What are you Writing? (Sunday Fiction Post-up: Vol. 22)

A view of the Parselette Forest, be ware the poisonous fruit.

A view of the Parselette Forest, be ware the poisonous fruit.

Time for the Sunday Fiction Post-up! Come share your current work-in-progress here. I’ve been chugging along on my dragon novel, it’s been slow some days, but I’ll have to push through the next month with large word counts. Wish me luck!

I invite you to post your title, genre/sub-genre and about 100-150 words starting on the first paragraph of page 31. I know I have a few non-writers, so you may also post an excerpt from your current blog post-in-progress. No need for critique, just a little writer love.

Here’s mine :

I inch forward enough to peek around the edge of the entryway to get a look at what is a gaping hole in the ceiling of the recruit commons room when I spot Jamari. Relief washes over me when I see she has all her limbs. She’s wedged in the small space created by one of the bookcases fallen against a long metal study table. Our eyes meet and I see the hard determination in her eyes I often see in field exercises. She’s got a plan.

Jamari’s eyes dart to the other side of the room. Huddled in front of a pile of debris that looks like large part of the mountainside caved into the room, is a recruit tucked into himself. He’s small, maybe no bigger than me, his dark eyes are wide and even from across the room I see him visibly shake. Lurking behind in a cloud of gray smoke, the Stoker’s low guttural purr rumbles in its throat and the sound sends a tremor through me that’s both thrilling and frightening. I wish I could see more than its silhouette.

Have a great Sunday! And Write on!

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6 Responses to What are you Writing? (Sunday Fiction Post-up: Vol. 22)

  1. That’s very exciting! Is the Stoker a dragon?

    Here’s mine, an excerpt from Dark City:

    He steps slowly towards me, tapping the nightstick against his left palm. “You think I’m bluffing, boy?”

    “Two hundred,” I say.

    “Goddamn kids.” He swings the nightstick, eyes half closed with boredom. They open with slight surprise when it doesn’t connect with my face. He swings again, a dark blur downward. I leap to the side. On the upstroke I grab his wrist, my fingers clenched like teeth in a powerful jaw. A sharp twist and the poor excuse for a weapon falls to the floor with a clunk. I yank him towards me, driving a solid punch to his gut.

    He leans over, wheezing, and I let him go. He straightens slowly, smoothing his comb over back into place. “You do Kung Fu or something?” he says.

    “Krav Maga.”

    He squints. “What now?”

    Liked by 2 people

  2. luckyjc007 says:

    That does sound exciting!

    Here’s mine…an excerpt from Maya Angelou’s ..Wouldn’t Take Nothing For My Journey Now
    (there is no page 31…it stops at pg.29…has blank pages and then next subject…so I will start with pg 33)

    Spirit is an invisible force made visible in all life. In many African religions there is the belief that all things are inhabited by spirits which must be appeased and to which one can appeal. So, for example, when a master drummer prepares to carve a new drum, he approaches the selected tree and speaks to the spirit residing there. In his prayer he describes himself, his experience, and his expertise; then he explains his intent. He assures the spirit that he will remain grateful for the gift of the tree and that he will use the drum only for honorable purposes.

    I believe that Spirit is one and is everywhere present. That it never leaves me. That in my ignorance I may withdraw from it, but I can realize its presence the instant I return to my senses.

    It is this belief in a power larger than myself…..

    Liked by 1 person

  3. luckyjc007 says:

    Sorry, I did not read it right…the above is something I am in the process of reading for insite into my subject matter that I am preparing.

    Liked by 1 person

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