Hey hey, welcome to the first WIP Wednesday of the year, when I share an excerpt of a project in process and you do the same! I hope your 2019 is off to an amazing start, and you’re looking forward to getting lots of exciting writing done. I have just finished a draft of a non-fiction project that has been a huge undertaking, and although I’ll still have some edits, I’m euphoric about getting to the finish line.
The WIP guidelines are the same as last year: about 500 words maximum (otherwise I’ll trim your excerpt). No linking to work for sale, but you can link to more of the story on your blog or another site! No graphic sex, 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.
Today I’m sharing part of a scene that may or may not be in the final version of The Equinox Stone. We’ll see!
[AdSense-B]
Jonathan said, “I’m sorry to ask, but… I’m supposed to Read Lucas. Could you come with me?”
Val didn’t want to. In fact, she didn’t want to do anything at all. She hurt all over.
Anyway, he didn’t need her help. A human with no psychic gifts couldn’t pose a problem for Jonathan. True, it might be a lengthy interrogation, and Jonathan’s powers drained much faster than hers. But Lucas was a prisoner; he wasn’t going anywhere. Jonathan could always take a break from an interrogation and continue it later.
“Why?” she asked.
“So I don’t kill him.”
Val started to chuckle and then sensed the bitter brew of his anger. He wasn’t joking.
“He’s the reason Michael and I are alive,” she said.
He shook his head. “They mutilated and killed Lucia. They tortured my brother and hurt my sister.” Sister? Oh. He meant her. Her heart warmed.
He didn’t seem to be aware of his choice of words. He only glared at some undetermined point in space, his features bleak. “Samir isn’t allowed on the same floor as him.”
Not surprising. Samir was still half mad with rage and grief after his fiancée’s terrible death, distracted only by his new job of training and mentoring Cassie. But Jonathan should be more level-headed.
“Lucas isn’t as bad as most of them.”
“Yeah, well, he’s the one who’s here.”
Share your own writing below…or just tell us about what you’ll be working on in January! Thanks for reading, and happy writing!
For those first three weeks, he found it easy to rationalize the little things. Footsteps in the middle of the night? Probably just the house settling. Disembodied voices? Imagination, or the neighbors talking too loud, or maybe someone driving by with a podcast turned up too high. Things moving around or disappearing overnight? He’d just forgotten where he’d put it down. Sure. That was all it was.
It helped that it always seemed to happen late at night, usually when he was asleep, or about to fall asleep. Obviously the stories from the previous owners were causing his mind to play tricks on itself. Obviously.
And that worked just fine, right up until Thursday night.
Thursday night he couldn’t get to sleep. Brain just wouldn’t shut down. Stupid brain.
Around 2:00am, he headed downstairs to take some melatonin. He wasn’t sure if the pills actually did anything useful or not. Maybe they did. Maybe it was just a placebo response. At this point, though, he really didn’t give a shit. He just needed to get a bit of sleep.
As he entered the kitchen, he found that someone had beat him to it. There, standing at the sink, was a woman filling a glass of water from the faucet.
“Excuse me,” Jacob said. Well, what was there to say? She looked like an ordinary person, getting an ordinary glass of water. OK, yes, she happened to be in his house, getting a drink from his sink.
On the other hand, she didn’t look like a ghost. For one thing, she looked perfectly solid. Jacob had always assumed ghosts – not that ghosts actually existed or anything – would be a bit more translucent. Also, weren’t ghosts supposed to wear gowns or suits or something? The person in front of him – assuming it was a person – was dressed in a ratty old t-shirt, Batgirl boxers, and bear claw slippers. Seemed a bit undignified for someone who’s slipped off their mortal coil and crossed over to the ethereal plane – or whatever it was that dead people were supposed to do.
Despite this incongruity, the apparent ghost woman, upon hearing Jacob’s voice, turned toward him, gasped in surprise, dropped her glass and flickered out of existence. The entire span of time, from Jacob spotting the woman, to her disappearance, couldn’t have been much more than five seconds. It felt like much longer. He could remember every detail of the woman’s disappearance, how she appeared to blur, smear sideways, jitter up and down, then vanish, even though the event itself spanned a fraction of a second at most.
Forgot to mention: That’s a blurb from an as-yet untitled story that will be included in my next SFF short story collection, tentatively titled “Hex Code”.
Oh, I really enjoyed this. Great start and I snorted with laughter when you described what she wore. Bear claw slippers. Priceless. lol I hope you post more of this!
Ahh, thanks for sharing! I love the relatable voice. Great handling of close 3rd person point of view. Love how the ghost was just doing something normal, too!
Oooh, I love me a good ghost story.
Thanks for the feedback!
I’ve already got a good idea who and what the ghost really is, but not exactly how everything gets resolved. I’m also pulling some characters from previous stories, including a “manic pixie theoretical physicist” named Charlie, a woman named Hannah who has a habit of slipping sideways in time, and a hyperdimensional cat named Pickles. (To be fair, all cats are hyperdimensional.)
So, this is no longer a WIP. “Hex Code” went live last night. Well, at least on Kindle. Nook, iTunes, and paperback always take *forever* to process.
I’m working on a romantic novel about an older couple who rekindle their relationship.
Hey there! You know what…I LOVE this subject matter. A lot. I hope it goes great!
I’m having great fun writing the book and plan to submit in Feb. Thank you for the nice note. Susan Mangiero
Sadly I quit working on last year’s WIP because I can’t figure out how to tell the story. So I resurrected an old WIP that I’ve been working on for some 20 years. Don’t know if I will do any better this time around. There is a story excerpt, actually part of the main MS that I made into a short story, at https://vrbob.wordpress.com/2010/04/25/transition/
Hi Bob! Ohh, I’ve had that happen on more novels than I can say. How awesome that you’re re-working an old WIP. I have half a mind to do that myself someday. Thank you for sharing! I enjoyed it. Happy New Year!
Nice! Solid dialogue in this scene, Bryn!
I’ve been absent from WWIP lately, down recovering from a couple (elective) sports surgeries. But here’s a bit from ‘Destruction,’ my follow-up to ‘Endgame.’ The series is about a sniper, June Vereeth, caught up in a terrible interplanetary war. Here, after reading a nasty space-battle report, she sees an ad for the galaxy’s ubiquitous social-media site.
‘Before I clicked off completely, a FlutterLink advertisement took over the screen. Two options—‘Log In’ and ‘Join Us!’—were surrounded by images of diverse couples, families and friends, and exotic locations. All I’d have to do was provide a nickname and passcode, and set my thumb, index and pinky fingers to the image boxes for entry. ‘How the Universe keeps in touch!’
It made my skin crawl. Everyone was so happy and carefree, no blemishes or tears. And no pictures of wrecked Helops [a war-torn planet], or illegal engine parts, or victims of Horríbla [an addiction] drugs crime.
As if sensing my trepidation, ‘Connection available everywhere’ vibrated on the screen. The background image showed a young couple cooing at their baby.
‘No thanks!’
I hit the off button so hard the screen rocked on its stand.
Quiet nothing stared back at me.
‘You must be doomed, June. Isn’t that what Layla [her pilot friend] would tell me?’
Soon, the blank, switched-off screen sent me back to the radar-avoidance gadgetry on those escape pods from the battle.
‘The panic of being in those tiny cars, escaping death only to be hunted down by Mittie fighter pilots doing target practice!
According to the report, the shuttle and six pods survived the encounter. A couple dozen people sharing a nightmare in the void.’
At long last, ‘Destruction’ (Woman at War 2) comes out next week! Happy writing, all!
Justin! I was JUST thinking about you before you posted. And, ow…so sorry to hear about the injuries! Hope you’re healed up! Love seeing the excerpt. You know I enjoyed Endgame so much…the sequel’s an auto-buy for me. Congratulations!
Mac wanted to pretend he wasn’t at home. He was hungry and tired after a long day and wasn’t in the mood for company. The relentless knocking on his apartment door got him to his feet. “I’m coming!” he shouted.
He opened the door and considered slamming it shut when he saw who the incessant knocker was. “What are you doing here, Irish?”
“Bringing you an apology pizza.” Claire held the box under his nose. “Please take it or I will have to sit right here in the hall and eat it all by myself.”
He leaned against the door frame and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her. “Do I want to know why you need to apologize?”
“You going to let me in or not?”
He opened the door further in invitation. She ducked under his arm and entered his apartment. “Wow. Talk about your stereotypical man cave.”
She walked past his black leather couches, sixty-five-inch flat screen television, and dirty dishes in the sink. She plopped the pizza box on the table next to the mail, socks, half empty two liter of soda, and some kind of car part. “Maid had the day off I take it.”
He opened the box, inhaled deeply, and grabbed a slice. “You here to criticize my housekeeping skills, Irish?” he asked as he chewed. It was great pizza.
“Nope.” She cleared a spot on the counter and boosted herself up.
“Well, by all means make yourself comfortable and lay it on me. Good pizza by the way. So you are off to a good start.”
“You know who my grandfather is, right?”
“The honorable Senator O’Brien from California,” he answered as he grabbed another slice. He didn’t realize how hungry he was.
“Yes. Well… we have been summoned.”
Mac stopped chewing and looked at her dumbfounded. “We what?”
“He is throwing a party in your honor. As a thank you for saving his flighty yet brilliant journalist of a granddaughter from evildoers.”
Silence.
She cringed. “Hence the apology pizza.”
More silence.
“I tried to get you out of it. I really did.”
He started chewing again. She took that as a good sign. “When is this shindig supposed to take place?” he asked as he snagged another piece.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Sorry,” he said full of sarcasm. “But I am certain I have something already scheduled tomorrow night.”
“Yeah about that. Granddad already talked to Commander Pierson and he cleared your schedule. In fact, he thought it was a good idea. You know, to stay in good graces with someone of influence on the #National Security committee.”
She jumped down from the counter, patted him on the cheek, and showed herself to the door while he glared daggers at her. “Oh, and you will love this… It’s formal so you get to wear your Dinner Dress Blues. Pick me up at 8:00.”
She blew him a kiss and skedaddled out the door before he could gather his scattered thoughts enough to yell at her.
Mac looked at the pizza then at the door, completely baffled at how she just rooked him into going to some hoity-toity social event. He needed to step up his game if he was going to one up her. A sly grin filled his face and his mind reeled with all the possibilities of how he was going to pay the feisty redhead back.
This made me smile the whole excerpt. Man cave, apology pizza? Loved it, but the ending gave me goose bumps. What, oh what will he do? Great job!
I loved this too. I could ‘see’ it all.
Hi, Diana! Can I say that I would like “apology pizza” to catch on? Especially when someone needs to apologize to me? Ha ha. Great scene.
I enjoyed this. You have a great voice. 🙂
Just a happy moment with my two dragon characters…
***
High in the sky, two adult dragons played a rousing game of Tag.
I’m going to get you!
Deliosa looked back at Sammy with a mischievous glint in her clear amber eyes. She angled her body downwards, pinned her wings to her sides, and dropped in a fast line towards the lake below them.
He was following her. She was sure of it.
She purred deep in her throat as she imagined his reaction.
One.
The lake was coming closer and closer.
Two.
She took a deep breath.
Three.
She closed her nostrils and shut her eyes.
Her body pierced the water.
She opened her eyes wide.
NOW!
She swooped upwards in a clean, graceful arc, and broke through the water’s surface. She flared out her wings, scattering water droplets like beads from a broken necklace, and ascended to where Sammy hovered, waiting for her.
He purred, a deep and luxuriant sound. You are wonderful.
She pressed her head against his rumbling throat and closed her eyes. So, are you, Samer.
He exhaled a warm breath. By the way, Tag. You’re it.
I LOVED this. Dragons playing tag? I am so there. Great job!
Thank you so much!
I love writing these dragon-only scenes. They’re just a lot of fun to write. 😀
Oh my gosh! What a sweet and heartwarming dragon scene. Thanks for posting!
You’re welcome! I’m glad you enjoyed it. 🙂
Sammy has spent most of the story secretly pining for my main character’s girlfriend. All along I’ve wanted to give him a love all of his own – one who can reciprocate his love. Then, Deliosa showed up and she was just what the poor guy needed. 🙂
Oh, I loved the last line! Excellent scene. I interested to see if it makes the cut.
So this time I decided to follow the rules. This snippet is from the beginning of Gemini Deadringer. Gemma is the female half of Gemini, and Treadway (along with his partner) is a human FBI agent who found the InBetween because of a case. They and the rest of the Zodiacs were trapped and there was only one way out…down.
—————————
The Zodiacs followed Lyon over the edge—Taurus straining against the human female’s kicks and punches all the way. Treadway slid to a stop.
The weight of the wolf had slowed Gemma putting her a few steps behind the male. There wasn’t time to stop and talk about what needed to happen. No explaining that the greater risk to his life was the warriors surrounding them, not the miles long fall to Hell. If he was to live, she had to make him commit.
Gemma twisted her waist and slammed a shoulder into the human’s back, sending him flying into the void. She flung her body after him, the numerous spears flashing by startling her out of her fear of the fall.
The human male screamed, his terror laced with rage and disbelief.
The darkness changed to a thick black, unrelieved by the sunlight streaming through the pierced roof in the InBetween. Weeks earlier, a ritual had been performed by the resurrected witch goddess, Circe, and the treacherous demon king, Asmodeus, opening this hole to Hell and releasing a demon army into the human world. So much had changed since then, this craziness being only one thing on a long list.
Silence fell; no screaming, no moaning, not even a whimper from the wolves. It was as if they had jumped into a different dimension. Or was this Hell? Relentless darkness and choking on the air that rushed past your face.
The wolf buried her huge head in Gemma’s neck, seeking comfort maybe…or deciding if now was a good time to have Gemma as her last meal. Either way, she was dead; they all were dead because Lyon decided to trust those damn fairies.
The thought had barely finished passing through her mind when she was hit hard in the small of her back. She grunted, then stiffened when long legs wrapped around her waist and wings stroked hard around her. The fall slowed.
A Pestilence Fairy had latched itself onto her.
“Treadway!”
“Yeah!”
“Don’t touch their skin!”
He roared past her, unaided. No fairy had snatched him up.
She craned her neck around but couldn’t see the fairy on her back. “Get him.”
“He is human.”
“I don’t care what he is, get him.”
The fairy hesitated before releasing her. She tucked her ragged wings and angled her body down, flying past Gemma with a blast of air.
Gemma squeezed the wolf tighter. “Sorry old gal, guess we’re out of luck.”
She had barely said the words when hands grabbed her ankles and jerked her. She grunted, her arms automatically squeezing the wolf tighter against the hard jolt.
“You are stupid Zodiac, helping the human at your own expense,” a voice said above her.
“You would have let him die.”
“There are billions of humans, what’s one death?”
“And that right there is why no one wants to be friends with you people.”
Excellent excerpt! I really liked Gemma’s character. And that last line made me smile.
Thank you!
Hi Artemis! Happy New Year! I still think the pestilence fairy is genius. What a rich world. And the last line made me laugh out loud for real.
Bryn, I snorted aloud at “So I don’t kill him.” Can’t wait to read more!!
I’ve pieced together sections of Chapters 16 and 17 of my WIP (Book 1 of The Millicent Chronicles) to share.
…………..
“Millie said you’re in town on business, Jorah. Remind me, what is it you do?”
“It’s Millicent,” Millicent snapped.
“Jorah calls you Millie.”
“Jorah’s my best friend. She knows where the bodies are buried.”
“C’mon Millie. I want to woo you. What do I have to do?” Efraim tried again.
“Millicent.” She gritted her teeth.
Jorah observed the exchange. Now she saw what Millie had meant about Efraim not being the one.
Efraim lowered his voice to what he probably considered a seductive tone. “I give good woo.”
Jorah had just taken a sip of sangria, and at those words, she spit it right back out. Across the table, Efraim’s shirt looked as if he’d been shot.
Efraim grabbed a napkin and blotted the stain futilely. He snapped his fingers to attract the server’s attention.
The waiter hurried over. “Everything okay, sir?”.
Efraim gestured toward his shirt. “Does this look okay?’
“I’m…sorry, sir?”
Lizard pox, but this waiter was slow. Not that Efraim’s spluttering helped matters. Millicent gave herself a mental shake. She’d handle it. She always handled it.
“Could you bring us some seltzer water?” Millicent employed her sweetest tone.
…
“Now,” Efraim said, as if the interruption had been brief. “Where were we?”
Millicent feigned cluelessness.
Jorah, however, had been quite entertained. Millie would probably curse her later, but she decided to help the guy out.
“You were inquiring after Millie’s resistance to being wooed.” She lifted her glass and took a sip, smirking at Millicent over the rim of her goblet.
Millicent kicked Jorah’s shin with the toe of her stiletto.
“Yes.” Efraim faced Millicent. “Why won’t you let me woo you?”
Millicent shook her head. “You don’t want to woo me. I’m completely random at the most inappropriate moments, and I don’t deal well with conflict.” She might as well have added a “silly boy,” it was so implicit in her tone.
“But I’ve always found you highly wooable.”
“That!” Millicent leaned forward excitedly. “That’s it! That’s what’s missing from the pre-love scene in the movie.”
“Wooing?”
“No.” She shook her head. “That willingness to sound stupid. The scene is too heavy on schmaltzy, romantical foolishness, and too light on the willingness say something utterly ridiculous, yet forever memorable.” Millicent pulled out her phone to make a note. “Without something distinguishable, it’s like a Pinterest romance where everything is all perfect candy hearts, flowers, and beautiful words. That’s not love. Love’s messy, silly, sad, and funny. If you lose that, all you’re left with, even in a movie about witches, is just another Nicholas Sparks flick.”
Jorah nearly choked on her wine. “We’ve been friends most of our lives, yet you still surprise me. I thought I was only in danger of spitting wine—or choking on it—if wonder boy kept talking about your wooability. Instead, you come out of the gate swinging at ol’ Nick Sparks and send my drink down the wrong pipe.”
“Glad to know I’ve not gotten predictable in my old age.”
OMG “I give good woo.” OMG I laughed so hard at these two passages. Great job. I really want to read this story!
This made me laugh about ten different times. HIGHLY WOOABLE. Hahahaha. And I love “that willingness to sound stupid.” That’s a great insight. Thanks for posting, Jenni!
Great excerpt, Bryn! It makes me want more!
This excerpt is from my newest novel in my mystery series Locked Loss (Magnolia Ruby Mystery #5). I am in the editing stage. Thanks and enjoy!
Toby Winfield held his breath at the stomping footsteps that were fast approaching. He knew by the sound that his father was home. He’s angry.
A shiver went up the ten-year-old boy’s spine. He was fully aware that his father’s fury usually resulted in pain. Toby’s eyes widened as the brass doorknob turned before his bedroom door opened to reveal the man.
“Tobias!”
Toby held his hands up.
“It was an accident.”
The enraged man stormed forward grabbing the child roughly by the arm. He pulled him toward the hallway which surprised Toby. He’s not whipping me. What’s going on?
The man escorted the boy down the main staircase without a word. Toby glanced around refusing to fight back since he knew there was no chance of escape. He could see the shadows of servants hiding in the doorways of the other rooms. They won’t help me.
As his father turned toward the gray door, the child realized what the man was planning to do. He planted his feet and pulled against him.
“No, Dad, please!”
The stronger man grunted as he lifted his son off the floor continuing to carry him toward the gray door.
“Please, Dad! I’m sorry.”
“It’s too late, Tobias. You’re spending the night in there. I’ll let the witches judge you.”
Toby continued to struggle and beg as his father opened the door. He was thrown roughly to the hard floor. The boy crawled toward the door reaching it too late. He twisted the doorknob horrified to find it locked. Toby cried loudly while pounding his fists on the door.
“Please, Dad! Don’t leave me in here! Please!”
Toby sank down onto the floor sobbing for his freedom. He hated the creepy room. The thought of spending the night trapped inside filled the child with a bone-chilling fear. He stood up before turning around to search the room for possible dangers. With wide eyes, Toby shrieked at the movement that was rushing toward him out of the darkness.
Okay, serious heart in throat passage. Such feels for poor Toby. Great job!
Hi, Carrie! Thank you so much for sharing. Such an effective scene. I had dread in the pit of my stomach as soon as he heard his dad’s footsteps, and then it didn’t go the way I expected.
Powerful excerpt, Bryn! I’m working on chapter 3 of We’ll Fly Again. WIP excerpt is 499 words:
Jeff resisted the urge to check his pocket for the miniature listening device hiding there. There hadn’t been a good enough reason to activate it yet.
Liara had given him one bug. That was all they could risk. The timing and placement had to be perfect. He had one chance, before scans caught and broke it; or worse, traced it back to Liara. It might be the only way he could learn of Marcus’ true whereabouts, and let Liara know what was going on.
He kept his fingers busy on his workstation, adjusting for drift, monitoring all frequencies he was allowed to access—it was mostly radio silence, which made him nervous—and double-checking the navigator’s flight plans. It would be a hell of a lot easier if Jeff knew their final destination.
What was the plan to solve the mystery of the missing colonists anyway? How had Cerberus become so freaking rich and powerful if most of their crew weren’t in the know? His orders were to go from one nav point to another and await further instructions. Over and over again. The Illusive Man was just dicking him around, wasting fuel.
The damned A.I.’s spherical hologram popped up on the console to his left. “Thrusters are at red-line, Mr. Moreau.”
He grunted and decreased their speed a few knots, but refused to talk to her. Instead, he tugged the bill of his cap down and a little sideways, lessening how much the orange glow of the hologram hit his face.
The sphere hovered a long minute, then booped back into the console deck.
Yeah, go and pout.
Not two seconds later, it popped up again. “Yeoman Chambers approaching, Mr. Moreau.”
Jeff sat up straight and adjusted his cap.
EDI’s hologram disappeared back into the console.
“Jeff,” Chambers breezed up to his chair and put a hand on his arm. The woman had absolutely no respect for personal space, despite the last three times he’d asked her not to touch him. He resisted the urge to brush her off. She was his only link to Marcus.
“We’ve got the comm room all set up,” she said.
“Let’s go, then!” Jeff said, his voice too loud and cheerful. His nerves buzzed with a dread that he hadn’t felt since the night Liara had revealed Cerberus’ plans.
Shit, what if he got caught planting the bug? Would they lock him up? Or just shoot him?
He spun his pilot’s chair around and braced his hands on his armrests, preparing to stand.
Chambers took tight hold of his bicep.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, and she jumped away as if she’d been burned.
Damn it. He needed her to access the comm room.
“I need to do it myself,” he explained more calmly, and her eyes lit up with self-important understanding, which made his blood boil all the more. He didn’t have the time or patience to educate the rookie Cerberus agent that was supposed to be his liaison for accessibility.
Thank you for sharing a little of your WIP! I’m currently trying to tackle a chapter edit a day during the work week, and 2-3 chapters on the weekends in January for my second clean/sweet romance on this 2nd round of edits. I’m itching to start my Christmas clean/sweet romance, but I must finish this current one first (since I started it in June, first come first serve…something like that, haha).
Hi, Savannah! A chapter edit a day on weekdays…that is such a good pace. I’m impressed. I hope it goes great! I know what it’s like to be itching to start the next project!
Thank you so much!!!
Ahh…I say it every month, but damn…I’m anticipating this book like crazy, Bryn!!!
I’ve been busy editing and surviving the holidays. lol Now with the kids home from school for our summer holidays, there’s a lot less peace in the house. 🙂
My offering…figured I’d throw in something I’ve recently edited. Quick summary: Myrrha and Gerard were betrothed; Gerard’s father broke the engagement for his own reasons. Since Myrrha is a wolf-person, her race can only ever take one mate — and she took Gerard (leonine race). Now Gabrielle (human) is arranged to be Gerard’s wife, and Myrrha interrupts their intimate moment.
—
As his fingers began waltzing across her skin, the doorbell obliterated their moment. They froze, staring at each another.
“Maybe they’ll leave,” Gabrielle whispered between heavy breaths.
It rang again.
“Damn it,” Gerard hung his head, climbing off. He helped Gabrielle up and began closing his shirt. The insistent chime brought a scowl to his face.
Gabrielle adjusted her clothing. Propelled by frustration, she reached the door as the bell sounded a fourth time. Clenching her teeth, she flung it open. “What do you want, you inconsid—”
She beheld Myrrha; her irritation evaporated.
“I’m sorry for disturbing you.” Her sister held her head high; at the same time, she wrung her hands. “May I enter?”
Gabrielle’s thoughts whirled. Part of her imagined slapping Myrrha and sending her packing; the other part – noble, compassionate – worried about the possessed look in her eyes. “Yeah, sure…but a word of warning: Gerard’s here.”
“I know…that’s why I came. I’d like to speak to him.”
Renewed ire scorched through her veins. Gabrielle felt her muscles tense.
Myrrha swallowed hard. “Please, Gabrielle…this is the first time in seven years I’ve worked up the courage to confront him. If I falter now, I’ll regret it.”
Ghedra’s voice breezed in. ‘Allow your sister to settle her affairs. You love her, remember?’
Gabrielle motioned for Myrrha to follow. As they walked toward the living room, she fumed about the interrupted intimacy and being deprived of Gerard’s company.
‘Myrrha will never have children. Her heart is broken. Perhaps you need perspective.’
Gerard had tucked his shirt into his breeches and gathered his mane at the nape of his neck. He was pacing around the far end of the living room, feet bare, when the females entered. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes enormous. “Padesh Marus’ur,” he breathed, invoking the Channasi father god. Beyond that, speech failed him.
Gabrielle crossed her arms. She loathed feeling jealous of her sister; however, Gerard’s expression as he beheld Myrrha sliced through every stitch of confidence she’d cultivated while in Anthierri.
The angelic female stepped toward him, wearing a shy smile. “So, you still prefer not to wear shoes after, um…I’m sorry for intruding.”
As if waking from a stupor, Gerard flew to her, clutching her hands. “No, no…it’s a…privilege to see you.” He pressed them to his lips, his gaze transfixed as if worshipping a deity.
Gabrielle felt like a proverbial third wheel; yes, he and Myrrha shared a past…but she didn’t want to be reminded of it. With exaggerated throat-clearing, she drew their attention. “You know, maybe you two need some privacy.”
Myrrha tore her gaze from the ru’Shar. “Indeed…may I steal Gerard away – to talk?”
Gerard came to his senses. He strode to Gabrielle, wrapped his arms around her. “Please understand.”
“Sure.” ‘But…why now?’
“I’ll return shortly. I love you.”
Her heart echoed his words, but she couldn’t manifest them…especially not while feeling so outclassed by her exquisite sister. Sniffling, she nodded and pushed Gerard away, hustling them to the door. Myrrha stepped out, quietly thanking Gabrielle. As Gerard walked past, Gabrielle touched his arm. “Look, I have an early lesson with Bei. Let’s call it a night.”
“But –” He furrowed his brow, chagrined by her command.
“Good night.” And she slammed the door before he could say another word.
Um…this is AWFUL. NOT the writing, which is so good! But poor Gabrielle! Great scene. It really got me.
OH my goodness. There are so many little snipits of information in here. How do you keep making me even more excited for this book. It’s uncanny.
I’m going to share another snipit from “Batter Days.” I know. Shocker right? I’m sure you’re sick of it by now, but it’s my main focus. So that’s what we’re going with. Ally is meeting with her first potential independent client as a freelance cake designer and is afraid that she may have bitten off more than she can chew.
I reached for the menu in front of me and started perusing my options as a way to distract myself from the growing tension between my shoulder blades. $25 for a salad!
Okay, maybe reading the menu was not the best idea. There were things on the menu that cost more than the clothing I had on. How was that possible? Was it made with some sort of super special lettuce that was harvested by Tibetan monks or something.
“What are you having, Allyson?”
My eyes snapped to Mrs. Montoya to see her and the waiter staring at me. When did he get back? Oh hell. Pick something.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll just have the cobb salad,” I said, handing the menu back to our waiter.
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Montoya stepped in and ordered me the chicken cordon blu with a swiss chard gratin, whatever that was, before smiling at the waiter and turning her attention back to me. “So Allyson…”
“Ally,” I corrected.
She looked at me like I had suddenly grown another head. “Pardon?”
“I go by Ally,” I told her.
Mrs. Montoya paused for a moment before nodding and continuing on. “Very well. Have you ever attended a quincenera before, Ally?”
“No, ma’am.”
I may not have ever gone to one, but thanks to the almighty Google I knew what it was. It was apparently the Super Bowl of birthdays. Their were hundreds of stories about the lavish parties with big poofy dresses and tiaras. The more I read about the me more amazed I had become. The most lavish thing I ever did for a birthday was when Derek and I had snuck booze into the local drive-in for my sixteenth birthday.
“A quincenera is one of the single most important events in a young girls life,” Mrs. Montoya continued to educate me. “It tells the world that she is now a woman. I want my daughter to feel like the princess my husband and I have always thought her to be. Do you understand?”
I nodded like I understood, but I really didn’t. Sure I understood them wanting to make their daughter feel special on her big day. I just didn’t get spending that much money on it. Joys of being pour I guess.
She went on to tell me a bit more about her daughter and the theme they were using for the party. She’d already given me some of the basics over the phone so I could come up with some preliminary sketches for her, but this was the information I needed to really put the designs over the top.
Yay, I’m late, but I’m here! I’m so excited for The Equinox Stone, it cannot come out soon enough for me. 🙂
This scene is from the WIP I’m trying to finish up by May. Mary is my heroine, a witch (and a veterinarian), trying to learn how to be head of the family. She is rushing home after her younger cousin called her in a panic because her friend Will has had an unexpected reaction to an earthquake.
“We’re in the kitchen!” Lila shouted the second Mary got in the door.
Mary rushed in to find Will sitting in the corner by the stove, his forearms resting on his knees and his hands clenched into tight fists. His head drooped down and his long hair obscured his face. Lila knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Mary asked, crouching down beside them.
“We were playing a video game, and suddenly he just dropped everything, fell to the floor and started to convulse. Then the earthquake hit,” Lila said.
“A seizure?”
“I don’t know if that’s what it was. When the shaking finally stopped…” Lila paused, as if at a loss for words.
“Just spit it out, Lila!”
She shook Will’s shoulder gently. “Will. Look at her. Show her.”
Gooseflesh broke out across her body as she realized that Will seemed…bigger.
He raised his head and looked at Mary with the pure dark red eyes of a demon. His brow was furrowed in anguish and his chest rose and fell with harsh breaths, as if he was performing some kind of brutal exertion.
Mary fell backwards on to her ass, her heart slamming in her chest. “What the fuck!”
“Please help me,” Will said in a chilling, dark voice that was an octave lower than his usual baritone.
Holy goddess, he had fangs. Two sets on top, and one on the bottom.
“I’m using magick to keep him calm, but I’m tiring, Mare. Can you take over for awhile?” Lila asked, leaning her head back against the cabinets.
“No, Ly, I can’t! You know I can’t!” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes and tried to think. They had to keep him subdued long enough to find out what the hell had happened to him.
“Okay. I have some horse tranqs.”
“Horse?” Lila asked shrilly.
“Yes, Ly. Do you have a better idea?” She opened the fridge and took out a vial of tranquilizer and a syringe.
“How do you know how much to give him? Is it safe?”
“Lila, hush. Let me think.” The kid was probably at least two-forty in solid muscle. She filled the syringe with her best guess, hoping it would be enough…or not too much.
An aftershock hit, shaking the house and rattling dishes out of the cabinets to crash on the floor around them. Will slammed his head back against the cabinets and roared as if the quake caused him agony. Lila jerked her hand back, breaking the spell she’d been using to keep him calm. Lightning fast, he grabbed Lila’s neck and squeezed. She clawed frantically at his hand as he laughed at her, snapping his fangs inches from her face.
“WILL, STOP!” Mary screamed, crawling across the heaving, rocking floor until she reached them. She slammed the needle into his thigh through his jeans and depressed the plunger.
He released Lila and turned on Mary, bellowing in rage so loudly she had to clamp her hands over the sides of her head to keep her eardrums from bursting. His clawed hand shot out and clamped down on her ankle with crushing strength, and hauled her toward him.
Oh my gosh! Great scene! I’m so excited about you finishing this, sis. I have to beta read!
Hey Bryn! Happy New Year! I really enjoyed your excerpt and am looking forward to reading the Equinox Stone!
I just yesterday sent out my first 8 queries for my Oracle story (and already got my first rejection, boo!). I’m keeping my spirits up and also reading the full manuscript to make sure no new continuity errors crept in during the last round of revisions. In the meantime, I allowed myself to start writing a little fairy tale. I’ve spent most of the year revising, so it’s fun to write something new.
There once was a king who wed to secure its borders, but who wished to win her over just the same.
The new queen was a quiet girl, with a melancholy tilt to her lips and eyes the color of the storm-tossed seas. Though she was never rude to her new bridegroom, she rarely volunteered information about herself and she answered his questions with minimal words. And so the king knew little about her, save that she was the only child from a coastal kingdom that was their only safeguard against the marauders of the sea.
And yet he longed to know her, and to warm her to him, as difficult as this appeared to be.
“Why bother?” his advisors asked. “The alliance has already been made. Sire a few heirs on her, and the people will be satisfied. You can both lead your separate lives.”
But the king reddened at this, anguished by the thought of using a maiden so. And while the queen did not deny him her bed, she stared up at the ceiling like a sailor’s widow gazing out to sea, and she did not move.
“Affection grows with the years’ passing,” said the king’s mother, who had truly grieved her husband’s passing, with the tears that only come from a broken heart. “It is folly to expect anything like it when you’ve just wed.”
Yet the king took comfort in his folly, for his first youth was soon to leave him, and he must soon put away his foolish, romantic dreams. But wisdom and maturity could wait a bit longer, while he indulged in this desire: to truly love his own wife.
Kimberly, congrats on querying! And rejections always suck, but everyone gets them. ☺ A fast one is usually a reflection of them not wanting more in that vein right now, rather than a reflection on the quality of the story. Finishing and polishing a novel is a huge accomplishment. I hope you feel great about it.
It is so much fun to do something new after working on the same thing for a long time! This is really touching. I enjoyed it.
I love all the posts, I shall have them in my head and wonder what will be coming next from each post.
Here is attempt at a mail order bride story
Josie
Leaving Virginia, Josie and Maggie on their way to Kansas. Reaching Kansas, they will be traveling into Montana Territory by way of stagecoach. A teaching position in Montana is the reason for leaving home, the motivation is her brother trying to marry her to Thurston Russell, a man that disgust her.
Ivy Josephine Warner, formerly Mrs. David Smith, at nineteen a widow with one child. Her marriage ended being a sham, her husband was a non-provider and an adulter. They lived in the old Warner home on a small farm in Virginia.
Learning she was with child Josie was excited to share her news with her husband, he had never indicated how he felt about having a family. Josie made his favorite foods for supper, including apple cobbler for dessert.
After a good meal, David was in a good mood until she told him their wonderful news. He exploded yelling about having another mouth to feed. David began to beat her, kicking at her as she fell to the floor. Josie did her best to protect her unborn child. A neighbor was riding by and heard her screams, he stopped the beatings and took Josie to the doctor. Josie and the baby survived, a few days later David was caught with another man’s wife, both were shot and killed.
Josie’s only response was “At least I do not have to get a divorce.” She took back her maiden name and gave it to her baby girl, Margaret Lynn Warner, Maggie.
Lucas Albert Warner, Josie’s brother a prominent banker in the River city. Married to Shirley Ann, they lived in a large home with several servants. Shirley liked her place in society. When Maggie was two Lucas without Josie’s knowledge sold the farm that was given to both of them after their parent’s death. After the civil war times were tough but slowly things began to improve. Lucas would do anything to promote his bank. Lucas moved Josie and Maggie into his big house. But not out of love for his sister or niece, he had plans.
Josie was furious with Lucas. “The farm was half mine, how dare you sell it out from under me.”
He tried to console her by saying “hey sis, you don’t have to work so hard making the farm profitable. Plus her share of the sell is now your dowry
Hi, Debbie! Great story premise. When I read “At least I do not have to get a divorce,” I thought, “No kidding, girl.” Thanks for sharing!
I’m working on a story about a girl who has a vision of a massacre. I’d share soon but it’s still the first draft.
he QuirkyPen Girl