I've published a book of short fiction on Amazon's Kindle store.

Find it HERE -- Just $4.99 USD

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

An Author in "Train'ing - Licking the Spoon

When you were little, did your mom let you lick the spoon when she was cooking or baking? I always wanted that little taste ahead of time. In some ways, it made the wait for the finished product a little easier (and a little harder). Well, today you get to "lick the spoon"!

I've been thinking about doing this for several days, at least, and it seems only fair. I'm asking all these people to believe in me and support me (emotionally and financially) and listen to my incessant chatter about "the novel, the novel, the novel" with nothing tangible in return. So here's a little something. Here's the spoon....


Her initial awareness—a drumming in the darkness. Her own heart beating for the first time. She sighed, returning the breath which she’d been given. Her lungs filled again, this time on their own. Warmth, life, spread from her core outward, down her arms and legs to her hands and feet, until even her fingers and toes tingled with life and sensation.

Her eyelids fluttered softly, but did not open, as she took in the tapestry of sound that nudged into her consciousness. The soft trickle of flowing water harmonized with a chorus of other sounds. Chirps, clicks, purrs, whinnies, and soft growls blended together in what sounded to her like a wordless hymn of thanksgiving. Then, in the symphony of voices, a new one, sweeter than all the rest.
“Eva.... Eva. Eva?”
A soft warmth brushed gently against her cheek. The tender touch seemed connected somehow to the voice. A desire to know more sparked inside her, and her eyes flickered open, taking in the first images of her world.
She was lying in a clearing surrounded by trees. Although evidently part of a young forest, it had an orchard-like quality, as if every tree were cared for individually. The clearing itself had a thick carpet of grass, and the soft, feathery blades cushioned her and brushed softly against her skin, providing even more sensory input to process.
From its starting point somewhere in the stand of trees, a small stream wandered melodically across the clearing, its soft gurgle and splash sounding like dozens of tiny, liquid voices, before it disappeared again—burbling away into the dimness of the forest on the opposite side of the clearing.
All around the perimeter, just inside the line of trees, were animals—sitting, standing, lying—all kinds of animals, and all in pairs. Stallion and mare, tom and tabby, ram and ewe, rooster and hen, each with its mate, and all with a wise, knowing look, as if they had just witnessed a miracle.
The dogs sat alert, with heads cocked quizzically, as if trying to puzzle out what had just happened. The horses nodded emphatically, seeming to agree that this was, indeed a good thing. The cats, being cats, busily groomed themselves, pretending disinterest. As she watched closely, though, she saw both cats repeatedly pause in their routine to flick a curious, sideways glance in her direction.
The voice which had fallen silent spoke again, and she felt the gentle touch again, this time brushing against her arm. She turned toward the sound....

So, did that make the anticipation better or worse? Will it make the wait harder or easier? How about you check back for another spoon on another day? What day? Hmm, I guess we'll just have to wait and see....

No comments: