Murphy’s Law, Dumb Luck, Destiny and Fate all got together this weekend, laying a bet that I would get absolutely nothing done! Fie on them!
They nearly had me licked, slowing down my writing and my promotion for my new eBook free days. It is the way things go sometimes, I suppose… yet, even while I was home-bound with no computer and a limited capability service cell phone, I managed to stay abreast of friends, fellow writers and followers.
For all who’d like to read a rough, raw thought process of the next book Finding Tina 2, here you go. (Very very raw.)
In this snippet, Tina is struggling with her own sanity and who to trust in a hallucinating dream.
“THE CRAZY MAKING”
Open your eyes, dear
You’re not in Kansas anymore
You’re never going home.
My weary open eye squints around the brightness of the sunlit four walls. Clearly, it’s late in the morning, sun-dappled streaks running smoothly across the floral wallpaper that match the down comforter I’m so cozily buried under. My body feels almost uncomfortably light and cool, dreamy, as if it could float away- so dreamy, that I wonder if this is real.
Good morning he says,
brushing the sleepy hairs away from my face. The air becomes densely chilled between us; he’s leaning into the smile that I cannot halt from spreading across my face.
get away from me..
I cannot stop the live movie of myself from unzipping the black clown’s mask of death, kissing him deeply in the shafts of sunlight. His eyes glitter dully, reflect the coldness of a fish eye, lacking heart or warmth.
Tina stop stop stop…
Murmuring sweet nothings back and forth from my warm lips to his cold ones, lingering on our tongues- I feel his sharpest teeth of his killer shark soul.
No no no…
Like a kite in a strong breeze, I snap away from my body, straining to escape this. I dare not look.
I dare myself to look.
The storm is swirling below, catching the sunshine into a disconcerting display of shafts of dapple, streaks of dark, curtains shredding, walls peeling, debris endlessly looping round and round my betraying husk and the horror which is He.
I scream out my name to the Nightmare.
Nothing from my slut of a husk.
She, Tina, is slipping into submission.
HE swivels his head sharply up
And sees me above.
Terrified beyond words, I strain at my tether, I bite it
He’s pulling me
I chew it with feverish desperation
Faster, stupid whore
I’m out of reach…
Up into the darkness
There’s a light ahead
I squint from the harsh lights flashing in my face. Instinctively my hand blocks the lights but a rough hand pushes it down.
A rougher voice assaults my senses.
“Get out of the car, ma’am.”
I know that voice
Hands ensnare my wrists as I’m dragged out of the front seat and forced on my knees. I’m being frisked, not very nicely. Panic is beginning to chew my insides out. Sharp nails rake down my skin inside my top and I struggle against the uncomfortable sensation.
Bad bad hold still
My nose kisses the dirt with a flash of pain as I taste gravel and blood-tinged spit. His knee is wedged between my shoulder blades, weight of him pressing me down. It’s getting hard to breathe.
“You’re under arrest,” Officer Devon Guire grimly informs me.
“Shut. Up.” Devon forces my face flat against the sharp pebbles, so hard that I sense a few rocks pierce my cheek as easily as a scalpel’s blade.
Behind us, in his cruiser, the radio static chatter is screeching. He’s being called.
Devon curses softly.
“Don’t move. Bitch.” Words so acidic- hatefully flowing from his lips- that I fear for my life.
Suddenly I can breathe with less pain as I hear the crunch of his footsteps head towards the cruiser.
My poor heart, contracting, ever so windingly slower,
Pushing the valves to a lazy, thick, gelatinous pulse pushing against my eardrums
And all I hear is heavy panting offsetting bradycardia beats as
I’m running for my life in the most erratically slow way in the dark
Hear the click
Dodging bullets and hurtful words
Eccentrically disco-flashing of cop lights
Against the asphalt of the lonely, empty highway
Dry underbrush nicking my knobby knees and a cicada’s death cry under my boot
Wind rushing, flying past my head
My eyes stare at the hot golden bullet meandering in mid-air next to my cheek, distracting me from the other shot that slips under my shoulder blade with a sizzling, piercing pop.
I roll under a shrub bestowed with thorny flowers, blossoming on the edge of the world
Shit I’m falling off
Grab the roots
Hanging, by a natural thread, with my one good arm.
The other… well, it’s dead, waiting for the rest of me to catch up.
Exhaustion is having a heyday with me.
The chasm lies somewhere under my dangling feet
Brackish grey, unknown
a downward spiral of Next
a leap of doubtfulness.
Sting of rocks in my pupils
Foul cremated dirt in my mouth
Devon nearly slips off the embankment in his haste to cock his semi-auto in my direction
The silver moon shines upon his taught rippling arms and badge, haloing his hair
With one sensual piercing eye squinted
And the most horrifying smile of desire
To end my life
How could he have the biggest
fucking erection at the time of my end
Why, oh why
did I ever think he would save me
even in such a nightmare as this
Let go, girl…
You are all you have.
Rock bottom’s better than Death.
Muzzle looks so enormous this close..
My hand is gripping nothing
But dark air
Falling down the rabbit hole to beat the bullet
Roaring in my direction
Maybe the chilled Wind
Who can say, or cares
I’m number and dumber than I’ve ever felt
So calmly sleepy
My thinker can’t think.
Bullets got bored & went home.
Wherever bottom is, wake me when I hit it.