Teaser! Fun stuff! + a Warning...
Hi!
H'oh man. Okay. So I know I said this next chapter was already more than half written.
I lied.
Apparently, it was only 15% percent written. And the rest had to be glued together and pulled apart again and then repositioned while the glue was still somewhat tacky, hoping to stick, cause like.. I hate regluing. O_o
Anyway. Let's start over. The next chapter is humongous. It's mammoth. It's GINORMOUS. Seriously... I'm -not- kidding. This is where the warning comes in to play: you may need several coffee breaks. It is already over 5k words and I'm not even done yet. I'm just about there... but still. Not so much on the done side. And I'm wordy as it is.
So that is my little disclaimer for you. Take it as you will. Moving on...
<--- (Points to the new link on the sidebar) Fun stuff!! AND extras?! Who would have thought! /sarcasm. I will add to this post whenever I have anything that could be considered "bonus" material... you are all welcome to follow me on twitter if you'd like to, I'm officially getting addicted to it, now that I'm actually using it. We'll see how long that lasts. Damn trolls keep distracting me from my computer time...
Annnnd lastly..... here is the teaser I spoke of... Nothing spoiler-ish (I don't like spoiling!) but enough to at least serve as an appetizer. Or an amuse bouche... heh. I love that word.
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He called more than five times a day for the next week. Each time, he was told the same thing: Claire was not able to come to the phone.
He tried her cell more times than he could count, but it eventually stopped ringing altogether and his calls were sent straight to voicemail now. He doubted if she even listened to the messages, but he always left one; always the same.
“Claire, it’s me. Please call me. I need to talk with you. I need to make this right.”
And still, she didn’t call.
Her silence had the sharpest edge of all. It panicked him - swallowed him whole in a vast sea of nothingness, where his only hope of rescue was her voice, her presence. Her forgiveness…
The depth of his love for her had completely encompassed him. He hadn’t seen it coming - had assumed that he’d been as far in love with her as it was possible to be - and yet he ached for her. His heart bled for her… wherever she was, that was where he wanted to be. Where he belonged. He just needed her to listen to him, to hear the truth.
And so he decided to make house calls instead to try and sway her to hear him out. He’d showed up at the front door, hoping that his perseverance would break through the solid wall she seemed to have put up. He’d nearly gotten through when Brittany had opened the door the first time - she seemed to be the most understanding, at least, and had almost let him in - but she hadn’t answered the door since, the job having been designated to Christiana, or so it seemed.
On his fourth day of house calls, he strode purposefully toward the front door and pressed the doorbell. He turned away, swinging his arms to loosen up his tense muscles and trilling air between his lips. At the sound of the door opening, he took a deep breath and turned.
It was not who he expected.
“Hi Colton,” Braeden said sternly, nodding at him in greeting. He had stepped out from the door and shut it behind him, and he stood facing him with his arms crossed. He looked every bit the angry, pissed-off father.
Colton swallowed nervously.
H'oh man. Okay. So I know I said this next chapter was already more than half written.
I lied.
Apparently, it was only 15% percent written. And the rest had to be glued together and pulled apart again and then repositioned while the glue was still somewhat tacky, hoping to stick, cause like.. I hate regluing. O_o
Anyway. Let's start over. The next chapter is humongous. It's mammoth. It's GINORMOUS. Seriously... I'm -not- kidding. This is where the warning comes in to play: you may need several coffee breaks. It is already over 5k words and I'm not even done yet. I'm just about there... but still. Not so much on the done side. And I'm wordy as it is.
So that is my little disclaimer for you. Take it as you will. Moving on...
<--- (Points to the new link on the sidebar) Fun stuff!! AND extras?! Who would have thought! /sarcasm. I will add to this post whenever I have anything that could be considered "bonus" material... you are all welcome to follow me on twitter if you'd like to, I'm officially getting addicted to it, now that I'm actually using it. We'll see how long that lasts. Damn trolls keep distracting me from my computer time...
Annnnd lastly..... here is the teaser I spoke of... Nothing spoiler-ish (I don't like spoiling!) but enough to at least serve as an appetizer. Or an amuse bouche... heh. I love that word.
----------------------------------------
He called more than five times a day for the next week. Each time, he was told the same thing: Claire was not able to come to the phone.
He tried her cell more times than he could count, but it eventually stopped ringing altogether and his calls were sent straight to voicemail now. He doubted if she even listened to the messages, but he always left one; always the same.
“Claire, it’s me. Please call me. I need to talk with you. I need to make this right.”
And still, she didn’t call.
Her silence had the sharpest edge of all. It panicked him - swallowed him whole in a vast sea of nothingness, where his only hope of rescue was her voice, her presence. Her forgiveness…
The depth of his love for her had completely encompassed him. He hadn’t seen it coming - had assumed that he’d been as far in love with her as it was possible to be - and yet he ached for her. His heart bled for her… wherever she was, that was where he wanted to be. Where he belonged. He just needed her to listen to him, to hear the truth.
And so he decided to make house calls instead to try and sway her to hear him out. He’d showed up at the front door, hoping that his perseverance would break through the solid wall she seemed to have put up. He’d nearly gotten through when Brittany had opened the door the first time - she seemed to be the most understanding, at least, and had almost let him in - but she hadn’t answered the door since, the job having been designated to Christiana, or so it seemed.
On his fourth day of house calls, he strode purposefully toward the front door and pressed the doorbell. He turned away, swinging his arms to loosen up his tense muscles and trilling air between his lips. At the sound of the door opening, he took a deep breath and turned.
It was not who he expected.
“Hi Colton,” Braeden said sternly, nodding at him in greeting. He had stepped out from the door and shut it behind him, and he stood facing him with his arms crossed. He looked every bit the angry, pissed-off father.
Colton swallowed nervously.