It’s Sunday, and on Sundays I like to do fun things that tend to slip by the other six days of the week. Here’s a fun meme one of my newer Twitter friends, Anna Meade ( @ruanna3 ), tagged me in. This was an easy one, because I’ve already done the work. (Love that.)
Seven paragraphs from my latest WIP, BLISS HOUSE, a mystery about a haunted house in Virginia:
This sound was inside the house. Not rhythmic, but insistent. Someone running. And a voice, but not a happy one.
Jillian told herself that she wouldn’t be afraid. Her father had said he would be here, watching her. She pushed back the light cotton blanket, and slipped into the robe that smelled like flowers. The top of it seemed to mold to her body, while the skirt floated behind her making her feel graceful. Graceful. Why hadn’t her mother said anything about how much better she was walking? First, the cane had gone, and now, she had almost no pain at all.
She stepped out into the hallway and looked up to where she thought the sounds had come from. Moonlight filtered through the clerestory windows at the top of the house, tracing criss-crossing shadows everywhere. Maybe there were people from the party who had stayed behind, hiding upstairs. The idea disturbed her, but she also found it thrilling. She hadn’t been around so many people in a very long time.
The footsteps stopped.
“Mom?” Jillian said. Her voice was small, but sounded loud to her own ears in the openness of the hall. But what if I am afraid? Across the gallery, she saw the faint glow of a nightlight beneath her mother’s door. She had a sudden urge to run to her mother’s room and climb in bed with her, as she had when she was a very little girl. Back then, her father was always there, his comforting, solid presence balancing her mother’s warmth.
She had two choices: to run and hide in her mother’s room, or her own; or to go upstairs, alone. She pushed the thought of the round room out of her head. These noises were different. Definitely not children.
Was someone whispering to her? She strained to hear her own name, but couldn’t make out the words.
I’m tagging seven other writers who I think might be tempted to give you a peek at their own works-in-progress. Plus, I’d like a peek, too.
Here’s what they have to do:
1. Go to page 77 of your current MS/WIP
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines, sentences, or paragraphs, and post them as they’re written.
4. Tag 7 authors, and let them know.
Or some variation thereof. I’m naughty like that, and love to break the rules. Well, really I like to see other people break the rules. I live vicariously.