Prayer does wonders. I prayed to God the last few nights to make me inspired. It's lovely to feel inspired, and to open the gates and allow creativity to pass through unbridled. The last couple of days have been good in that department. Not only have I written, but I've written something that pleases me. And it flowed unobstructed. And I'm grateful for it!
I posted a notice on my Facebook Author page to the readers who volunteered to read The Best Possible Angle in exchange for an honest review. I have yet to see how many of those people will heed the due date. Still, I can't allow myself to be sidetracked should they decide not to honor it. I have a strong feeling that this book will do very well. It's all about fitting the pieces. There's always a way; every piece must fit.
Sunday, July 23, 2017
This is from my latest project with a dash of suspense. Working title is "Because Mama Said So..."
Lanelle never thought she would be kidnapped, and locked inside the trunk of a car. After lying in a fetal position, her legs have begun to cramp. The pain is unbearable. She wants to cry out, but knows that to do so will only piss off her captor. Lanelle decides to stay quiet, and tries to breathe through her mouth. The air is thin, and stinks of gasoline and a musty blanket that keeps brushing against her face.
The darkness surrounding her scares her worse than not knowing where she’s being taken. Fear trickles like the piss that ran down her legs after she was shoved into the trunk.
Lanelle wishes she overcame that fear, just as she wishes she could shake off the leg cramp. To move is agony, and to remain still feels just as bad. None of it matters, because all she can do is replay scenes and conversations leading up to the very reason she’s in the trunk in the first place.
The car hits several ice patches, veering from side to side. Lanelle prays that God will be merciful, allowing both she and the driver to crash or tumble to their deaths…anything to prevent what lies in store for her. Lanelle can feel the slight pumping of the breaks, and the driver manages to regain control of the car…her prayers have gone unanswered.
They move from the smooth, cleared asphalt to bumpier, unplowed terrain the moment the car turns off the main road. As her captor reduces speed, Lanelle knows they will stop soon.
With every passing moment, her doom draws closer. Sweat runs down her filthy face, and settles into the creases of her neck. She smells the urine saturating her pants. For whatever good she thinks it’ll do, she prays for more time.
Eventually, the car stops. Despite the eerie quiet and stillness, she listens intently for sounds that might give her clues of where she is. She waits to hear the driver’s door open, but her captor doesn’t get out right way.
Lanelle has never learned the virtue of patience. She hates waiting for a cup of coffee, much less her own demise. Not that she wants to die, but she wonders if this is some game her captor relishes playing with her, and will it drive her mad before something far worse happens?
Then, a spark of hope renews her spirit, and the pain in her leg dulls. Maybe the reason her captor hasn’t gotten out of the car yet is because they’ve had time during the drive to rethink things. Maybe she can plead her case. She smiles at the possibility of saying just the right thing to inspire sympathy and a reprieve.
Lanelle finally hears the trunk release activated, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. Slowly, the trunk door rises open, and she watches her own breath lift into the cold night air.
Her captor stands before her, staring with the same wonderment a person might possess when looking at a struggling animal that’s been trapped.
“Please don’t do this,” she pleads, searching her captor’s face for any sign of compassion or remorse. “Sooner or later, there’s gonna be a whole lotta people missing me. And they’ll come looking for me.”
Unfortunately, one look into the face staring down at her, Lanelle knows that her captor is unmoved. Her faith that all will end well wanes.
“Oh, I’m gonna have a really goodtime getting rid of you,” her captor says, leering at the caught prey. “In fact, when I’m done, they won’t be able to find you!”