WEWRIWA 8 for 3/31/13

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Happy Easter, everyone!

The following snippet is from my novella, The Sandman. Alex Steele has been injured in a car accident and in a coma discovers the dreams she is having of a serial killer are not what they seem. 

I couldn't see the color of his eyes although I knew that they were a brilliant green, nor could I see his blue jeans and yet I knew he was wearing Wranglers with a pair of worn out, scuffed and battered ancient cowboy boots. He wore a red flannel shirt, left open with a white Hanes wife-beater underneath and his light brown hair was a little on the long side. He wore Axe body spray, a scent I knew but didn't recognize and he smelled of Listerine that was barely concealing the odor of tobacco that you could smell if you got close enough.

I knew all of this, although I couldn't see him clearly then, and I knew much, much more by the time I could. I also might have let this all pass me by without another thought, and in fact, I did somewhat, making it hard to remember and by the time I realized I really needed to, the weeks had turned into months.

The dream might have faded away all together into the gray of what was my damaged brain at the time, disappearing into the oblivion of my memory completely if he hadn't grabbed the young girl right in front of me on that sunny February afternoon.

WEWRIWA 8 Sentences for 3/24/13

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This is part of the ongoing revision of my first novel, "Where Dreams Begin."  In the early 1900's a young girl stands upon the ocean cliffs searching desperately for a sign that her lost love has returned to her. Enjoy!!

She looked back at the stately house standing strong against the coming tempest, seemingly begging for her to return to the safety of its walls. It was a virtual fortress of stone, softened only by the faint glow of candlelight that gently flickered within its vast expanse of glassed windows.

Once again, the sea called to her in a lover’s voice, soft and sweet and she turned to listen.  She could hear her name traveling across the miles of water, “Laura” the voice sang in soft, windy tones.

She stared out across the endless dark water once again, attempting by sheer willpower to create the ship into existence, to bring it home by the mere force of her loneliness. She searched the darkness and silence again finding nothing more than the sound of the voice calling her, biding her to come.

The girl whispered back to the voice, “Jayson” and stepped forward into the darkness of oblivion.

As the girl fell from the cliffs, the sound of laughter rang clear and cruel across the dark water below.