Jenna Walsh slumped over a dented, rusty office desk in an office piled high with comics wrapped in shiny plastic and invoices dating as far back as 1988. She was the lone female employee at Merlyn's, the only comic book store in a three county radius. She scanned an online order form on an IBM reject from the 90s; she was trying to decide how many issues of the latest Dark Knight comic would fit in the store's budget. For the past two hours, she had been visiting sites of independent comic publishers, trying to find the next top seller for the store. She was still trying to live down ordering 100 copies of The Devil’s Panties. She found out the hard way adolescent boys in Mabel, Florida wanted to feast their eyes on heroes battling villains and big-breasted babes, not a geeky female comic book artist dealing with the realities of bills, biker boots, and cottage cheese thighs. So far, only five copies of Jennie Breeden’s comic had sold. This was a disappointment for Jenna, who was one of thousands of readers who regularly browsed Breeden's site. Chuck, Jenna’s boss, saw the comic as wasted space in the store.
Jenna’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket; she jumped at the sensation. Once, twice. At the third vibration, she pulled it out and flipped it open. She did not recognize the number, so she hesitated before answering. Phone calls were rare.
“I can’t hate you. I’m sorry. I can’t do it any more.”
The voice on the other end of the line made Jenna think back to phone calls made late at night, years before. Conversations that ended in screaming matches, where tears would stream down her face and burn her skin with salt. The slight whispers of the small white desk fan in front of her and the whir of her computer disappeared until the voice on the phone was the only sound she heard.
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label novel. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Nerdery Week 2008, Day 4
This being Nerdery Week, I've decided to show off my fiction side a bit. Think of this as a look into the nerdery of my mind.
Due to working on a school project, I may have to postpone my religious nerdery until tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll post the beginnings of the first two chapters of the novel I'm working on. I'm also going to post the first two pages of the first chapter of the novel I'm finishing up. I plan to send the first three chapters off to agents in the next few weeks.
So, here they are:
Govi’s eyes shone clear blue as he squinted against the blinding sun. His lips pulled back against two shiny, alabaster rows of teeth. His smile was bright; his shoulders were loose as he sauntered towards a tight cluster of muscular men surrounding a petite, petrified woman. All he could see of her was the top of her head, covered with sleek black hair.
There was no sulfurous odor emanating from him, his eyes didn’t glow red, and he didn’t have black talons crusted with the blood of innocents. He certainly didn’t have bestial, cloven hooves peeking out from under his trouser legs. Instead, he had supple skin with a youthful glow that translated into a warmth which radiated out to any fingertips daring to caress him. Even his scent was honeyed with the lemon juice and cinnamon his attendants added to his bath water.
“Relax, you don’t have to fear me. One day, I would like us to be friends.”
His voice was velvety smooth and barely a whisper.
It was clear- the legends were wrong.
Claire sat still and breathless in an overstuffed, dark crimson chair. The armrests were glistening oak; the cushion sat so high off the ground Claire’s feet hung almost a half foot above the polished marble floor. The dusty air of the room hung in her throat and created silvery, glittering motes in the morning sunlight streaming through the window that faced the garden below. Wrought iron bars separated the room from the glass and created black shadows stretching almost to Claire’s chair.
Claire’s muscles trembled and ached as she forced her body not to move. Not to make a sound. She could feel the sharp point of a quill biting into the bottom of her right thigh, but she still did not move. Even when she swallowed the burning bile rising in her throat, the movement was cautious.
The sound of footsteps could be heard outside the formidable solid metal door. Claire imagined the smooth black leather of Govi’s boots advancing towards her. The air she held in expelled from her lungs as her heart began to thud.
Due to working on a school project, I may have to postpone my religious nerdery until tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll post the beginnings of the first two chapters of the novel I'm working on. I'm also going to post the first two pages of the first chapter of the novel I'm finishing up. I plan to send the first three chapters off to agents in the next few weeks.
So, here they are:
Chapter 1 Preview
Govi’s eyes shone clear blue as he squinted against the blinding sun. His lips pulled back against two shiny, alabaster rows of teeth. His smile was bright; his shoulders were loose as he sauntered towards a tight cluster of muscular men surrounding a petite, petrified woman. All he could see of her was the top of her head, covered with sleek black hair.
There was no sulfurous odor emanating from him, his eyes didn’t glow red, and he didn’t have black talons crusted with the blood of innocents. He certainly didn’t have bestial, cloven hooves peeking out from under his trouser legs. Instead, he had supple skin with a youthful glow that translated into a warmth which radiated out to any fingertips daring to caress him. Even his scent was honeyed with the lemon juice and cinnamon his attendants added to his bath water.
“Relax, you don’t have to fear me. One day, I would like us to be friends.”
His voice was velvety smooth and barely a whisper.
It was clear- the legends were wrong.
Chapter Two Preview
Claire sat still and breathless in an overstuffed, dark crimson chair. The armrests were glistening oak; the cushion sat so high off the ground Claire’s feet hung almost a half foot above the polished marble floor. The dusty air of the room hung in her throat and created silvery, glittering motes in the morning sunlight streaming through the window that faced the garden below. Wrought iron bars separated the room from the glass and created black shadows stretching almost to Claire’s chair.
Claire’s muscles trembled and ached as she forced her body not to move. Not to make a sound. She could feel the sharp point of a quill biting into the bottom of her right thigh, but she still did not move. Even when she swallowed the burning bile rising in her throat, the movement was cautious.
The sound of footsteps could be heard outside the formidable solid metal door. Claire imagined the smooth black leather of Govi’s boots advancing towards her. The air she held in expelled from her lungs as her heart began to thud.
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