Grufnik via Compfight
This is not my first novel, and it certainly won’t be my last, but I feel it in my bones that this is the first one to be printed and sold in book stores. The story is a modern fantasy featuring one of my favorite mythical creatures: Angels. Wylie the main character, is a grieving widow at the beginning of this novel and a powerful Angel at the end. Below is a small excerpt from the first chapter. Wylie is just getting home from work, and is surprised not to be greeted at the door by her 3 year old son, she continues into her apartment to find her husband covered in blood:
I was two strides from him when I tripped in my haste, landing on my hands and knees. Cold wetness squished up between my fingers, the salty smell of warm pennies filling my nostrils. I refused to look at, what I felt, what I smelled, as I scrambled on my knees for the short distance left between us.
He was hunched over something. His shoulders curling over, his head hanging forward so that all I could see was the nape of is neck and a shock of brown hair. Blood, so much blood. My hands were climbing his back, discovering with touch the things my tear filled eyes couldn’t see.
“Roberto!” I didn’t recognize my voice as I moaned his name.
He was stiff with rigamortis and I soon found that I couldn’t move him. I pulled and pulled and all my strength and my courage couldn’t save him. He was too heavy, death was to strong, so much stronger than me. He was cold. I leaned against him sobbing until air couldn’t move past my lungs anymore.
Sliding down the corpse of the man of my dreams, I lay on my side, curled like a “c” around him. Wetness soaked through my clothes and matted my hair. It was in that moment, the lowest of my life, that my eyes found what my husband had been holding in his death grip.
Parenting is so much more instinctual than anyone is willing to admit. We all buy books, watch YouTube videos on car seat safety, and invest in the most up-to-date well-meaning trinkets. We do it all in the hopes that these investments will make the whole parental thing easier.
But, when it comes down to it…
When the shit really hits the fan…
We grab our children, we hold them close to our chests, and we shield them from the bad.
If only flesh could stop bullets.
Copyright secured by Digiprove © 2015 Cherie Lynae Cabrera Suski