I hope everyone checks out my latest ebook release: Where Are You, Anne Bonny?
It's available now through http://www.roguephoenixpress.com/ .
If you love the idea of a lady pirate, you'll love this one.
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright
Author of
"Paradise Flawed"/Dream Books LLC/2009
"Six Years' Worth"/Father's Press/2007
"The Last Radiant Heart"/Virtual Tales/Summer 2010
"Where Are You, Anne Bonny?"/Rogue Phoenix Press/ ebook available now 2010
Novelist
Daniel (Danny) Lance Wright, Author
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
"Trouble"
I was notified recently that a short story I wrote, “Trouble”, placed in a contest and would be included, along with all the winners, in an anthology. It’s published by Crossquarter Publishing Group of Santa Fe, New Mexico. It’s a 2500-word fantasy piece that crosses the line into religious territory.
The book will be available in late July at http://www.crossquarter.com/ and http://www.amazon.com/ .
I’m eager to read the other stories. Below is an excerpt of “Trouble”. Enjoy:
No salt had been sprinkled on the thin layer of ice in the alley like it had been on the sidewalk. Patches of it immediately robbed sure footing. Complicating matters, it was sloped to the center for better drainage; he did not have to step at all to slide to the middle of the narrow alley. Forward progress was now only possible by a flat-footed glide, arms outstretched as if tightrope walking. Chester slowed and picked his path. The iciest places were difficult to spot because the only illumination came from a single street light behind him.
Suddenly, a rat darted across his path.
His feet went airborne.
His head came down against a gas meter pipe elbow.
Pain exploded in his head and the concrete was cold on his prone body, but only for as long as it took to realize it.
He took a deep breath and sat up. He held his head with both hands and then checked them—no blood; furthermore, no pain. Opening his eyes, he danced fingertips over the side of his head in various places and felt nothing out of the ordinary. Not a gash, a lump, a sore spot—nothing.
Hey, how come I can see my hand so well? Why is it not cold anymore? What’s goin’ on?
He looked around for the source of brilliance but it simply could not be pinpointed. Light flooded the alley from all directions, not overhead and not from either side. “What the hell…?”
“Chester Wiggins?”
He continued the fingering probe of his temple. “Yeah, I’m Chester.”
Still dumbfounded, he did not care about the voice. Finally, he looked. When his eyes connected, he scooted on his butt until his back thudded against the brick wall of the building behind him. “Jesus Christ!”
“I wish.”
“Who the hell are you? You don’t look human!”
“I should hope not.”
“Then who… what are you?”
“I live here.”
“The alley?”
“It’s an alley to you. To me it’s a disgusting little crevice within a cranny under a smelly lump of dung... but I call it home.”
The book will be available in late July at http://www.crossquarter.com/ and http://www.amazon.com/ .
I’m eager to read the other stories. Below is an excerpt of “Trouble”. Enjoy:
No salt had been sprinkled on the thin layer of ice in the alley like it had been on the sidewalk. Patches of it immediately robbed sure footing. Complicating matters, it was sloped to the center for better drainage; he did not have to step at all to slide to the middle of the narrow alley. Forward progress was now only possible by a flat-footed glide, arms outstretched as if tightrope walking. Chester slowed and picked his path. The iciest places were difficult to spot because the only illumination came from a single street light behind him.
Suddenly, a rat darted across his path.
His feet went airborne.
His head came down against a gas meter pipe elbow.
Pain exploded in his head and the concrete was cold on his prone body, but only for as long as it took to realize it.
He took a deep breath and sat up. He held his head with both hands and then checked them—no blood; furthermore, no pain. Opening his eyes, he danced fingertips over the side of his head in various places and felt nothing out of the ordinary. Not a gash, a lump, a sore spot—nothing.
Hey, how come I can see my hand so well? Why is it not cold anymore? What’s goin’ on?
He looked around for the source of brilliance but it simply could not be pinpointed. Light flooded the alley from all directions, not overhead and not from either side. “What the hell…?”
“Chester Wiggins?”
He continued the fingering probe of his temple. “Yeah, I’m Chester.”
Still dumbfounded, he did not care about the voice. Finally, he looked. When his eyes connected, he scooted on his butt until his back thudded against the brick wall of the building behind him. “Jesus Christ!”
“I wish.”
“Who the hell are you? You don’t look human!”
“I should hope not.”
“Then who… what are you?”
“I live here.”
“The alley?”
“It’s an alley to you. To me it’s a disgusting little crevice within a cranny under a smelly lump of dung... but I call it home.”
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