A week of vacation is over, and people, it was fantastic! It’s astounding what taking a few days off from work (I only took 5) can do for my outlook on life. Everything seems possible when I get enough rest. I truly have got to make more effort to relax more, even if it’s not a vacation.
I’m a little too high strung, perhaps.
Anyway, I’m in edits on my superhero story. It’s been going pretty good so far. Samhain is having a call for superhero stories. The deadline is 9/1, so I’ve got to get it done. Time tends to get away from me.
Here’s a sample:
Jada whipped into a parking space in the last row at Tanglewood Mall. This place was a zoo. Madison was supposed to be meeting her in the food court, but Jada had a half hour to kill. It would take her that long to get to the entrance from here.
She pulled a tube of Chapstick out of her purse and swiped it across her lips. Winter had come early this year, and the Roanoke weathermen were warning viewers of another storm on its way. This was going to be the coldest, snowiest Thanksgiving on record if the forecasters knew what they were talking about.
She got out of her Civic and a cold blast of air almost took her breath. No matter what the weather, Madison had promised to get the weekend off from work, and they were going to Duffield. Jada had been thinking about it for months and had finally worked up the nerve to make the trip. She’d taken the first step when she’d cashed her paycheck and scheduled her two-week vacation. After that, she’d done some research at the library’s Internet computers and mapped the directions to the orphanage. A list of names of its current staff was tucked in her purse. No bunch of snowflakes was going to stop her.
“Give me that purse!”
Jada spun as her bag was stripped off her shoulder. The strap hit her palm, and she grabbed onto it for all she was worth. “Stop! No!”
The man was tall, white, in his twenties and wore a black hoodie. His teeth were bared as he tried to wrench the bag from her.
She grabbed the strap with her other hand. A metallic taste filled her mouth. “No!” She yanked hard, but the metal clasp broke on one end of the bag. If she yanked again, the other might give. “You’re not taking my money!” She lunged toward him, both hands outstretched, but she couldn’t reach him.
He fell backward and flipped in a tumble of summersaults. When his spinning body smacked into the trunk of a parked car, he dropped her bag. She stood stupefied for a long moment staring into his wide-open eyes.
He moved, and she dove for the handbag. Tossing it on the gritty parking lot, the man grunted, scrambled to his feet and ran. Jada watched him go, his stumbling, lunging gait carrying him crookedly from the group of mall goers who’d stopped to watch.
None of them had tried to intervene, but she had to wonder if she would have if the circumstances had been different. What had gotten into her anyway? She rose from the ground on shaking legs. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
Everything had happened so fast, but what exactly had happened? The purse-snatcher had flipped at least four times before he’d smacked into that car. And she hadn’t laid a hand on him.
She sucked in a deep, trembling breath and glanced around. A tall, broad-shouldered man in jeans, a white Oxford and a leather jacket stood four cars away. He was smiling.
Others stood nearby, but his facial expression differed from every one of theirs. His was intense…and amused. His lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying past the pounding in her ears. She took a step toward him, but he turned and disappeared into the crowd making their way toward her.
Maybe in the third draft, it will sing… ☺