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Nov 252012
 

“Why do you have to play games like this?” Allay asked the god since he was being so forthcoming.

This time the thoughts that came were far more complex than she was prepared for. Everything was connected in multiple ways so that even the slightest change to one thing could multiply it’s affect until something else far removed was altered beyond recognition. Allay couldn’t follow all the consequences through the web. There were patterns for the world from before and after Kayla arrived and different patterns if Allay had been born with a voice. All of them mixed up and swirling around inside her head until she became dizzy.

Oct 142012
 

We are still working on Character Interviews for my new novel that will be written as part of NaNoWriMoHero’s Call.

 

On the other hand, I don’t like going to temple. It’s time that could be spent in so many better ways rather than standing there waiting for my turn to ask the priests if the gods have revealed my cure yet. They never have. I’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t a cure for me because I’m just fine the way that I am. They took my voice, but gave me the ability to see what is in people’s minds. I don’t care if the priests don’t see it that way.

Oct 072012
 

This excerpt is from a character interview of my next novel, “Hero’s Call”.

 

It’s a horrible thing to be aware from such an early age of what other people think. By the time that Mother started leaving me with Missy, I knew that the pain I felt was from Mother not wanting to leave me. Then there were the thoughts of pity from Missy and the others who knew who I was. I could handle that; it was love in a way. From the men who frequent Missy’s pub, I learned all kinds of things that most children never hear. Some people don’t even have the “pleasure” of knowing what some men think of children who can’t scream.

Sep 232012
 

From “Welcome Home” a short still in progress:

 

They told us to travel and see what different regions hat to offer; we are all one world now. Then it was gone. All the oil that all those wars had been fought over was just gone. That’s the party line anyway: the wells were full and then they weren’t. That’s as much of a fairy tale as vampires and the boogey man. Whatever they said it all meant that we were stuck.

 

Be sure to check out all the other great entries as Six Sentence Sunday

Sep 162012
 

From a short short that is out looking for a home. Enjoy and wish it luck.

 

He got up and arranged himself at the top of the stairs to glare at Karen when she came in. She was perpetually early except to parties when she was precisely fifty three minutes late. She claimed that it ensured her entrance would have the greatest effect. He didn’t appreciate it now, effect or not. This was not a party to be crashed, this was his home. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know why she was here.

 

Sep 092012
 

From a Short Story- Bounty Hunter – that is looking for a home:

Without warning his head filled with some of the most hateful thoughts he’d ever had. He knew, like you knew things in a dream, that these thoughts came from Mother. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of love mixed among the hatred and resentment. He’d heard horror stories from the kids he’d been sent to find about how awful it was living at home. It was the kind of things kids blew all out of proportion. Even he couldn’t believe Mrs. Thredau wanted anything more than a perfect copy of herself to show off at charity events.

Aug 262012
 

From a short story soon to be seeking a published home:

The sight of her and the new tray of cookies caught their attention. They stopped trying to break through the windows to turn their yellow eyes on her. They almost had a light of their own glowing out from under those dirty eyelids. She could see the menace and confusion in them as she walked toward them with the tray full of magic. Their hunger flowed off them like fog over a bog. Never before had their dinner come to them.

Please check out other great snippets at Six Sentence Sunday

Aug 122012
 

From “Cookies For All Occasions,”  a short story:

 

 When she was tall enough to reach the top shelf of the cupboard without climbing on the counter, Gran taught her the real secret to baking.

“Think of the things that make you feel the way you want people to feel.”

Simple enough. The hard part was keeping those feelings alive while worrying about the right balance of flour and egg. Kim practiced as often as she could afford the ingredients. Her friends at school complained that she was trying to make them fat with all the cookies she brought to share, but they never turned them down.

Aug 052012
 

“We’re going back to our lives,” he went on. “It will be like this never happened. You’ll be with your family and I…”

“Michael,” her whisper was so close he could feel her breath. Her lips brushed his cheek. “I love you.”

Jul 292012
 

“Sorry, I forget we can’t hear the foot steps out here.” He sat down next to her. “I can still smell you though.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“It’s the best smell in all the world.”

“Don’t think that flattery will win you any prizes.”