I am a writer. I wrote my first novel in 2011. I’ve started 14 more since then, finishing about half of those. One of these days I’ll actually try to find someone to publish them (or just do it myself). Onward!
(If anyone would like to be a beta reader, feel free to drop me a line).
SEVERAL WEEKS AGO
“What are you talking about?” I asked. I knew that being directly confrontational wasn’t necessarily the best of plans when the other person was holding a weapon.
“He came back,” the man beside me said, “from the dead.” An emphatic nod punctuated each word. “But when he did, something came back with him.”
SEVERAL WEEKS AGO
“So what happened then?” I asked him after giving him a moment to recollect his thoughts. “After you talked?”
He turned back to me. “And then he was gone.”
“Gone? Like vanished?” I thought back to how he’d disappeared after in the confessional.
all
that
you know and all that
you are can be gone
in an instant
all that
you can
hope for
is
that
your instant takes an
entire lifetime to
find you and to
claim its
final due
“Lillian, what is it?” She heard Jacobs’ voice, but it felt far away, inconsequential. She floated on the ceiling, barely aware of time slipping by. Seconds, minutes, hours. Jacobs was talking, but she couldn’t even make out what he was saying. What did it matter anyways? Quinn was dead and it was all her fault.
SEVERAL YEARS AGO
I stood in the square before the National Museum of Iraq. staring up at the two towers flanking the central archway. I knew that orders had come down from on high that we were to do everything we could to avoid engaging in a firefight where the building or its contents might be damaged, yet even so there had been excessive looting and for the most part that edict had been followed.
SEVERAL WEEKS AGO
Two thoughts immediately crossed my mind.
Your brother? followed closely on its heels by *Was?
SEVERAL WEEKS AGO
The man with his old army jacket was still standing there facing me across the back of the church. Again, briefly, I considered running. with his gun at his side like that, there was a chance I could at least make it out the front doorway before he could fire.
SEVERAL WEEKS AGO
“Where is he?” the man attached to the gun growled, a rumbling in his voice hinting at a lifetime hard and painful.
I looked up, then up again. The man was huge, taller than me by a head and a half and wide enough that he seemed to fill the doorway. The red and blue flashing I’d seen before lit the regularly lit the door frame to his either side, but I couldn’t see past him to determine his source.
in
space
one can truly
be free
As Lillian shimmied into the suit, with Madeline’s help, she took a moment to think about what was before her. She was going to have to leave the relatively safe confines of the Borealis–safe at least while the shields weren’t disabled–to voyage out into the interstellar void. Outside of the ship, there was nothing. Not the sort of nothing that you could feel when you were in the middle of a deserted road deep into the night, but the crushing nothingness that the human mind isn’t really equipped to handle.
PRESENT DAY
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”
The man on the other side of the screen was tall. I could tell that much just from the shadow he cast; and he was broad at the shoulders.
“It has been–too long–since my last confession.”
It’s November and you know what that means… National Novel Writing Month! Okay, so maybe you didn’t know that, but now you do. 😄