Christmas is coming up and I could not be more excited. Today’s post is a continuation of the last Sharing Saturday Sixty-Four. I am sharing the next couple of paragraphs in my short story, The Confession.
I have once again let weeks pass since I last posted but I am going to change that. I will try to post three times a week. On Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday with Saturday being Sharing Saturdays and Tuesday and Friday will mostly be book reviews. Beyond that, I hope you enjoy this excerpt and have a wonderful weekend.
I was in senior year of high school attempting to just make it through school day by day. I had just lost many of my friends or at least that was what it felt like since I was never invited to hang out with them. I can tell by your questioning gazes that you wonder how one loses friends so quickly. The truth is that I have always been anti-social. I never knew what to say and every time somebody would question me or joke with me my replies would be lackluster and later I would realize the perfect thing to say when the conversation was long over. How did I deal with the lack of social graces? Through reading and that was inadvertently the beginning of the end.
Another Saturday is upon us and today I have decided to share a few of my recent writings with you. In the past few Sharing Saturdays, I have shared images, videos, and book release dates and covers. I feel that it is beyond time I showed you all a portion of a recent story that I have been working on. It follows a girl who is trying to make her way in a cruel world where women are used as sacrifices in order to please a goddess of love. I hope you enjoy and have a phenomenal Saturday!
I stride past the competitors next to enter the arena. Their eyes dance around trying to absorb everything at once while skating over the blood that coats the sand staining it a permanent red color. One of the girls, a petite black-haired angel holds her sword awkwardly and I look away knowing she is going to die today. I walk into the dark confines of the rooms beneath the arena and inhale the musty earthy odor of the caves I stand in. They are literal caves carved out of the rock by millions of slave laborers a thousand years ago. Sackcloths cover entrances to small indented rooms where competing girls can change and prepare themselves for the multitude of rituals that make up this horrible celebration. The plinking of water can be heard in the near silence of the corridor until the screaming of the crowd makes it indiscernible.
Another week has passed and another Saturday has arrived. Today I will be sharing the first paragraph of a story I started that is based on the tale of Peter Pan. Without further ado..
I ducked as the Pewter shattered barely missing my head. I dared a glance behind me as I scuttled towards the only locking cabinet in our tiny two-room abode. My mother desperately grasped at my stepfather’s arm as he hurled a second Pewter mug at me. His face is purple with rage and he is swaying slightly as if on the sea. Finally, I reached the cabinet throwing myself inside and securely locking the door.