Fiction

It’s Wednesday again, and I’m back from vacation.  I was good and didn’t do any writing, editing, or beta reading for a whole week.  I did do some reading just for fun, though, and spent time with my family up in the hills of West Virginia.  Good times.

I’m introducing another character (finally!) this week.  The scene actually takes place before the one I posted last time, just as Micah arrives at the lake house.  I knew when I wrote this character that he absolutely needed to be a redhead, but I was at a bit of a loss for how he should look.  One of the things I do in preparing to write is browse Google images for people who resemble the ones in my head.  I then use a private board on Pinterest to save the pictures (it’s not public because of copyright issues; I honestly don’t care if people see it, but I don’t like to infringe on photographers’ rights, and Pinterest is questionable).

Anyway, while searching for a good image, I came across the work of a photographer who did a project on red-haired men.  Apparently, many people consider red hair unsexy.  I find that strange, as I think red hair of all shades, on both men and women, is gorgeous.  Also, I adore freckles—I think they are very attractive.  I couldn’t quite figure out how to describe this character’s hair, though, so I’m open to suggestions. I’m picturing something like a more vibrant strawberry blond, but I’ve never heard a guy described using that term before.

For the very curious, here is the link to an article featuring the photographer’s work. My character is an amalgam of several of the lovely guys in the photos.

Now for the snippet.  WIPpet math: 4/23 = 4 + 2 + 3 = 9 sentences.

A voice behind him said, “Hey, there.”

Micah nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around slowly and came face-to-face with a gingery-blond young man. He was average height, perhaps an inch or two shorter than Micah, and was considerably on the thin side. There was a dusting of freckles across his pale skin, and he had a row of small hoops down one ear. In the other ear, he wore a dangling earring that looked like some kind of leaf. He had on a trendy pair of tight, black knee-length pants and a fitted white t-shirt with a rock band logo Micah didn’t recognize. His gray-green eyes were wide and held a spark of mischief, and his mouth curled upward in a charming smirk.

For a moment, Micah was disarmed, but he quickly recovered himself so as not to be caught staring.

And there you have it.  Don’t worry, New Guy will be back next week.  Meanwhile, go read the other entries.  If you want to add your own, just post a bit of your current work-in-progress, making sure it involves something about today’s date.  Thanks to K.L. Schwengel for hosting.  Happy reading, everyone!

Why, hello there, Wednesday! This time last week, I was just starting to come down with a cold, courtesy of my 10-year-old. Apparently, we taught our kids a little too well about sharing. Fortunately, I recovered in plenty of time to play with my orchestra for our annual educational concert yesterday. It was a blast—several hundred third graders listening to us play Wagner, Handel, and Britton. Good times. Best moment: flute player demonstrated her instrument by playing a bit of “Let It Go” from Frozen.

On to this week’s WIPpet. We last saw Micah reflecting on his epic implosion. We’ll get more on that another time; right now, we join him at the house on the lake. For context, his father had attempted to clean it out before his death but never finished. The house is a mess—dust, stuff cleared out of the upstairs rooms, things to get rid of. It’s not clear yet what condition the house is in overall, but Micah suspects it’s pretty bad. He’s having a moment.

My WIP math is easy: it’s 4/9, so 4 + 9 = 13 sentences.

In addition to the thick layer of dust covering every surface, the house was a mess inside. The main living area was piled with junk—everything from old newspapers and magazines to what looked like the contents of his grandmother’s attic.

This was ridiculous. He assumed the rest of the house was no better, and he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep there until he’d done a significant amount of work. That meant driving back into town and finding a place to stay for who knew how long. Suddenly, Micah was angry—at his father for leaving him a heap of rubbish; at Elijah for gloating over it; and at himself for being foolish enough to believe for even a few minutes that maybe he’d meant something to his family after all.

He picked up the nearest object, which happened to be an oddly-shaped ashtray, and hurled it at the wall. It smashed and rained shards of broken pottery onto the floor. It was thoroughly satisfying. Micah spent the next five minutes throwing things and watching them shatter. He had managed to clear a space around him when he reached down and came up with a hand-painted birdhouse. It was too pretty to break, and suddenly the whole thing seemed impossible and strange. He tried to laugh, but that, too, broke into pieces, and instead, he sobbed, sinking down to his knees in the middle of the floor.

I’m kind of enjoying stringing you along, but let me list for you the clues so far as to what story this is:

1. 3 sons, Micah (the MC) is the youngest
2. Dead dad
3. Inheritance wherein 2 older brothers get great stuff and youngest suffers, with financial hardship

Hmm…we’re missing an important piece here. No worries; in two weeks, I’ll introduce a character that will surely give you the answer. I’m not sure if I’ll be around next week, since I’m going on vacation with my family. I don’t want to post if I’m not going to read all the other lovely entries—there’s no fun in that! So I’m making everyone wait. Keep guessing in the meantime.

Thanks to K. L. Schwengel for hosting. Be sure to check out the other entries here. If you want to add your own, just post a bit of your current work that relates (in whatever creative way you choose) to the date and link up with us. Happy writing!