WIP Wednesday Bryn Donovan

Hi everyone! I’m really excited about my excerpt today. I hope you like it, too!

WIP Wednesday, for new followers, is Work in Progress Wednesday, when I share an excerpt of what I’m working on and invite you to do the same in the comments section. For those of you who are new, here are the guidelines!

Make your excerpt 500 words or fewer; otherwise, I may trim it.

No explicit or graphic content (some coarse language is fine, though.)

No critique, suggestions, or questions on other people’s work (but sharing some encouraging words is good luck for you as a writer.)

Here’s my excerpt from my story about a medieval knight who was turned to stone. In this scene, the spell gets reversed.

A Knight Restored

Emily took a deep breath and marched over to Gryffen’s sculpture. “Okay, listen up,” she half-whispered. “I was thinking about something Gen said, and I have this idea that if I kiss you, it might help break the spell. It probably won’t, but I’m going to try it.”

Gryffen said nothing telepathically, reinforcing Emily’s sneaking suspicion that she had gone completely mad.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, and then pressed her lips against those of the statue. I really like you, she thought as she let them linger for just a moment. Be alive again. She stepped back.

Of course, nothing happened.

***

Gryffen was melting. Crumbling. He hadn’t known what to say when Emily told him of her intention: it was so kind of her, and he’d been certain it would be in vain. Now, in mute horror, he felt himself coming apart.

No, this was for the best. Countless times, he had wished and prayed for death to release him from this unending prison.  He knew not what awaited him on that far shore. Sweet oblivion? Heaven, whatever that might be? No new hell or damnation, he believed, for surely he had suffered punishment enough.

Why, then, should he not embrace this end? Only because of the lady who stood before him, who had brought new light and hope into his grotesque existence.

She turned and walked away. Regret and longing pierced him as the stone of his body disintegrated. But if she were nothing more than a lovely angel of death, still he should give thanks.

“Grammercy, sweet Emily.”

She startled like a deer and gave a little scream. She whipped back around, her brown eyes huge, covering her mouth with her hand.

Could she see that he was dying? Had she not expected to free him thus? Her emotion on his behalf brought him comfort, yet you would not have her mourn.

“You talked.” She trembled, her face white. “You…”

It took Gryffen a moment to understand. He had spoken aloud. She had heard him, not in her mind, but as any living person might.

The shock of it hit him with the force of a lance, knocking him to his knees.

I can move!

Emily approached him, saying in a soft high voice, “Oh my God, oh my God.” Gryffen held his hands in front of him. The find blond hairs dusting the backs of them, the folds around the knuckles, the visible vein tracing a short path from the wrist. His hands. His flesh!

Am I dreaming?

Gryffen leaned back his head and roared at the top of his lungs. His voice. Reverberating off the walls!

A woman’s voice from the next room demanded, “What the hell was that?”

This is no dream.

“Nooo, quiet,” Emily pleaded, kneeling to face him.

He gripped her hands and bent his head to kiss them. “My dearest lady. My sweet angel of deliverance.” His throat tightened as tears came, unbidden but not unexpected. “My Emily.”

Share your own excerpt in the comments section below! Or, if you prefer, just tell us about how your writing’s going (or not going), and what your writing plans are for December. Thanks so much for stopping by, and have a great month!

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