Saturday, August 20, 2005

WIP Snip

A quick snip from "Sea Change", my current short story project. Rough, but improving. PG-13.

The sea was wild that night, a terrible hag, foam-stranded hair blowing wildly in the wind, shrieking and clawing at the shore. Brent watched her fury from behind the plate glass window overlooking the beach, then turned back to the fire and Alicia sleeping gently under a quilt, her long red hair splayed around her head.

The flicker of the flames played shadow games on her face. Her breath mirrored the hiss of the fire, as her hair mirrored the flames with its blazing, honest color. No brassy bottle color or wimpy strawberry-blonde there, just pure Celtic fire. Her skin showed her ancestry as well, pale and freckled. She never tanned, only burned, peeled, and burned again.

He tossed back the remainder of his drink and grimaced at the watery, lukewarm Scotch. A couple of ice cube and three fingers of Glenlivet refreshed his glass. He held the cold drink to the bite mark on his shoulder. That would be a bruise to remember in days to come.

He wasn't sure if they had been fucking or fighting. Whatever they had done, it had certainly not been making love. Love was markedly absent from the lives of Brent and Alicia Williamson lately. Brent wondered if she was that wild with what's-his-name, the other guy. Oh yeah, Randy. He snorted. Appropriate. He wondered if they made love or just fucked. Then, he wondered why he cared. He turned back to the window and watched the storm assaulting the beach and the house.

Brent was fundamentally a gentle and sensitive man who had loved Alicia with all of his heart. She fulfilled him, completed him, she was the missing half of his soul, as wild and free as he was controlled and civilized, and his heart hurt to know that he had lost her. His frustration at being helpless to prevent it tore him apart.

He took a gulp of Scotch and enjoyed the warmth of it in his throat and stomach. The storm was getting worse, the wind shrieking like a banshee and the surf booming against the shore like a battering ram. He settled into the rocking chair in the corner and alternated between watching his wife sleeping and the sea-hag shrieking as long as the darkness lasted.

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At 5:25 PM, Blogger Heather Lynne said...


At 9:32 AM, Blogger Demented M said...

Very nice--love the description of the sea.


At 3:43 PM, Blogger Debra Young said...

Excellent, Carter. I'd like to read the rest. d:

At 1:11 PM, Blogger Melly said...

Carter, it's the first time I'm reading your writing and I'm impressed. You definitely surprised me since I didn't know what to expect. It started of as a kind of fantasy story, but then it took a different turn. Very intersting and I would like to know where this is going (or coming from).
Very good.

At 4:46 PM, Blogger Carter said...

Thanks Heather and Michelle!

Debra, be careful what you wish for... ;-)

Hi Melly! Thanks! My writing, when it's not straight horror, tends toward a fantasy-horror-literary fusion with occasional apocalyptic overtones. As far as where it's going, it's a story about change, so there are twists and turns leading up to an ending that I really like (but am not ready to reveal just yet :-) ). As far as where it came from, well...only my therapist knows for sure, and he ain't talking! I'll have a post about similar stuff later on this week. Stay tuned.


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