My WEP entry is below!
I have a story in Particular Passages 2, and it is now available for pre-order. There's no theme, just good short stories!
This Books2Read link will take you to anywhere it's up for pre-order. Note that Amazon does not yet have it up, and likely won't do pre-order.
Plus, Unsettling Reads put out a TOC for Summer Bludgeon, in which I have a "Grease" themed mystery short story.
My WEP entry's different than you probably expect from me at this point. Check out the other entries at the WEP (Write...Edit...Publish) blog.
As the Time Approaches
Tagline: Courage is what we make it.
Lacy stood, looking out the window at the ominous clouds in the distance. Her breath fogged the glass, belly touching the window sill, where the sharp edge pressed a crease. Cold penetrated the thin veil between inside and outside, causing goosebumps to burst across her skin like an encroaching army.
She crossed the room and sat down at the table once more, the blank page staring back at her. Yet again, she picked up the pen, pressed the tip to the yellow of the legal pad on top of the first line. The words would not come, but the tears did, a hot flood down her cheeks, soaking the paper.
Angrily, she threw the pen across the room, where it landed with a clatter. That single dot stared back at her like a judging eye.
Outside, the first light drops hit the window like tiny needles.
Her stomach moved, a ripple that rubbed the table's edge. The baby was awake.
She placed her hand against the creature moving inside her and rubbed, soothing through layers of tissue. Sometimes she felt like the baby cried, even though there was no way for her to know for sure, out here, so far removed from the life growing within her. She wished she knew what the baby was thinking, what it was actually doing. She felt oddly isolated from it. As if her own body was a shield between them.
Hunger filled her, and she thought perhaps it was a message directly from the baby. Feed me, mama.
Mama.
There were so many reasons this letter shouldn't be written, and only one saying it should. But that one, oh, it was a big one.
She wasn't showing yet, not enough that she couldn't still hide it. If anyone had noticed her clothes getting bigger, looser, less form-fitting, they hadn't said anything about it. There wasn't much more time, though. Soon, she wouldn't look a bit chubby around the middle, but like a full-fledged mom-to-be, rounded belly a dead giveaway that she was soon to be a pariah.
From schoolbooks to baby shoes, innocence to motherhood.
Part of her knew he needed to know, but she knew exactly how he'd react. He'd never give up everything for her and the baby. He had promise. He was going to be something.
That's how it had been for her, too. Before.
The raindrops plumped up, pelting the glass faster now. Distant thunder rumbled.
She got up, went to the pen, picked it up. The cheap casing had cracked, but the tip was intact and no ink leaked from it. She set it down next to the pad and pattered to the pantry, bare feet cold on the rough, aged wood. Inside the pantry were pastry tarts, brown sugar and cinnamon, her favorite. She pulled out one of the crinkly, metallic pouches and brought it with her back to the table.
This time she started writing, the words flowing, spreading across the damp paper. It helped that she told herself she could always rewrite it or tear it up. She needed to get the words on paper, tell the truth, reveal it all.
Besides, her parents would be home soon. If she didn't finish it now, she might never work up the courage to try again.
A vibrant white light exposed the room, blinding her momentarily. In that same moment, thunder burst into the room, vibrated within her.
The baby kicked, rolled, then settled.
Lacy put a hand to her belly once more, this time needing the soothing as much as her baby.
"A hard rain's gonna' fall, sweet one, but I'll make sure you're okay. We're both going to be okay."
615 words. NCCO.
Have you read the other entries? What does the image inspire for you? What about the song?
May you find your Muse.
