Lucky Sevens Sunday Snippet - RTL - pg 7 (and part of 6)

This morning I decided to post a bit of the book I was too afraid to post last week.  The book is called 'The Right to Life', and I'm sure you can guess what the major topic that had me so afraid was.

RTL is set in the not-so-distant future, where abortion has become a capital crime.  The MC is headed home from the doctor's office where she not only found out she was pregnant, but that she must've been drugged and then raped.

Rachel Lind never thought about the women who were forced to keep their virginity or keep a baby they never wanted.  She was above all that.  She just shrugged and figured if they couldn’t practice self-control, it wasn’t her problem.  Rape was just a rising statistic that the politicians said was exaggerated by the anti-lifers.  They said most of the women who claimed rape were just those kinds of women who wanted to be able to break the law and get away with it.  She thought rape just didn’t happen in America. 

Until it happened to her.

When a bus filled almost to capacity pulled to a stop in front of her, she debated waiting for the next, but she knew every bus would be packed with people.  Resigned to her fate, she slowly walked up the steps.  With not a seat to be found, she pressed herself through the dank bodies wrapped in their winter gear.  Near the back was a small space between two rotund men, one of whom smelled strongly of sweat.  She couldn’t tell which.  Maybe it was both.

Hours before she’d ridden a bus just like the one she was currently trapped on, and hadn’t noticed the people surrounding her.  Their eyes weren’t on her then.  Their bodies hadn’t rubbed obscenely against her own.  Now she could see and feel and smell every one of them, and the bile rose in her throat.  She stood so still her muscles begged for release, and she wished for the ride to be over, all the while longing to scream.  When the bus shifted, causing something to brush up against the backs of her legs, she nearly did. 

“You’re being silly,” she told herself.  But the words didn’t help.  “No one can hurt you here,” she mumbled.  But she’d thought no one could hurt her before. 

She’d been so wrong.

Finally, her neighborhood swung into view and she scrambled through the crush to escape.  In her haste, she knocked over an old man’s parcels.  He shouted hoarsely after her.  Any other day, she would’ve stopped to apologize; she would’ve helped him gather his belongings even if it meant missing her stop.  Instead she pushed harder to get away, loathing the thought so polite a gesture would mean another ten minutes of torture.

Only the crisp January air could calm her, and she would do anything to get to it.

When she managed to break free, scurrying down the steps into the dingy snow, the bands of fear loosened enough for her to begin her march home.  As she passed the Italian restaurant on the corner, patrons came strolling out and the smell rolled out with them.  Her stomach rolled in answer to it.  Any other day, she loved the smell of garlic and oregano and tomatoes being slowly cooked to perfection.  The thing inside her was ruining her senses, as much as it was ruining her life. 

Hope you enjoyed the writing.  I recognize that it's kind of rough, but I've grown a lot as a writer since I finished this novel.  If you're interested in playing along with Lucky Sevens Sunday Snippet, just find a page ending in 7 and post all or part of it to your blog.  Please make sure you come back and let me know so I can link to you.  And it would be awesome if you would link back.

As always, please remember that this blog is moderated.  If you have nasty, snotty, or just generally unpleasant comments to leave - they will not post to the site, so don't bother.  I will delete them after giving them to consideration they deserve. 

Snippet-less Today

Hi Folks.

Sorry if you stopped by hoping to catch a little short reading.  I started to put something up, but I just couldn't do it.  Head on over to The Writing Spectacle to find out why.

-B.E. Sanderson

Lucky Sevens Sunday Snippet - Cut n Dried, pg 37

And here's another snippet of my unfinished novel - Jordan Almond: Cut & Dried.

“One more question,” I said looking pointedly at my hairdresser and avoiding the gleam in Chic’s eye.  “Where were you when Ignatio was killed?”  Coming at it from out of nowhere like that, I hoped to shock Gerry into blurting something—anything—that would help me.

“I was…  Well… I was…”

“Yes?”

“I was at the salon.”

“At ten o’clock at night?”  Good thing to know if I ever had a hair emergency, but I didn’t think his usual business hours ran that late.

I know I shouldn’t have been surprised when he blushed, but I never can get past the image of a grown man blushing, especially not one of Gerry size.  Every time he did he reminded me of Oliver Hardy—if Laurel and Hardy had been in color, that is.  I kept expecting him to twiddle with his tie.

“Don’t I get any privacy?” he wailed.

“Not any more, Ger.  Or haven’t you noticed the fact that until we catch the real killer, even your bodily functions are out in the open for everyone to see.”  He looked like he was going to cry again, but I had to keep at him.  He was hiding things from me, and as long as that was happening, I wasn’t going to be able to help him.  “Cough it up, Gerald,” I snapped.

“I was giving myself a…”  I cringed and toned him out.  From the look on Chic’s face, I was lucky to have learned how to drop out of a conversation at any given moment.  I think it had to do with listening to my maternal grandparents complain about my profession, or my education going to waste, or their lack of grandchildren. 

Hope y'all are enjoying these little bits of story. 

If you want to play along, feel free to find any page of your manuscript that ends in 7, post it to your own blog, or put it in the comments, and come back here to tell me so I can read your stuff.  Plus, that way, I'll know to give you a little link-love back.  =o)

Lucky Sevens Sunday Snippet - Cut n Dried pg 27

We're back at my unfinished manuscript today - Cut & Dried.  Here the heroine, Jordan Almond, is finally getting home after a busy day trying to clear her hairdresser of a murder charge. 

A block later I saw my little blue house.  Like I said, not much, but mine.  The only thing I didn’t like about the place—other than the neighborhood pack of kids and dogs, that is—was my own fault.  Whenever I came home, it was the same old story—pull partway in, get out to unlock and open the gate, get back into the car, pull the rest of the way in, get out to shut and lock the gate.  Add opening the garage door and parking, and the whole thing’s a trial, but it keeps the roving missionaries out of my yard when I’m home and deters the burglars when I’m not.

Throwing my duffle-purse onto the kitchen table, I was only thinking about hitting my bed, or barring that, the sofa.  My eyes had other ideas.  The damn message light was blinking on my machine again.  I thought about ignoring it, but I knew I’d just lay in bed until I heard who called.  Curiosity doesn’t kill this cat, unless you count being dead-tired.

Sighing my frustration at my own anal-retentiveness, I pressed the button.

“Hi.  I’d like to talk to someone about ordering wedding favors.  If you could call me back with a price on about one-hundred packets in mauve, I’d really appreciate…”  I hit delete before I heard the rest.  My phonebook listing says ‘Almond, J.’ and it’s only listed in the residential part, so I can never understand how stupid someone has to be to call me about nuts, but I get at least a half-dozen calls like that a month.  I never call them back, and usually they buy a clue.  Every once in a while I get an irate bitch who calls screaming to talk to my manager.  I give those people the number to my ‘world headquarters’—1-800-BITEME.

If you want to play along, here's how it works: Pick any page of your manuscript ending in 7 (hence the page 27 from this book) and post a snippet from that page.  Come back here and let me know so I can see your stuff and link to it at the bottom here.  Share the love by linking back here.  Simple.