Tag Archives: Fiction

On the Run – Part 1

House Sparrow coming in

Note – I wrote three 100 word stories for Friday Fictioneer that interconnected, making the opening of an adventure series. (First story)  I decided to pull it out and make it a more long-form short story.  After 2000+ words, I have finally incorporated all three micro-fiction stories.  There is no end in sight.  Sigh.  Oh well, I guess this will be multi-part as well!  I hope that you enjoy!

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I heaved my bag up onto the pier and then climbed up out of the small boat.  I turned and dropped a few coins into the man’s outstretched hand.  I didn’t need to do the math.  Together with the few coins I’d given him before we started, he was lucky if he came out a dollar richer.  He gave me a quick once over with his eyes, shook his head, laughing, and then pulled away from the pier.  In a few seconds his little motor boat, dodging in and out of the much larger traffic, disappeared.

I was sure he expected a small woman like myself to be eaten alive in this back-jungle town.  It’s always nice to be underestimated. Continue reading

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Dusk – #writephoto

sky-1

Photo by Sue Vincent

I hated to do it, but I had to get up and stretch.  After sitting for hours I was getting pretty stiff.  I was afraid, though I knew he’d forgive me if I missed him.  My sister, Martha, gave me a look that was both questioning and understanding.  It had been a very long day.

The sky was just beginning to catch the evening fire as I walked out of the back door.  I went to the edge of the yard, stopped and watched as the sun dipped towards the lake.

I had forgotten how beautiful it was around Mom and Dad’s house.

Memories of my childhood came back.  Playing in the fields just behind my parent’s house.  Swims in the lake.  Hikes in the hills.  I remembered the forts in the woods I made and lazy rainy days watching out of the window.

Dad and I had a major falling out when I was in my early 20s.  It was funny, I couldn’t ever remember exactly what it was about, but the resentments lingered.  As his sunset years approached, I reached out, tentatively at first.  We started to meet over at Martha’s house and last summer he had stayed with me. Continue reading

The Haley Branch Blurb Take 2

The Hamlet Symphny - Alt Image

A few weeks ago I posted a couple of draft blurbs for The Halley Branch.  Since then, I have sat on them, not trying to think of them at all.  This weekend I decided to have another go at the blurb.  Here is what I came up with:

An evil 300 years in the making.  A trap set 150 years in the past.

The day should have been a normal “family day” at the Hawkins’ Mausoleum, but a premonition followed Trevor into the crypt. To make matters worse, he couldn’t shake his morning vision of dead woman draped in a funeral-shroud.

After rescuing a girl trapped in the tomb, repressed memories force him to reevaluate everything. Is his extended family a cult with roots going back to America’s colonial past?  Is the evil Benjamin Halley still stalking his tomb after 150 years? Is there any truth to the Power described by the family’s patriarch, Miles Hawkins?

Trevor realizes that he is being manipulated and drawn into a trap set in the 19th century, and fears that everyone around him has already been ensnared.  Who can he trust?  The members of his own family’s Branch, The Bradford’s, like his cousins Bill or Stan?  Perhaps members of the Hawkins Branch, such as the beautiful but jaded Amelie?  The one Branch he knows not to trust is the extinct Halley Branch.

But the Halley’s are the ones who are welcoming him with open, if dead, arms. Continue reading

Between – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

I had no idea where we were.  Sami, who was our impromptu navigator, said we were someplace southwest of Paris.  We had avoided the big cities.  Actually, we even avoided the villages.  We were afraid we would be sent back, sent back to death.

We had passed through field after field of yellow flowers.  Rasha told us that they were rapeseed.  She is the smartest of us and had been a Uni professor when the University was still in session, before it had been made into a rebel base and bombed.

A little dirt access road ran between two rapeseed fields.  The sun was high and there wasn’t a soul in sight.  We decided to take a break and have lunch.

It was a beautiful place, so full of peace.  I said that I wished we could stop here and live in these fields forever.  Everyone laughed. Continue reading

Practical Editing….

 

 

When you are done, you’re done, right?  When I post something on my blog, once I click publish, it is a done deal.  If I go back and find 10,000 typos?  Oh well, too bad.  OK, I do sometimes go back and correct things, but usually not after the first day or two.

I spent a good chunk of time the last few weeks before I published The Fireborn reading over it to catch errors and typos.  I also had two people go over it for me.  Between the two of them, they caught a dozen or so things that I had missed and had a handful of subjective ideas.  So when I clicked Publish, it was a done deal.  I had done my work.

A couple of months later I heard some complaints that there were a lot of typos.  I knew I would have to go back and fix them, but I didn’t want to.  When you are done, you’re done!  Last week I finally broke down and faced the inevitable.  I had to fix it. Continue reading

Sanctuary, Part 2 – #writephoto

sanctuary

Photo by Sue Vincent

I walked slowly through the garden.  It was greatly reduced from the grand, wild place it had been when I was a child.  Most of the whimseys had been removed, but the most important was still in place.

All of the land for miles in all directions had been owned by my father and our ancestors.  From a slight rise I could see the fields and houses through the trees.  Most were owned by the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren of people who had been my father’s servants.  There also many new comers, though most of those lived in town.

It had snowed earlier in the day, leaving a thin, white blanket over the land.  The branches of the trees still had a coating, causing the woods to appear as a magical fairyland of crystal. Continue reading

Sanctuary – #wriephoto

sanctuary

Photo by Sue Vincent

When I heard the news, I went out to search for Lauren.  I did not know her well, but I did feel some responsibility.

From what I did know about Lauren, I figured that she would have gone into the park.  She so often disappeared there.  I occasionally saw her as I walked, playing make-believe amongst the more fantastical “Whimseys”.  She was shy, and tried to avoid me when she noticed that I was watching her.  I understood, and always left her alone, wishing that there was some way that I could approach her, that I could find a way to talk to the girl.  She was only about three years younger than me, perhaps 12 or 13, but she often acted like a small child.

I decided to go into the park to look for her, knowing nobody else would be looking out for her or searching for her.  It had been sunny earlier in the day, but I bundled up, putting on my great coat.  I could see the clouds and feel the damp that meant that snow was in the air. Continue reading

Shrine – #writephoto

glaston-ma-day-dianan-117

Photo by Sue Vincent

We were rushed for time and the last thing I wanted to do was visit an old estate.  But I caught a quick glimpse through the hedge of giant manor and something pulled at me.  I had to stop.

“What are you doing?” Vish asked.  She’s our lead singer.

“I want to see if they allow public here.  You know, tours or anything.”

She rolled her eyes at me.

I understood.  We had a once in a lifetime opportunity, six UK concerts.  We rented some equipment and, after our London shows, we rented a “lorry”, though it looked like a small delivery truck to us.  The rest of the guys crammed into the truck and drove to the next gig, but Vish and I wanted to visit some of the great historical sites.  Places that we’d only dreamed about back in the States.  You might not think we’re the cultural type, but I could never pass up an opportunity to visit places that had been made famous by the Stones, The Kinks, The Sex Pistols, The Clash and other heroes.

Manor houses were definitely not on the list. Continue reading

Woodland – #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

I crawled out of the wreckage of the emergency pod.  How had I survived?  I couldn’t see any signs of other parts of the ship.  I shouldn’t have been surprised.  At a quarter of the speed of light it would have hit the star around a half an hour after I had ejected.  If it had hit this planet at that speed, well, there wouldn’t have been much left standing.

For the first time I realized I had no suit on, that I was in the open.  I briefly panicked, but then calmed down.  If I wasn’t dead yet, I figured, I shouldn’t worry.  Luckily the atmosphere had plenty of oxygen, so I could breathe unaided.

I looked around, taking my bearings.

I was in some sort of woodland, not too different from how Home must have looked thousands of years ago.  My heart sank.  I knew that there had been no contact with this system, but I had hoped that there was intelligent life and perhaps even a civilization.  I was going to be stuck on the planet for quite a while, if not the rest of my life, and didn’t want to learn basic survival at this late stage.  Give me a good city with some cocktails over camping out any day. Continue reading

When It Is All Said and Done

Another Red Day

I thought I saw Vick today.  It would be so strange if really was him.  I’d like to talk to Vick, ask him what he thinks now.  A lot has changed in the three years since I last saw him.

Only three years?  Really, that’s all it was?  It just seems a life time ago.  I have become set in my routines, as we all have.  It’s just, well, it’s hard to imagine what the world was like back then.  After I saw the man I thought was Vick, I did think about it and remembered that conversation.  Or perhaps it was a lecture.  Maybe a sermon.  Hell, Vick was pretty charismatic and could have drawn a crowd if he were reading a dictionary.

We were in the little pub where the locals all met.  And there was Vick, shooting his mouth off, as usual.  But this time, the looks in people’s eyes were very different.

“It isn’t so bad, you know,” Vick said.  “In fact, it is for the best.  You’ll see.  When all is said and done, this will end up being a good thing.  We’ll see a much better, fairer world.  Hell, I guess I said that wrong, because few if any of us will see the benefits, but our kids and grandkids will.”

There was a silence.  Ted had turned down the TV so everyone could hear Vick.  As usual for this time of day, the news had spouted off the grim statistics and the dire warnings.  They paraded experts through and they all predicted gloom and doom.  What did Vick know that they didn’t? Continue reading