Wings ePress
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Wings ePress Authors' Showcase |
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Doubt
Laura twisted a handkerchief in her hands. “It sounds like
you spent a lot of time together.” Cal shrugged. “Well, I guess we did. I would go down on
the train and spend weekends at his suite in the Martinique. He knows a lot
of influential people in Oroville, but he seemed to have few friends. I
really think he was just lonesome.” “Oh, Cal, Cal, you don’t know what you’re saying! That man is evil.” “Ma, does anyone in the family besides me have the same pale blue eyes?” “What kind of a stupid question is that?” Laura shouted at
him. “I want to know what that man said to you.” Cal started to walk away.”
Stop avoiding me!” She rose to her feet and pulled at his arm to turn him to
face her. “All right, he said that he was possibly my father. I
asked you about my eyes because he pointed out that he and I have the same
eyes. He said he had sex with you!” Laura backed away and collapsed in a chair. In a whisper she said, “He raped me. Just after your father left for Denver, he raped me. Now you know what kind of a man Ravannel truly is!
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Colorado Silver, Colorado Gold excerpt author's page order now
The music ended. Wes offered his arm and walked her toward
the punch table. He couldn’t dance with her again without
causing comment. But he didn’t want to let her go. Walking
briskly without giving her a chance to stop, he skirted the
punch table and within a few yards entered the maze of
parked buggies and wagons. She withdrew her hand as he
turned toward her. “Mr. Westmoreland, this is improper.” She sounded extremely formal. He relaxed slightly. If he thought he’d frightened her, he would take her back to the dance floor. He smiled at her. “So why did you dance with me?” “Because you asked,” she answered. But both of them knew she could have said no. He took a step closer, causing her to take
a step backward. “Mrs. Peterson was right, you know. I’m not
the type of person you should talk to.”
“Really, Mr. Westmoreland.” Now she sounded indignant. “I’m
a grown woman. I’m capable of deciding with whom to talk.”
He liked the way her back went up when challenged. He took
another small step closer. Her retreat brought her shoulders
up against the high side of a wagon. He wanted to hear her
say his name. “Well, if you’re going to talk to me, call me
Wes.”
She looked puzzled. “Wes Westmoreland? Surely Wes isn’t your
first name?”
“No, but I’ve always been called Wes.” He didn’t want to
discuss why. He moved closer, her skirts brushing his boots.
“What should I call you?” He wanted her to say her first
name, wanted to hear clearly what he’d only half-heard Mrs.
Peterson call her. Wanted a name for his thoughts, something
warmer, more real than ‘Miss Lawson’. He rested his hands on the wagon side just above her shoulders. Even in the dim light he saw the pulse in her throat beat. Close enough to feel her warmth, hear her slightly accelerated breathing. Her tongue nervously crept out to moisten her lower lip and his gut tightened. Did she taste as sweet as he suspected? Feeling his own blood pulse, his voice hardly more than a whisper, he asked, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
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Luther's Cross “Why’d you
kiss me at Maeve’s?” He breaks the kiss, but he presses
his lips to her cheekbone. “Few
reasons,” she answers him. “Like what?” “Joe. I
don’t get your deal with Joe.” She looks up at him. “I
guess I wanted to remind you, I’m your friend. Not his.” “What
else?” He fishes for more words that will make his
throat and heart burn like he’s swallowing whiskey
straight from the bottle. “I wanted
to,” she admits with a little grin. The finale
is lighting the sky, but he doesn’t care that he’s not
watching it. He wishes this moment with Ellie would last
a lifetime. “Do you have a star where even people who
don’t want to can fall in love?” “I’m not gonna fall in love with you, Jay.” Her words don’t mean as much as the fact that she can’t look at him when she says them.
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The Walk Home
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A Treacherous Past
A few minutes after leaving the restaurant, he saw the headlights approaching from behind. The vehicle overhauled him quickly until it sat holding station just a few yards back. Stern vaguely wondered why, despite the road being deserted, it held its distance. It subconsciously registered that the lights were higher, wider than a car. A larger vehicle, maybe a lorry with a load, taking it easy on an unfamiliar road. He thought no more of it. For some time, the road wound its way through open countryside. Stern knew the route well and was aware that, though it was too dark to see them, open fields stretched away on either side. The other vehicle stayed with him, all the time keeping its distance. It was as they approached a section of road that meandered through a wooded area that Stern noticed the vehicle creeping closer. Here, the bends in the road were sharper and more frequent, the headlights picking out tall oak and beech trees as the car swept round the tight turns. Broad white chevrons gleamed fluorescent in the headlights …an “S” bend, the tightest on this section of the road and known well by Stern. He instinctively lifted from the accelerator, his foot hovering over the break pedal, the car slowing obediently. Suddenly, the vehicle behind was rushing toward him, its headlights on full beam, blinding in the rear view mirror. “What the hell’s he doing…?” Stern reacted automatically, his foot grinding down on the throttle in an attempt to pull away from the onrushing headlights. But the old car needed time to respond, too much time. The engine roared and the old VW did its best to gather speed. Its best wasn’t good enough. The impact slammed Stern back in the seat, snapping his head against the headrest. He fought the wheel as the car was forced forward, the teeth-shattering sound of screaming metal filling his head. He swung the wheel to full lock, praying for the car to react and take him ‘round the bend. Though he slewed to the right, he continued to broadside, grinding straight ahead, the gleaming white chevrons accelerating toward him. In a last desperate attempt, he lifted from the accelerator and slammed his foot down on the brake pedal. He heard the tearing screech of the tortured tyres on tarmac and the acrid smell of burning rubber permeating the car, searing the back of his throat. But it was of little use. The last strains of Tishomingo Blues faded as the side window of the car filled with the gleaming white chevrons. Go right, the sign screamed. Go right. But the little Scirocco was being driven by another force and nothing would stop it now. The splintering crash of the shattering road sign was the last sound Stern heard before oblivion. |
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Harbingers Of The Apocalypse
excerpt author's page order now “So, basically this is just another Book of Revelations.” “No.” Zewail was obviously frustrated that John wasn’t getting it. “No, it’s not. Revelations is full of symbolism. It is a parable. Contrary to what many believe, it’s not meant to be taken literally. Everything in it is symbolic of something else. It is possibly the most cryptic work of literature ever created, but this new book isn’t like that. It’s very straightforward, and it’s very detailed. It names the people, places, and dates that will figure into the world’s destruction. No more symbolism. No more guessing as to what it means.” Zewail paused, taking a moment to calm himself. “As soon as we realized what it was, we asked the United States for help, and they sent you.” “Who are the people named in the text?” John asked. “Well, it speaks of many historical figures.” Zewail spoke slowly, allowing John’s reeling mind an opportunity to catch up. “The Pharaoh Ahmose I and Moses, Julius Caesar, Adolph Hitler, but then there are others... People who are living in this age and have no idea the part they will play in the destruction of the world.” “Well, I can contact my people in Washington. If nothing else at least we can keep an eye the ones living in our time period,” John reasoned. Zewail nodded. He was amazed at how John seemed to take the information in stride and was already prepared to work. “I just don’t understand what it is you’re hoping I’ll be able to do,” John stated, frustrated and disappointed by his own uncertainty. “Actually, we were hoping you could tell us.” Zewail spoke cautiously. “You see, you are one of the people named in the text.”
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The 24-Karat King
“What have we here?” a voice asked. It was not a
strong voice, not powerful as the voice of Coldiron was powerful. It
was thin and weak, bored and sulky. “Your Majesty,” the
first guard said, “Lord Coldiron of North Whippet presents you with
this... this gift. With his compliments,” he added quickly as
Coldiron made an ominous warning sound in his throat. “A gift,” the voice
said, and hands clapped, as with anticipation. “How unique it is!”
Footsteps drew near, and still I did not raise my eyes. “It is so
cleverly crafted, Lord Coldiron, that one almost expects it to
breathe.” “It not only breathes,
Your Majesty,” Coldiron said, “but sings as well.” “As well,” the king
echoed, “or better?” He tittered at his own joke. “Such a lovely
thing, touched with gold,” he murmured. “It cannot possibly sound so
beautiful as it looks, Lord Coldiron.” Beautiful? I thought. Not I. But I dutifully lifted my instrument and caressed the strings with my fingertips. The nightingale heralds nightfall, I reminded myself, the lark the morning, but Wren’s job is to smooth rough corners and soften sharp edges. And so I sang. |
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Constancy's Waltz Fiddling With Murder: Book One
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“Wake up, darlin’. We’re home.” As quiet as
the voice was, I came awake with heart hammering, lungs
gasping for air. I hadn’t even known I was asleep. For a
moment I couldn’t think where I was, only that something
terrible was happening and I had to escape. What was it?
Pools of blood? Shattering glass? Green eyes-- “Constancy?”
Warm fingers touched my arm. I yelped. “Gently, now.
It’s all right. It’s all right, darlin’. You’re in no danger
with me.”
There are dangers and
dangers. And it wasn’t all right. Everything was
horrible. “He said I’d wind up like Karmalyn if I talked to
you anymore.” Danny, who’d
been half out of the car, settled back into his seat and
closed the door again. “Who did?” “Some
anonymous voice on the phone.” “When?” “Just before
Joan called.” “Man or
woman?” “I don’t know.
I assumed it was a man, but it could have been either, I
guess.” “Why didn’t
you tell me sooner?” “Danny, I
couldn’t stay away from you.” “Meaning?” “That’s what he told me--to stay away from cops, especially you.
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Yours Till Niagara Falls
He smiled sardonically at
Rose. “I’m surprised you didn’t turn back.”
“I’m not used to turning
back, Dr. Dreesen,” she
answered soberly.
“Yes, it is better to
look forward.”
Rose thought that for a
moment he looked and sounded sad.
“From here, it is a long
and arduous trip to any city by horse or automobile,
especially when that trip is a matter of life or death.”
Josef was serious, and again Rose thought he looked
melancholy.
Instinctively, she
reacted to his mood, and tears rose in her eyes and
tumbled down her cheeks. She brushed them away. “I don’t
know why I’m crying.”
“You are tired and
excited, Miss Shaw.” He set down her bags and looked
down at her small figure. “I hope you’re not too
disappointed in Rio Encanto.”
They were now in front of an old adobe apartment
building, topped with a sloping tin roof. “This is it.”
Josef looked from the brown building to Rose. “This is
your new home. Welcome to
Rose stared at the
building, hoping with all her might she would be happy
here in this community so unlike her native
The sun was beginning to
set, dimming the light to a more romantic hue. Josef
walked with her to her door, unlocked it, and handed her
the key. Then picked up her suitcases and carried them
into her new home. As she peered into the room, he
turned and walked away. “Thank you,” Rose called to his receding back, and saw him wave acknowledgment of her words. Rose looked after him as she stood in the threshold to her new life. She gazed at the magenta sky and smiled. “Encanto--enchanted,” she whispered. “I wonder.”
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Rose Of The Rio Grande
excerpt author's page order now “Why? What caused the falling out with your family?” She sighed, as though weary and unwilling to reply, but she did. “A number of years ago Evan and a bunch of his cronies dug holes all over the property, and not just small ones, huge ones that desecrated the land and killed plants and bushes and wildflowers. He upset everyone in my family.” “What was he digging for?” Jade grinned, hoping to ease the strain on Kia’s face. “Did he expect to find a hidden treasure?” She nodded, and for a few seconds Jade thought she must be joking. Then she said, “There’s a story, I guess it’s more a legend, that the first couple who lived here hid a treasure. They intended for it be used by their descendants, if ever needed, to pay whatever expenses might be incurred with the property so that Loon Lodge Camp need never be sold unless it was no longer wanted by a future generation. So far that hasn’t happened.” “I assume Evan and his friends never found the treasure.” “Of course they didn’t. It’s just a story my grandparents were fond of telling.”
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Coming Next Month
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