Hi, friends! It’s the first Wednesday of the month—WIP Wednesday, when I share a snippet of something I’m working on and invite you to do the same in the comments section. I’m at the Hollywood Burbank airport, posting this fast before I get on a plane to New York, so please forgive any typos. I’ll be slow in responding to excerpts, but I will respond!
Here are the rules!
– 500 words or less!
– No R-rated material! Coarse language is fine.
– No linking to work for sale, but feel free to link to a website where more of your work in progress is available.
– We don’t critique or make suggestions—this is just for sharing. However, encouraging words are much appreciated.
My excerpt is rougher than usual! It’s from The Requiem Moon, book three in my series. Two men broke into Sophie’s apartment and tried to drag her off, and then someone else came in and fought with them while she ducked behind the sofa.
[AdSense-B]
“Come out,” a deep male voice said.
Her heart slammed in her chest. If she was going to be shot, she didn’t want it to happen while she cowered behind a sofa; she wanted a shred of dignity. She got to her feet.
Standing in the middle of her living room, flanked by the bodies of two dead men, was Dominic Joe.
He was either here to drag her to prison or to execute her with one bullet to the back of the head. She ‘d thought about this for years—from the night she’d run away, in fact. Those were the only two outcomes she could imagine for a Mage who’d broken her vows and abandoned Manus Sancti…even if she felt like they’d abandoned her first, long ago. And of the two outcomes, death seemed more likely.
Of course they’d send Nic. He wouldn’t flinch. He might enjoy it. Who could possibly hate her more? He held a gun in his hand, and two dead men lay on the floor, one behind him, one in the corner. Who were they?
He looked different then when she’d last seen him, years ago: the planes of his face harder, without a trace of boyishness left in them, his cheekbones even sharper. Instead of the black leather jacket she remembered, he wore a puffy olive parka…but that was to elude witness, she realized. With the faux fur-trimmed hood up, both his features and his build would be concealed.
She clenched her jaw and lifted her chin in the best imitation of bravery she could imagine. He took two long strides toward her…and then sat down on the sofa.
“Get me a glass of water,” he said.
What? Maybe he wouldn’t kill her. She didn’t dare question it. To get to the kitchen, she had to avoid the pool of blood spreading around the body of one of the men. With a shaking hand, she got a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water from the tap, feeling as though she was taking too long. Her insides quaked as she drew close to him, though he’d set his gun down on the sofa beside him.
He took the glass of water and set it on the coffee table. Then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm forward. She let out a panicked little shriek as he sank a syringe into her upper arm. She tried to pull away. In only a moment, he withdrew the needle and released her.
Her terror changed to fury. “You drugged me!”
“No, but I will if I have to. It’s a tracker.” His eyes bored into hers as he picked up his gun again. “You’re coming with me. If you do exactly what I say, immediately, without question, you’ll be safe. Understand?” With his left hand, he picked up the glass of water and took a sip.
Share your excerpts below, or just tell us how it’s going! Thanks for reading, and hope you have a great Leap Month!
Loved your little excerpt. I’m new to your blog, but really like it.
Why, thank you! Thanks for stopping by!
An excerpt of my newly completed book. First draft not yet edited.
If she didn’t think it would draw too much attention to the fact that A: she was present and B: she was taking the last donut, which everyone knew always sat in purgatory until someone could take it under the cover of darkness, she’d be in chocolate heaven right now.
“…Penelope wouldn’t mind chaperoning.”
Snapping out of her musing Penelope glanced around the room at her fellow teachers. None of them would meet her gaze and her eyes finally landed on Principal Neal. “Excuse me?”
“Tonight’s dance before we break for the summer. You wouldn’t mind chaperoning, right?” The Principal’s smile was megawatt.
“Actually, I…” Penelope stammered.
“Great. Fantastic. Meeting adjourned.”
The speed in which he, and the rest of the teachers, beat feet out of the staff-room would have been impressive if it wasn’t her body that had just been thrown under the bus they were trampling over on the way to the exit.
“…have plans,” she finished lamely.
With a sigh she pushed to her feet and made her way to the donut box. It wasn’t quite cover of darkness, but the room was blissfully quiet and empty, and damnit Janet, she deserved it. A tanned hand shot out and snagged it away from her. Her eyes narrowed and she was sure the pounding in her ears was that of her blood boiling.
Wiping her expression of any rage she was feeling Penelope turned to face Jake Miller and his stupid laughing blue eyes as he took a bite of the donut that should have been hers.
“Shut up, Jake.”
He lifted his coffee cup to his mouth and took a long sip. “I didn’t say anything.”
She began packing up her things, shoving them into her over-sized bag. “No, but you were thinking it. I can basically hear your smirk from over here.”
He chuckled as he pushed himself off the desk, striding over and starting to help her with her stuff.
“What’s so funny?” She asked as she snatched a chewed red pen from his hands.
She always forgot just how big all the Miller brothers were until she was near one and then their towering height dwarfed her. As it stood, she had to look up just to meet his eyes and Jake wasn’t even the biggest brother, Noah, his younger brother, owned the café in town and was a mountain of a man.
As Jake rocked back on his heels, she watched him shove one of his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans. Jeans that fit too well. Of course, someone as much of a pain in the ass as Jake would also get to be gorgeous. The world was completely unfair.
“I just think it’s funny,” Jake said, taking another bite of donut before continuing, “that even though John completely walked all over you and ignored you when you spoke, you only seem to have claws for me. Why do you think that is?
I really enjoyed this snippet! Nice chemistry between the characters. Really whetted my appetite for more!
I LOVE THIS! As a fellow teacher, I commiserate with her. Sometimes donuts are the only bright spot…
I really enjoyed this! I would like to read more.
Hi, Christine! ‘which everyone knew always sat in purgatory until someone could take it under the cover of darkness’ hahaha! I love that! I never mind taking the last treat. 😀
The last line is a nice summary of the situation. Stereotypically, we expect the jerk in the scene to just be a jerk. But life does not work that way. We’re surprised by it, but it’s good to see it when a character steps out of a stereotyped box. It’s good to see insight coming from a surprising source.
Ahh, that excerpt was so gripping, Bryn! Really made me want to read more!
I got the cast off my broken wrist last week, and have been working on regaining the strength in that arm. And I’ve been revising my oracle story yet again.
At the intersection of jet lag and four desserts is where bad decisions lie.
After Stavros’s presentation the family scatters. The aunts urge me to go to bed, but I’m so tired I’ve skipped past exhaustion completely and landed on “wired” instead. Then there’s that extra burst of adrenaline from Stavros’s announcement, not to mention seeing my mother. Triple whammy of emotions there. I don’t suppose there’s much chance I can avoid Nathalie the rest of our stay here. Is it possible she came to say her piece, and now she’ll go?
I couldn’t be that lucky.
The entire family now knows the oracle has returned. They don’t know the oracle is me.
Unless it isn’t. Unless I take steps to make sure it isn’t.
My belly is so full it’s like I’ve been swallowing stones. I’ve dripped custard down my front from the galaktoboureko. I hardly look like what you’d consider “the paragon of chastity, self-control, and moral rectitude” tonight. I don’t feel like it either. I feel . . . like maybe the trickster goddess aspect of Metis has taken over me. I’m aiming to misbehave, ready to manage some mischief. Maybe I can get out of this somehow. Convince the goddess I’m nowhere near mature and sensible enough to be her mouthpiece. All I can do is try.
Despite the late hour, the villa still buzzes with activity. A couple wanders through the great room, giggling and pawing at each other. I seem to recall they were just engaged. Out in the courtyard a bouzouki plays, serenading the last lingering partiers. Some of Stavros’s cohort have retired to the den with cigars, and my aunts are catching up with great aunt Cora. To cut it short, no one but me seems ready to go to bed.
Well, I’m not ready, either. The night is still young. And I am Claire Dorian, who never once met a challenge she couldn’t overcome, and that includes misbehaving my way out of this oracle thing. Even if it does mean putting my good girl reputation aside for one night.
But how? I look around myself, wondering where the party animals are. (I have never deliberately sought out the party animals in my life.) Three sobbing preschoolers pass by, dragging their harried mother behind them as they protest, they aren’t tired, they don’t want to go to bed. Not exactly the crowd I’m looking for. I suppose I could join Stavros and the older men with their cigars and dessert wine in the den. A shudder runs through me. I’d rather pull out all my hair, strand by strand. And then . . .
A cluster of older teenagers drifts in from the courtyard, giggling and chatting merrily as they head towards the front door.
Jackpot.
So good! WHAT HAPPENS NEXT.
Hi, Kimberly! SO glad your cast is off…hope it’s 100% soon! You have such a great voice. I enjoyed this as always!
Cannot wait for Requiem! I love Nic. <3 Also, I wish my polished stuff could be as good as your rough!
My excerpt is kind of boring this time, but I wanted to participate. This is my heroine, who's kind of been forced back into a role in her witchy family that she took dramatic measures to try to avoid. She's back at home, contemplating what's to come.
***
Mary stood facing the wall of family photos that her grandmother had kept as a gallery in the living room. Some of the photos dated back to the advent of photography, ancestors that were long gone. There were a few painted portraits that were even older, including one of Riona Callaghan, who was the first generation to settle here in what would become Wickwood, well over two hundred years ago.
She studied the woman’s face, and wondered how she’d felt about it. Riona had given up her previous life to come here, too. Her very homeland on the other side of the ocean.
Mary tried to imagine what that must have been like. Did she travel in the mundane way, by ship? Or had she portaled? What had happened once she arrived? Who had she brought with her and how had they managed? Her many-greats grandmother would have had to learn to interact with the native people who already lived here. There’d been so much contention and fighting between them and the white settlers invading the area.
Had she struggled with them, too? Thinking about it made her uncomfortable.
Her aunt Caroline came to stand beside her and looked at the portrait.
“Feeling some kinship?” Caro asked.
“A bit,” Mary replied. “She was our family’s first Sentinel, right?”
“Our first one here in the future United States. Didn’t you pay attention to your lessons when you were growing up?” Caro asked. Her tone was teasing, not accusatory.
“I was an indifferent student at best.”
“I remember your mother’s frustration.” Caro smiled. “Riona was quite an interesting woman. She led an adventurous life.”
“I’ll read about her,” Mary said. Her own situation was of quite different, but maybe it would help her feel better to learn about the struggles that past Sentinels had faced.
Probably none of them had been stupid enough to actually seek out a djinn to have the bulk of their powers removed, but there were bound to be other impossible-seeming obstacles that they faced and triumphed over.
“Mary, I know this is a big change for you, and it’s not anything you would have volunteered for,” Caro said. “But it’s just for a year and a day, right? After that, we can reassess.”
“Has there ever been a Sentinel who just turned over the reins to someone else at the end of their trial period?” Mary asked.
“Only the ones who were died before their year was up,” Caro said.
Well, then. “Great pep talk, Auntie.”
You are too kind. And I didn’t think this was boring at all! It’s nice to have a quiet moment and some introspection. 🙂
Your excerpt sounds good! I’m a bit confused about the glass of water, but it works for me. 🙂
Below is the action climax of my story — the good guys defeat the vampire Benita after about 2000 other words of fighting.
Benita turned, found Gloria, her hand flashing around to impact with a sickening crunch against Gloria’s face. She took the rifle off of Gloria, turned around, and slammed the butt into the side of Gloria’s head as if she was swinging a baseball bat. Gloria crumpled to the ground, her helm dented, but the aural flames that caressed her body stayed strong.
“Strong fighters.” Benita discarded the bent rifle. “Prodigals make the best Faithful. You train yourselves so exquisitely.” She turned to look at Bryan, smiled sweetly at him. It was the first time she’d paid attention to him since the fight began.
His lungs labored to catch air. He scrabbled at Joana, who pushed at his hands. “No, Bryan,” she whispered. “We’ll both die.”
“If you let me bite you, I won’t kill your friends. Or Jackie. I’ll let them live.” She kicked Gloria absently. “They’re all still alive. If you say no, I’ll bite you anyway, and most of them will die.” She pursed her lips in thought. “I don’t know—which should I save? The bright girl, or the warrior here? What do you think?”
She was dying. Joana knew that; she’d been shot a few minutes ago and her blood had been steadily pumping out all the while. But she didn’t want to die Benita’s pawn, and she didn’t want to leave Bryan in Benita’s hands. There wasn’t much she could do about herself; Benita had ordered her not to hurt herself.
Benita had never said not to hurt or kill Bryan. Her hand curled around the hilt of Gloria’s short sword.
“No,” Bryan said.
Her heart swelled with pride in him and remorse for what she was about to do. If only the sword wasn’t so damned long. It was a short sword, but they’d never been designed for stabbing people in the back at close quarters like this, damn it.
Benita stepped forward, and again, until she stood directly before Bryan, whose body half-shielded Joana from the vampire. “You chose the hard way. Poor you.” She reached for Bryan, her eyes meeting his, then paused. Her jaw dropped, her eyebrows furrowing in horror and recognition. “You!” she whispered. “You have something holy?”
Then—clarity. The dark oppression in Joana’s mind lifted, taking with it her compulsion to obey. She clenched her teeth against the pain in her neck and wrenched shoulder and brought the sword up and over Bryan. As Benita moved in to bite Bryan, Joana ran it through the vampire’s heart.
The sword pierced Benita’s body, grating against bone. It emerged from her back, the weight of the vampire hanging on the steel. Benita stared in shock. “You can’t,” she told Joana, her eyes focusing in confusion on Joana’s face. “You’re mine. I bit you.”
“I’m not yours. I’ll never be yours. And this boy? He’s not yours either.” Joana’s lips curved into a delicious smile. She spoke with a certainty whose origins she could not guess. “He’s mine, Benita. My family. And you are going to die alone.”
Then Miguel emerged from the hallway near their backs, pistol in hand. He put it to the side of Benita’s head and pulled the trigger.
Great job. I wish I was this good at writing action/fight scenes!
The water thing gets explained later…if it stays in. 🙂 Great action scene! Thanks for sharing.
Here’s a small out of story moment for Dave and his soon to be ex. There was a second part to this story where Hank shows up, but I had to drop it because it kicked this whole thing well past 500 words even with judicious editing. Anyway! Here it is!
*****
Mick walked beside Dave, but he didn’t hold his hand or flirt with him. He was too busy texting “his sister in England”.
Mick smiled a closed-mouth smile that did wonderful things to his face.
Ohhh, I wish he’d smile at me like that. Dave thought.
Hank smiles at me like that. No, his smile is big and real. I can see his teeth when he smiles and I love that. Ohhh, that man has the best teeth.
The best mouth.
The best lips.
The best of everything!
So, why am I still with Mick? Because he’s familiar. I know his moods. I know his lack of apologies. I know his twelve million lies.
They’re never anything new or all that surprising. But they’re always so hurtful and disappointing. Especially every time I compare him to Hank.
Dave stopped as a single thought shocked him.
I’d rather be with Hank, not Mick.
Mick stopped and looked back at him. “What now? Why do you always have to slow us down? I swear—”
“Mick. I need to—”
“Oh, you need to. You need to. You always freaking need to.”
“Mick! Listen to me. I need—-”
“What about what I need, Dave? Huh? What do you care about what I need? Do you even care?”
Dave’s mouth dropped open. “Of course, I do! Mick—”
“Oh, just stuff it. I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of you constantly whining about every. little. thing. I mean, do you even—”
“I WANT TO BREAK UP WITH YOU!”
Mick stared at him.
“I. I mean it. I.” Dave took a deep breath. “You aren’t happy with me and I don’t. I mean. I want to. I want. Mick, I’ve been trying so hard to overlook everything—-”
“Oh! As if you’re perfect. Flawless little freaking Dave! That’s what we have here, ladies and gentle—-”
“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t deal with all of the hurt anymore.” Tears fell down Dave’s face. His legs trembled. “Mick, I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
Mick narrowed his eyes. “So, you’re dumping me.”
It wasn’t a question, but Dave nodded.
Mick strode over to him and crowded into his space. “You’ll miss me.” He tucked his fingers under Dave’s chin and raised his head up. “You know you’ll miss me.”
Dave’s stomach churned in unsettling ways. His legs kept shaking. His heart was beating fast fast fast.
“So, why not stay with me?” He leaned in for a kiss.
Dave’s stomach hurt. It hurt so much.
The inside of Dave’s mouth was warm. Too warm.
Too tacky and too warm.
Mick’s mouth was about to touch down.
“Ohhh!” Dave involuntarily lunged forward, clanking Mick in the face, and vomited all over Mick.
Mick swore and shoved Dave back. “I can take a hint as well as the next guy.” He started to go full vulgar with his next line.
Dave vomited again. All over Mick’s feet.
Mick was too furious to say or do anything more. He stormed away.
Wow, did not see that coming! Boy, Mick seems like a jerk, it couldn’t have happened to a better guy.
? Mick really is a total jerk. It made me very happy to give him that comeuppance (no pun intended ?)
“comeuppance” hahahaha! Breakups are tough. But Mick sucks. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it. ?
Love your description of Nic, ‘the planes of his face harder….’ Needles, guns, death and a great cliffhanger leaves me anxious for more.. Love it, Bryn.
aww, thanks! Thanks for reading, Bryan!
Tallulah & Jonah..I’m having so much fun writing about these two. I’ve tapped into my playful side. They make me smile. Hope these excerpt makes you chuckle a bit…
.The waitress took my order. Her eyes snapped to Jonah.
“And, honey, what can I get for you?”
She smiles and winks at him.
Seriously? Did she just wink at Jonah? I glance at her name tag. Hazel, I bit my lip but remained silent which, believe me, took a lot of effort on my part to keep my mouth shut.
We enjoyed a lovely lunch as well as each other. I love this man. A serendipitous find. Our chocolate pie arrived to add more sweetest to our lunch. Hazel set Jonah’s pie down and again winks at him. Understand, I pride myself on maintaining my self-control. Not today, I blow a cookie. An overwhelming sense of anger evaded my body. I had never experienced this type of feeling assault my polite, common-sense approach. Something foreign came over me. Possessiveness and jealousy reared their ugly heads. I grabbed her wrist and wiggled the diamond ring on my left hand in front of her face.
“In case you haven’t noticed he’s taken. You wink at him one more time and I’ll take this piece of pie and jam in down your throat. Bring us the ticket and a to-go box for the pie. Is that perfectly clear, honey?”
Embarrassed, Hazel responded.
“It’s just a reflex. I don’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.”
“You should be. I quite honestly don’t care if you’re sorry or not. You can take that uncontrollable reflex of yours somewhere else.”
I accentuated the word reflex.
Shocked, Jonah’s mouth dropped. His eyes widened. He made a note to himself. There was no way he would ever want to piss Tulah off. Tulah’s eyes calmly drifted to him. A grin broke across his face. A chuckle escaped his mouth and winked at her.
“You are one rare breed of a woman. Now that the entire cafe knows that I belong to you let’s go home so I can show you just how much I belong to you. That little performance turned me on.”
“She’s lucky I didn’t punch her in her mouth.
Hazel returned to their table with a to-go box but no ticket.
“I asked you to bring our ticket too. Go get it.”
Fidgety, Hazel dropped her head.
“I apologize. Your lunch is on me today.”
I gave her a nod.
“Now, isn’t that a sweet gesture. Let’s go, Jonah.”
I stood with all the eyes in the cafe on me. Exiting Jonah intertwined his fingers with mine. He exhaled a deep breath as he walked me to his tricked out pickup and opened the door. He turned me to face him.
“It might be a while before we return to Bella’s Cafe. I like your fiery, possessive side but was that absolutely necessary in there?”
“You bet your sweet bippee it was necessary. Hazel needed to be put in her place. Are you mad at me for blowing a cookie?”
“No. I love a woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind. I’m not mad although I can think of something else you could blow.”
“Good to know.”
I cannot wait to use the phrase “blow a cookie” at the next possible opportunity. 🙂
I have never heard the expression ‘blow a cookie’ in my life. Ha! Thanks for sharing, Jan!
An excerpt from VANISHED IN PLAIN SIGHT, the second cozy in a series I’m working on….
Mary pulled the other chair out from the cafe table and sat with a thud. “So, tell me why you are talking to John about our Ellen?”
“Mary, I don’t want to open old wounds. I listened to the true crime podcast about Ellen, and I can’t stop thinking about her. So, I spoke to John about her case.”
“Her cold case. I don’t see how you can help. You were just a little girl when she went missing.”
“Yes. I know it’s been a long time. But, the answers could be out there.”
Mary’s shoulders sagged, and she reached for a napkin from the dispenser on the table to dab at the moisture springing to her eyes.
“Mary, I’m sorry I’ve upset you. We don’t have to talk about this.”
“No, it’s ok, Sarah. I think I’d like to talk about Ellen.” Mary raised her head and met Sarah’s eyes.
“You didn’t speak to the people doing the podcast?”
“No, they never approached me.”
“You said you were Ellen’s aunt?”
“Yes, I’m her dad’s sister. I’m Billy’s sister.”
“I never realized that.”
“Well, Thompson hasn’t been my last name for a long time. When I got married, I became a Richardson. That was decades ago.”
“What do you remember about Ellen?”
“Oh, she lit up a room. Hold on,” Mary spoke as she stood to go back around the counter. When she came back she was holding a small photo. She handed it to Sarah as she returned to her seat at the cafe table.
“This is Ellen?”
“Yes, when she was a little girl. She was probably about three in this photo. You can see how happiness radiated from her. And, that was her. She was just like that every time I saw her.”
“She’s adorable.” Sarah handed the photo back to Mary. “What do you remember about what was going on in her life around the time she went missing? She was in high school at the time. A senior, right?”
“That was so many years ago,” Mary’s voices drifted. Then as if someone snapped her awake, she looked Sarah in the eyes and stated, “But, I remember the day she went missing like it was yesterday.”
“Could you tell me about it?” Sarah voice was gentle and sincere.
“This was about thirty years ago, so I didn’t have Perk Up! yet. I married my husband, and we had a few children. I was a homemaker then, completely devoted to taking care of my family. So, I was home when I got the phone call. My kids were home from school busy doing homework, the youngest one playing with legos in the family room. And, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner. My husband wasn’t home from work yet. I remember standing in the kitchen wearing my favorite bright yellow apron. I was stirring the spaghetti sauce on the stove top when the wall phone rang.” Mary’s eyes stared off into the distance.
Hi, Beth! Intriguing scene. Thanks for posting!
Well done, Bryn! Keep going w/ these two.
Here’s a rough excerpt from Warfare. The younger sister of June’s best friend Layla works in Intelligence, and has always despised June out of jealousy. So this meeting is a real surprise which helps set up the climax.
–
On Level 7 Farragut, waiting beneath a bank of amber-hued meters in an access hatch of sorts, was the last person I expected to see: Morayla.
I stared stupidly in surprise until she nervously waved me over.
“Um, hello.”
“Crick-crom,” she urged in Tchushkin, frequently preferring her native language even in the presence of others who couldn’t speak it.
More confused than wary, I stepped into the slim passage after her. She hit a button and the hatch door slid closed. Now my threat-assessment went on alert, as I was standing in a concealed space with a person I knew did not like me. In the dim lighting, all we had for company was the hum of station systems—all around us—and the data pad in her hand. We just looked at each other for a min. Neither of us had rehearsed our scripts.
“My…I sent the message,” she began. “I never liked you.”
“Okay, why?”
She studied me with a disconcertingly vacant expression. It was the analyst in her.
“You have…had Layla. You two, always.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “She and I are close.”
A wave of shame splashed over me, uncomfortable in such close confines that I could smell her cinnamon porridge and her lack of perfume. If she was going to brain me here, in this anonymous place, I would have no warning.
Shame because, by the course, she was right. Layla and I had been thick as thieves for so long, I couldn’t recall a time when there hadn’t been a Layla in my life.
“My jealous…jealousy is…Human thing, my commander says. Human. You.”
“Yes, I know,” I admitted. It seemed smartest to string her along, to not offer disagreement. I looked at her blank data pad, to gently prod her towards whatever goal she had in mind.
“I had to…because…you need to see this. It is secret. You understand?”
‘It must be really big if she’s trusting you with it, June.’
I nodded slowly, to give this detail proper weight. One could never be flippant with Morayla.
“This message…regarding the lost diamondized steel cache. You know of the Hroskeehlah Horde?”
“Yes, it’s supposed to be lost up in ‘The Grid’ around Helops.”
“Correct. There are five messages about the lost horde.”
“Five? So they have found it? The Mitasterites have located it?”
If this was true, it was a huge victory for them. Whatever purpose the masses of diamondized steel would eventually serve, they would work toward our destruction. That much was certain.
“I do not believe this is the case. We intercepted a message…” and here she paused, to look at the door as if unfriendly ears could be right outside. “…a message which says to me they are…being fed information. From us.”
“From us?!” I nearly exploded.
“From your superior,” she said, and looked at me. On her screen, among the decoded digital gobbledygook, was a short line at the bottom. ‘Suspected originator: Tohk-Mahsda.’
Hi, Justin! Thank you! It’s always nice to see what June is up to. 🙂 Thanks for posting!
Thanks for bringing some light into my frustrating day!
Here’s a snippet of what I wrote over the weekend…
It’s so pretty out here,” Josh said as he took a curve a little fast for my liking. In all fairness, I drove it exactly the same, but I preferred to be in control of the Crown Vic.
“If you’re into dying a horror movie death.”
“Come on, Mom. You love horror movies.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to die in one.”
He shook his head and laughed. My boys found me amusing. It was probably the key to our great relationship.
“This is it,” Josh said as he passed an old barn on a curve. The place had a winding driveway that curved around a patch of lawn with an antique truck parked in the middle. Wooden boxes with wildflowers sprouting from them sat on the flat bed and there were peacocks on the lawn.
“What the hell is this place? A freaking zoo? Please tell me they don’t have exotics out here. I don’t want to watch my firstborn get eaten by a rabid tiger.”
Josh snorted. “It’s okay, mom. I promise I won’t let you get eaten by one of Cecily’s potbellied pigs.”
“Pigs? Great. You’ll feel right at home.” I elbowed him. “Hey wait. I recognize that logo.” On the back window of the antique truck was a Goth Dog bumper sticker. “Is this Dinah’s place?” Dinah was a friend from the Bistro, a bar downtown where some of the officers liked to hang out. I loved the house band, Mud and Honey, an all-chick 90s tribute band, and I’d met some super cool folks there. I’d never been out to Dinah’s house, though.
“I think so. Her sisters Cecily and Trudy run the farm. Trudy’s the one who called.”
“Well, whatever happens, if a goat charges me I’m fucking shooting it.”
Josh barked out a laugh. “You can’t shoot goats, Mom. I don’t care if you’re four weeks from retirement—”
“Three. Three weeks. And I’d like to get there unscathed.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I sure as hell don’t want to be the one that gets beloved Sergeant Lana Desrosiers injured on the job. Come on, stay behind me and I’ll protect you from all of the cute and fuzzy bunnies.”
“Maybe I’ll shoot you instead,” I muttered, getting a chuckle from Josh in return.
I’m really going to miss this. Working with my boys had been more rewarding than I’d ever dreamed. Josh was already making a name for himself as future command-staff material. He was way more mature and diplomatic than his mother, that was for sure. And Nate, while still in field training, had already had a hand in catching some thieves in the act, which solved a string of cases for some frustrated detectives. I couldn’t be prouder.
Hi, R.L.! Sorry to hear things were frustrating earlier in the week…hope you’re getting started on a great weekend! It’s official: I want to hang out with Dinah at the Bistro. Sounds perfect!
It makes me want to keep on reading! I’m hooked.
Hey, thank you, Carol!
This is the first draft of a short story. Let me know if I should continue.
Grace sauntered onto the rickety wooden dock. She stopped at the end letting her thoughts drift back to 40 years ago. A cold breeze touched her cheeks as her unfocused gaze roamed the serene glass like lake.
The sound of a branch splintering reached into her thoughts and she was torn between staying in her memories or opening her eyes. She opened them to see several deer had trotted out of the woods and had caused the snapping branches.
Grace’s heart skips a beat at her wistful thoughts of when she first laid eyes on Ian Hobbs. It was love at first sight.
Walking into her Algebra class looking for a seat. She chose one, second row from the window. Grace deposited her books on the desk and sat down. Once settled she looked up at the boy sitting next to her. Her heart had flip-flopped when their eyes met. His eyes reminded her of hot caramel drizzling down chocolate ice cream. His eyes held a mischievousness. Like he knew something she didn’t.
The spell broke when another of her classmates sat behind caramel eyes. “Hi Wes.”
“Hey Grace.” He looked at caramel eyes. “Ian ready for football practice after school?”
They were talking football and rather be drawn into their conversation she opened her book wondering how she was ever going to learn algebra, while Ian sat next to her.
“Grace, this is Ian he and I are on the football team.”
She lowered her gaze afraid he would see she found him attractive.
The memories were so vivid. Grace’s heart ached with longing to see Ian. She had closed her eyes to hold onto the memories. She was startled by someone calling out. Opening her eyes, she saw Ian waving to her. *He finally returned.* Not thinking she stepped forward and lost her balance and fell into the lake. A sharp pain pierced her temple and blackness descended on her.
Chapter 2
Joe Hobbs had seen the car parked at the closed off park entrance. Curious he had stopped to see if someone needed assistance. When he saw the woman swaying and standing close to the edge of the dock, he had yelled out to her. “Hey”
When he saw her step off the dock, he ran down the hill and to the dock hoping he could get to her. Of all days to forget his cell phone. He removed his shoes and jacket and dove in. The indigo water made it impossible for him to see her. His eyes burned from opening them under the murky water. A small glimmer of light shone on floating hair. His lungs were burning as he made one final attempt to reach her.
Joe tugged at her, but she didn’t move. Her foot was stuck between two rocks. He swam down and pulled the rocks away then wrapped an arm around her chest. He pushed through the thick water on the verge of freezing and his lungs drank in the air.
Carol, it’s never up to me to tell people what they should write. I was very interested to find out what happened after Joe jumped after her, though! Thanks for posting!
Bryn, brilliant as usual! I loved it that none of her assumptions were accurate. It could only be one of two things and it turned out to be something else. And then again she assumed that he drugged her, but no.
For my piece this time, I selected a passage from one of my Dragon Dreamer books. I started this trilogy as an exercise to keep from going into too many points of view. I reasoned that if I was writing in first person, I would have to keep it in one person’s point of view and it worked. Later when I started including other points of view, I was able to be disciplined in my use of POV.
This scene opens when twelve-year-old Shalaudra goes to Granny for help. Her friend is a young dragon.
***
“I have to find the archway. I have to go back.”
“No, Shalaudra! There was no writing on the archway when you went in before, but there is on this one! It’s too dangerous!”
“It’s the only way to save my friend!”
“Do your parents know where you are?”
A sick feeling stole into my stomach. “I left them a message.”
“Listen to me. Go home now.”
Master Kendall’s voice interrupted. “Who are you talking to, Grandmother?”
No, it can’t be him, I thought! I stepped further into the shadows as she answered, “It’s just my pet… Come, Dog. It’s time to go in.”
“I thought perhaps Shalaudra had come.”
“She knows the rules, Kendall.” I felt a gentle rebuke and reminder in her answer.
Master Kendall folded his arms across his chest. “I had to dismiss her today. She was corrupting the boys.”
“Oh, honestly, Kendall. She’s just a bit of a girl.”
“A girl with some very dangerous ideas. I should never have listened to you when you begged me to allow her to be educated.”
“She deserves the protection of education as much as any boy.”
He snorted. “I went to her home today to explain to her father why I cannot have her in the classroom. None of them were home. All three of them may have already gone through the archway.”
Granny patted Dog. “I doubt that.”
Master Kendall lowered his head. “I saw a drawing on the table.”
I gasped.
He jerked to attention and peered in my direction. “She’s using magic, I tell you and she’s up to no good.”
Granny took his arm and pulled him toward the hut. “So, tell me about this drawing.”
“It’s nothing to concern yourself about, Grandmother. I smudged it out.”
He what?! How dare he destroy my message! How dare he enter my home! I fought for control of my rage.
When my breathing slowed, it came to me. If he thought my drawing was magic, then perhaps…
My mind reeled as I hurried away. Not only did I get no answer about where to find the archway, I found out that Master Kendall had ruined my message. Papa wouldn’t know where I had gone.
I felt torn between running home to tell him and taking care of my friend. I had to get the remedy for Yanker. The black dragon was looking for my family and me. I didn’t know how much time I had before he found us. I just couldn’t wait! My heart pounded at the thought of tampering with the forbidden, but there was no other way!
I really didn’t know how to use magic. Master Kendall drilled it into our heads that we shouldn’t use the words he taught us to make magic. So, I reasoned, there must be a way to do it. Master Kendall thought that my picture had something to do with magic, so there was another clue.
Trembling, I cleared a patch of soil and wrote, “Open the Archway.”
Jessie, you’re too kind! I really enjoyed this excerpt. It’s true that first person solves a lot of issues, just like that. 🙂 A girl with some very dangerous ideas is my favorite kind of girl, haha!
A look at book three? Oh how exciting. I can’t tell you how happy reading that made me..
I’m going to share a snippit from Batter Days. Shocking I know. The project that won’t end. LOL. I’m hoping to have beta readers on it by July. This scene takes place after a rather difficult day for Ally. THis is the first moment of stillness she’s had since the breakup caught her by surprise.
I made my way to my room and tossed my phone on the bed before stripping out of my clothes and heading for he shower. The warm water did wonders. I practically felt like a new woman by the time I was done. Slipping into my pjs, I notice the message light on my phone was blinking. I picked it up to see a random Facebook notification. I opened up the app and check the notification before mindlessly scrolling through a few posts.
My feed was always filled with random pet videos, motivational quotes, and delicious recipes that I was fairly certain the people making them were shortchanging just how hard they were to make. It wasn’t until a “memory” appeared on my screen that I actually stopped to look at anything for more than a second.
My heart gave a painful lurch inside my chest. It was a picture of Kyle and me at some gala event his office had given him tickets to a little over a year ago. We were looking into the camera and smiling. Kyle had his arm around me, pulling me into his side. The couple in that photo was happy. They were planning this amazing future together.
A knock on my door startled me out of my trance.
“Food’s almost done,” Derek called through the door.
“Okay. I’ll be there in a second.”
I looked back down and a tear rolled from my cheek and splashed onto the screen. When the hell had I started crying? I wiped angrily at the tears and closed the app. There was no sense in staring at the photo. It wouldn’t change anything.
I know it’s short, but I hope people enjoy it all the same.
Ohh, thank you, Erin! And we love getting Batter Days excerpts! This is so relatable—getting suddenly smacked in the face by an old post. Poor thing!
Neanderthal
Knuckle dragger, it’s the worst of slurs. I hear it whispered every day as I walk across campus, when I study in the library, and while I eat lunch. It’s true, I, Almy, am a Neanderthal, I have the genes. The boney eyebrows are the only thing that makes me look different from everyone else, different from all the Homo Sapiens.
There are a few nice boys on campus, and I’ve even dated a few. That stopped when one boy, pretending to be friendly, took advantage of me. He told everyone about all the other differences I have from Sapiens. The scientists who brought us back to life saw to it that we could not mate with Sapiens. They made it impossible for us to interbreed or even have intimate relations.
There are nine of us on campus, including my brother Ned. I meet him at the dining hall every Monday.
“Ned, have you ever slept with a Sapien, I mean like all night?” I ask.
“I tried, sis, but we weren’t getting anywhere. She was so nervous and still, and she’s too soft.”
“How soft?” I ask, trying to see what Sapien boys want.
“She felt like a pillow, with no muscles,” he answers.
“Yuck.” I fake a gag and say, “How is she going to make it in life?”
“Sis, they’re all soft, even the athletes. There is a big debate if they will even let me compete on the wrestling team.”
“Ned, if they’re so afraid of you, I’ll go instead, tell them I could teach them a thing or two after practice. Ask them if they’re afraid of a girl.”
“What did our mother say about fighting with them?”
“I don’t care; she isn’t a Neanderthal; she just carried and raised us for the money.”
Ned makes a twisted face, one to scare any Sapien “She was right, they will never accept us. There is a new chapter of Purists on campus, and they have maybe thirty or forty members. That weasel who tried to sleep with you is their leader.”
“What can we do?” I ask.
“Nothing. If the school doesn’t stop them, we will be left to fend for ourselves, maybe even leave school.”
“It won’t do any good; the Purists will hound us like dogs, besides I have chemistry midterms next week. I want to graduate.”
“Ned, please stay with me tonight. You can have the bed.”
Okay. That has left me with so many questions? The world you are creating is fascinating, and I would love to learn more about it.
I’ve written a bit more. So far it is all telling and will have to woven into a proper story. I think it is ripe for more than one conflict and theme to be at work. Will Alma be a heroine or victim, or turned to the dark side, I don’t yet know. I usually don’t know the end goal when i start. I try to deal in the realm of real possibility and not science fiction. Also I have little sense of drama and angst. I am most interested in your questions, and will attempt to answer them well. I hope they will be thought provoking or help modify my style.
Hi, Donald! Wowww, this is so interesting. I’m curious. Thanks for posting!
So, I’m confused as well about the water. She drops the glass and it breaks, so where does he get the glass of water from?
Haha, I fixed that right after posting.
Loved your excerpt Bryn. Same for many of the other posts, though I regret I don’t have time to comment on many of them as I’m quite busy in school.
This is quite late…again, it’s been a busy week. I’ve just put up a site just to show off more of my works in progress if anyone is interested (www.zoeychronicles.com). Again, all of this is very rough and a bit scatter-brained. Anyway, here’s my excerpt from the first book I’m trying to write, The Zoey Chronicles, Part I…
—
It was mid-morning and the parking lot of the bowling alley was empty, except for a few Buicks and Cadillac’s of the regular retirees.
Zoey rode in on her orange Huffy mountain bike, which she had outgrown two decades ago. Still decked out in her sweats and Adidas, she strolled into the bowling alley, without giving even a sense of the fact she hadn’t been there since her senior year of college.
Carl, the manager, still recognized her.
“Well hey little lady, you haven’t changed a bit,” the old man smiled.
“Hey Carl, a lane and shoes if you don’t mind; Size 9,” she replied, grateful to see a friendly face.
“No problem at all Zoey. You still working in the telephone business?”
“I left. A lot of mismanagement. Just a toxic place.”
“That’s a shame. How’s your pal Margo doing?”
“I haven’t heard from her in some time. Still in New York probably; last I heard she still hadn’t learned to drive.”
“How can you spend so much time repairing cars as a kid and never actually drive one?”
“Beats the shit out of me.”
“Here are your shoes, lane 20. You look a bit off you know? You got kind of an empty-eyed expressionless gaze there. Just let loose a little. As many games as you want, it’s on me.”
Zoey smiled, best she could. and walked off to her lane, past the arcade and its pinball machines blaring music, speech and sound effects.
After three games of mostly gutters, Zoey pulled two bucks from her wallet and went to the Coca Cola machine. Coke was Zoey’s favorite drink. If America itself were a beverage, it would be Coca Cola. It was a comforting symbol she had seen all over the world in her travels and could always be counted on to remind her of home.
Oddly enough, Zoey found that Leda Lanes still had a working Jukebox. She flipped through the digital images of albums and chose Teach Your Children from Crosby Stills and Nash’s Greatest Hits. She leaned on the machine and sung along quietly, after eyeballing the joint carefully.
Even trying hard, there was only so much of her attentiveness she could turn off, but she was getting better at it. The medication was helping, in its own weird way. It was a little less common to hear people talking about her, that she didn’t know at all. But, she had never felt so spacey in all her life. But the restlessness in her legs was insufferable, at times, and her nose was stuffed up worse than ever before, such that sleeping was difficult.
In all honesty, the reason she went to the bowling alley was in the hope of seeing someone familiar…well other than Carl…though she knew that was silly for an early Sunday in Nashua. She wanted to make a connection. Though the few people she knew in the area left long ago.
The Eminem song Rock Bottom started to play. She rolled her eyes at the irony of it, then closed them for a minute.
Nashua was not where she was going to run into people her age. She needed to relocate to a major city. She needed to wash her hands of this place and move on. She dropped off her bowling shoes, and with a kind wave and nod to Carl, she left.
I’m new to the blog, so super late….still want to share. My excerpt is from my #wip set at Christmas. It doesn’t follow the typical forced to be together exes, but new love in a town where things sort of happen on occasion to push fate along. I’m 45k in. Scene is the meeting of my love interests
With precision, she placed a glass ornament along an edge of the oak table. It was the fifth one she’d painted for the upcoming Peppermint in the Park festival. Waltzing behind the rental desk of Chestnut Ridge Cabins, she nabbed her cell phone. Turning on her heel, she stepped backward, framing the shot. A door opened behind her. Blustering winds ushered in. A misstep left her floundering. In unison, both she and the ornament propelled into a downward dive with the velocity of an Olympic swimmer. There would be no gold medal for their speeds. Unless awards were given for clumsiness, the only commonality of achievement would be which shattered more-Holland or the ornament. Tumbling through the air, her phone landed on a bear-patterned rug beside them.
Colliding into a stranger’s grasp, Holland reached for the arms that suspended her body from the hardened floor below. They surveyed each other for a moment. Holland remained in a horizontal swoop, as a warm smile curled the stranger’s lips. The rolling ornament came to a stop at their feet, breaking their unintentional embrace.
“Oh, no!” Holland gasped. Disappointment clouded her jade eyes. “My ornament!” She rushed to pick it up, kneeling onto the floor.
Cole Stevens followed suit, offering assistance. “I’m so sorry. Let me pay you for it,” he offered.
Holland shot him a frosty look. Cradling the ornament inside of her palms, she advanced behind the counter. Inspecting the symmetrical crack once more, she rubbed a piece of cloth over the area to free tiny chips of glass into a trash can. Wrapping the piece of cloth around it, she secured the ornament in a gold decorative box. It would be easy to fix with some epoxy and her trusted glue gun. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Besides, she could see the string dangling from his thoughts like a kite caught in a tree. Another thirty seconds wouldn’t erase her plight, but it would buoy her spirits. She relaxed over the registration book, giving him a once-over.
Cole approached the counter slowly, removing gloves from his hand. He lifted his chin, releasing his breath that was pushing him to break free. His mind jumbled for words. “I’m assuming you made those ornaments.” That’s what comes out? Of course she made it! Cole rolled his shoulders back, as if pressing the start button to an engine after a failed first attempt.
Holland glared at him. “Yes, I was waiting for the paint to dry.” Her clenched expression softened. “It’s cracked, but not broken.”
I love the exes trope…I’ve written those! Just saying I’m experimenting with this one a little. 🙂
Loved your excerpt! It’s compelling, scary, & edgy!