For artists and writers everywhere, fiction is life. While inspiration may come frequently from reality, the fictional worlds inside our heads are what create the pieces that define us. This blog is meant to share such worlds with the reality of everyday life.
Welcome to our lives in fiction, where we always put life into words.
Within the next 24 hours I will be posting this month's book review of the Anthony Burgess classic A Clockwork Orange, but that is not what this post is about.
Unfortunately, Quinton is having difficulty posting on the blog. He has been trying his hardest, but for some reason it is rejected each attempt. As time passes, I am sure that the problem will be solved, but he asked me to make sure you, the readers, knew the situation.
“Ugh…” Gabriel groaned as he sat up in bed, a down comforter sliding off of his chest. His left hand gripped his head to battle the pain of his headache. “What did I do last night?” he thought aloud. Looking around the room, he could see that the strange place was well-lit by the light of the outside sun filtering in through two adjacent windows located on the right wall. The room was modern in decoration and held the touches of a young woman. “Where the heck am I?” He removed his left hand from his head and brought it down quickly to his side. The palm of his hand connected with something fleshy went brought all the way down. He squeezed his palm slightly and heard a gentle, pleasurable sigh of a young woman. Coming to realization with what he had done, he squeezed his eyelids together in fearful anticipation. Oh god, he thought. Please don’t let me have done what I think I did… Opening his eyes slowly, he swiveled his head to his left and stared at the naked girl lying in the bed with him, her hands held under the white pillow beneath her head. When he had sat up, he had also removed the comforter from her body. She was slightly tan, blond-haired, and extremely curvy—the stereotypical beauty—and the palm of his hand gripped her right breast lightly. “Hey there handsome,” she said. “Wantin’ another go around?” The sound of her voice was enough to irritate even the most patient men. “Well, ummm…” She sat up, causing Maron’s hand to slip off her breast, and scooted closer to him. After kissing his neck roughly, she whispered in his ear. “I don’t have work today, and I have nowhere I need to be. Wanna reenact the highlights of last night?” She kissed his neck again, but he pulled away and stood up and hurriedly began to pick up his clothes from her bedroom floor and pull them on. “I guess that’s a no…?” she stated confusedly. “Sorry,” he apologized, “you’re a nice looking girl and all, and you seem like a nice person—” She stood up just as Gabriel had put on his shirt. He took a good look at her fully naked body and stood in place, mouth agape. She stepped around to his front and pressed herself against him. “Then why don’t you just come back to bed? Forget about where you need to be?” “Because…” He pushed her away lightly and headed for the bedroom door. “My wedding’s today.” He hurried out of her house, dodging her high-pitched insults by mere seconds.
2
The light of the summer sun shone low in the east, just above the houses of the cul-de-sac Gabriel Smithe had just entered. He was approximately six-foot-one, and one hundred sixty pounds. Atop his head was a dark brown mess of low cut hair. The clothes on his body were in the same condition, messy and dark yet still suave. Appearance had always been a huge factor in Gabriel’s life, not in the sense of superficiality but the fact that girls were often attracted to him. Unfortunately, the previous night had displayed his skill a little too well. With uncertainty towards his wedding, he had walked down his street to a local bar. A bottle of whiskey—and an extremely horny woman, whose name he couldn’t remember—later he had found himself waking up in a New York suburb with a slight headache, and the torturous realization that they had taken the woman’s car back to her place. “Aw man…” Gabriel muttered. “I’m going to have to walk back to the city, aren’t I?” He groaned loudly as he walked quickly down the sidewalk. It was obvious to him that his wedding day was not going to be his lucky day. “Juney will kill me if I miss our wedding. How could I be so stupid?!” He rubbed his temple in frustration with his right hand. “You weren’t being stupid,” said a man’s voice from behind him. “What?” Gabriel questioned the mystery man as he turned to face him. The man was dressed like a Christian monk, complete with a dark orange tunic and matching scapula. “I said…you weren’t being stupid, my friend,” the monk responded. “Each action has an equal reaction, and, my friend, if you had not have been so ‘stupid,’ then you would have never been right here, walking down this road as you should have been.” “Yeah…that’s very lucky, isn’t it?” Gabriel stated sarcastically. “Being forced to take a five mile hike back into the city just because I was stupid enough to make one of the hugest mistakes a guy could make only a day before he got married to the love of his life is the best possible thing that could’ve happened.” “What if I said that you wouldn’t have to deal with any of your consequences for this action? Karma will benefit you if you commit to doing a good deed.” “Why am I even standing here talking to you?” Gabriel shooed the monk away with one hand and turned to leave. What he found was two dark cloaked figures blocking his way. “You are talking to me, my friend,” spoke the monk, “because I know the great deed that you are destined for.” Gabriel turned back to the monk. “What is that?” “You are to save my country.” Gabriel began to laugh, but felt the air get trapped in his throat as he felt an arm from one of the cloaked figures cut off his air supply. He lost consciousness.
This is the beginning of one of the new books I've been working on. I have no clue what the name of it will be or any real ideas so far, so I'll just call it Enigma for now. The story is essentially about a young man, Gabriel Smithe, who finds himself forced into being the savior of a nation by a group of radicals that go by the name "Salvadores." What Gabriel is unaware of is the fact that there's a reason for why he people are often so attracted to him, and it has to do with the way an unnatural flow of the universe's energy has influenced his body and personality from birth. Enigma is essentially a story of a man realizing his full potential, taking a second glance at his life, and realizing that the world has changed before his eyes. The storyline is not as morbid/gothic as Bleeding Truth or it's sequel, which I'm in the process of writing right now, Shattered Lies, but focuses more on the unexpected scenarios in life that eventually makes who we are ultimately meant to be. Expect more information and more of the story in the future as I continue to work on it. Until then, remember to think happy thoughts and always put life into words. ;)
The forest was rustling under the powerful wind of the Wayward Cave in which it guarded. In front of this cave stood a large camp, where over 300 soldiers slept and stood on watch. Their only job was to keep anyone and everyone from entering the cave. Two guards stood watch over the entrance, watching over the crystal blue line of water known as the Amazeion River as it flowed past them or stared off into the purple night sky looking out for intruders. They were dressed in blue cameo suits and gas masks, meaning they were along with the whole camp Class 3 soldiers. One of them yawned, his gun in hand. The other stood in front of the gate, watching the forest mechanically. The opposite soldier took off his mask, revealing black hair and bright blue-green eyes. His partner groaned, taking off his helmet to reveal a blonde soldier.
“Oi Brick, this is so boring! It’s not like anyone is ignorant enough to attack 300 Class 3 soldiers! Even those who are know they couldn’t hope to win!” The black-haired man spoke.
“Regardless, it is our job to cover the area. Now cover your face, what if someone were to see your eyes?” Brick spat at him, while speaking in a cold menacing tone.
“Why? No one is out here!!! There is nothing they want in this cave! The cave is irrelevant! Our best soldiers went down there and couldn’t find a thing!”
“The rebels want it for some-” The still masked guard cut off as he heard a sound in the bushes and looked off to see what it was. The black-haired man put his mask back on, then turned around to be met by a tall figure in a black hooded cloak. It was clipped together at the sternum by a round, gold coin-like button. On the button there were three water drops. The black-haired man attempted to screamed, but was cut into two but a katana concealed in the cloaked figures clothing. Brick behind him heard the thud of a body falling to the ground, and swung around opening fire on the cloaked man. He danced around dodging the bullets, while Brick screamed in anger. Before he knew it, another black cloaked figure jumped down from the purple moon above him and stuck a kodachi blade into his forehead. The cloaked man pulled it out of Brick’s forehead to release a shower of blood. Then a short soldier came running towards them and stuck the gun he struggled to carry up at both men.
“W-Who are you guys?” He asked. The two men stared at the soldier.
“Run boy.” One of them told the lone soldier.
“What??” He asked, but was too late, as a dagger zip-lined into his skull, and 13 other cloaked warriors dashed past the dead soldier as he fell past to the ground dead, with a warrior in a red cloak catching the dead boy before he touched the ground. He had laid him on the ground, crossing the young soldier arms while the enemy soldiers were being slaughtered by the ninja warriors. The red cloaked man took off the boy’s mask and closed his red eyes, then put his hand over his mouth, pulling a radiant red smoke out.
“You’re strength shall travel with me forever on now.” The voice of a 15-year old boy came from behind the red cloak. He then heard the scream of his warriors, and looked to see a giant man in an old Geiman General uniform encasing his warriors in walls of fire.
“Comrades, I shall avenge all of your deaths. No one shall pass!” The general took off his jacket, revealing a strong build with a six pack and broad shoulders. He was easily a towering 8 feet tall. He then stormed passed the remaining cloaked warriors, who were sitting on the ground licking their wounds, at the red cloaked boy. The boy sighed. He ducked out of the way, then delivered a fury of punches to the general’s stomach. Unfazed, the general slammed his arm into the ground with high intensity, but the boy flipped around his arm and into the air out of the way. He landed behind him, and unsheathe a rapier he had attached horizontally to his waist. He sliced at the general, who feinted a reaction and countered with a fist to the boy’s face. The boy took the blow then cut at the general’s left eye and back-flipped out of the way.
The general screamed in pain, and the boy sheathed his rapier and then put his right hand out and pressed his thumb and middle finger together in the direction of the man using his left arm to hold up his right arm and his legs bent. His left leg was pointed out at an 8 o’clock angle. A digital like cocoon formed around the general, stopping him in his tracks.
“A cancel?” The General asked in bewilderment. The magic in the air started to disappear, except for occasional sparks of static. “Fuck!” The man said, and formed a barrier of fire around him, but it was useless.
“2nd path, power of electricity, Thunder God’s Hammer!” The cloaked boy cried, and snapped his fingers, causing a rain of lightning bolts to erupt from the cocoon, and making mincemeat of the general’s shield. The general fell to the ground, and the cloaked boy walked up past him and ran into the cave behind him with the remaining cloak warriors. They soon found themshelves in the middle of a giant German Military Seal.
“Team Cloaked Ninjas,” an ominous voice spoke overhead, “Are the new Macramé Champions!!!” the world around them dissolved, and revealed a virtual room with a bunch of 14 to 17 year old boys sitting around, each wearing black sunglasses, which were actually state of the art virtual consoles. The red cloaked boy revealed to be a 15 year old white male, wearing an Ohio State jersey, scarlet basketball shorts, and white, black and red Jordan’s.
“Henry we won man!” A boy ran up to the originally red cloaked boy.
“Of course we did, we had me.” Henry said with an ignorant smile. “Oh by the way, I’m kicking you off my team.”
“What?” The boy said in amazement.
“Yep, I have no need for you weaklings now that I’m the MVP of a Champion Team. I’m also Captain, so I decide who stays and goes. Sorry weakling.” Henry then walked away, taking the trophy with him. The others scowled at him as he walked pass, which he took as a sign of jealousy. There was a single boy crying from the other team. He looked to be about ten, and Henry knew immediately that it was the boy who had the red eyes. He walked over to him.
“Now stop crying, you won’t always win.” He said in a comforting voice.
“R-Really?” the boy said under sobs.
“Yeah, I mean I’m the greatest, and you kid… you should find another game because you just suck! Hahahaha!” Henry laughed and stalked off, with guys throwing their virtual glasses at him.
He then stood outside, thinking of a new name for his team.
“I can’t keep this cliché name that those idiots came up with… I need a Champion team name, a name that goes with the canceller's 'Code of Dreams'." He looked at the necklace around his neck, which was a golden coin of three teardrops. He smiled, remembering the crying boy from before and a name hit him. “Lacrime Von Yume, Tears of Dreams.”
=============================================
Konnichiwa!
Well here is the mystery surprise! The first written section of Lacrime, first book of Borë e Ëmbël. Now not to confuse people, this is NOT the story that started Lacrime, but the story itself. I know I have told you guys that I would not be working on it anymore, but this was something that I had already started and decided to give you a taste. ;) I'm sure you all have questions, like what is cancelling? What is this Macramé game? What is a Geiman? Why is Henry such a dick? Well after I finish Pieces, Lacrime will be the project to follow afterwards. So stay tuned and remember to check out the blog tomorrow for a blog exclusive look into Pieces. So keeping translating your words into life and enjoy your evening!
This is the first ever discussion for the blog, and which will became a regular among the blog. So to start, lets kick things off with the Paperback versus Hardcover wars. Here are some of the best response:
Calvin from Monroe, Ohio: I think you should sell paperback for a little while. If people like it then you can sell hardcover once you make enough money.
Crysta from RoundRock, Texas: to start out, paperback because more people are inclined to buy paperbacks for books they've never read because they aren't as expensive. as it gets more popular is generally when hardbacks come out.
Erik from Monroe, Ohio: Hardcovers because they are easier to keep neat.
Bailey from Monroe, Ohio: Hardcovers because they will last longer.
Cindi from San Antonio, Texas: Papercovers becasue they are cheaper to sell and make.
Reegan from Monroe, Ohio: Hardcovers because they feel better in my hand.
Nathan Bransford, Literary Agent: There are advantages to both, as hardcovers will earn you alot more money, Feel better and if you bomb out, you could still could sell the book as a paperback. Paperbacks however are cheaper all the way around and many more countries buy paperback over hardcovers. I would say it depends on your goal, money(hardcover), second chance value(hardcover), or getting it out there fast(paperback).
Chris, Author of Bleeding Truth: Paperback is the way to go. Hardcover looks nice and will definitely last longer, but paperback generally has more appeal.
My Take: We had a lot of strong responses on this topic, with a lot of people siding with paperbacks over hardcovers. I am stuck in the middle as a customer and an author. I would have to say in the end however to go with paperback for your first book, that way you can gain a audience and if you get a big one, make most of the rest of your books in hardcovers. Also if you are doing a series of books, then the first book should always be in paperback, and if the series is good, the last in hardcover.
I would like to thank everyone who participated in the discussion, including those who's opinion wasn't voiced. I will be making this a regular post done by me, once a week on Mondays. Stay tuned for the remaining of the week, including tomorrow's secret s-, Ooops! Almost spilled the surprise! you'll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out the surprise. :)
Happy 4th of July! I have return for one week off hiatus to give you guys a special treat! All this week I will be giving specials, like introducing a new discussion, giving you guys an exclusive taste of Pieces, and reveal the next contest! I will break everything into a daily section, each with their own focus for the day. :)
Here is a picture of one of the jewel designs
But to start today off, I will be announcing that I have finally found a publisher, Lulu, and I will be releasing my book between the dates of November 8th and January 9th! And that brings me to today's special event, which cover should I chose? Paperback or Hardcover? I will be holding a discussion, where the top options and the opinions of the three authors will be given. So send in your topics and later on tomorrow night I will be holding the answers to the first ever discussion! :D Also look below to see the whole week's schedule, with a mystery event on Tuesday. ;)
Hey everyone, today is the day when I post a teaser chapter for my book.
To refresh your memory, Bleeding Truth follows the experiences of 17 year-old Alexander Arlington as he begins to rediscover his past and fend of his personal demons (Sadism/Lies, Grief/Violence, and Anger/Rage/Fate) in physical form, along with his questionable past and the hands of death. The novel is meant to ask the question: "Are we alone at the end of the day?" without ever truly answering it.
Below is a large excerpt from the first chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading.
Bleeding Truth
Darkness
1
According to Alex’s watch, midnight is upon the world.
Wearing only a light, blue jacket, black t-shirt, faded blue denim jeans, and
black running shoes he sits alone atop a tree stump, two feet above the snapped
twigs and pine cones which litter the forest clearing before him. His main
purpose in such an isolated place is to meet his girlfriend, Summer.
Unfortunately, she’s late to the meeting, and Alex’s butt starts to complain of
numbness.
Tiredness starts at his nerves equally as fast. Each moment
that passes causes his exhausted mind to view the trees around the clearing as dancing
in a nightmarish fashion at even the slightest of breezes. Illogical fear creeps
into his consciousness as the darkness persuades him into feeling the threat of
eyes upon the back of his neck. Alex’s eyes dash back and forth about the
clearing, expecting to find a shadowy caper amongst the woodland debris around
him as the source of the hallucinated sounds and movements. The night has
officially begun to claim his senses.
“Where could she be?” Alex thinks aloud. “I’m not gonna just
sit here all night, am I? I’ll bet she forgot about m—” His words are cut short
by a rustling sound in the trees across the clearing from him. “Summer?” he
asks, his question posed to the darkness. Fear creeps from his mind to his
vocal cords. His voice strains to seem calm upon collision with the cold air.
“Is that you?” No answer arises to his query. He continues regardless, forcing
a smile on his face to contradict with what he’s truly feeling. “I almost
thought you’d forgotten.”
The rustling stops abruptly, causing Alex’s heart to jump and
flutter. Only silence remains in the absence of the sound. Timidly, Alex rises
from his stumpy throne and crosses the clearing in the direction of the
previous rustling. Terror has gripped him in its pensive jaws, forcing his mind
to race and his heart to pound audibly.
What if it wasn’t her? What if it’s someone else, something
else? Reaching
the bush, he pauses and takes a deep breath to calm himself. I have to do
this… Adrenaline pumping, Alex moves between the trees, peering out into
the darkness. After a frenzied glance, he realizes that nothing exists beyond
the border but the emptiness of the woods.
Letting out a large sigh of relief, he steps back into the
clearing. His heart still pounds heavily inside his chest. Am I that stupid?
Why the hell would anyone be there? Why would Summer be here? He shakes
his head sadly. What am I doing here? Why couldn’t I have just met
her in the morning? Behind him, the sound of twigs snapping punctures the
air. New thoughts enthrall him too much to give any alert to the odd noise. I’m
so stupid. I should just go home— A hand touches his shoulder, gripping it
tightly. Alex screams outward in surprise. Another hand reaches around quickly
to muffle the sound of his terrified voice.
“Stop freaking screaming, I’m not going to hurt you!” yells
a female voice. Her words are forceful and reinforced extensively by the
tightening grip of her hand upon his shoulder. Alex becomes silent. For minutes
they stand in silence as he catches his breath and calms the beating of his
heart. The wind rises to a slight breeze. After a few calm moments, the girl
removes her hand from Alex’s mouth.
“You’re not going to
scream any more, right?” she asks calmly. Alex remains silent. “Okay…I suppose
silence means ‘yes.’” At a calm pace, she steps around to his front, facing him.
With the subtle aide of the ambient light of the environment, Alex scans her
body from head to toe.
He’s slightly surprised by the odd familiarity of her
appearance. She’s slightly shorter than him, around five-foot-ten. Her hair’s
set ablaze by a darkened scarlet fury that shines slightly under the light of the
overhead moon. Each strand hangs slightly below her shoulders in a neat fashion
befitting a girl her age. A solemn expression shows upon her face, but the
seriousness exists with underlying tones of a less serious person. Her skin,
pure white in color, only enhances her dark attire.
The entirety of her wardrobe consists of the darkest shade
of black. A strapless, laced corset covers her abdomen and leaves very little
of her feminine physique to the imagination. The revealing top follows the
curves of her body and ends just above her belly button—which Alex can see
clearly. At her waist hangs a black sheath carrying a large knife that clings
to her right thigh with the aid of a thin, leather belt tied tightly around her
hips. A dark skirt flows downward from her waist and ends well above her knees.
Then, at the base of her knees, begins tall, black boots bearing a white star
as an emblem.
How the hell can she wear only that in the winter? Alex smirks lightly.
“Excuse me.” She catches Alex staring. “Dude, look at my
face, not my damn chest!”
“What? Wait…no, I wasn’t! I swear,” he lies in surprise.
“Uh-huh…sure…” she rolls her eyes.
“I wasn’t! I wouldn’t! I have a girlfriend!”
“They all say that, and, yet, I catch them all staring.” She
points at her chest, and Alex blushes, flustered by her constant, playful
accusations.
He speaks quickly, “Do you mind telling me who the hell you
are?” A surprising sense of anger and confusion creeps into his voice. “I mean,
I thought I was an idiot for being out here to meet my girlfriend, but what
would a girl like you be doing out here so late. I mean—”
“So
you really are the guy I’m looking
for…” she mumbles under her breath, cutting him off casually.
“What?”
“Nothing…err,
there was this girl I met, back in the woods. She was kinda bleeding and dying,
blah blah blah…” Her hands sarcastically follow her words. Alex stares at her
confusedly, unsure of how he should react. “…Anyways,” she rolls her eyes, “she
started talking to me about her boyfriend like I actually cared or something.
‘Please go to my boyfriend,’ she said.” She mocks an annoying, high-pitched
voice. “He’s like somewhere in this weird place waiting for me. I’m like kinda
worried about him.’ So I say to her, ‘Ummm…Why the hell are you worried about
him when you’re coughing up blood and lying in your own shit?’ She got kinda
quiet for a little bit. I was about to go, but, unfortunately, she continued,
‘Just, can you make sure to tell him I won’t make it. His name’s Alex, he
shouldn’t really be all that hard to…’ After that, she spat up a little blood,
which almost got on me, and stopped breathing.” Alex becomes filled with
uncertainty. “You know how expensive my fuckin’ corset is? She almost ruined it
with her gross-ass blood, can you believe that? If only—”
“You’re
lying. You have to be…” He tries hard to remain calm and pretends to shrug off
what she’s said as if it were a casual lie he’d expected. An unexpected, deeper
sense of anger seems to creep into his mind without previous thought.
“Hm?”
“You’re lying…about everything.
There’s no way what you’re talking about could’ve happened. It’s not possible.”
How do I know she’s wrong? “You can’t be telling the truth.” The girl
frowns at him angrily.
“So,
you think I’m a liar, huh?” She scowls, driving her hand forward and gaining a
death grip on his shirt. “Well, then let me show you just how deep my lies are
currently running!” Violently, she pulls him into the trees.
2
After several minutes of rushed and angry movement, Alex and
his strange acquaintance stand atop a bed of rotting leaves. Both stare at the
red mass of flesh which once lived as a teenage girl. Darkness fills every direction,
but Alex’s eyes can’t be fooled. Lacerations encase her naked body, from the
top of her breasts to the bottom of her abdomen in the gruesome form of a
scarlet heart. Her body shimmers as the light from the full moon reflects
carelessly off of her blood.
Alex stands over the body, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. In a
heated battle, his eyes argue with his mind over the scene before him. This
can’t be true. It can’t be her… She may look like her…but it can’t be her. That
girl couldn’t’ve been telling the truth…This couldn’t be happening…It’s all a lie!
It has to be a lie… Gradually Alex lowers himself to his knees
beside the dead girl. While staring at her, his body trembles from fear that
slowly becomes reality. Black hair, matted with blood, covers the girl’s face,
acting as the only form of censorship towards the ultimate truth. What will
I do if…? What can I do…? Reaching out with his trembling right
hand, he moves his digits towards the girl’s hairy mask. Simultaneously they
touch the cold, blood-matted mess.
Grudgingly, Alex pulls back the hair. A pale face reveals
itself, marked only by two small scratches on the right cheek—the only sense of
color present in her seventeen year-old face. “Holy shit…” The words fly from
his mouth as his mind begins to process the body of his dead girlfriend lying
in the shimmering, scarlet pond before him.
3
Tears
mix with blood, as Alex weeps over his dead love. The mysterious girl who’d dragged
him to the bloody site stands behind him with an impatient look of annoyance
upon her face. At the sight of him crying, she rolls her eyes. “Oh c’mon!” she
exclaims. “This isn’t the end of the world. Stop crying you stupid—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
Standing up, he retaliates while hysteria saturates his voice. “She may have
not meant a single, fucking thing to you, but she was my life. Now she’s
dead…No, not just dead. She was slashed to fucking pieces! You wanna
tell me why the hell I should stop crying?!” His voice cracks upon his final
words, as if to signify total loss of control over himself. Teardrops fall
rapidly from his eyes.
“Oh please! Stop you’re fucking crying, it makes you look
like a pussy,” she smirks, averting her eyes. Alex’s right fist connects with
her jaw, causing her teeth to sink partially into her tongue and a small stream
of blood to escape from her mouth. The force of the strike drives her body
backwards into the ground. The harsh sound of crunching leaves and smashed
forest debris echo into the trees. A sadistic smile forms on his face as he
moves forward quickly. Before the girl can push herself off the ground, his
hand tightly grasps the laces of her corset and yanks her upwards to eye-level.
He
speaks quickly, overwhelmed by anger, “Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”
The volume of Alex’s voice rises to a violent yell. “I’ve had enough of all
your pessimistic bullshit!” She stares back at him—pain held blatantly in her
eyes and vicious rage held within his. “Now, I want some goddamn answers. I want
the truth!” His fist clenches tighter upon the laces, causing the corset to
tighten against the girl’s chest. “Tell me right now, who the hell are you, and
why the hell do you feel the need to be such a bitch!?”
She
remains silent, with a look of dismay upon her face.
“Answer me goddamnit!” He
shakes her violently to emphasize his words, causing her head to jolt back and
forth.
“I…”
her voice came out in a whisper, “…can’t…” He stops shaking her, bringing her
closer to his face.
“You ‘can’t’ what?”
“…breathe…” her words force Alex to
realize the tightness of his grip. He releases her corset, quickly moving both
of his hands to her shoulders. His grip returns.
“You
should have no trouble breathing now, should you?” he squeezes her shoulders
tighter, forcing her to wince with pain as she attempts to regain a normal
breathing pattern. “Now, let’s try this again. Who the hell are you and what
are you doing out here at,” with a quick glance, his eyes fall upon his watch’s
glowing numerals, then back upon the slightly frightened girl, “midnight?”
A
crooked smile has formed on Alex’s face, emphasizing the sheer madness in his
eyes as they look upon her. He can see the fear avidly pushing its way into her
mind.
“My
name…” her voice is breathless, yet strangely calm, “…is Audrey, and…” A
rustling noise rises in a crescendo not far behind her.
“‘And’
what?” The noise grows louder, forcing Alex to look towards the source of the
sound. His sight connects with bloodshot eyes staring out from between the
trees.
