I have been tagged. Again. Evidently, when it comes to blog tag, I run about as fast as I used to when playing real-life tag on the playground. Once again, the culprit who tagged me is Patty. The rules of this little game are as follows:
Go to page 77 (or 7) of your current manuscript.
Go to line 7.
Copy the next 7 lines or paragraphs as they are written and post them.
Tag 7 more authors.
Night of the Hunter was the first document to open when I pulled up my writing software, but I posted from that yesterday for Truth or Dare Thursday. Logically, I could post from The Sharpest Lives, but I’ve a feeling that by this point all my beta readers, AKA most of my blog readers, have already seen that. So, Howl it is! Issue is, my writing software doesn’t break the writing into pages. Solution: Chapter 7, line 7! Here we go! Ready? This little bit features a younger character–seven years old–checking out some roses that may not be what they seem… 😉
… he, being a boy, didn’t have an interest in such things, he imagined his sister would stroke the petals, make those cooing noises females made over flowers, infants and baby animals, and call them pretty.
Sure and they were nice enough, but they hardly seemed to merit all the fuss currently going on. Were they real flowers, at least? They certainly appeared to be, but he couldn’t tell for sure—they didn’t seem to be giving off any kind of scent. The flowers Gideon gave Cass or that his da gave his mam always smelled, rather strongly. This was odd. Perhaps that was why the adults were in uproar?
Curious now, he stepped closer to them, frowning. He was about to reach up and touch one of the petals when he heard the briefest of sounds behind him—a sharply drawn breath—and was suddenly knocked to the ground. He made no sound other than a small grunt as he hit the ground, but the scent that enveloped him—crisp, sharp and almost minty—told him it was the newest household member who’d taken him down.
He reacted on instinct, baring his teeth and scrambling away from her, the roses forgotten. She sat on the floor beside him, her eyes heated on his but showing no fear. She knew what he was, and though his parents had taught him to hide it from others, this woman knew. Keenan wasn’t certain how he knew this, but somehow he did. And still she showed no fear.
“Don’t do something stupid,” she told him, her voice clipped and precise as usual. “We don’t know where those came from.”
Reminded, the boy flicked a sullen glance towards the flowers. “They’re only flowers.”
“We don’t know where they came from,” she repeated. “So you don’t touch them. Got it?”
*fade to black and back to Murphy!*
And that’s that! Now of course the issue becomes who to tag. All right, I’m tagging writer friends who may not necessarily have blogs. Their responses can be posted in the comments.
Next victims, step on up!
- Rachael/Obi – @ObiKimono
- Monica/Angel – @incompletesong
- KD Sarge @ KDSarge.com (I know you don’t like memes. But please? :D)
- Lor Rose (Sorry Lor; pick another manuscript? ^^;;)
- Josee, a friend of mine both in the writer world and the real world
- Two other people who’d like to post, because I currently have no more people to name. 😛
Ready? Go! Remember to leave me a link in the comments so I can see what you posted! 😉