Friday Snippet #11

For a week at Santa Marinella, maritime city north of Rome and ancient Roman port. Today, later in the afternoon, I greatly enjoyed the refreshing breeze from the Mediterranean Sea. Despite the glare associated with the incredible phenomenon called “sun”, I suffered under the yellow light and—practically blind—wrote a staggering one thousand six hundred words. Lately, for several reasons, I haven’t been prolific, so I’m feeling quite proud of my hard work.

From TCOM, here’s snippet number eleven:

Madame Lana’s fingers came dangerously close to Marie’s moving lips, but thankfully stopped before making contact. Marie had inadvertently stepped back to avoid being touched by the rector’s cold hand and now realized she had probably offended her. Something flickered behind the woman’s eyes, something as cold as her skin. “Finish what you’re doing and go upstairs.” She barked several orders and then left the kitchen followed by two unlucky girls who were culpable of having poured one teaspoon of sugar too many in her coffee.

The chef smiled a sad smile Marie’s way and she shivered. Chef had just treated the two crying girls with the same show of affection. “I’m going to train as a nurse,” Marie said out loud to test how the idea sounded once worded.

Friday Snippet #11

Friday Snippet #2

It’s Friday again. Time flies when you’re having fun writing two different projects and editing the last four chapters of the novel you want to publish shortly. On related news, thanks to my extraordinaire editor, Pax in the Land of Women is almost ready to see the proofreader. Oh, incommensurable joy.

This Friday snippet is from my fantasy wip, Notturno, again. Dalia is in big trouble. It’s sundown and Aragon being a diurnal has fallen into a comatose sleep. She’s just being kidnapped by a man and a woman. She can only hear their voices as she’s carried like a sack of potatoes on the man’s shoulders…

She hoped it was a bizarre dream and she would wake any moment now. The man carrying her walked at a brisk pace, climbing and stepping down at ease, as if she didn’t add any weight to his body. From what she could feel, the man wasn’t as large as Aragon, but, within the confined space of what it must have been a jute sack, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

“Who knows how much he would’ve fetched for this one?”

“She’s not much, is she? Diurnal women are normally bigger.”

“Did we get a child?”

Again with the child. I’m no child.

“No, she must be young, but she’s definitely adult enough…” The man seemed to be thinking of his next words carefully. “When I was picking her up, I—”

“You what?”

Yes, you what, idiot?

“I didn’t do it on purpose! What are you thinking that I’d check her out?” The man’s voice had that distinct quality associated with being worried and embarrassed at the same time.

“You better not.”

“Of course not! Who do you think I am? An uncivilized diurnal? Anyway, she’s a scrawny little thing. I don’t think the Venerables were going to pay much for her.”

Friday Snippet #2

Friday Snippets!

Today I learned of something called Friday Snippets, thanks to Clare who tweeted about it. The idea is to post every Friday a sample of your work in progress to share your writing with the rest of the blogosphere and the twitterverse. Loved the idea and, although is already Friday night, it’s still Friday here in my neck of the woods. I also had quite the productive day. I wrote my daily quota of 2k and I finished and also sent a guest blog post, so I can be excused for my tardiness.

Without further ado, here is my Friday Snippet from my brand new project, a fantasy tale. Working title is Notturno. The two characters are Dalia and Aragon. She lives in the darkness and he thrives under the sun.

“Kirby is my dog’s name.”

“Well, he likes my food.” And, as on clue, Kirby left her lap to jump on Aragon’s.

“I see…”

“He likes me.” Aragon smiled at Kirby. “Isn’t it true that you like me very much, Kirby?”

“He likes you all right; you gave him food and shelter.”

A different kind of smile made his eyes shine. “Does it mean you like me as well?”

“What—”

“I gave you shelter and I did offer you food.” His right eyebrow shot high, his lips curving up slightly.

“I don’t know you!” Dalia should have felt more shocked and added some of the lacking shock to the tone. “How dare you. I’m betrothed.” Funny how that detail came up, when she would constantly rebuke Martin for saying so.

“Don’t get too worked up, I’m married.”

“You are?” Her mouth hanged open.

“Yes.”

She scooped away from him, treacherous disappointment creeping through her feelings. “I must go back.”

Friday Snippets!