Woken by the howling wind and a hollow gnawing in the pit of her stomach, Dana climbed out of her bed. After snuggling her feet into a pair of slippers, she moved over to the window and pulled the curtain aside. Rivulets of water ran down the panes, obscuring her view. The sense of foreboding stuck in her throat and she swallowed. Her weather-sense had been correct, again.Do swing past the other writers who share their work as part of SFFS. You can find links to their blogs here.
From her vantage point at the top of the ridge that formed the back of the horseshoe-shaped island, she could see the whole bay. The searching beams thrown out by the twin lighthouses - one at the end of each point - pierced through the darkness, though they would be little help on a night like this save as a too-late warning. She prayed no vessels were in trouble - they wouldn't stand a chance in the island chain.
Saturday, 21 April 2012
I appear to have been dabbling lately, so thought I'd share a snippet from the WIP I'm working on currently. It's a rewrite of a scene I scribbled down back in 2010 called The Deadly Race, which you can read here if you want to. The scene comes straight from a dream I had around that time. I quite like the imagery still, so thought I'd see if I could improve on it and perhaps publish it as a short story. So far, even if I say so myself, it's loads better, and quite a bit longer.