Work In Progress

This seems to be a term thrown around a lot as a writer. When anyone asks me how my novel is going or what I am up to, my automatic response is “It’s going”. I’m not trying to skirt the question or make light of interest in my work, but this is the best answer I can give right now. If I actually delved into my writing saga, I would be at it for hours.

So, for anyone who wants to know. I am currently working on the next round of edits on the first book of the Thornless Rose Trilogy, Fire Blush. I am hopeful for a June 2016 release and some book signings. (Stay Tune) Also, I have 6 contests/magazines that I am submitting to before the end of April. Most of them are short stories that range from crime fiction to ghost stories. I am very excited to work on all of this, while working at my temp job and going to grad school.

Here is my story called 20/20 that I submitted for a contest in Florida. Enjoy.

Paula never imagined she would see her face again. In fact, she never thought she would see anything again. Touching her pale cheeks, she smiled. There she was again and there she would stay.

After a childhood car accident, she lost her eyesight. Her other senses tried to make up for it, but she never felt the same. Nothing could make her feel whole again, except for the sounds the house made. The creaks of the floorboards and the wind whistling through the 100-year old windows.IMG_0205-1200x800

Grown-ups would always say she was lucky to have survived. Was she, though? Was she lucky to be alive and have to hear her parents fight o
ver the accident every night? To feel the anger vibrate the air when her mother confronted her father for cheating? She never felt lucky.

Ah, but to see with her eyes again. Her heart raced with delight as she watched the light of the sun dance through the gauzy curtain in her mother’s bedroom. Or it would have, if she were still alive.

Death was not what she pictured. She had imagined her soul flying through the clouds to Heaven or plunging down into the lake of fire her grandmother always talked about. But, nope. She was just hanging out in her mother’s room, watching that sad woman’s body decompose.

It just laid there on the neatly made bed, holding a phone with 911 displayed on the screen. The signal in the house was that great, being out in the country and all. She was not totally aware of what happened to her.

Rural America. She had spent most of her life out there as a strange little girl, who became an even stranger young lady. “Stop listening to those books on tape. They will rot your brain. Who is this Poe person?” Her mother’s voice echoed in her ears. She looked around for her. Nope. She was still alone.

In the pit of her non-existent stomach, she felt something stir. A fear of sorts. Her life was gone, along with her mother’s, but it was she who stuck around. That nagging, wretched twinge of loneliness rested on top of her head and laughed. Stop it! Stop it! I am happy now. I AM happy now.

“Of course you are, child,” a faint voice said to her. She looked and saw a figure with a slanted smile, standing by the old oak tree. “It’s time to go, Penny,” the voice said without moving its’ lips. The Reaper had come for her this time.

 

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