where she came from, no true escape from Hell itself.