I've gotten a few emails asking for a peek at my work. Next time just post them as comments people! Don't be shy! :)
Really though, I don't care how you reach me, thanks for reaching out. So here is a quick sneak peek at "The Wasting Void"
Keep in mind...This is just part of a first draft. It hasn't been edited. Hasn't been looked over by a beta reader, or even an alpha reader for that matter! So, keep that in mind as you read-
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Alexander sat in silence on the hard wooden bench. He waited patiently for the bus along with several other would be patrons. A nervous shudder snaked its way down his spine each time he looked around and happened to catch someone’s eyes.
“Stupid,” he muttered to himself. Then he realized he had spoken aloud. A soft, warm flush filled his cheeks and his eyes darted nervously about as he tried to determine if anyone had heard him. His psychiatrist told him that his condition was called Social Anxiety Disorder. One of many that he suffered from, he thought wryly to himself. It was just one in the long list of ailments that had sprung up over the years. He wondered sometimes if he had ever been normal. At some point before the voices, the mind numbing anxiety, and the general antisocial tendencies, was there ever a quiet calm moment in his life? There were none that he could recall.
“Let’s move this pity party along hoss, the bus is coming,” the soft calm drawl of David’s voice soothed Alexander. He glanced up, and sure enough, the bus was making a wide right turn onto the main street a few lights down. He reached into his front pocket and checked the time on his cell phone. Relief flooded him for the briefest of moments, he would be on time, he thought. Any joy that brief revelation had brought to him was quickly quashed as the bus came to a loud whining halt in front of him. Air whooshed out from somewhere underneath the gun-metal grey behemoth and the door jerked open.
He stood there paralyzed and watched in abject horror as the door reshaped itself before his eyes. The sides of the doorway bowed out forming an angry gaping maw. Shards of glass broke away as the strange metal mouth widened and began to form jagged teeth. Panic gripped him and he froze causing the other boarders to bang hastily into him. Their bodies inadvertently pushed him forward to the bus-beast. A brief strangled mewling sound slipped past his lips drawing stares from the other bus goers.
“You ok buddy?” A tall well dressed business man asked as he slipped passed Alexander. He looked more annoyed than concerned.
“You’re losing you’re shit, Allie-boy,” Derrick spoke up from somewhere deep inside the swelling panic. Alexander hated the little nicknames that Derrick came up for them all. The annoyance grounded him though, and when he looked back up, the bus was just a bus.
Tentatively he took the steps one by one, and slid the flimsy laminated pass through the reader. It dinged happily letting him know that it had read the card successfully. He smiled awkwardly at the driver, who ignored him, and shuffled to the nearest empty seat. He was sweating nervously and could still feel the tendrils of fear and panic that had gripped him so tightly just moments ago. They were slinky soft shadows of the once bright hot feelings, but in their own way unnerved him just as much.
“Ewe, sweaty,” Serena chimed in. He could see in his mind’s eye her smooth soft brow crease with wrinkles and her nose scrunch up as if she could somehow smell him. She could not. She was just a voice in his head.
“You’re just a voice in my head,” Alexander mumbled.
“And you just a man talking to a voice in his head,” her terse reply echoed sarcastically back.
Alexander bit back a scathing retort that was just at the tip of his tongue when out of the corner of his eye something caught his attention. It was black and oily looking, like spilled ink that had half dried. Except it wasn’t, couldn’t be, it moved. The thing was roughly the size and shape of a man. Like a shadow of a man without an owner. "Impossible," he thought, as the all too familiar tentacle-like wisps of panic began to weed their way through his mind again.
The thing sniffed the air repeatedly. It squatted on gangly legs that looked to thin to support a man. Its body was long, lean and sickly looking as well. The round non-descript face was all but featureless except for the glowing red embers that were its eyes and a sharp downward slanting brow. There was a horizontal gash just below the lump of a nose that served as its mouth and a little round chin that quickly disappeared into its to long snake-like neck.
He had been watching it out of the corner of his eye, and as he turned his head ever-so-slightly in the shadow’s direction to get a better look, the thing’s response was immediate and sinister. It leaned forward into the isle craning its neck toward him in a serpentine fashion and smiled a toothy grin filled with menacing obsidian-like pointed teeth. A pink forked tongue whipped out, flashed back and forth in the air, and then disappeared. Alexander paled and quickly turned away. "It’s not there, Alex, just your imagination again," he told himself.
The shadow-beast hopped off the seat and stretched in an odd off balance way. Its head was too big for the rest of its body and wobbled back and forth not unlike a bobble head figurine. It would have almost been amusing to Alexander if he wasn’t fighting waves and waves of panic that rolled over him like the ocean. He noticed its hands for the first time as it leaned forward and dropped to all fours. They, like the rest of him here vaguely human shaped, but their ends were tipped with vicious talon like claws in place of fingernails.
“I am one,” the thing spoke in a deep dry echo that seemed strained. It was like it had to traverse the breadth and length of the entire universe in order to make its way from the creature’s mouth. Alexander stared at the thing in perplexed revulsion. He couldn’t look away. It was like a train wreck, shocking and awful, but wholly riveting.
“What had it meant?" He mulled the thought over, repeating it to himself, “I am one,” he didn’t know.
“The five must be one,” it spoke again in a voice like gravel sliding down a long glass tunnel. Alexander couldn’t explain why, but those five little words sent a rippled of fear and panic through his entire being. He needed help, now. Irrationally he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the thing.
“David,” he begrudgingly called out to the level-headed southerner inside his head. Fear dug its needlelike claws deeper into him as he sat there, in silence. No familiar voices, friendly, or otherwise, spoke up and returned his plea.
“Anyone?” he tried again, and glanced sideways at the seething mass of man shaped darkness just a few feet from him
He felt David’s presence before he even spoke. He could picture the stoic southerner clearly in his mind. Tall and weathered like a character straight out of an old Zane Grey novel. He could practically smell cattle, dust, and horseflesh slick with sweat from a long ride, as David’s presence made its way to the forefront of his mind. He shook the thought away quickly; there were other, more important things to think about. Things that could possible eat him.
“You’ve just worked yourself up into a right lather, haven’t ya hoss?” The amusement in David’s voice was all too apparent. It grated on Alexander. He was supposed to be the strong one, the organized one, the normal one. The thought was accompanied by another bright flash of anger. Both quickly were lost when Alexander realized that David’s voice had not come from his head, but from the seat next to him.
“What the fuck,” he exclaimed, drawing disapproving glares from several of the people in the surrounding seats. His mouth opened involuntarily, he gaped, and momentarily lost all control of coherent speech. He managed instead a strangled cough.
“Well put,” David grinned. He sat there calm as could be rolling a cigarette up in one hand. No easy feat, but his nimble practiced fingers, tucked, rolled, and in a few seconds made quick work of it. He licked the seal; lit the cigarette with a flick of his wrist and the help of a battered well worn Zippo. It smelled heavenly. Alexander wasn’t sure why, he had never smoked himself, but for the briefest of moments he was enshrouded in utter bliss.
“What’s got your goat hoss? David asked. To Alexander, it didn’t seem like David was nonplused in the least to be sitting there, on the bus, right next to him.
“What the fuck,” more disapproving stares.
Alex couldn’t seem to put more than those three words together in a sentence. His mind reeled. He felt a little sick to his stomach as his head involuntarily bobbled back and forth looking at David, then the shadow-beast, and back. David follow Alexander’s swiveling gaze, he looked down at himself, up at Alexander, and then back to the smiling beast on the bus.
“What the fuck,” David exclaimed, as he pulled a polished pearl handled six shooter from a low-hanging leather hip holster and shot.
***
Really though, I don't care how you reach me, thanks for reaching out. So here is a quick sneak peek at "The Wasting Void"
Keep in mind...This is just part of a first draft. It hasn't been edited. Hasn't been looked over by a beta reader, or even an alpha reader for that matter! So, keep that in mind as you read-
___________________________________________________________________
Alexander sat in silence on the hard wooden bench. He waited patiently for the bus along with several other would be patrons. A nervous shudder snaked its way down his spine each time he looked around and happened to catch someone’s eyes.
“Stupid,” he muttered to himself. Then he realized he had spoken aloud. A soft, warm flush filled his cheeks and his eyes darted nervously about as he tried to determine if anyone had heard him. His psychiatrist told him that his condition was called Social Anxiety Disorder. One of many that he suffered from, he thought wryly to himself. It was just one in the long list of ailments that had sprung up over the years. He wondered sometimes if he had ever been normal. At some point before the voices, the mind numbing anxiety, and the general antisocial tendencies, was there ever a quiet calm moment in his life? There were none that he could recall.
“Let’s move this pity party along hoss, the bus is coming,” the soft calm drawl of David’s voice soothed Alexander. He glanced up, and sure enough, the bus was making a wide right turn onto the main street a few lights down. He reached into his front pocket and checked the time on his cell phone. Relief flooded him for the briefest of moments, he would be on time, he thought. Any joy that brief revelation had brought to him was quickly quashed as the bus came to a loud whining halt in front of him. Air whooshed out from somewhere underneath the gun-metal grey behemoth and the door jerked open.
He stood there paralyzed and watched in abject horror as the door reshaped itself before his eyes. The sides of the doorway bowed out forming an angry gaping maw. Shards of glass broke away as the strange metal mouth widened and began to form jagged teeth. Panic gripped him and he froze causing the other boarders to bang hastily into him. Their bodies inadvertently pushed him forward to the bus-beast. A brief strangled mewling sound slipped past his lips drawing stares from the other bus goers.
“You ok buddy?” A tall well dressed business man asked as he slipped passed Alexander. He looked more annoyed than concerned.
“You’re losing you’re shit, Allie-boy,” Derrick spoke up from somewhere deep inside the swelling panic. Alexander hated the little nicknames that Derrick came up for them all. The annoyance grounded him though, and when he looked back up, the bus was just a bus.
Tentatively he took the steps one by one, and slid the flimsy laminated pass through the reader. It dinged happily letting him know that it had read the card successfully. He smiled awkwardly at the driver, who ignored him, and shuffled to the nearest empty seat. He was sweating nervously and could still feel the tendrils of fear and panic that had gripped him so tightly just moments ago. They were slinky soft shadows of the once bright hot feelings, but in their own way unnerved him just as much.
“Ewe, sweaty,” Serena chimed in. He could see in his mind’s eye her smooth soft brow crease with wrinkles and her nose scrunch up as if she could somehow smell him. She could not. She was just a voice in his head.
“You’re just a voice in my head,” Alexander mumbled.
“And you just a man talking to a voice in his head,” her terse reply echoed sarcastically back.
Alexander bit back a scathing retort that was just at the tip of his tongue when out of the corner of his eye something caught his attention. It was black and oily looking, like spilled ink that had half dried. Except it wasn’t, couldn’t be, it moved. The thing was roughly the size and shape of a man. Like a shadow of a man without an owner. "Impossible," he thought, as the all too familiar tentacle-like wisps of panic began to weed their way through his mind again.
The thing sniffed the air repeatedly. It squatted on gangly legs that looked to thin to support a man. Its body was long, lean and sickly looking as well. The round non-descript face was all but featureless except for the glowing red embers that were its eyes and a sharp downward slanting brow. There was a horizontal gash just below the lump of a nose that served as its mouth and a little round chin that quickly disappeared into its to long snake-like neck.
He had been watching it out of the corner of his eye, and as he turned his head ever-so-slightly in the shadow’s direction to get a better look, the thing’s response was immediate and sinister. It leaned forward into the isle craning its neck toward him in a serpentine fashion and smiled a toothy grin filled with menacing obsidian-like pointed teeth. A pink forked tongue whipped out, flashed back and forth in the air, and then disappeared. Alexander paled and quickly turned away. "It’s not there, Alex, just your imagination again," he told himself.
The shadow-beast hopped off the seat and stretched in an odd off balance way. Its head was too big for the rest of its body and wobbled back and forth not unlike a bobble head figurine. It would have almost been amusing to Alexander if he wasn’t fighting waves and waves of panic that rolled over him like the ocean. He noticed its hands for the first time as it leaned forward and dropped to all fours. They, like the rest of him here vaguely human shaped, but their ends were tipped with vicious talon like claws in place of fingernails.
“I am one,” the thing spoke in a deep dry echo that seemed strained. It was like it had to traverse the breadth and length of the entire universe in order to make its way from the creature’s mouth. Alexander stared at the thing in perplexed revulsion. He couldn’t look away. It was like a train wreck, shocking and awful, but wholly riveting.
“What had it meant?" He mulled the thought over, repeating it to himself, “I am one,” he didn’t know.
“The five must be one,” it spoke again in a voice like gravel sliding down a long glass tunnel. Alexander couldn’t explain why, but those five little words sent a rippled of fear and panic through his entire being. He needed help, now. Irrationally he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the thing.
“David,” he begrudgingly called out to the level-headed southerner inside his head. Fear dug its needlelike claws deeper into him as he sat there, in silence. No familiar voices, friendly, or otherwise, spoke up and returned his plea.
“Anyone?” he tried again, and glanced sideways at the seething mass of man shaped darkness just a few feet from him
He felt David’s presence before he even spoke. He could picture the stoic southerner clearly in his mind. Tall and weathered like a character straight out of an old Zane Grey novel. He could practically smell cattle, dust, and horseflesh slick with sweat from a long ride, as David’s presence made its way to the forefront of his mind. He shook the thought away quickly; there were other, more important things to think about. Things that could possible eat him.
“You’ve just worked yourself up into a right lather, haven’t ya hoss?” The amusement in David’s voice was all too apparent. It grated on Alexander. He was supposed to be the strong one, the organized one, the normal one. The thought was accompanied by another bright flash of anger. Both quickly were lost when Alexander realized that David’s voice had not come from his head, but from the seat next to him.
“What the fuck,” he exclaimed, drawing disapproving glares from several of the people in the surrounding seats. His mouth opened involuntarily, he gaped, and momentarily lost all control of coherent speech. He managed instead a strangled cough.
“Well put,” David grinned. He sat there calm as could be rolling a cigarette up in one hand. No easy feat, but his nimble practiced fingers, tucked, rolled, and in a few seconds made quick work of it. He licked the seal; lit the cigarette with a flick of his wrist and the help of a battered well worn Zippo. It smelled heavenly. Alexander wasn’t sure why, he had never smoked himself, but for the briefest of moments he was enshrouded in utter bliss.
“What’s got your goat hoss? David asked. To Alexander, it didn’t seem like David was nonplused in the least to be sitting there, on the bus, right next to him.
“What the fuck,” more disapproving stares.
Alex couldn’t seem to put more than those three words together in a sentence. His mind reeled. He felt a little sick to his stomach as his head involuntarily bobbled back and forth looking at David, then the shadow-beast, and back. David follow Alexander’s swiveling gaze, he looked down at himself, up at Alexander, and then back to the smiling beast on the bus.
“What the fuck,” David exclaimed, as he pulled a polished pearl handled six shooter from a low-hanging leather hip holster and shot.
***