It’s the first Wednesday of September! That might not mean a lot in many places, but around here, it means that it’s WIP Wednesday. I share an excerpt of a work in progress…you do the same in the comments, if you are so inclined…and maybe we get energized for our writing goals!
There are a few rules:
*excerpt should be 500 words or less
*no explicit or deeply disturbing content, but some coarse language is okay
*no excerpts from work for sale—this is for work that is actually in progress
*no criticism, but supportive words to other writers are good karma
If you just want to tell us how your writing is going, that’s great, too. And if you just want to lurk, we’re still glad you’re here!
I’m still working on the sequel to The Phoenix Codex—The Equinox Stone, which I expected to be finished by now. I had run into a little bit of a tough time emotionally, so even though I was showing up at the page, it was slow going. I’m feeling better now, though, and it’s going great.
In this scene, Michael’s friend Nic is in charge of coordinating a mission that Michael and Val are on together. The night before, Nic accidentally discovered that Michael and Val had become romantically involved.
[AdSense-B]
The next morning in his apartment, Michael woke up to a buzzing phone. Groggy, he almost knocked it off the nightstand before he grabbed it.
Nic was requesting a video call. Ugh. Michael had slept for three hours; he’d been hoping for a more luxurious three and a half. But it was likely something urgent.
Hopefully not too urgent. His brain flickered to scenes of danger and despair, scenes involving Valentina. He picked up and saw Nic in his bedroom.
“Salaam, Nic.”
“What the hell’s going on?” Nic asked.
Michael grunted and rubbed his eyes. So this wasn’t an emergency. “Exactly what you think.”
“Yeah? Because I think it’s a dick move, is what I think.” Michael refrained from making an easy joke, because Nic sounded genuinely pissed. “She’s never been on a mission before. She’s getting pushed to her limits. If she’s serious about you and you’re not…” Nic shoved a hand through his hair. “She’s a very emotional person.”
Nobody knew that better than Michael. She’d just cried because sex was nice.
Why did everyone have to give him a hard time about this? Okay, he’d never been serious about anyone before, but everyone had a first time for that, didn’t they?
Still, he couldn’t fault Nic for looking after Val’s well-being—even if it frustrated him that everyone seemed to think he’d damage it.
“Is your memory okay?” Nic asked.
“Yes.” He understood the question. Nic thought Michael wouldn’t have casual sex with a virgin empath if he was in his right mind. But it wasn’t casual. “It’s not what you think.”
“You literally just told me it was.”
“No, I mean…” Damn it. “I’m in love with her, okay?”
Nic just stared at him for a moment. “What?”
Michael spread his hands. He’d heard him.
“Kind of sudden, don’t you think?”
“I’ve known her since I was nine years old,” Michael said. “So, no.”
Nic sighed, visibly relaxing. “I wish you could’ve waited just a little longer. Like until this mission was over.”
“Hey, last night was her idea,” he said, pleased. It had certainly been his idea, too, but she’d been the one to insist.
Nic held up a hand. “Don’t tell me things like that.” Michael had always told him things like that, and vice versa. “I’m not trying to invade her privacy.—More than I already have.”
“You’re happy to invade my privacy,” Michael pointed out.
“Like you have privacy. You once told me about your bowel movement.”
Michael was about to deny this, but then had a vague recollection of it. “That was just making conversation,” he mumbled.
“You and my grandfather think that’s appropriate conversation.” Nic still sounded grouchy, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“Are we done here?”
“Yeah.—No.”
“What?” He already guessed what Nic was going to say, though. Something along the lines of, Don’t screw this up.
“Be careful today.”
Please share some work in the comments, if you’re so inclined! Or just tell us what you’re hoping to get done this month! I’m planning on getting The Equinox Stone to my editor by September 30. Please wish me luck.
Thanks for reading, and happy writing!
LOL, “Just making conversation.” Nice excerpt, Bryn! Glad you’re finding your groove again. I’ve been struggling with my stories and keeping in the writing habit with non-fiction journaling. I had a brief sprint of inspiration the other day for the beginning of chapter 20 of my Mass Effect 3 fic, Soldier’s Heart (James Vega x Jane Shepard):
Urdnot Wrex was not happy.
“I’m not wasting krogan lives on the turians,” he said. “Not when I’ve got Reaper scouts on Tuchanka.”
Jane walked further from the Menae camp, her had bowed and voice low, even though no one should be able to hear her outside of her helmet’s secure channel. If EDI had a paycheck, Jane would double it for managing this connection across the Normandy’s quantum entanglement comms.
“You need my fleets, Wrex, and we all need theirs. You’ve got the best ground troops and biotics.”
“Heh,” he chuckled in his low growl, “Don’t let Liara hear you say that. And I’m not stupid, Shepard.” He turned stern. “We were the Council’s cannon fodder before humans discovered space travel. I was there.
“I remember.” His growl was more menacing than when they’d faced off over the cloning lab on Virmire.
“Wrex …” What could she say? She looked up into the blackness of space, at the flaming mess that Garrus’ family was still trapped on. The Reapers were scouting Wrex’s home, too. She couldn’t ask him to abandon his people. He’d just united them after centuries of civil war and near-extinction.
“The Salarians have a cure,” Wrex said.
“What?” Whatever had just hit her ears didn’t compute.
“I’ll come to your little meeting, just as long as you keep Linron and her slippery bastards away from the food and water supply.
“I’ll join your war summit for one day—that’s all I can spare—and we get the cure to every krogan, or there’s no alliance.”
“Wrex, how—?”
“Every krogan, Shepard. You’re family—more than my father ever was—but Clan Chief can’t put family before the survival of our species.”
She swallowed and nodded, even though it was just an audio call. “Understood.”
“EDI, bury this channel,” he said.
“Audio call ended.”
-from a potential upcoming scene in Soldier’s Heart (James Vega x Jane Shepard)
I like this a lot. Full of intrigue. I want to read more.
Thank you, Jo! Glad I caught the mood. I’ve been posting each chapter of Soldier’s Heart on AO3 as I go. Happy writing!
You had me at: ‘Reaper scouts on Tuchanka.’ love sci-fi and you nailed it.
Thank you, Bryan! Glad you enjoyed it.
I agree with Bryan, you had me at Reaper scouts. There’s so much to unpack here and it’s pulled me in. I’d love to read this when it’s done!
Thank you, Leslie! I know some people like to wait and binge them all at once, but I’m posting chapters online as I finish each one, if you want to read Soldier’s Heart on AO3. It’s a free fan site run by the Organization for Transformative Works. No registration required.
Hey, friend! The non-fiction journaling is a good idea for keeping your creativity going. So smart. I’m thinking about doing a little poetry again.
Great scene! The dialogue is perfect. I love the mixture of scifi and humanity.
A bit of perspective…this is a mystery in-progress and the main character is, well, you’ll see. Anne is her aunt and Frodo is Anne’s German Shepherd, Sitka is the local shortening of Sitka Cove, the town in Northern Ontario where my characters live.
******************************
There was a bit of a line to cash out, and as Anne and I stood there talking about Frodo, I noticed two women ahead of us whispering and casting glances back at me. Didn’t need to be a detective to figure out who they were talking about.
“Ignore them, they have small minds and no lives,” my aunt advised.
I handed my purchases off to her and strode forward until I had reached them. They stopped whispering mid-word, and I stuck my hand out.
“Hi, Detective Anais Quinn, but since you were talking about me, you already know who I am,” I smiled as if I were the sweetest person in Sitka right then, and waited for each of them to shake my hand. They were red-faced at being caught and confronted. “Any questions? Anything you want to know, I’m right here, so at least have the decency to talk to me face-to-face.”
I continued to smile, and the check-out line was quieter than a morgue. “No? C’mon, you might never get another chance to get the truth instead of a recycled rumour.”
No one said a word.
I nodded slowly. “Have it your way then, but if I find out that either of you are spreading rumours about me, I’ll charge you with defamation, libel and slander,” I reached into my back pocket, knowing the movement exposed the gun in my shoulder holster. I showed them my shield and smiled again. “And since I have this, and I am a detective, believe me when I tell you I can do it.”
Boy, she is a badass. How many times have we wished we had the guts (and the badge) to confront the gossipers. Love it.
I’m glad you told us that Frodo is the German shepherd. Otherwise, this would have been a very mysterious conversation: “…as Anne and I stood there talking about Frodo…” 😆
I love that Anais confronted them like that. You go, girl! 😀
And this was a good line: “I continued to smile, and the check-out line was quieter than a morgue.”
This is great! I’ve been in her position, but didn’t confront. Loved the “quieter than a morgue” line!
Frodo is such a great dog name! (One of ours is named Pippin. ) Great first-person voice in this. It’s really satisfying to see someone confront gossip!
Thanks!
Just to give you some catch-up… Isellta is a fey who’s been captured by Mark Caten, my lead villain. Jay is one of Mark Caten’s guards. He is very close to Isellta. He sees him as something between a kid brother and a young son. Isellta recently came very close to dying and it wrecked Jay to be so helpless to stop it from happening. The only thing that pulled Isellta back to the land of the living was the sound of Robin’s voice. Robin is the vampire who he is in love with. They’ve been separated for several months now. Isellta is convinced that Robin is somewhere on the premises. Maelin, Jay’s girlfriend, is out there searching for him. Okay. I think that should explain enough. 😉
Anyway, here it is…
****
“She’ll find him.” Isellta took another sip of his tea. “You’ll see. Maelin will find him. She will catch his scent. She will follow it. It will lead her straight to him. My Robin. My Robin.”
Jay petted Isellta’s soft hair. “I hope so. You deserve this.”
The fey tilted his head and blinked quickly.
“After all of the garbage and hurt you’ve gone through, you deserve to be reunited with the one you love.”
“Oh.” So, that’s it? That’s what I deserve? I hadn’t thought about it that way. “And you deserve to be happy. Simply, wonderfully happy. No more fears. No more frustrations.” He laid his hand on Jay’s face. “No more tears. No more crying for my dear Jay.”
Jay set the mostly empty cup on the nightstand and kissed the middle of Isellta’s forehead. “You’re such a sweet kid. How could Preyuna or anyone else hurt you?”
If I answer his question, he’ll get mad at me. Or it will make him upset. I don’t want to make Jay upset. I’ve done that more than enough these past couple days.
“Jay.” He carefully leaned forward and hugged him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
Jay returned the hug.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, kid.” He stroked Isellta’s back, from his neck to the middle of his wings. “All that matters is you’re okay. You’re alive and you’re okay. That’s all that matters to me.”
Isellta dug his fingers into the back of Jay’s shirt. “He’ll be here soon. Maelin will find Robin and lead him in here. You’ll see, Jay. Robin will finally come to me.”
“I hope so.”
Emotions, secrets, hope, love… they ooze out of this scene. I really hope Robin shows.
Thank you so much! 😀
Thank you for sharing.
Yummy. I want to know what they all look like and what it all means. Excellent prose.
Thank you so much!
Isellta is a young fey, somewhere between 20-25 years old. He has a long, lean body, soft blond hair with bangs, blue eyes, and large black wings.
Jay is a human, somewhere between 34-40 years old. He has brown hair, brown eyes, and for some reason I always imagine him looking like the actor who plays Sam Winchester from the tv series Supernatural.
Another Supernatural fan here!!! lol Sam Winchester is a great character. <3
Absolutely! He is the best! 😀
I seriously didn’t want this scene to end! Well done! Plus you had me when you said Jay looks like Sam Winchester. I love Supernatural.
Aww! Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
It’s a funny thing: I’m terrible when it comes to saying who my main characters look like. I usually have a vague idea of what my characters look like, but it’s usually too vague to pin it down to this actor or this model. But with Jay I just knew. I was like “Yep. He totally looks like Sam Winchester.” 😆
Perfect
Thank you! 😀
Aww, this was so sweet! I really enjoyed these characters!
Thank you so much! I love writing these two characters. Their friendship happened without me planning on it and it’s one of my favorite things to write.
Oh, this is a really emotional situation! Great use of internal monologue. Thanks for posting!
Thank you so much! I considered posting a Hank and Dave scene, but I liked this small Isellta and Jay moment. So, I decided to share it instead. 🙂
Here is the beginning of something, I think. These two are yelling at me to write more. Don’t you just love demanding characters? So far they are:
Ralph and the Prince.
Ralph’s legs burned. He clutched his rib cage and rubbed the twitching muscle which begged him to stop. The intercept lay two hundred yards ahead. Holding the flaming torch higher he inhaled, hardened his resolve and pushed himself forward.
His blood beat in his ears and he struggled to quiet his breathing. He slowed, as he approached the archway. Moving with caution, he allowed the flames to illuminate his surroundings and he checked the shadows. No one lurked, no sign of ambush. Beyond the opening was a solid wall, his choice was to turn north or south. His torch showed nothing but an empty corridor running in both directions.
“Am I too late?” he wondered.
Somewhere water dripped, creating a steady cadence that echoed in the dark tunnel. Ralph leaned forward. He twisted his head to the right, extended his left arm to push the sputtering light as far from his ears as he could manage. He strained to decipher the second sound hidden in the reverberations. It was almost imperceptible, but there was the sound of a slow plodding horse.
“We’re in a race against time. Why would he move so slowly? Was it someone else? A trap?”
The flame crackled and sputtered. It had served its purpose, and he extinguished it. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he listened again. It was difficult to figure the direction of travel, but the footfalls grew clearer, getting closer. If it was the prince, he would approach from the south. Ralph moved to the right side of the arch hidden from whoever approached but granting him an unobstructed view of the corridor.
He waited, as the steady trod advanced toward him.
A tall black stallion proceeded into the intersection, carrying a large dark bundle. Ralph stepped around the archway and peered into the darkness. Nothing and no one followed. He clicked softly.
“Whoa, boy,” he said. The horse snorted and stopped.
As he moved closer, he could tell it wasn’t a pack, but a man strapped to the horse’s back. Ralph made soothing sounds, reached for the bridle and led the stallion into the shadows. He patted its neck and turned his attention to the rider. The man’s black cloak bore the royal crest. He lifted his head twisting his face towards him.
“My Prince?”
His eyelids fluttered, and he struggled to focus.
“Ralph,” he said, “Ralph, we must hurry. No time to….”
He didn’t wait to hear more. He mounted, situating himself behind the slumped form, his feet found the stirrups and he grabbed the reins.
“Yah,” he called as he leaned over the prince’s body. The horse jolted forward, and they raced into the night.
Ooo! This is intriguing. I would gladly read more. 🙂
Ooo, good, cause they are forcing me to write more. ?
Hahaha! I know that feeling. I always say that I’m more than a little addicted to writing my current story.
Wow! Great mood and pacing!
Thank you for the kind words.
I concur! Imagery was very well done. What is it about dripping water that makes a scene more eerie?
What’s the catefory, please? lI got a sense of fantasy or Folk lore or…??? Love your writing. More. More. More.
Hi, Bryan. Yes, the story is leaning toward fantasy. These two are being rather secretive, but a new character has appeared and she is revealing some interesting tidbits. I am writing as fast as I can. ???
Oh, wow. That’s delightfully intriguing!!! Please write faster so I can read the whole story!
Thanks Leslie, I’m writing as fast as I can. ???
Oooh! I love the physical details of him running, and I really want to know what happened to the prince and what happens next.
Thank you, Bryn. I hope they tell me a great story.
I really enjoyed your excerpt, Bryn. You have a way of writing very natural conversation that moves. I really loved this whole part:
“You once told me about your bowel movement.”
Michael was about to deny this, but then had a vague recollection of it. “That was just making conversation,” he mumbled.
“You and my grandfather think that’s appropriate conversation.”
Aw, thank you so much!
You’re very welcome! 😀
Great scene as always, Bryn! I loved the banter between Michael and Nic, and the detail that Val cried because sex was nice. I have an empath in my story too, and I can just see her doing that, too, if she weren’t Claire’s aunt and therefore unconscionably old (i.e. my age).
I am on my second round of agent edits for my oracle story, almost done but wanting to add just a wee bit more calamity for my characters before sending it back. Here’s an excerpt.
When Gareth touches me, I feel both safe and not safe at all. I become all nerve and sensation, a firework about to explode. When we kiss, I understand why a kiss is the climax to nearly every fairy tale I’ve read. If I were cursed, his kiss would totally break it, and if I weren’t cursed, I’d find a witch to insult and get turned into a frog. Any excuse for him to kiss me again.
Then again, that’s true love’s kiss. And me and Gareth, we’re not there yet. But one day we might be. The very idea sends little tingles wandering down my spine.
It’s almost enough to put the oracle business out of my mind.
Almost.
“In stranger lands/I set my feet/Upon the path . . .”
Gareth sings and the world drops away. He bows over the guitar like he’s praying; his fingers across the strings are so intimate I’m jealous, and I wonder what else his fingers might be skilled at. His voice a bit raw, he catches me in his gaze and finishes the song: “In stranger lands/I found my home.”
I get goosebumps all over, even though it’s June, and the coffee shop AC is down—again. As soon as Gareth takes his bow and leaves the stage, I hop up to give him an enormous hug. His lean torso is warm against me, and I deeply inhale the scent of aftershave—and dryer sheets? Whatever it is, he smells divine.
His hand rests at my waist, fingers tangling in the ends of my hair. “I guess you liked my set, then.”
Oops. That was pretty darned forward, wasn’t it? I step back, ducking my head.
His eyes twinkle with merriment, and the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Oh, so now you’re shy.”
“No, it’s not that.” Though I don’t understand how he makes me both brazen and timid at the same time. “It’s—well, we haven’t discussed if we’re okay with PDAs yet.”
“Public displays of affection.” He chuckles and looks around the room. “There are nine people here.”
“A pretty big audience for this place.”
He scans the room. An old man still sleeps in the corner—maybe even the same guy as the last time. Techies abound, as usual, clustered over tablets and smartphones and generally oblivious to whatever else is going on. A group of older women sits knitting beside the bulletin board; one of them winks and gives me a thumbs up. Metis. Heat washes over my face, ears, and neck.
This is so sweet. I got goosebumps too.
I love this whole part: “If I were cursed, his kiss would totally break it, and if I weren’t cursed, I’d find a witch to insult and get turned into a frog. Any excuse for him to kiss me again.”
Wow! I loved the entire opening! And I agree with ambroseandelsie about the cursed part. Very well done!
“unconscionably old”–hahaha! This is such a great tingly scene!
Bryn, your scene is very uncomfortable, just as it should be. The bit about him knowing her since he was nine was great. I am glad it seems to end on a positive note, and I am sure you will find a way for him to mess it up. It isn’t a great story until we torture our characters, is it?
Hahaha! How did you guess, Jo? 🙂 They’ll definitely get tortured a little!
Good morning! I’m writing a little palate cleanser that’s an Adventures in Babysitting meets Halloween mashup. A little fun, a little scare, a little teen romance. It’s going to be for my newsletter subscribers:
This is the beginning
You guys can have more ice cream if you’ll go to sleep afterward.” Kelly was so irritated with Sabrina and her friends. They’d made such a mess of Kelly’s makeup, she doubted it was salvageable.
“Why couldn’t they have stayed at your house, Carmen?” Dana asked her, rolling her eyes. “I’m so glad I don’t have younger siblings.”
“Yeah, because you like being the baby and having everyone wait on you,” Carmen said, giving Dana a little shove. “Besides. Mona may be a pain in the ass, but she’s no nerd. She won the Little Miss Fremont pageant two years in a row!”
Kelly was glad to have Dana and Carmen with her to babysit. Kelly’s and Carmen’s parents were out at a bank function together and they’d promised the girls that if they watched their younger sisters, they’d be paid handsomely.
“I can’t believe Andy is throwing a party tonight and we’re stuck with these nerds,” Dana said gazing longingly at the two-story Victorian across the street.
“Doris has been staying here all week while their parents are in New York on business.” Kelly shivered. “It creeps me out. Doris sleepwalks.”
Dana turned back with wide eyes. “Does she really? Far out! Have you messed with her? Like the hand in warm water trick? Freezing her undies?”
“Shut up, Dana,” Carmen said, smacking her friend. “That’s mean.”
Kelly had to laugh, though. “No, I’m not cruel like you. It’s just freaky, you know? She walked into my room the first night and started flicking the lights on and off. Mom said not to wake her up, just to watch her and put her back to bed.”
“Bo-ring,” Dana said, turning back to the window. “I swear, the whole football team is there! C’mon, can’t we leave the nerds here for a little while? I want to see if Tommy Martin brought Bridgett.”
“I thought they broke up?” Carmen asked. Her hands were full of Kelly’s long blonde hair as she wove the strands together into a complicated french braid.
“That’s what he told me last weekend,” Dana said, frowning. “Then the next thing you know, he’s with her at Mowry Lanes and she’s got her hands all over him.”
“Dang, I’m sorry Dana,” Kelly said. “I know you guys have gone out a lot. I thought he really liked you.”
“Oooo Chuck Benavidez is there. I love his van.”
“He’s a dick, though, Dana. I don’t care what kind of car he drives,” Carmen said.
“Yeah, remember he got busted for spray painting devil stuff at Holy Spirit?” Kelly asked.
“I’m sure he was just screwing around,” Dana said. “It’s not like he’s really a Satanist. He’s on the football team.”
“Yeah, but he’s also a total burner,” Carmen said. “You never know what he’s up to. I remember Freshman year he did an oral report for English on Charles Manson. He was way too interested in it.”
Dana groaned and plopped down on the couch with her arms crossed. “Yeah, well, it’s not like it matters. When you don’t put out, those football guys don’t stick around.”
It’s called 1978 and I’m having a blast! Hope everyone is well! Happy Writing.
Fun and great dialogue. I like the quipy, sarcastic, attitude of the characters.
Thank you. It’s been fun to play. The combo of my favorite time of year approaching and the stress of starting back to work (part-time teacher) meant the need for escape? I don’t know. I just Started it a couple of days ago and I’m hoping to finish this weekend. My reader group suggested several elements to include in the story so that made it fun!
Great dialog and what great friends. I’m glad they didn’t leave her and the “nerds” to go to the party.
Wellllll, they are teenagers and it is a horror story, so yeah, they have to split up eventually… ?
Hi R.L.! I love the energy! I bet it’s fun to write, because it’s fun to read!
Thanks Bryn! Some of my favorite scenes I’ve written involved teens or pre-teens. I have Two teenagers in the house plus teaching so I’m around them all the time, however the fact they are in my face most of the time has kept me from writing YA, even though it’s fun to write their age group. I think When mine are grown and out I may be ready. I love Stranger Things and it’s been an inspiring show to watch for so many reasons. Who knows? Maybe this little palate cleanser will lead me in a different direction! But pretty soon I’ll be back to gay contemporary romance and wacky paranormals. That’s what’s on the to-do list. Thanks for allowing us to share! I appreciate everyone’s feedback! Plus I’m enjoying reading the other posts! Well done folks!
Here is the end of Time to Say Goodby the current chapter of my WIP, A Rattlesnake Loose, about a Lady Knight.
“You are a clever girl, Grace,” Methuselah says.
“Maybe too clever,” Bess warns.
“We love you. You are welcome back when you are tired of playing knight, and wish for a simple honest life,” Methuselah says as he gathers me into a hug. “I have not asked you for anything other than your love and you have given it freely and more. Please hear me now, one of my children has asked to be your disciple, to learn what you will teach her. We have agreed to let her travel with you.”
Does she understand my teachings are hard and painful, that she will suffer sleepless nights, cuts and bruises, stubbed toes and black eyes, swimming in freezing water?”
“She has talked to Sir Upatu, she understands,” Bess says.
“Let her step forth and pledge for herself.”
I try to guess which of the older girls will step forth, and I look at their faces trying to detect who is nervous.
It is little Electa who steps out from between the older girls skirts and walks up to stand facing me.
“Electa show me the arrow I gave to you.” With pride, she holds her Kyudo arrow level in her tight fist.
I also take hold of the arrow and ask, “Do you pledge on your honor to follow, without question, your knight-master? Do you seek to continuously improve yourself, that you may do good for all who shall need your help? This pledge is not to impede your faith. To show your commitment and prove this is your choice, turn the arrow point up.”
Electa twists hard on the shaft and I resist with equal determination. The point starts to rise, not because I’m weak, but the arrow is bending. Electa sees and starts to relax. I say, “Which do you want more, the arrow or your own spurs, ancient symbol of a knight?”
With a sharp twist of her wrist the arrow snaps in half. Electa holds the broken half out for all to see. “Lady Knight I pledge myself to you.”
“Hand me the arrow,” I command. I pull out an extra bow string and firmly bind the two halves of the arrow together. Handing it to Electa, I say, “Keep this token of your promise and faith. In ancient times a broken arrow symbolized peace.”
I can’t hide the tears and bury my eyes against my arm and snort a wad of snot onto the cave floor.
“Don’t worry Grace, you are a good mother and I’m proud of you,” Bess says.
Mounting my horse I take hold of Abraham in his soft new deerskin sling. I pull proud Electa up behind me. Brittany is on Upatu’s courser with Sampson also in a deerskin sling. My other children are on their two horses, Wachita not being old enough to ride by herself sits behind Kendo. Upatu takes his horse’s lead and guides us out of the cave on foot. I see Methuselah’s family no more.
This is very intriguing. I love the idea of a Lady Knight and her training young, brave girls. I want to know more about this story.
The story A Rattlesnake loose is only on facebook group, The Wolf Chronicles Group.
Thank you, very much for the boost. I’ve worked on the concept a while.
I really enjoyed this! I’m a sucker for rituals, anyway, and this is so intriguing. Go, Electa!
The Knighting final lessons, ordeal and ceremony is pretty cool too.
My current WIP is called The Eye of Dagda, which is a sci-fantasy with romance thrown in because it kept writing itself in there. In this scene, there was a bit of a scuffle between MC Deneth and her former compatriots, in defense of a diner full of Earthlings. The object of her desire is Fort Davis, Texas Deputy Sheriff Galen Winter.
Her brain sluggishly became aware of her surroundings. The crackle of a fire, the metallic smell of blood mixed with dirt and sweat. She was laying on something soft and warm, and it had been an age since she was warm. With a sigh, sleep attempted again to dig its claws into her consciousness but a sound nudged her awake.
A footstep, followed by a mix of musk, spice and leather. She breathed in the masculine scent, enjoying where her thoughts were heading with the Terran, when a different face put an end to her dream.
Olan. Your blood is on my hands.
The deep breath she started to take turned into a gasp of pain at a sharp jab just under her ribs.
“Easy, there,” said the Terran in his rumbling drawl. Deneth cracked an eye as he lowered himself to sit on the low table next to her with a glass of water in his hand.
“You collapsed,” he said then grimaced. “Uh, I saw what you did. Thank you for stopping that big guy from going after Momma.”
Her eyes widened. He saw? No one should have been aware. Leaning her weight into her elbow on the sofa beneath her to sit up, she clenched her teeth on a curse. Her jacket was draped over the other arm of the sofa, and a drab-colored blanket covered her legs. As she moved, it slid lower, exposing her skin to the cool air.
Looking down, her black sleeveless compression garment was marred by a six-inch slice just under her breast. She lifted the undershirt to remove a loosely applied bandage covering a shallow stab wound.
His face was scrunched. “I could have sworn that was deeper.” He put the glass down then picked up a white box with a red cross on it. In it were assorted bandages, rolls of white strips and several small square packets.
“I’m glad it is not,” Deneth hissed through her teeth. The injury was itching like mad.
“Now that you’re conscious, I can clean it proper,” he said with a little wink. “Then if you’re hungry, I’ll reheat your supper. Momma sent along some of her famous key lime pie.”
“Yes, Sherr-eff,” she chuckled, leaning back into the end of the sofa with her arms over her head. She propped her long legs up on the other end, but kept her dirt-encased boots off the dark green fabric.
“I’m a Deputy,” he corrected, but his smile grew larger.
“Ah,” she drawled, then frowned. “Is there a difference?”
“Well, the sheriff’s usually an elected official. I was hired.” Deneth covered a yawn with her hand.
“Ah ha.” Her eyes began to flutter closed when the burn of the antiseptic roused a groan from her. Any comment was frozen on her lips by the tingling of him blowing on her skin.
“Sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you it would sting.”
Wow, Sara, your style is cool and professional. You capture so much with your words. This is a novel I would buy. WoW. Love it.
Thank you ☺️ This will be my fourth novel, when I finally finish it! I previously published a sports romance series set in the women’s pro cycling peloton in Europe, called Wheeler.
Hi, Sara! Hey, I did trim your excerpt to bring it under the 500-word limit. I really enjoyed this! I’d love to read more!
Whoops!! Sorry. I copied from my phone – no word count. It’s still pretty raw and the ending is still in my head but thank you!
Dialogue from my work in progress. Haven’t shared for awhile. Thank you Bryn for offering this opportunity. You do inspired me with your authenticity and non-judgmental replies. Here you go..
Texting…Low Simmer
Jenna finished making one of Jake’s favorite dinners. As she put it in the oven, her phone dinged with a text. Jake’s handsome face appeared. Her lips turned upward with a smile as her heartbeat kicked up a notch.
Jake…Hi. What are you doing?
Jenna…Just finished making your favorite dinner for tonight. Pork chop casserole. It’s in the oven.
Jake…Hmmm. You are the best wife ever.
Jenna…And flattery will get you anything.
Jake…Anything? Okay, then. I want you to be naked when I get home in exactly forty-six minute.
Jenna…Are you sexting me?
Jake…Yes. Been thinking about you all day.
Jenna…Well, I’ll put the casserole on a very low simmer.
Jake…I’ve been on a low simmer all day!
Jenna…Is sex all you think about?
Jake…Yes
Jenna…See you in the bedroom in exactly forty-six minutes.
Jake…I’ve been cooking all day and a bit overcooked. I love you.
Jenna…I love you too overcooked or otherwise.
Jake…Forty-two minutes and counting…You better be naked.
Jake arrived home and about tripped over his own feet making a beeline to the bedroom. He entered the bedroom removing his tie and jacket all at the same time. Jenna laid in bed with only the sheet draped across her breasts. She flashed him her signature smile and she winked at him.
“Are you naked under there?”
“Guess you’ll have to get over here and find out for yourself.”
“Ive been on a low simmer all day” hahaha! Really fun exchange. Thanks for posting, Jan!
This is from my ongoing Jack Jilhouse story. Jack has problems. He’s been having recurring nightmares about being kidnapped, but he can’t remember ever being kidnapped. He has a persistent feeling that something is wrong with himself, but he doesn’t know what. He’s worried that he might be going insane or something. Of course, the truth is stranger than he suspects.
This excerpt is Jack waking up from a dream that is not his usual nightmare.
****
Jack woke with a gasp. He could still see her face.
He flicked on the lamp beside his bed, grabbed his pen and journal, and tried to sketch her face as fast as he could.
Her jawline.
Her broad nose.
Her eyes.
Jack shaded in her eyes and tried to focus on what her hair looked like.
Her image faded and disappeared.
“Darn it!” He slammed his pen into the journal.
Jack was about to close the book, but something in her eyes pulled at him. “Who are you?”A name came to his mind. Only to flee before he could fully think it or say it.
He tried to remember the shape of her mouth, the lines of her lips. But even that memory was gone. He picked up his pen and touched it to the paper.
She had hair.
She must have had hair.
He drew a line from above her forehead and ran it down in a wave along the side of her face.
Down past her jaw.
Down to her undrawn shoulder.
He drew another line and another line and another line. Her hair grew longer in multiple wavy lines.
Jack stopped.
This isn’t right. It isn’t right and I don’t know why.
Maybe it’s the wrong colored ink.
Maybe she was blonde.
Jack sighed and closed the book. “Maybe I’m just being stupidly tired. Maybe I just need more sleep.” He shut off the lamp and laid back down.
Maybe it’s nothing but a dream. Maybe I need to stop worrying about stupid dreams.
Dreams I can’t even remember.
He rolled over on his side.
I can’t remember who she is. I just know she isn’t Callie. There’s no way that she’s Callie. But I know her. I know who she is. I know her name.
He huffed out a sigh and flopped over on his other side.
I just don’t know who she is.
Great sense of urgency. I am curious and intrigued to read more. Well crafted.
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it! 😀
Hey there! What an intriguing premise! I’m really wondering what’s going on and who he’s remembering. Thanks for posting!
Thank you very much! In this WIP, I have two seemingly unconnected storylines going on: Jack’s and Lord Deama’s. At a certain point, their stories will converge and things will make more sense and be even more confusing for poor Jack. But I haven’t reached that point yet. I’m still building my way towards it. 🙂
What a wonderful excerpt, Bryn. In five hundred words you manage intrigue me, make me laugh (bowel movement) and tease me into wanting more. Empaths. Sex. Humor. Tantalizing cliffhanger. Amazing.
Here is a bit of my romance novel I am pitching during Pitmad tomorrow. Hint. Hint. Yeah, subtley and me departed ways a few years ago.
Hunter crooned a love song to the crowd when he looked up and saw a vision enter the ballroom. Lights low, couples shuffling on the dance floor in loving embraces—Hunter stuttered, and almost missed his cue. Framed in the doorway, Bethany sparkled in a modern haute couture gown he recognized from the runway at the last Chanel show in Paris. Hunter knew the dress because he’d bought it for his sister, Jewel—though she’d never worn it. Now he realized, no one could look as stunning in the Lagerfeld creation as Bethany looked right now. For the second time in his life, Bethany Summers stole away his breath.
Highlighted under the glow of a low-lying chandelier, Bethany paused in her borrowed silk gown. With its translucent elements and contrasting nude slip, the dress showcased her voluptuous figure. The fitted bodice was embellished with shimmering sequins embroidered over a rounded neckline. The sequins snuck down the full-length sleeves, continued around the tight midriff and hips until ending at the fishtail hem that gently trailed behind Bethany’s peek-a-boo heels as she stepped onto the dancefloor.
Hunter nodded to the backup singer. She took over the lead vocals as he hopped off the stage. Dancing couples moved out of the way of the man on a mission to find the woman who kept stealing his heart. Finally, she appeared before him.
Time slowed.
The music swelled.
Without saying a word, Hunter stared into Bethany’s eyes while holding trembling hand towards her.
For a split second, Bethany hesitated. But Hunter’s hand moved of its own volition, reaching across the divide, he gently took her hand in his. The love song crescendoed. The singer’s melodic voice serenading the room with words of hope and magic—of destiny and fate. Bethany inched closer to Hunter, inhaling his musky scent as the heat from his body forced goosebumps to run wild across her arms. They swayed to the song’s rhythm. Their movements slow. The space between them decreasing as they pressed their bodies tighter together.
Too soon, the love song ended, and the band broke seamlessly into a popular up-tempo tune.
“I’ll never forget this dance, Bethany,” Hunter whispered still holding her hand gently in his while he bowed like a prince to his fairytale princess.
Without thinking, Bethany curtseyed, too, playing her role to perfection. Suddenly, to Beth’s dismay, her stomach heaved then roiled then gurgled. And without any warning, except for a tiny little burp that escaped her lips, Bethany’s stomach rejected whatever bacteria lived in the moon pool’s water and, she—
…heaved.
Hot, putrid, half-digested food spewed all over Hunter’s sexy designer suit—covering him in pieces of lobster and pasta and a strange yellow-colored liquid.
Mortified, Bethany’s hand shot to her open mouth. Words failed her. Her vomit covered the man she was trying to seduce.
“Well,” said Hunter, standing ramrod straight to minimize dripping onto the floor, “at least we got that out of the way.”
Apparrently, I didn’t sign in when I dropped my story. Oh, the shame.
I updated it to put your name on there! 🙂
Oh, my goodness. Poor Bethany! I am cringing so hard for her! Hey, if these two can get over that, they can get over anything. 🙂 Thanks for sharing! And thanks for the kind words, too. 🙂 (Good luck with PitMad! I don’t think I have time to do it today, though we are open to submissions.)
Nice scene, Bryn. I liked the first book and am anxious for the sequel. In my WIP, the SEALs just smashed their way into the bad guy lair to rescue an American Journalist being held captive.
**************************************************************************
Claire swallowed back bile as the men holding her captive dropped like stones one after the other in rapid succession. “Holy crap,” she whispered under her breath as she pushed herself against the warm cinder block wall of her cell. Whoever these new guys were, they meant business.
It was like watching a violent video game. Only this was real. Shrapnel bounced around the walls. Claire wrapped her hands over her head in search of protection.
One of the new men opened her cell door and reached for her. She briefly wondered how many groin kicks she could land before he overpowered her. No way was she going with this thug without a fight. She reared back and punched him hard in the jaw with a bone crunching blow. The recoil rode its way up her arm. She winced, shook her hand in pain, then ruined her big moment by bursting into tears.
“Claire O’Brien?”
Her eyes flew open. The big man knew her name. And apparently he was unfazed by the punch she’d landed. She shook her aching limb again. Evidently it was her hand that crunched and not his jaw.
“US Navy SEALs. Come with me.”
He bodily lifted her and hustled them both out the front door. Just as they cleared the building, Claire felt herself thrust forward by a thunderous explosion. “Oooph” flew from Claire’s lungs when the big man threw himself on top of her, protecting her from falling debris.
“Noooo!” Cowboy shouted as he ran into what remained of the smoldering jail.
Mac knew from Cowboy’s reaction the explosion went off before he’d planned. He rolled off Claire and onto his feet in one smooth move. “Who’s still in there?!” he demanded.
“Giz,” Cosmo replied just as Cowboy emerged with a limp bloody body over his shoulder.
“Cosmo take point. Rooster get Gizmo out of here. Cowboy sweep. Move out!”
“I’ve got him Mac,” Cowboy insisted.
“Take him, Rooster!” Mac commanded. Cowboy closed his eyes as Rooster took Gizmo from him and checked for a pulse
“He’s alive, Cowboy,” Rooster said quietly as he shouldered his teammate and followed Cosmo into the jungle.
“I said move!” Mac bellowed once again as he hauled Claire to her feet, grabbed her good hand, and pulled her along. He didn’t ask if she was alright. There wasn’t time. When she stumbled, he caught her around the waist to keep her from falling, and kept on going.
There was no time to stand around and argue. People were already pouring out of the main house. No doubt alerted to the trouble by the explosion. Cowboy hung his head in grief and guilt for a fleeting moment. Commander Pierson was right. Gizmo paid the heavy price of his recklessness.
Diana, thank you for the kind words! And hooooooly smokes, this was exciting. I was just writing a shootout scene (I almost posted that one.) I love how you handled this. Just terrific.
OMG, I laughed so hard about the bowel movement line. This was so much fun and I could just see two guys having this conversation!
So, my scene is from a Gemini Asunder subplot with Asmodeus the demon king and Jimena a Bathory Berserker girl. Circe is a witch goddess in the series.She was recently resurrected and has discovered the incredible power she can gain from humans believing in her; kind of like a tulpa.
***
Asmodeus curled up in his bed, alone for a change, but it was for the best. He was in no mood for a dalliance today, not after seeing what a success Circe had made of her campaign. The television reporters were positively giddy at the spectacle she’d made the night before, everyone was clamoring to know who she was and how to see her and get healed.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, Circe had social media fan pages created. Of course, first the Berserker child had to explain what social media was, drat it.
He wanted to beat the girl senseless for not telling him about this new fangled communication treasure trove earlier—not because he really thought she’d done anything wrong—but because she was there and no one else was.
“Poor little poppet. I do like her so, but at this rate I’ll have to kill her to break through my ennui and find the will to get out of bed.”
Someone tapped on his door.
“Is that you, Jimena?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want?”
“To give you news that will delight you.”
He pushed up in the bed. “Has Circe been found out for the deceitful minx she is and been shot?”
“No.”
“Have you found me figgy pudding?”
“I don’t know what that is, so no.”
“Have all the humans come to love me and worship me?”
“Not hardly.”
“Brat,” he muttered.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. What do you want then?”
“Like I said before, I have good news.”
Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “Fine. But make it quick.”
Jimena opened the door a crack and peeked inside.
Smart, considering the sexscape she saw the last time she just walked in the room.
“I had a visit from a little crow a few minutes ago.”
“You mean a little birdie told you something?”
“No, I mean a little crow.”
Her emphasis caught his attention. “And what did this little crow have to say?”
“The woman Taryn?”
He slid down in the bed and covered his head with a pillow; still depressed by the recent failure of the plans he had for Taryn. Death tended to disrupt machinations. “Gah, what about her? And tell me quick before I smite you out of ill will.”
“She’s alive.”
“What?” he asked, throwing off the pillow and sitting up. “Say that again.”
“The woman Taryn is alive. She’s been spotted at the InBetween with Libra and the other Zodiacs, hearty and hale.”
Asmodeus sat very still for a moment, his mind racing, before he let out a loud ‘whoop’. “Well, don’t just stand there, girl, fetch me some clean clothes. I have plans to make.”
Jimena closed the door.
“And fetch me some figgy pudding!” he yelled at her retreating steps.
“Still don’t know what that is!”
“And fetch me a trollop,” he hollered while dancing a jig.
A groan echoed in the hallway. “Fine.”
Asmodeus continued his happy dance, his eyes half closed. “I loves me some trollop.”
Leslie! This cracked me up! What does it take for a demon king to get some figgy pudding around here? Ha ha. I love the whole concept of the tulpa, too. Thanks for sharing this.
There is so much character in this excerpt! I really enjoyed reading this. You can feel the emotions shift!
What came up for me to share today is from the first chapter of my YA fantasy, Moon in the Day Sky. Recently I broke the contract with my POD publisher because it really wasn’t ready to be published when I paid my money and signed the contract. I thought it was wonderful as it was, but I didn’t know at the time how much better it could be. So now I have another chance to bring it up to professional quality and it is a Work in Progress once more.
Starsha lay in her bed listening to a mournful moaning. She remembered the first time she heard it; the night the clansmen returned with the golden chalice. Each night it grew more intense. She finally confided in Telsa, her master’s wife, “Someone is crying in the night.”
“It is only the wind,” the Ebony Clan woman told her.
In her sixteen winters, Starsha had heard the wind song many times. Never had it pierced her the way this voice did. It called to the emptiness in her own life, making the gulf ever wider between herself and these Ebony Clan people with whom she lived.
Starsha got up. She felt for the peg that held her threadbare linen clothing. Dressing in the dark proved a blessing for she didn’t have to look at the dingy gray-white color of her shift or the long apron she now tied about her waist. Even if she had not been a servant, and had been permitted to wear the clan color, it wasn’t one that she cared for. The black wool from the clan animals was harsh and severe. Her auburn hair and warm skin tones went much better with the brown wool of the clan where she had last lived, but she hadn’t brought anything with her that would tie her to her past. It was safer that way.
The plaintive sound returned — definitely not a dream, she decided. Searching for the source of the moaning, Starsha peered out the window. Glass-distorted constellations returned her gaze; the most noticeable, a region of black sky devoid of stars.
She turned away from the window and skirted the beds. As she moved to the fireplace, she listened to the breathing and snoring of the other girls in the clan leader’s household. Even their sleep was common ground for them and her wakefulness set her apart. She knelt on the plank floor, took a log from the wood box and laid it on the glowing coals. Starsha breathed in the scent of burning wood. The room would be warm when they awoke. She lit a candle in the new flame and left them to dream.
Tiptoeing to the side of the room, Starsha grasped a smooth iron door handle and pressed down on the latch. Its click pierced the silence. She glanced nervously at the sleeping girls, but no one stirred.
As quietly as she could, she swung open the heavy wooden door and stepped out onto the landing, then closed the door.
The candle threw wavering light upon the descending stairs and the rounded logs of the walls. As her bare feet touched the floor planks of the council hall, she savored the solitude. Later that day the six long tables would be wrestling mats for opinions and commotion, but now it was her domain. She presided over stillness. Even the moaning subsided.
Jessie, I love getting to know your work more and more. I think it’s great that you’re bringing it to its complete potential! This has such a classic high fantasy voice. This kind of story was my first love as a reader (I’ve probably said that once or twice before) and I am so here for it. Thanks for posting!
Today a neighbor needed a ride to an appointment. Concluding one of the stops she needed, a small butterfly the same color and size been resting on my apartment window frequently I saw
on a shopping cart rail where I parked. I have named it “wings”.
What a great little snippet! A little magical. I love it.
Great stuff, Bryn! Yep…seriously looking forward to reading the second book in its entirety. 🙂 Hope everyone’s having a great month. Nothing new from me this month…just continuing the editing and will begin stalking agents again soon.
Oh, thanks Lisa. Happy editing and I’m sending you good stalking vibes! Wait, that sounds bad… 😀 You know what I mean!
Dear Bryn,
A bit of an activist’s text that I composed earlier this morning.
https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/99141736/posts/2402580956
All the best, Howard
I’m working on a short story at the moment. I don’t know if I’ll do anything with it, but it feels good to complete a draft. Here’s a sample.
“Donald?”
“Yes, ma’am,”
I replied as I shut the door. I have another look at her. Her dress was pretty short. Like she was looking for a date or something. Maybe she was desperate.
“About time you showed up!”
I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. I just received the request five minutes ago. She slammed the door. As the window rattled, I could tell this was going to be a long drive, even if the ETA was relatively short.
Hey Bryn! Friendly neighborhood lurker again this month… Out of context, that would sound so inappropriate. But maybe soon I’ll have something I can contribute to WIP Wednesday 🙂 I miss this! Love coming here to read your excerpts though, and the others. It’s like a writing circle I can pop in on when I have the time. You mentioned about not being in a good place emotionally and it affecting your writing – I felt that. I think that is part of the reason I’m a bit stagnant right now, aside from the busyness of life. How did you dig your way out of it?
Anyway, glad all is right again. I can feel the suspense building in your scene for whatever mission is coming up. There’s a lot of tension in that dialogue even as Michael tries to play it cool. Loved it!
I don’t have the copy right here, but I’m writing a WOF based story and a adventure-fantasy-romance hybrid story
Found the copy! Please give me ideas on what should happen next!
~
I glanced behind my shoulder. They were right behind us! I turned to Jason. “They’re behind us!” I called to him. He nodded and kept running as did I. Suddenly, He stopped. “Look out!” He called. I stopped and looked down. There was a deep rocky canyon about three footsteps away. One second and I’d be gone. “Thanks” I smiled. “You’re welcome” He blushed. I felt a chill creep down my spine. Suddenly, Two bulky hands grabbed me by the waist. I screamed for Jason, but he had disappeared. ‘They must’ve taken him’ I thought, sadly as the hands pulled me away.
BTW, I’m naming a character,Bryn, after you