Category Archives: Writing

Blogs about writing

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : “Kindness”

“You are not in hell,” the Voice said, for the first time sounding as if emotion was allowed through. It almost sounded kind. “You have spent your time there. You are free now and are here because these people need you. Tell your friends your real story.  They need to know and understand. Then they will tell theirs. Speak now.”

(SKIP)

“So you and Tweety are two different people or, uh, entities?” Harper asked.

“She was desperate for relief from her memories after the attack,” the Great Spirit began. “She prayed, and I offered to block them anytime I needed the use of her mouth to speak so her tribe, and now you, can hear me. She rests while I use her body.”

“Why do you not block her memories permanently? Would not that be kinder?” Minji’s voice was sharp with anger.

“I could erase them, just like I could Luthor’s, or any of the rest of you. But those memories, bad as they are, would make you, and her, different today. Do you want that for yourselves?”

“Hey, leave Tweety alone! I like her just the way she is!” Harper’s voice was still mostly flat, but a little emotion flared in it.

(SKIP)

A sigh gusted out of her and she knelt beside Luthor. She tugged on his shoulder, trying to make him straighten up.  “Come on, get up. Get up, blow your nose again, and let’s go rescue those prisoners. Come on, we haven’t got all day.”

“Don’t let your sympathy make you do anything out of character,” Luthor growled, sniffling, then blowing his nose again.

Harper thumped his back.  “You know you’d be suspicious if she was nice to you, big guy.”  He stood back as Luthor rose to his feet on shaking legs.

Excerpt from “The Warlord’s Heart”

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : “The Room”

Edward blinked as he took in the bedroom, filled with servants dashing about. One was lighting the fire in the fireplace. Several were hauling pails of steaming water through the room to a door on the side. Lamps were being lit beside the bed and in the attached room. He assumed it was a bathing room, judging by the steaming water. He hoped so. A hot bath and a shave sounded very good to him right now.

“This seems like a rather fine room for a mere courier,” he said with raised eyebrows. He glanced down at the dusty, cobwebbed hair of the maid who had led him to this room.

She surprised him with a nudge of her elbows. “It’s yours, don’t worry. Mrs. Grimsby is the head of housekeeping and assigns the rooms. She has a soft spot for the cavalry, since her husband and all her sons are cavalrymen. She always makes sure any who arrive get the best rooms. Try the bed!”

She tried to tug him towards it, but he fended her off. “Not in these dirty clothes! I need a bath first.”

He wasn’t about to leave marks on the fine furs covering the massive bed. It was magnificent, matching the luxurious room. Richly polished bedposts stretched toward the carved ceiling tiles, with heavily embroidered linen curtains held back with tasseled ropes. He could tell the bed would be a cozy haven when they were closed. The pillows were large and covered in silk, if his eyes didn’t deceive him.

He looked closer at the rest of the room now that the lamps had brightened the area. Finely carved furniture shining with wax polish, big comfortable chairs and side tables. There was a bar against the wall with a tray set with various glasses, a bottle of whiskey and another of wine, a bowl of fruit, a wooden cutting board with various cheeses and breads, and a set of dishes and cutlery. A maid was swinging a pothook over the crackling fire after setting a steaming pot on it. She hung a ladle on a hook beside the fire.

His eyes traveled on. Silk fabric in a rich green and blue striped pattern covered the walls. Beautiful landscapes gave the room a peaceful air. The floor was covered with thick patterned rugs over polished wood.

“Surely even the Warlord’s quarters are not so fine. This is a room fit for a king!” he whispered.

Betsy shrugged. “No. The royal quarters are far larger, and not nearly as comfortable.”

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : “Disgust”

“Firestarter stick,” Luthor replied.  “Magnesium and flint.”  The gadget went back into one of his pockets.  He carefully arranged some small logs on the growing fire before he stood up and dusted off his hands.  “Now to prepare that rattlesnake. The wood should burn down to coals soon.”

“I’m still not eating any nasty snake meat,” Nita declared.  The other three turned but could not see her. Her voice came from above them.  They backed up until they could see her as she swept the horizon with Luthor’s binoculars while laying flat on her stomach on the flat top of the rock they had stopped at.

“More for us,” Luthor said with a shrug, as he had before.  “I just think we need to stretch our supplies as long as we can.”  He looked at Harper and Minji, frowning.  “Just occurred to me, though.  Do any of you have food with you, like sandwiches or such, that might spoil?  We might need to eat it with the rattlesnake, so it doesn’t go bad.”

“I’ve got a couple of sandwiches, so I still don’t need snake!” Nita hissed quietly from her perch.

Excerpt from “Project Burning Bush”

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime “Guilty”

Minji rubbed her face with both hands. When she sat up on the log, her hands dropping to her lap, her expression was haunted. “I’m a murderer,” she whispered. “I told the seamen who rescued me everyone else had died in a storm, but I killed them.”

Nita raised her eyebrows. “You? The Dragonlady? Miss Prim and Proper? A killer? No way. You passed out after you whacked that soldier. No way you could kill your family.”

Minji’s smile was twisted. “It brought back very bad memories. Memories I worked hard to erase.”

“What, you hit your family members over the head, too?” Harper asked.

“Impossible,” Luthor stated.

“I did not attack them. I poisoned them.”

Nita paced on the other side of the fire. “Was the whole ‘boat refugee’ bit a lie, then?”

Minji shook her head. “No. We escaped my country in a boat and were carried by the current out into the ocean. My father and uncles poisoned everyone but me. But I found the poison. I was so angry. I put it in their food. They liked highly spiced food, so they did not taste it. They died horrible, painful deaths. It took them a while. When they could no longer hurt me, I dragged them to the side of the boat and threw them to the sharks. Some of them were still screaming when the sharks ate them.”

“Sounds like a good ending for them,” Harper commented. “You should be looking satisfied, not guilty.”

“Satisfied? I am a murderer, just like them! I have never wanted to kill anyone in my life! I was a child! I killed my father!”

Nita stopped in front of Minji and held the other girl’s face with tight fingers and stared into her eyes, nose to nose. “You survived. They were killers. Not you. You were a survivor. You did what you had to, and avenged the other family members they killed. You remember that. You. Are. Not. A. Murderer!”

Excerpt from “The Warlord’s Heart”

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : Jealousy

Betsy watched, her eyes wide, as Marissa paced back and forth across their bedroom.

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” Marissa proclaimed, waving her arms as she stomped. “Edward’s attention was fixed the moment he saw you. You’ll never have to watch him talk to other women and know he’s more interested in them. You’ll never wonder if you’ve become suddenly invisible. You’ll never have to hide your emotions lest others laugh at you.”

“Um, you have feelings for Edward?”

Marissa stopped and stared. “Edward? Are you mad? Of course I’m not interested in Edward! Of all people…” She shook her head and began to pace again. “I never had a chance, of course. He prefers blondes, wealthy, from a powerful family. It makes me ill to watch him fawning over her. Just like all the others, blast them.”

She whirled on Betsy, her fists clenched before her, her jaw set, her eyes intense. “You have to teach me how to use my sword like you can! I can’t let her humiliate me in every way! I have to best her in something!”

“Wait, are you talking about Benedict and Clarisse? Are you jealous of Benedict’s attentions toward Clarisse?”

Marissa flung herself across her bed and stared at the ceiling, blinking hard. “He is so handsome, so noble. I’ve known him all my life. I’ve had feelings for him since we were children. But he grew up into a fool!” She rolled to her stomach and pounded the mattress. “‘Clarisse is so beautiful!’ He had the nerve to say that to me! To me! All he can see is that pretty face and figure and her fine clothes! He’s totally blind to her ugly nature! He’s a fool! All she wants is to control him! Why can’t he see me? What’s wrong with me?”

Betsy winced and moved to sit beside her. “There’s not a thing wrong with you.” She patted Marissa’s back as her roommate sobbed. “I will teach you as much as I can, and we will teach those foolish men to recognize a REAL woman! Especially Benedict!”

Excerpt from The Warlord’s Heart

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : Injury

“Edward! What happened? Who attacked you?” Betsy’s screech made Edward and the Royal Guards flinch.

“Everything’s fine, Betsy…” Edward’s calm response was lost under her frantic cries as she rushed to him, shoving the Guardsmen out of the way.

“What did they do to you? Was it the assassins? Were they killed? How did they get in? I didn’t hear an alarm raised!” She waved her hands, looking for a place to touch him, trying to avoid the blood, not knowing where his cuts were.

He and the other men looked at each other, wondering how to calm her. Edward finally shrugged and caught her face between his hands and kissed her hard. When she stopped struggling and stood still, he raised his head. “Betsy! Listen to me! Nobody attacked me! Hush!” he commanded when she opened her mouth again. “Let me explain! Now, are you listening?” He stared at her, eyebrows raised, until she took a deep breath and relaxed.

The guardsman next to him made a valiant effort to control his snicker and went back to washing the blood off Edward’s arms and chest. “He’s naught but scratched, lass. He’ll not even need stitches. A little washing, some ointment, and a bit of bandaging is all that’s needed. No doubt he’ll be sore in the morning, but I wager he’s had worse. Eh, lad?”

“Much worse,” Edward agreed with a wry smile. “And the healers on the front line are not nearly so gentle as you men.”

“But…”

Edward laid a finger on her lips. “There was no attack. We were practicing, that’s all. They were showing me how the assassins used their swords, and it took me a bit to get used to the new style. I hope to have fewer scratches next time.”

Betsy drew herself up and huffed her outrage. “You were practicing a new sword style with REAL swords?” She glared at the guardsmen around her. Edward was fascinated to see them cringe before the young woman almost half their size.

“I just got scratched, Betsy. It was my idea, so don’t blame them. I’m fine. Like he said, I’ll be sore tomorrow, that’s all. All I have to do is watch for infection, but the healing ointment we soldiers use works very well to prevent it. Now let them finish so I can dress and we can get to bed.” He narrowed his eyes and gave the guardsmen who snickered a hard stare. They quickly straightened their faces and looked away.

Betsy didn’t notice the byplay. Her eyes were anxiously fixed on the guardsman working on Edward’s bare chest. She blinked and took a quick breath. His. Bare. Chest… Her hands started to reach out, then suddenly wrapped themselves together and slammed back against her stomach.

Excerpt from Project Burning Bush

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : By Moonlight

“Whatever,” Nita shrugged and jerked her head toward the Spaniards’ camp. “Let’s get to work. I want to hear what’s up.”

They slipped with careful footsteps up to the camp perimeter. Harper nudged Nita, pointing with a grin at a sleeping guard. Nita rolled her eyes and eased past some cactus. They found a spot just beyond the firelight behind some trees and stretched out on the ground. Harper lay with his head pointed away from the camp, watching their rear.

Long moments passed as Nita listened to the soldiers talk, drink, and often make rude noises with various belches and other bodily noises. Sometimes they broke out into song. Suddenly she tensed and Harper looked warily behind himself, but nobody had noticed them.

Finally, she rose to a crouch and jerked her head at him, moving slowly away from the camp. The perimeter guard was still sleeping. They moved faster to the trail they had come down and when they reached it, she started running. Harper’s mouth dropped open, but he took off after her. Both still made no noise as they ran. They only slowed to ease through tight spots of brush.

At last, they reached the Apache camp. Harper grabbed Nita’s arm and held up a finger as she jerked to a stop and whirled on him, fury on her face. He shook his head and held up his finger again. Putting his hands to his mouth, he trilled a soft birdsong. “Don’t want to get attacked rushing in there,” he whispered. “Minji has a mean swing with that staff.”

Nita smiled but it looked strained. She hurried on to the opening of the clearing. Everybody came to their feet as they entered.

“What did you hear?” Minji demanded.

“I heard enough to know we need to kill all of them and get to that settlement as fast as possible!” Nita panted.

Excerpt from Tales of the Lunatics

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : Inexperienced or Naive?

Striker pointed her tail at the shackled male and scowled. “Show some respect for the Den Mother!”

The male tipped his head sideways. “Den Mother? What’s a Den Mother?” His repetition of her intonation showed he understood it was a title.

Everybody in the den stared at him. He looked around and shrugged. “What? We had no mothers in the prison mines. No one was allowed to mate.”

Striker sat back on her haunches and curled her tail into a question. “Didn’t you have a pack before you were placed in the mines? Where did you live before you were sentenced?”

Loper and Shadowstalker came close to him. Their tails curled as well. “How long have you been in the mines? What was your crime, anyway?” Loper asked.

The male shrugged again. Without a tail, he could not communicate easily. “I don’t remember anything before prison. I did ask why I was there. They said I murdered a female.”

Moonsinger sucked in a breath. “You murdered a female? Who?”

“No idea. Like I said, I don’t remember anything before the prison. I know I was a lot smaller when I first woke. It’s been a while, I think.”

Moonsinger rubbed her chin with the tip of her claw. “Children are not to be placed in prison. Not even youths. Do you remember how many moltings you went through?”

The male laughed. “Too many to remember.”

Striker rocked back and forth on her tail. “You know nothing of pack life then. Nothing of a den mother, a pack leader, alphas, betas, omegas?”

The male waved a front limb, still bloody from the fight with the rogue. “I had a work team of males and females. I told them what to do and they did it. I made sure they were fed and watered, and protected them from the guards. We worked the mine, ate, drank, and slept. That’s been all I’ve known – that I can remember. Then I was taken away from my team, shackled, and told I had to go with these two. If you want me to show respect, you’ll have to explain what you want.”

Moonsinger stared at the older female. “He’s a blank slate. We’ll have to teach him EVERYTHING!”

Excerpt from “Project Promised Land”

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime : “Get Out of Bed!”

“Nita! You awake? Wake up, already!”

Nita groaned loudly, and waved her hand feebly. “Lemme alone, Chico! I feel like I been beat up again. Oh, my head! Ask Luthor for some aspirin or something. Ow!” She wrapped her arms around her head and rolled to her back, because the front of her head ached almost enough to make her cry, and she never cried.

“You weren’t beat up, but you hit your forehead. Do you remember everything?”

“Enough, already! Don’t ask me questions unless you’re holding a cup of strong coffee! Has anybody invented it yet on this timeline? Or did a miracle happen and we got back home? Please say we got back home.”

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

She groaned again and touched her forehead with a wary finger and winced. “Man, I’ve got the headache from hell!” Her head moved from side to side as she blinked. Then she sighed in deep annoyance.

“Look, Lizard Boy, you’d better have a really good excuse for waking me up before dawn. Can’t you at least turn on a flashlight or light a candle, for Pete’s sake? Are we having to hide? Where is everybody else? Is Tweetie okay? Did she have the baby?” She sat up abruptly and grabbed Harper’s shoulder. “Why are we in the dark? Are we hiding in the caves?”

Harper’s mouth moved but no sound emerged. He stared around at the others standing around Nita’s bed. They stared back, as helpless as he to find words. A breeze sighed through the open window, stirring the dust motes into dancing in the sunbeams illuminating the room.

Excerpt from “The Warlord’s Heart”

Posted on by

For #LineByLineTime: Survivor

Marissa came awake slowly. She quickly wished she were still unconscious. Her body sent an urgent message and she rolled over as fast as she could to get her mouth over the edge of the bed. Strong hands caught her before she rolled off the bed and held her in place. She opened her eyes just in time to see a bucket shoved under her face.

Her stomach heaved again and again. Finally, she had nothing left to spew and rolled back again with the help of the unknown owner of the hands. A damp cloth wiped her sweating face and a strong arm went around her back to lift her to a sitting position.

“Here,” a familiar deep voice said softly in her ear. “Take a sip of this and wash your mouth out. I know that poison left a terrible taste in it.”

She forced heavy eyelids up and gasped at the sight of Benedict’s face so close to her.

“Poison?” she managed to whisper.

“Sip, then we’ll talk,” he ordered gruffly, and pressed a cup to her lips. Head whirling, she sipped automatically and obediently swished it in her mouth and spit it into the bucket. Benedict held her securely. She found herself wondering if her jumpy stomach was due to the poison he spoke of or his presence. Why was he caring for her? Where was everybody else? Where was Betsy? What had happened?