Here Alex speaks with the goddess Hel:
“I heard you were a brave one, but I wanted to see for myself. A parent does not always breed true, and the child can be quite different.”
Oh, how I fucking hoped that was true. “Lucifer is my father but that doesn’t mean I’m like him.”
“You have the same boldness.”
“But I’m not an asshole.”
You can find links to other excerpts here: Six Sentence Sunday.
I won my 5th straight NaNoWriMo with this crazy romp of a story. In this six, Alex fights with his father (the devil):
He hit me so hard I heard my ears ringing and I tasted blood in my mouth. “You will obey me, no matter how many times I have to beat it into you.”
“Cause that’s worked so well before.” It hurt to talk through my busted mouth, but it was worth it. He growled and I kicked out at him again, trying to aim higher. I missed his balls but I connected with his hip.
When Fenrir came into sight I felt like I wanted to go find somewhere to hide. He was bigger than Skoll and he looked nastier. He looked like he was having a hell of a good time tearing shit up and showed no signs of slowing down. I held Excalibur tighter and Odin’s son said, “Come on!”
I shoved the fear down and we ran at the huge wolf. He stopped smashing the building he was standing in the middle of and looked down at us.
Guys, this book is so. Much. Fun.
Not My Apocalypse doesn’t stick to one pantheon:
“We did not give you Excalibur. Excalibur gave herself to you,” the Morrigan said.
“I should have bought her dinner first,” I muttered to myself. Odin’s son still heard me and he laughed even harder. To the Morrigan I said, “So then I shouldn’t thank you for giving me a weapon that can fight off Fenrir, huh?”
She gave me a crooked, crafty smile.
If you want to see a longer excerpt, I have one up on the NaNoWriMo site: Not My Apocalypse excerpt
As always, you can find other participants over at Six Sentence Sunday.
Today I’m very likely still on the 28-hour write in tour my local NaNoWriMo group does. That or catching a few hours of sleep before heading back. Here’s another taste of my NaNo novel:
I desperately held on to the cold.
“Alex, please,” Ken said, and he sounded scared.
Mom grabbed me again, this time with both hands, and she shook me. “Stop it right now!” She shook me until I opened my eyes.
It was snowing in the dining room.
If you want to see a longer excerpt, I have one up on the NaNoWriMo site: Not My Apocalypse excerpt
As always, you can find other participants over at Six Sentence Sunday.
November has arrived, and with it NaNoWriMo. I’m already several thousand words into my new novel Not My Apocalypse, so here’s your first taste:
Ever since then I’ve thought about my own anger, and my stomach twists into a little ball at the thought that I’m like my dad. No question where I got all the anger and rebelliousness from. But there’s one big difference between us, and it’s the thing that makes me feel better about myself. Satan is so angry and he hates Jehovah so much that he’s willing to bring down all of creation with him. Nothing matters but getting his revenge. I’ve got a list of fucking issues a mile long, but I’m not going to make everyone and everything suffer for it.
For links to other snippets by participating authors, check out Six Sentence Sunday.
In honor of Halloween, I thought I’d share something with gore and monsters.
Victor’s growl rose in pitch until it was almost a yelp, but he didn’t lose his grip. With his other hand he reached back and punched through the alt’s chest. A wet crunch echoed off the walls and Claire’s mouth fell open as she watched Victor yank his hand back full of bright red guts. The alt twitched, making a bubbling, gasping noise. Victor stared down at his opponent until the creature stopped moving, then he let out a victorious howl.
Claire couldn’t help a little shiver.
Other snippets from other authors available at Six Sentence Sunday. Happy Halloween!
Erik’s tale is off with my beta readers. I wonder what they’ll think of this crazy little book that possessed me for months.
Erik took a breath and drew the first wailing note. He played like he always did: like a man possessed. Music possessed him, as it always had and always would. And while it possessed him, it enchanted those around him. He had used it to deceive Christine, to ensnare her mind and her voice. Now he played it to entertain, to brighten the life of a kind old woman, and perhaps, in a way, even to thank M. Daae.
You can find links to other participants at Six Sentence Sunday.
“You’ve seen my face, you know the things I’ve done. I’ve given you your freedom, and yet you come back to me.” He stopped pacing and knelt beside her. Shyly, Erik took her hand. “I thought I was damned, but when I look at you I see salvation. I am not your angel, but you are mine.”
Check out the other posts at Six Sentence Sunday.
She opened the door to the music room and the music stopped. Erik had his hands over his face, and he turned away when she walked in. She wanted to shudder at the memory of that face, and yet her heart went out to him in pity. “I should never have brought you here,” he said, his voice soft. “I should never have given you lessons, I should never have talked to you. I should never have hoped.”
Check out many, many other snippet from a variety of authors at Six Sentence Sunday.