Hey friends — it’s WIP Wednesday! (I usually do WIP Wednesday on the first Wednesday of the month, but this month got a little off kilter because of the holiday and vacation.)
This is a chance for you to share a paragraph or a page from the story you’re working on. Don’t worry if it’s rough. This isn’t Final Draft Wednesday, which I don’t even do on this blog. We’re not critiquing at this point, though encouraging notes on other people’s work are welcome And remember, no apologizing for your work!
I’m sharing an excerpt from my summer project, A Knight Restored. Emily is a conservator at the art museum in Kansas City. They’ve acquired a sculpture that is actually a medieval knight who was turned into stone by a sorcerer centuries ago. In this scene, Emily’s photographing the sculpture, like they do with all new acquisitions prior to restoration.
“First things first,” she said. “Let’s get your face lit up a little more.” She went over to the far wall and touched a panel there, and bright light streamed onto Gryffen’s face, blinding him. His eyes, which could never close, took a few moments to adjust.
The beams emanated from the metal cones hanging from the ceiling. She strode back over and reached up high to adjust one. The movement pulled her white shirt taut over her small, delectable breasts.
Gryffen cast his mind out to her. See me. I am here.
Emily bent her face to the black boxlike contraption that balanced on steel rods. It made clicking noises. She set the object down again, her gaze on Gryffen thoughtful.
What compelled him to try to reach her, he did not know. It was a hopeless cause. Still, his mind called to her with all of its strength. See me. It is not stone that stands before you, but a man.
A line appeared between her eyebrows—for all the world as though she had heard him. If he had still possessed a heart, it would have beaten loudly enough to echo off the black walls.
She walked over to him. His soul cried out to her. For Christ’s love, my lady. I am here.
“Am I losing my mind?” Her chest rose and fell with a shaky breath. He strained to hear her voice, hardly more than a whisper. “Why do I feel like you’re talking to me?”
God in Heaven. She could hear him. Never, in centuries, had he ever been able to reach anyone except in their dreams. Hope and longing shuddered through him. Please see me. Please touch me.
She raised her hand, hovering close to his cheek.
Then she lowered it, shaking her head. She turned and left the room. The light went out and when she closed the door, Gryffen stood in complete blackness, alone.
I hope you’ll share something of your own, and if you want to link to your blog or website, that’s totally fine. Whether you’re sharing or not, if you’re writing something, I hope it’s going great. Thanks for stopping by!