Tag Archives: writing

Six Sentence Sunday: #12 Bartholomew’s Contemplation

Posted on
18

Welcome back for another Six Sentence Sunday post from my paranormal short, Flight.

For those of you who read last week’s installment, Mary soon was saved by Matilde’s father’s intervention in their fight, and I’ve taken the liberty of skipping ahead an itty-bitty bit.

We now find that Bartholomew has trailed Matilde and her father back to their tenement. Having crept into the room where she is sleeping with her baby brother, he is contemplating the Catcher’s interest in possessing the body of this small girl.

If you’re unfamiliar with this story, the first installment is found here.

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He listened to the children breathing, the tiny scritch-scritch of mice feet, and singing, fighting, and fucking from within neighboring rooms. The cold night air whistled through the gaping wallboards, and the sleeping girl shivered and pulled her baby brother closer.

This was madness. Bartholomew closed his eyes and squeezed his temples, then brought his fingers down around his eyes and up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Non, he thought as he shook his head. It was impossible to believe such a small body could hold the Catcher.

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As always, I encourage you to visit Six Sentence Sunday to find snippets from many more talented writers.

Six Sentence Sunday: Flight #11 — She’s Goin’ Down

Posted on
28

It’s Six Sentence Sunday, and man, what a week. Noro virus is an evil mistress and she took the Pierce household by storm. But I have survived. Mostly.

Anyhoo, here’s the next six of Flight. If you read last week’s installment, you know what’s coming. If you didn’t, well check it out here. Or start from the beginning of this story here.

Warning: Blood and violence ahead.

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The bully turned, and the little girl leapt forward. Her rock-filled fist whipped around to smash Mary’s cheek and nose. The older girl’s head snapped to the side. She staggered into one of the boys and they both hit the ground as the second boy stared at Tilly, open-mouthed like a fish. He wore a swath of bright red blood across his chest and face.

“Nobody steals from me!”

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Don’t forget to check out all the other Sixers’ posts at Six Sentence Sunday. Six sentence snippets from WIPs or finished works just waiting for you to sink your, urp, teeth into em.

Six Sentence Sunday: #9 — Now It’s Fer Me

Posted on
19

Hi friends! Welcome back for another Six Sentence Sunday installment from Flight, my paranormal short. Last week we left Bartholomew on the roof and poor, little Tilly sprawled on the alley’s cobblestones. Will she stay down?

If you’re new to this story, and want to read from the beginning, you’ll find the first installment here.

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Mary smirked as she yanked the little, bundled shawl from Tilly’s arms. “Now it’s fer me.” She spat on her victim then marched back to the waiting boys.

Bartholomew’s fists clenched as Mary revealed a small heel of bread from the ragged shawl and doled out shares to her lackeys. Her back to her victim, the bully draped the stolen shawl over her shoulder and shoveled bread into her mouth.

Tilly rolled over, rose to her knees, and looked around.

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For anyone unfamiliar with Six Sentence Sunday, it’s a weekly blog hop where writers — published and unpublished — post six sentence snippets from their projects. Check out the site for more information, links to more writers, and to join in.

Six Sentence Sunday: Flight #8 — Violence

Posted on
22

Welcome back! It’s Six Sentence Sunday, it’s the next installation of Flight, and the fight is on. Get yer popcorn and join Bartholomew for a rooftop view.

If you’re new or wanna review, the story starts here.

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Bartholomew leaned out over the roofline like a gargoyle, smoke swirling around him and away. A small smile tugged up the right corner of his lip. He hadn’t missed how the little girl had twisted Mary’s name into a curse.

Neither had Mary and the larger girl’s fist came around to smash Tilly.

The blow struck her cheek and she crashed into the red brick wall. She landed in a slimy puddle and her head struck the cobblestones with a crack.

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Six Sentence Sunday: Flight #7 Surprising Power

Posted on
22

Street Children Fighting

Welcome back, Sixers, and thanks for all your comments last week. Here’s the next installation of my paranormal short, Flight. We last left Bartholomew on a rooftop, observing a small girl being menaced by three other children in an alley below.

If you’re new to this story, the first post can be found here.

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“No!”

The word was clear and strong and Bartholomew looked down, surprised by its power.

The older girl stalked toward her defiant prey. Hand outstretched she said, “Gimme that or we’ll smash yer face, Tilly.”

“No. This is fer Samuel. Git yer own, Mary.”

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Please take a few minutes to visit Six Sentence Sunday for other enticing six-sentence snippets from published and unpublished works by other writers.

Thanks!

Six Sentence Sunday: Flight #6 Elle?

Posted on
29

Welcome back to the next six from my paranormal short, Flight, for Six Sentence Sunday.

We left Bartholomew on a rooftop in 1840s New York, watching a confrontation among children unfold in an alley below.

If you’re visiting for the first time, you can find the beginning of this story here.

And please remember to visit Six Sentence Sunday for more exciting snippets from other participating writers.

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“Gimme that.” The older girl’s voice bounced off the grimy alley walls as she stepped forward from the two boys.

Bartholomew surveyed her black eye and ratty, pink dress, the sneer that curled her lips back from her broken front teeth, and he glanced at the crows. The Catcher wanted her?

But the birds squabbled and preened and minced about the roof. They called insults at him, arching and flapping their wings then chortling as if sharing a good laugh at his expense.

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A note about today’s photo. This is a group of street children in 1919 London. It’s taken from Hidden Lives, an amazing archive detailing the efforts of London’s Waifs and Strays’ Society to alleviate child poverty in the late-Victorian and Edwardian eras.

Six Sentence Sunday: Flight #4

Posted on
26

Art by Richard Tetrault/http://richard-tetrault.blogspot.com/

Hello lovely Sixers. For today’s post, I done brung ya more from my short story, Flight. In case this is your first installment, you can find the beginning here and read forward. And, when you’re done, check out  Six Sentence Sunday for more sixes.

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The crows reappeared one, two, and three-by-three along Bartholomew’s path then winged up as one massive murder, wheeled about, and disappeared into a narrow alley. He frowned and, stepping into the dank corridor, saw only broken bricks, crumpled paper, and stagnant water until he followed the rustle of wings. The black sentinels stared down from the ledge of a four-story brick tenement. Bartholomew’s frown deepened. But he knew not to ignore the birds. Crows were the Catcher’s inhuman eyes, and there was something she wanted him to see.

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Six Sentence Sunday: Misogynistic Bastard

Posted on
18

Welcome back to another Six Sentence Sunday installment. The tension edit on Girl Under Glass is almost complete and I’m feeling good about the book. (Of course, I’m also sleep deprived, so this could all be an hallucination. Oh, look! Pink elephants!)

The following conversation between Rachel and her daughter follows the death of a friend in childbirth; the woman’s husband, Michael, is to blame.

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“Why didn’t Michael send Adam sooner?”

Because he’s an evil, misogynistic bastard who deserves to have his testicles diced. “I don’t know, Pearl, I really don’t know.”

“Didn’t he love her?

We passed through the gate and I shivered; I’d forgotten my shawl in Mary’s room. “No, I don’t think he did.”

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As always, I encourage you to visit Six Sentence Sunday for many more fantastic snippets from a talented group of writers.

Six Sentence Sunday: Lost to Darkness

Posted on
30

lucasmalta/morguefile.com

Hi Sixers, welcome back. Thanks for visiting and leaving such lovely comments last week. Continuing with Girl Under Glass and a little more of the conversation between Rachel and Ehtishem about his people’s presence on Earth. (If you’ve missed the previous snippets, they’re here, here, and here.)

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An owl whoo-whoo’d and the wood in the fireplace sighed.

“Yet you do to us what was done to you. How can you live with yourselves?” I watched the grotesque shadows that lurked within the fireplace then looked at him. “How can you face me?”

His eyes reflected the banked fire’s faint red glow; the rest of him was lost to darkness.

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Please take the time to check out more Six Sentence Sunday posts. Lots of great snippets to intrigue, entertain, and titillate. (I just wanted to use ‘titillate’ in a sentence.)

Oh, and I’ll be at the Surrey Int’l Writers Conf. next weekend; if any of you are attending, let me know. I’d love to meetcha!

Six Sentence Sunday: Power & Privilege

Posted on
25

Hello Darlings.

Welcome back for another Six Sentence Sunday post from Girl Under Glass. The book is oh-so-close to complete, and I’m damn happy with it.

Today’s post is a continuation of Ehtishem and Rachel’s conversation from the last two 6SS posts. You can read them here and here. This isn’t a direct follow, but a few paragraphs later.

—–

“We don’t raise our own children, Rachel. They’re conceived according to formula and affordability, raised in groups, trained for occupations as determined by caste and personal qualities. The Ohnenrai rarely foster long-term relationships.”

How awful.

“Ohnenrai connections are about competition. Only the Elite families marry, and those bonds are for power and privilege.”

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And check out more excellent six-sentence excerpts at sixsunday.com.