#CleanWIP#ThemeBender The telegram read: You are my choice as wife and assistant. I trust you have strong limbs and are able to stand for extended periods. Enclosed, find money to cover train fare. Arrive before 15th. Will wed immediately. Bring wedding dress. Inform of arrival.
#CleanWIP (Theme COMMUNICATE) “Intimacy is the point of mind speech.” His mouth twisted in a half smile. “Father used to say that he and Mother had an advantage in many situations, being able to communicate in that way.”
#CleanWIP Emily was humming when a dark figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path. “We need to communicate, Em-i-ly Ham-mons. My attempts are always thwarted by that insolent cowboy.” “Dr. Clemons!” Emily’s heart pounded. She had been found out, and payday had come.
Use CleanWIP Magazine’s hashtag with lines from a work-in-progress and your tweet might be included in a https://t.co/yUHUbxZp23 collaborative article for authors who lean *clean* and readers who love them. The #CleanWIP theme for Sunday, February 2, 2020 is CONNECT pic.twitter.com/vWDLGlWP95
#CleanWIP Emily studied a sleeping Clint. She ached for her loss when he learned the truth. Clemons’s menacing words frightened her. Did he connect her arrival date with the arrival of his second mail-order bride? She lacked the courage to ask. Not knowing, frightened her more.
Trying to connect with Beverly seemed impossible. Her friends were not my type; they sang a different tune than me. But, something about her made me try. I went to the stiff- neck parties and drank the awful wine. All I wanted; a day alone with my dream girl, Beverly. #CleanWip
He sat there almost every day when the weather was nice. Arthur knew he was no threat; he had run a background check on him long ago. His name was George Jameson, and he was a retired professor–no family, no connections to anything but books and local coffee shops. #CleanWIP
Let’s get this Friday party started with an excerpt from Sunlight and Shadows by Jessica Marie Holt. * If there was one thing Betty couldn’t ever come to terms with, it was how the best day of her life also ended up being the worst day of her life. The irony of it all seemed especially cruel, like it ought to go against some kind of sacred law of nature. But it was the hard, cold truth; October twenty-fifth, 1870 — two weeks after her seventeenth birthday — was the day everything came together, and the day it all began falling apart. *
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun author collaboration. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or something else you believe our readers might love. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/06uTdc2w6B
From To Trust Her Heart by Laurean Brooks (Amanda at a job interview with Attorney Jake Tyler. She just told him, his reckless driving through a puddle splattered mud all over her yellow coat.) Jake pushed a button on his desk phone. His deep voice boomed over the intercom. “Willa, will you come to my office,please?” Was he planning to use his receptionist to swear he had been in his office at the time of the incident? Because Amanda knew better. The receptionist cracked the door enough to poke her head through. The woman’s voice quavered. “You wanted to see me, Mr.Tyler?” She felt sorry for the gray-haired lady who appeared to be intimidated by her employer. His deep voiced didn’t help matters. Amanda’s throat tightened. She should not have applied for this position. What happened to his last secretary? Did she run for cover? “Yes, Willa.” The attorney’s voice softened. Pulling the soiled coat off Amanda’s arm, he dangled it in front of the receptionist. “Drop this by the cleaners on your way home, please. Charge it to my account, and tell them to have it cleaned as quickly as possible.”
Ten twists in as many steps, a signal of anxiety ringing out louder with each twitch of her fingers. Ravi wondered if anyone else heard it.
As he whistled, he watched, and he listened. Everything was completely still; the only movement came from shifting shadows as clouds swirled past the moon. The only sounds were the jingle of Danger’s collar, and the very faint shuffling of his own footsteps. #CleanWIP
Lindsey stared blindly at the circle of Roman numerals on her watch, wrinkling her forehead to appear deep in concentration even as she listened to him bribe, threaten, and cajole an unlucky group of freshman into joining him in the library. #misfitsrising#CleanWIP
January 29 is National Puzzle Day and… you probably guessed it… the #CleanWIP theme is PUZZLE. In addition, we collaborated with the authors in the CleanWIP Facebook group to put together a special treat… we’ll share more on this Wednesday morning. pic.twitter.com/w6aThZLDKL
Jesse looked up at me, “Big Daddy, can you help me work this puzzle?” I hate working puzzles, but I snapped it into place for the boy. “Big Daddy, you made that look easy, what’s the secret?” I laughed, “Life, death, and taxes, young man.” He looked at me, bewildered. #CleanWip
@CleanWIP The dentist answered four weeks after Emily’s reply, to his mail order bride ad, to request a tintype of her and a record of her grades. She’d mailed the items the next day, puzzled that he’d request her grades. Did he fear he would be bound for life to a simpleton?
#CleanWIP Captain Brutun looked amused. “An exceptionally beautiful maiden, intelligent, kind, sweet-natured—and all alone and vulnerable—of course they all #adore you, my lady. All the same…a yew maiden’s heartroot…prudence compels me to keep the information to myself.” #WIP
#CleanWIP (theme ADORE) “What gown had you planned to wear tonight?” He smiled meaningfully at her. “Something modest, I assure you.” Nelwina folded her arms. “If you wear something less than modest, you’ll secure the adoration of these men, and they will refuse you nothing.”
#CleanWIP With a month left, the dentist would have to work fast. Clint frowned. Why not set his sights on Prudence, who enjoyed his advances and obviously adored him? She had turned her attentions on him months ago, but Clemons seemed to brush her off since Emily showed up.
Use CleanWIP Magazine’s hashtag with lines from a WIP and your tweet might be included in a collaborative article for authors who lean *clean* and readers who love them. (Great example: https://t.co/b8EyDkbtDE) The #CleanWIP theme for Monday, January 27 is COMPLIMENT
#CleanWIP (theme COMPLIMENT) There was nothing of outward importance in the words, but his excessive compliments brought a blush to her cheeks. Though Nelwina was sure he couldn’t really mean them, she accepted them anyway. #DolansBride
We met in the library; she had red hair, a ski-slope nose with a nice compliment of freckles. She peeked around a bookshelf, “What are you reading?” “It’s Emma.” “Hi, my name is Ginny, what’s yours?” “It’s Jimmy, nice to…” “Are you the one they call, Gimpy?” #CleanWip
“But, there’s only forty-nine,” Aya blurted out, unable to contain her consternation. “I thought you said fifty was the perfect number.” “Well, yes, dear, but no marriage is perfect,” Reba replied with a twinkle in her eye.#cleanwip#amwritingfantasy#wip
@CleanWIP She was not about to confess that Margie’s intended was also hers. If Wendell Oliver Clemons owned the entire state of Texas, Emily would not marry him, now. Honesty and integrity ranked high on her list of priorities. The dentist lacked both.
I went to the free #range of the world seeking to marry. I came home broke. With a record of coming up zero, I wasn’t at all surprised. I’d try again, but first I had to make a new, ton of money. To play, you have to pay, it’s what makes the world turn. #vss365#SunWip#CleanWip
A dent curved over his temple. Wetness from his matted hair trailed across his face, grainy with dirt and forge-scented with iron. “Lisa?” “I’m here. I’m going to use the wolf amulet. Don’t you dare die.” “I can’t. I promised to #marry you.” #cleanWIP#vss365
Featured image is a minor adaptation of a photo by Aaron Burden.
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun article. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or perhaps news of a clean new release or upcoming event. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/gsqao9XP9w
Review Highlights Jonquils in the Snow by Laurean Brooks ~ “A beautiful, heartwarming story of grief and loneliness being overcome by love; Miranda and Brady touched my heart and the author’s wit made me smile. Definitely a thumbs up read.” ~ Rebecca J. Vickery
Shadow of the Mountain by Scott R. Rezer —Chosen… or delusional? How does one man persevere when he is given a message that will either test the strength of his faith or convince him he has lost his mind? “… a version of the Noah story from the Old Testament that is both richly imagined and radically different from anything readers are likely to have read before… well-done political intrigue, vexing questions of faith, and a deep and challenging portrait of Noah himself. The action builds slowly and expertly as the unthinkable disaster of the Flood looms closer and closer, and Rezer’s so skilful at infusing his entirely human stories with drama that most readers will likely start to think of the forty days and forty nights of rain as something of an anti-climax. Very strongly recommended.” ~ Steve Donoghue, Historical Novel Society Reviews [Editor’s Choice Selection]
“She’s something, ain’t she?” said Charles. “She sure is,” said Louis. “Look at you, you’re smiling.” Charles pointed at Louis and laughed. Louis swatted his hand away. “I am not, either.” “Are too.” “You are smiling,” said May Belle, with a giggle. “You love her.” #CleanWIP
“Life is precious, and though no individual lasts beyond a lifetime, there is something beautiful about each one. Should I not show this girl what kindness I have the power to share?”#amwriting#WIP#CleanWIP
“Are you sure you don’t want a cat?” She ignored him. If a man like him didn’t want to get attached, or let go, or whatever his problem was, he should have never agreed to keep Griselda. Natalie wondered what his old girlfriend’s name had been. #CleanWIPpic.twitter.com/49ike40XLg
tl; dr: #CleanWIP theme for Thursday, January 23, 2020 is DIVIDE Long version: We’re playing hashtag games to find authors who prefer the clean end of the writing spectrum & highlight their teasers for readers who love them. Longest version: https://t.co/Oj6maiYSYBpic.twitter.com/GjHvyfOgOb
#CleanWIP A loud voice ordered, “Back up. Clear the way!” The crowd divided to make room for the fleeing bride. Emily and the cowboy were pushed outside the door. The bride paused near Emily, her eyes wild, and shoved the bouquet into her stomach. “Take these and enjoy them.”
#CleanWIP Turley bowed, and his curly brown locks danced around his head. “My lady.” When he straightened, he gave Nelwina his full attention. It was such a rare occurrence to have anyone’s undivided attention, she held his gaze, savoring the moment.
Today’s #CleanWIP theme and collaborative article is Multiply. [More info]
Use CleanWIP Magazine’s hashtag with lines from a work-in-progress and your tweet might be included in a https://t.co/yUHUbxZp23 collaborative article for authors who lean *clean* and readers who love them. The #CleanWIP theme for Wednesday, January 22, 2020 is MULTIPLY. pic.twitter.com/sYKkMha57q
Today’s #CleanWIP theme and collaborative article is Subtract. [More info]
Use CleanWIP Magazine’s hashtag with lines from a work-in-progress and your tweet might be included in a https://t.co/yUHUbxZp23 collaborative article for authors who lean *clean* and readers who love them. The #CleanWIP theme for Tuesday, January 21, 2020 is SUBTRACT. pic.twitter.com/SUC1t0Cc0j
I could add and subtract with the best of them, but I found myself in dire straits. The only feasible solution, drop back twenty and punt. But, division came, flying through and blocked my kick. I now had multiple problems, plus I didn’t have the money for a tutor. #CleanWip
#CleanWIP “Dr. Clemons!” Emily gasped. He knew. The dentist folded his arms across his chest. “It didn’t take me long to add two and two. The station master said a pretty brunette was asking about me. She returned with McCall to pick up a trunk. “Tell me why you are avoiding me.”
Margaret stared at him, mystified. She never could understand his tendency to judge his daughters’ dates by their cars. “Could mean he’s the adventurous type” John added. “Or, it could mean he’s the arrogant type who likes to sit higher than everyone else in traffic.” #CleanWIP
After breakfast of a little bacon, fruit, and juice, we explored Big Pine Key; Ginny and I walked. The waterway that she called a canal teemed with all kinds of aquatic life, truly marvelous. The Pelicans were everywhere, and they added an awkward yet graceful beauty. #CleanWip
#CleanWIP They were devilishly hard to spot on his mind map, witches, even now he was fully joined to his kingdom. Their strange transparent souls were easy to miss, even before they used their foul arts to #add concealment. #WIP – The Raven and The Yew
Use CleanWIP Magazine’s hashtag with lines from a work-in-progress and your tweet might be included in a https://t.co/yUHUbxZp23 collaborative article for authors who lean *clean* and readers who love them. The #CleanWIP theme for Sunday, January 19, 2020 is CALCULATE. pic.twitter.com/Ngqft9Rypa
“I didn’t want to know when people were lying to me, or to predict who was good or bad. I feared finding out when people were going to die, who I would marry, when I would meet my demise. Then I discovered some things cannot be calculated no matter how much you know.”#CleanWIP
#CleanWIP “A young woman arrived the same day as my disastrous wedding. It makes me wonder–.” “Wonder what?” the older Clemons asked. “Wendell! You sent off for two brides? It explains the exorbitant amount I gave you for train fare. I calculated it, and knew it was extreme.”
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun author collaboration. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or something else you believe our readers might love. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/sQ6D6i9X12
Laurean Brooks~ Journey to Forgiveness is the book I wrote and dedicated to my parents. It is loosely based on their lives (romance) in 1938 Chicago. Witty and sassy characters, goofy ones–but all interesting–grace the pages of this heartwarming story of a mission trip to rebuild a small town after 5 tornadoes destroy homes. A time when the last of Chicago’s gangsters were captured. Or…were they?
#CleanWIP Louise's eyes blazed. "When your Ma made you promise to look after Em'ly, she didn't mean forever. Em'ly could find a payin' job. I'm not sayin' she don't help out around here, but when this baby comes, there'll be an extra mouth to feed. This baby will not go hungry.”
#CleanWIP (theme FIND) He’d known what the ring was from the moment he first saw it on her finger. But to find success with a man such as Ronan MacCallum, he had to think that all of this was his idea, not hers.
Gleb’s gaze raked over me from head to toe. “You are strong and agile. I’ll #find a use for you. If you hit every target, you get to choose the tribute. And if you miss even one. You’ll serve the rest of your life as my personal slave.” #cleanWIP
Would winter ever end? Summer came slowly for me; it always does. I worked with pain though manageable; it still gave me a fit. I knew I’d never get rid of my agony. I had to find a way to deal with it. I piled money in the bank; Beverly’s happiness my only relief. #CleanWip
#CleanWIP (theme SEARCH) Joy leaned down and tenderly kissed Dolan’s forehead. When she felt his hand searching, she grasped it, surprised at how weak his grip was, though his hand was much larger than hers.
“Once you search for a title, author, or topic, the computer will show you a set of numbers and the rest of the information on your book choices.” He eyed Kat. “Ms. Burns, I suggest you hurry.” ~I NOT David#CleanWIP
#CleanWIP The musty scent of hay invaded Emily’s nostrils as she stepped inside. Clint had his back to her, brushing Bowie’s golden mane. “I don’t know if I’ll ever understand females, Bowie. They’re too complicated for my pea-sized brain.” He paused the brush. “Don’t you agree?
Fred was leaving for work; I stumbled into the kitchen in search of coffee. “Jerome, glad you made it home.” “I got in late, but I went by Beverly’s before coming home.” “Jerome, you’ve got a Georgia Peach, in that girl. I don’t care if she is from Ohio,” he laughed. #CleanWip
Use CleanWIP Magazine’s hashtag with lines from a work-in-progress and your tweet might be included in a https://t.co/yUHUbxZp23 collaborative article for authors who lean *clean* and readers who love them. The #CleanWIP theme for Tuesday, January 14, 2020 is DECIDE pic.twitter.com/MTOhzY52DJ
He was down, spent, and trapped. He thought about opening fire, but he was outnumbered three to one, and they all had guns. He’d be dead on the spot. They wanted him alive, so he decided his best bet was to let them take him, and hope for a way out later. #CleanWIP
“We’ll #decide that together later. They deserve to know their heritage at some point. But only when their heads aren’t filled with frightening stories of their relatives. Surely there are other tales of good ogres. We’ll find those together." #cleanWIP
#CleanWIP (theme DECIDE) Joy released him and slipped the leather thong around her neck. “I have decided to wear this necklace with my wedding dress.” She lifted the stone with a smile. Kieran laughed. “Far be it from me tae give counsel on a woman’s wedding outfit.”
#CleanWIP Alissia suspiciously eyed Emily. “Why did you decide to go to the wedding? You didn’t know anyone in town.” “I don’t, except Jessica, the bride’s sister.” Emily was relieved to have a good explanation. “Jessica and I met on the train. She told me the church’s location.”
He was confined to a special wheeled chair that had been fashioned for him until he regained the strength to stand. His eyes had a haunted, hungry look as he listened to the Speaker as though he was desperately searching for some sort of hope on which to cling. #cleanwip#wip
Sometimes he seemed hungry for friendship, other times he seemed to have a horror of people. And today! Today alone was another mystery entirely. She had hoped that he would really let her have it and be done, but he’d seemed—he’d seemed too broken to be angry. #CleanWIP Hope
#CleanWIP “I can’t do this!” Margie squealed, tugging off her veil and tossing it in the lap of a stocky man. She bolted toward the door, her skirts hiked. A gaunt man on the back pew slapped his knee and roared, “Way to go, Clemons! Hope you have better luck with the next one.”
#CleanWIP (theme HOPE) “I have not much hope that Archie will even be able to hold together what remains of the clan, Sire.” Ronan’s voice was filled with disdain. “Though he was his father’s favorite, Archie is too soft and easily led.”
#CleanWIP “What in tarnation's going on?" Ma asked. Can't a body eat in peace?” Clint sat down, surprised his little sister was at the end of the table. Apparently, Alissia didn't want to join hands. He cleared his throat, reaching for Ma's and Emily's. “Let's bless the food.”
#CleanWIP (theme BLESS) Gwendolyn bit off the thread she was using. “Oh, if the Most High decided to bless us with more arrows in our quiver, we’d rejoice.” She gestured to the children playing happily on the floor. “But we are content with our four.”
Incidentally, we started off this Relaxed Friday article with a cute kitten in a tree photo but we’re going to move quickly forward to a thousand zombies and tortured metal. Let’s get this Friday party started with an excerpt from Time For Blood. This work-in-progress is part of The Blood Series by Michael Lynes and it’s expected to be released November of this year.
“Ow!” He let go of the handle and began rubbing his arm. “Okay, I get it. . .the air stinks like a thousand zombies and our door is all beat-up. Plus, the whole place is a wreck, and it’s pretty spooky in here.” He gestured toward the scratches and dings along the doorjamb. “But look. . .whoever wrecked this place might have tried to break in, but as far as I can tell the door hasn’t been forced. Second, besides the locks, we also have a little magical protection on the space. Even if the Undead had managed to break down the door, I don’t think they would have gotten past that.” I nodded reluctantly as my heart began to slow. “So let’s go in, grab what we came for, and get out. No muss, no fuss.” He turned back to the door and inserted his key, unlocking the deadbolt. He reached to turn the knob. Before he could touch it, the door swung open without a sound. Pearl’s hilt jumped under my hand and her light flared sun-bright. I felt my heart stop. A howling wail filled the air and scores of dead-white arms erupted from the darkness. The door disappeared with a shriek of tortured metal as it was ripped it from its hinges. We sprang back, drawing our swords as zombies surged through the shattered doorframe.
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun collaboration. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or something else you believe our readers might love. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/tCaY1ymKn1
Achron prodded the young man’s still form. He would be dead in days without intervention. Achron grasped for his staff, and in a flash of white it came into existence. He touched his own forehead before touching Tonis’s. “Come back to us. Now is not your time.”#CleanWIP#WIP
Charles only grinned and ran faster; at fourteen, he was nearly as big as she was–almost too big for a whooping, really–and he easily ducked out of her grasp every time she got close enough to snatch him by the arm. #CleanWIP
Laurean Brooks shares with us today from Beneath A Macon Moon. “Born with a silver spoon in her mouth” described Jaela’s life to a tee; but if her mother’s behavior was any indication, Jaela’s perfect world was about to shatter. The late afternoon sun slanted through half-closed blinds, glinting off the ballerina atop the music box. As a child, Jaela found comfort in the melody. The music box had not been wound since Dad died. The compulsion to hear it grew until it overcame Jaela’s fear of invoking bittersweet memories. She picked up the box and wound it. Beautiful music flooded the room. Jaela hugged it close and waltzed around the room, soaking in the tinkling melody of “You’ll Be In My Heart.” When the music died, she dropped the lid. But it would not close. An envelope, folded to fit the interior, was wedged in the music box, preventing it from closing. Who had put it there, and what did the message say?
Scott R. Rezer shares from a work-in-progress. Anger had gotten the better of her, but now she tried to bring it back under control, difficult as it always was when talking to her brother. “And because of it, I almost spurned a chance for happiness simply because the man I fell in love with is a commoner. Do me the favor and don’t bother to lecture me, Anton, about marrying a man beneath my station, for in all truth, he has more nobility in his common blood, than you or I have in ours.” He wagged a finger before her face as if scolding a defiant child. He clenched his pipe between his teeth. “If you do this, Johanna, if you marry this commoner, this haberdasher, you do so without my blessing. And in so doing, you give up everything—your title, your wealth, the security of everything you’ve ever known—and for what? Love? Life needs a few more assurances than simple love.” “If love isn’t enough, Anton, then none of those things hold any meaning. It’s a pity you have forgotten that, or maybe, you never did.”
#CleanWIP “Now, young lady,” Doc said, I’ll take a look at your foot, Miss. Clint, get her to that chair. Then you need to leave.” “As you say, Doc, but so you know, I’ve already seen her ankles.” Emily gasped as Doc coughed to hide a chuckle. “Pay him no mind, Miss Hammons.”
Doug leaned back in his chair, “Gimpy, I had an interesting conversation with one of our readers the other day, he told me how you blasted him when he criticized me. I appreciate that, you see, loyalty is a scarce commodity in this world, it’s all about the money.” #CleanWip
“Oh, Lord,” he murmured, slumping back in his chair as the pen left an unsightly drip on his paper as testament to his indecision, “I believe that You gave me the desire to write, but what if I can’t?”#CleanWIP Theme: Chair
Timothy ground to a halt behind his chair and stopped like a marionette without his puppeteer. He stared at the table in silence—suddenly, inexplicably, sick to his stomach. He told himself to breathe, but everything was so wrong.#CleanWIP Theme: Table
The paper door rattled as I shoved it sliding to the side. Mother knelt at the #table. A teacup lay on its side, staining the polished wood and tatami mats below. Her hands fisted on her knees. Her kimono bulged with our youngest sibling, the one we all hoped was a boy. #cleanWIP
He opened the door and went inside, taking off his hat as he did so. He looked around, silently lamenting that the room was so small and spare, with just a bed, a table, a wash basin, a wood stove, and a rocking chair. #CleanWIP
#CleanWIP “Can I go wif them, Mama?” asked Maisie. “Not this time, dear. I need your help setting the table.” She patted her daughter’s head. Maisie sighed. “I never get to do the fun things, like Angus does.” “You will when you grow a little bigger and can pull a bowstring.”
#CleanWIP Clint slipped into the kitchen where Alissia was setting the table. The aroma of beef roast and vegetables tantalized his nostrils. His little sister’s cooking skills equaled Ma’s. She’d make someone a good–. No! Alissia would further her education, if he had any say.
I kissed Ginny goodbye and went to the front desk; Rocky is what I had pictured. A brute of a man who cut quite an impressive figure in a black suit with a white shirt and black tie, the crew cut and sunglasses added to his statue. Rocky said, “Follow me, Mr. Johnson.” #CleanWip
He flipped on the light switch, and four lamps that hung just below the exposed ductwork in the ceiling buzzed, then came to life. Arthur swept his desk, the phones, and the potted plant Sally gave him for bugs. #CleanWIP
#CleanWIP (theme DESK) Moira sat near the fire, working on her embroidery. Owain was poring over figures, when the lookout’s horn sounded an urgent warning. He jumped up, banging his knee on the desk. Someone pounded on the door. “Lord Owain, we are under attack!”
#CleanWIP She dashed through the door and into a room containing a desk and filing cabinet. "Hello, pretty lady. It's a pleasure to see you again,” a familiar voice oozed. “I can't get you off my mind.” The dentist stood feet away grinning like a cat ready to pounce on its prey.
The war would soon end; I’d lost too much. I’d seen too much misery. In my youth, I still had hope. Lying in bed, I watched the snow turned the grass a majestic white; I prayed that it would help. But, no one cared; our nation, so tired of war and sick of death. #CleanWip
#CleanWIP They came to a fork in the road. Clint turned toward the sign that read, Buffalo Gap, 19 miles. Emily longed for a soft bed. It felt like a week since she’d left home, even longer since she’d slept. Who could rest on a train when they blew the whistle at every crossing?
#CleanWIP (theme BED) Joy opened her sleepy eyes, for a moment forgetting where she was. She rolled over and saw the canopy of her new bed in Castle Frankland’s ducal suite. But the place beside her was empty. Where was her husband?
He was much calmer by the time they went to bed. But he still couldn’t sleep. He sat in a chair by the bedroom window, nursing a third glass of wine. His gun in his lap, he watched the quiet cul-de-sac until the sky turned pink and the glowing orbs faded one by one. #CleanWIP
He laughed and his face became handsome. “Don't you remember last night? You stumbled onto my porch. Ate all my dinner. Then took my only sleeping roll. I had to make do with my dog for a pillow.” I groaned. I remembered. “Please forgive my discourtesy." #cleanWIP (bed)
The #CleanWIP theme for Sunday, January 5, 2020 is WARDROBE. Any type is fine. There are many possible synonyms as well. Use the hashtag with lines from a work-in-progress on this theme and your tweet might be included in today’s https://t.co/yUHUbxZp23 writer collaboration. pic.twitter.com/yTHcCRRaMq
#CleanWIP Oh! Excitement surged through him. Was it… Could it be…? More cautiously, he moved his head towards the #wardrobe wall, rubbed that long object against it. A beak? It was a beak! Was he a raven?
He only had one thing on his to-do list today, but it was everything. He walked into the bathroom, past the curtains she made from bedsheets, past the closet where her clothes still hung, past the stylized painting of red tulips she picked out. #CleanWIP
#CleanWIP Her ma's dresses were worn. She'd tried to bring them up to style. Emily was a skilled seamstress. If possible, she'd have added to her wardrobe–stitched shirts for Roy, and dresses for her sister-in-law. Mama said, “Kill'em with kindness.” But she did not know Louise.
Photo by Earl Chinnici captured January 3, 2013. #FlashbackFriday
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun author collaboration. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or something else you believe our readers might love. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/3aQcLl4feR
“Johnny, did you hear about the Lewis boy from Winchester?” Julie asked. He stopped chewing, his jaw clenched. “No…what?” “His plane was shot down in Saigon. They don’t know if he and the other two soldiers were killed or taken hostage.” Johnny turned his root beer up and swigged it down, setting the empty bottle on the counter. His somber gaze met Julie’s. “We need a plan to end this conflict. Half of Flyntburg has at least one family member involved.” “I’m praying for an end to the conflict;” she said, “but above all, I’m asking God to protect our troops.” Johnny threw down his napkin. “Yeah, I know we should pray–only it seems like God’s not doing anything.” “Don’t say, that! Sometimes we can’t see it…but He is.” Johnny glanced at the clock and rose from the bar stool. “Time to hit the road.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Gotta go. See you, tomorrow.”
#CleanWIP (Theme: HOME ) “You didn’t know?” “Well…I have not seen. I’ve been staying with…with a humble man, who had no looking glass in his home. I had not thought. Of course you stare at me. Not a day older, you say?” Saldan nodded.
#CleanWIP (theme HOME) “I must go to my new home now, love.” Joy gazed into his eyes and fought back her tears. “I will miss you, Val.” She had to swallow the tightness in her throat. “Take care of Mama and the babies for me.”
Charlie opened and began drinking his second Crazy Chicken since coming home and when he once again started to speak, the conversation progressed downhill in a hurry. “You stated your opinion five times already. I heard you the first time. … #OhNoHeDidnt#CleanWIP
The #CleanWIP theme and collaboration for January 1, 2020 is NEW YEAR… as in HAPPY NEW YEAR! We appreciate all who helped launch the Magazine in 2019 and look forward to more of your writings in 2020. Please be careful out there, people. There’s no shame in choosing safety. pic.twitter.com/MfOCnUmxxq
“The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace.” Numbers 6:24-26#HappyNewYear#NewYear2020
#CleanWIP Emily turned to find her traveling companion smiling at her. “Jessica! I thought you went home with your sister.” Jessica’s presence could jeopardize Emily’s job at the ranch. The longer her friend stayed in town, the more likely Clint would discover Emily’s secret.
Timothy sat up rigidly, and she saw him trying to hide disappointment. “I only want your friendship. I’m not asking you to neglect your duties. I only want the chance to—to—not be alone.”#CleanWIP Theme: Friend
He was only making this harder. I’d not be here when he was master. Even his friendship wasn’t worth my freedom. And if I wasn’t a servant, what would I be? A craftsman? The tzar’s law didn’t allow me to become anything higher. I had no future here. #cleanWIP (friend)
#CleanWIP (theme FRIEND) “You have proved your loyalty in every way, and everyone on the council trusts you. Me, most of all.” Dolan softened his voice. “Dragon’s eggs, Jason, you’ve been a friend and brother to me these last four years.”
#CleanWIP (theme PLAN) Joy twirled around and sat in the empty chair before kissing her brother’s forehead. “I hope I shall have a dozen children. Six boys and six girls.” “Sounds you and Bennet plan to single-handedly populate Castle Frankland, is that it?” Gwendolyn laughed.
He created, then dismissed several plans until he came up with something half-baked, but plausible. If he could get near the edge of the pier, and loosen the rope around his wrists just enough, he could jump suddenly–before they had time to shoot him–and swim for it. #CleanWIP
I reset the stone, making sure to brush dirt back over the edges. Other servants kept their treasure tucked under their sleeping mats, but I #planned on hiding away things that would get me horsewhipped if found—arrows, a bow, and a hunting knife. #cleanWIP
Danger worked hard to match his master’s pace, which was clearly much slower than he would have liked. As they walked, Arthur whistled a soft, but clear tune. The pristine notes rose up into the night, and were absorbed away into the dark sky. #cleanWIP
#CleanWIP Nelwina thrust the curtains away and turned from the window. How she hated Lord Henry and his lady! Who did they think they were? He’d been a simple country knight, and she was a nobody. Well, she could bear strong sons. Four of them! But any peasant could do the same.
Here’s an excerpt from Laurean Brooks via our Facebook CleanWIP group. If you’re a writer who prefers the clean end of the writing spectrum, we’d love to hear from you as well. “My aunt invited me to move to Houston to live, but Papa would not allow it. He said the big city was no place for a decent young lady. I stayed mad at him for days. “Papa and Mama try to smother us. I’m sure it’s why Margie ran away. We’re not children. I turned eighteen in May, and Margie turned twenty in June. Don’t think running away hasn’t crossed my mind, too.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “But, if I do,, it won’t be to marry a virtual stranger.”
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun author collaboration. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or something else you believe our readers might love. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/HarMv7feNJ
#FantasyFicFriday#CleanWIP “Even more important than one’s birth family is the family we gather throughout our lives, the family of our heart.” Mercy’s face glowed, and Joy couldn’t help but smile. “And, dear one, if we are blessed to marry a friend, then happy indeed are we.”
Arthur Daigle shares with us a short piece from William Bradshaw and Urban Problems: “Hello!” an echoing voice called out. It took Will a few seconds to spot a pit dug into the trail. It had been covered with a thin wood board coated with dirt, blending in perfectly until some unwitting person stepped on it and broke through. Whoever was trapped in the pit called out again, “Is anyone there?” “We hear you,” Will replied. He thought about who could be trapped in the pit, and then covered his face with his hand. “Excuse me, but are you the puppet person who came to warn us?” “Yes, that’s me,” the puppet person replied. He had an echoing voice, like he was speaking inside a box, but he still sounded friendly. “I don’t wish to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could lend a hand. This pit is proving a tad inconvenient.” “See, this is why I don’t like you guys making so many traps,” Will told the goblins. “We get an ambassador—” “President,” the puppet person corrected him from inside the pit. “A president comes to visit and he ends up in a pit!” Will shouted. “We either need to cut back on the traps or have someone around to keep them from catching innocent bystanders.” “It’s not like we killed the guy,” Mr. Niff protested. He leaned over the pit and asked, “You’re alive, right?” “Yes, thank you.” Exasperated, Will said, “Just help me get him out.”
Laurean Brooks shares from To Trust Her Heart. Amanda Wilcox marched through the door of Tyler Law Office, fuming. She’d wanted to look her best for the interview. But when she started across the street, a dark-haired man in a sporty convertible, sped by and splattered mud across her buttercream trench coat. How she’d love to give the inconsiderate bum a piece of her mind! The silver-haired receptionist welcomed Amanda and sent her directly to the attorney’s office. “Good afternoon, Miss…Wilcox, is it?” The attorney’s penetrating gray eyes raked her before he looked down at her resume’. Amanda’s breath caught when she recognized him a the man who had slung mud all over her. “Yes-s.” Should she reprimand him and thereby kill her chances of obtaining a position as his secretary? She needed this job. As a young widow, she was penniless. Her philandering dead husband–his body found in his mangled sports car along with that of his young secretary–had gambled away all their assets. She even stood to lose their home.
#CleanWIP Clint stood with Emily and sang, Bringing In The Sheaves. When the song ended, they sat. Pews scraped across the wood floor. Clemons, across the aisle, still leered at Emily. She squirmed and lowered her head. A man who proposed to three women, deserved no respect.
Walking down the gravel road, my memories filtered through the hourglass of time; I missed your sweet song. I passed the old mill stream; the ripple of the water brought it back to life. I stopped to hear you sing, one more time. #CleanWip
#CleanWIP (theme SONG) Then all eyes turned to Kieran. He cleared his throat and stood at his place. “I could think of nothing to give ye, my lady, so I thought I might sing ye a song instead. My own mother taught me this one. ’Tis one of my first memories o’ her.”#MercysGift
Right now I’m in my pajamas and my wonderful son is making a Christmas breakfast for me. I’m such a fortunate soul!⠀ ⠀ This may have been a challenging year, but isn’t it good to be alive? I’m so happy to be loved. Life is truly good.⠀ ⠀ I’ll be cook… https://t.co/kvUm3w6AJrpic.twitter.com/kmLe3b2N4h
In a small town; poverty and sickness ruled the day. This Christmas, there would be no #parade. The kids, decided to take matters into their own hands. They had a few old musical instruments. Something great occurred when they marched around the corner onto 34th St. #CleanWip
#CleanWIP By May, our money was gone. I did what any desperate mama would do. I paraded into the saloon, marched up to the bar, and banged my fist on it. “I need a job!” Ol’ Sam looked me up and down, rubbing his chin whiskers. ‘You’re a bit on the skinny side, but you’ll do.’”
I could feel the burn as the sun beat down unmercifully, but the band played on; the song didn’t fit the dream. I woke up; sunburned, I reached for the Aloe. I flipped on some music, and they were playing, “It’ Christmas in Dixie, Snowing in the Pines.” #MuseMon#CleanWip
#CleanWIP She dabbed at the tears. Things could be worse. If she’d arrived on time, she would be wearing that three-timing dentist’s wedding band. This would be her wedding night! Emily’s stomach knotted. She had not considered all the implications when she had replied to his ad.
Emily laid a calming hand on Clint’s clenched one. “I’m just saying—you know how some kids are. The more you try to control them, the more they rebel. I sense a rebellious streak in Alissia.” And from what Emily had seen, the girl had come by it honest. Not only from her mother, but from her brother. Her pa called it “a generous dose of stubborn.” Clint’s shoulders visibly relaxed. His stern tone was replaced by a gentler one. “What do you suggest?” Instinct told Emily, he would not be easily sold on any idea that threw his little sister in with a boy. But she had to try. “You could allow Alissia to go to the dance. According to her, the dance at Coopers’ barn is the main event of the year in Taylor County.” “Yes. It started as a festival to celebrate fall harvest. People come from miles around.” “And since it’s set for the first Saturday in October,” Emily added, “Alissia will almost be sixteen.” “Her birthday isn’t until the following week,” he muttered. She won’t be going with that Reilly kid as long as I have any say. If she does go to the dance, she’ll go with me. With us.” “Us?” Emily’s heart fluttered. Was he asking her for a date? Clint yanked off his hat and pressed it to his chest. “Will you go to Cooper’s Barn Dance with me, Miss Emily. Ma shouldn’t need constant care by then.” He whirled around and pointed to the buggy in the shed. “There’s plenty of room for the three of us.” Three of us? Emily’s joy dimmed. She’d thought it was a real date. Instead, they would be chaperones for his sister. She swallowed her disappointment. She would do it for Alissia’s sake. “Of course I’ll go.”Emily ventured another question. “Will we swing by to pick up Landon? We could make it a double date.” “That is not going to happen,” Clint groused. If he wants to go, he can meet us at the dance. I won’t forbid Landon to dance with my sister as long as they keep plenty of daylight between them.” He ducked his head and looked Emily in the eye. “I will be watching them. You can tell her that.” Emily flashed him a smile. She was sure Alissia already knew it.
To crank up this party, let’s visit a WIP of Scott R. Rezer: The Haberdasher’s Wife, expected to be released in the spring of 2020.
Josefa pulled harder on his hand. “I’m thinking there will be a much better gift waiting for me at the end of this hunt as a reward for bringing me out in this frigid cold. Am I right?”
“I guess that depends on your definition of a reward,” he said and sprinted past her as the falling snow began to thicken, laughing. Josefa squealed with delight and ran after him.
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun author collaboration. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or something else you believe our readers might love. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/MR3PzOG9rK
#FantasyFicFriday “I helped you, Mama,” he said solemnly. “Yes, you did, love. Thank you.” Tears filled Mercy’s eyes. He was only four years old! And yet, Val had spoken to the dragons at the same young age. Could it be her sons had gifts far surpassing hers?#CleanWIP
My throat tightened. Should I pretend to remember and know things of myths and legends I’d never heard? No, I’d speak as little as I could and hopefully they didn’t kill me for impersonating divinity. #cleanWIP, #vss365
We encourage our frequent contributors to let loose on Fridays and share teases and news from both works-in-progress and published books. Here’s some fun from Journey to Forgiveness by Laurean Brooks. (A heartwarming, emotional romance.)
Jenny looked up and met the gaze of the luggage thief she’d encountered in Kankakee.
His cerulean blue eyes danced with mischief as he flashed his pearly, white teeth. “I never did get your name.”
“Get away from me!” she hissed.
He persisted. “Sorry we got off on the wrong foot. Do you think we could start over?”
“Over my dead body!” Jenny glanced toward the Ladies’ room. Where was her aunt when she needed her?
“Now, we wouldn’t want that,” he breathed. “You’re too cute to die.” His eyebrows pulled together. “You don’t really believe I wanted your vanity case, do you?”
His brows arched when she didn’t reply, but he pressed on. “How long will you be in Chicago?”
She glared at him, her heart racing. “None of your business.”
A stout middle-aged man approached the table and the unwelcome guest hovering over her. “Are you ready to go?” the man asked her obnoxious intruder.
“Be right with you,” he replied before turning back to Jenny. “Who knows, sweetie, we could meet again. I’ve heard that good things come in threes.” He winked, then swaggered out the diner door.
#CleanWIP (theme GIFT) “It will be interesting to see what gifts Val has and how they manifest themselves.” “Gifts? Do you think he has more than one?” “Nothing will surprise me.” Mercy took Joy’s hands and gently squeezed them. “He is his father’s son, after all.”
The canapes were done, and only needed to be arranged on platters, the gifts were wrapped and set artfully under the tree, and the dining tablecloths were neatly pressed and ready to go. Nothing to do but think for a little while. #CleanWIP
At the job site, I approached; Grandpa. He had finished concrete for years. He smiled, “Jerome, do you know what this is?” He held up his trowel. I nodded my head. “Jerome, this isn’t what you think; it’s a tool of ignorance. You stay in school, or you will own one.”#CleanWip
#CleanWIP (theme TOOL) The men cheered Ronan’s speech. Nelwina couldn’t help but smile at his smooth words. He knew just how to hold these simple peasants in thrall and use them as tools to topple what little opposition remained in the Keep.
#CleanWIP Mrs. James’s glassy gaze swept over Emily. How long have I been asleep?” Emil slid a chair close to the bed and sat in it. “All morning.” When the woman eyed the door, she explained, “Clint ran in to get a fence-mending tool.” “I’ll bet those Javelins are at it again!”
#CleanWIP Clint toyed with whether or not Emily’s idea would work. “So, you think my easing up on Alissia and Landon, will help matters?” Emily replied, “Unless you want them to elope.” “Elope?” Clint’s eyes blazed. “Landon had better not try it, if he knows what’s good for him!”
Dad had a sly grin on his face, “Boy, I thought we’d go into town this morning and take care of a little monkey business.” That meant buying some new big boy toys. I poured a cup of coffee; Dad still hadn’t mastered the art; it would, however, wake you up. #Better2sday#CleanWip
#CleanWIP (theme TOY) Joy sat at the table in Mama’s sitting room with Val, watching her brother line up small wooden figures of knights on horseback. The child would occasionally lean his curly head down on the table and eye his handiwork. Joy hid a smile at how serious he was.
#CleanWIP (Theme CARD) She ran her finger over the harp, imagining sweet notes coming from it, before breaking the seal. My dearest lady, it began, making Nelwina smile despite herself. She knew Ronan didn’t really mean the words, but it stroked her ego just the same.
He stepped toward her. “He was by my car. I told him to leave and not come back, but…" Warren pulled a business card from his pocket. “He left this in the crack of my window.”#CleanWIP (theme CARD) #Iamwriting
#CleanWIP “If you see something you want at the store, let me know.” A beautiful young lady should have pretty things. He would love to buy Emily presents. Clint’s gaze slid over her dress. The dark color did not suit her and looked outdated. But what did he know about fashion?
#CleanWIP (theme PRESENT) Merry distracted the child with the dragon box and gave the drawstring bag to Valerian. “This is not nearly so magnificent.” “Whatever you give me, Merry, is the greatest treasure of all.”
“A #present from the Queen.” He unwrapped locks of curling red hair and a blood stained handkerchief. The messenger’s sneer widened. “The Queen offers a trade. A kingdom for a maiden. You’ve often said you don’t want the kingdom, and the maiden loves you.” #cleanWIP#vss365
Where was Austin? She’d seen him leave a minute ago. Something stirred inside the church bus. Jenny flattened her back against the metal building and inched closer for a better look. Her heart hitched when through the open bus door she spied Austin through the open door of the mission bus, kneeling before the strongbox. He reached into it, scooped up a stack of bills from the mission fund and counted them. He returned some of the money to the box, stuffing a larger roll into his shirt pocket. The metal lid slammed shut. Jenny fled back inside the the shelter, tears streaming, and her heart pounding against her ribcage. Tears streamed down her face. The man she loved was a thief!
There’s no #CleanWIP theme on Fridays, but we still publish a fun collaboration. Use the hashtag to share INTERESTING teases from a WIP or published work (book links encouraged on Fridays) or share something else CLEAN you feel our readers will love. [https://t.co/iCuPzhtLNK] pic.twitter.com/pf0c33AcDF
And yet, he kept coming, just to see it–the gravestone his daddy had sold one of his horses to buy–just to read the name “Fred Finley, Jr.” and wonder about life and death, and why things happened the way they did. #CleanWIP
Why must the clouds be so dark? Why must the times of life be so dreary in the winter? December of 1944 and it shouldn’t be so depressing; but it snowed. Roscoe the neighbor’s dog slinked past my window, seeking a sign of hope. I was much like Roscoe; I had no hope. #CleanWip
Let’s drop in on Will and Domo. (This time we’re visiting William Bradshaw and Fool’s Gold.) “This is a new level of weirdness even for you, Will,” Domo said. “I’m just gardening,” he replied. “Why does everybody act like I’m biting the heads off dolls?” “That’s something the guys would accept, even appreciate. This just plain doesn’t make sense. Why are you growing food when you get it for free?” Will leaned the hoe against the fence and wiped sweat off his brow. “I thought it would be a nice gesture to the innkeeper.” “I don’t follow you.” Will pulled his king contract out from his pocket. “My contract lets me eat free anywhere I go, but I always go to the same inn since it’s the only place nearby. The innkeeper feeds me three free meals a day, and it’s got to be costing him a bundle. It won’t be so hard on him if I grow some of my own food.” Domo stared at him. “Is this that ‘fairness’ thing you keep going on about?” “What’s wrong with thinking about other people?” Domo pointed his walking stick at Will. “You were taken off your world and tricked into being our King. You don’t get paid. Three quarters of the planet’s population hates you. You’ve almost been killed dozens of times. What’s fair about that?” “Nothing,” Will said. “But just because other people aren’t fair to me doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be fair to other people.”
@CleanWIP Emily decorated Alissia's burgundy dress by stitching white lace to the bodice. Small bustles were the fashion this year, allowing extra material for bows and such. Emily had chosen a color called Napoleon Blue. She hoped to have enough extra to make a drawstring purse
“Unless we form the habit of going to the Bible in bright moments as well as in trouble, we cannot fully respond to its consolations because we lack equilibrium between light and darkness.” ~ Helen Keller
Predawn light stole softly over the sky, a tinge of pinkish red illuminating the mountains above the city. The inhabitants, comfortable in their sleep, did not stir, for the sun had not yet shown his head and most of the sky was still blue with the dark beauty of night. #1linewed
#CleanWIP Emily basked in the beauty of art glass windows. Diffused light splayed a rainbow of colors across the pew she and Clint occupied. A shadow crossed her face when someone slipped into the pew behind her. A finger tapped her shoulder. “You’re still in town?” Emily froze.
How had I become the center of a myth? Should I point out that if I’d forgotten everything then I wouldn’t remember my hands being poisoned? A fatal fallacy to bring to #light. “I don’t yet.” #cleanWIP
#CleanWIP (theme LIGHT) Dolan sat at the high table, resplendent in gold and purple. The amethysts in his crown sparkled in the light of candles and torches. Nelwina’s heart thumped painfully. The young king was very pleasant to look upon.
There, near the tree’s base, was a beautiful, elongate, fox-like animal. It was bright green, with a cream underbelly. It was a sleek and lovely creature, and it struggled mightily against the vines it had become caught in, looking at him in genuine fear. #CleanWIP#fantasy
A shrike’s song cut the air. Another shrike answered the evening call. The two battled their voices in an intricate weaving of notes. As darkness closed over the last band of ground, then climbed the shrikes’ #tree, they sang fiercer, challenging night’s encroachment. #cleanWIP
A fog had rolled in during the wee hours of the morning, and, while it was quickly fading in the strengthening sunlight, it still billowed softly around the landscape, giving the churchyard, the church, and the trees beyond an other-worldly feel that made Louis shudder #CleanWIP.
It was a brown Thanksgiving. Here and there a tree still sported various shades of orange, but most of them had surrendered their leaves and now looked like strange works of modern art, their bare limbs stretching out every which-way against the slowly brightening sky.#CleanWIP
#CleanWip “Well, here you are, Miss Hammons. Delivered safe and sound.” Clint walked around to help Emily down from the wagon. As his strong hands encircled her waist. a young man astride a black stallion, slipped out from behind the barn and disappeared into a grove of trees.
Today’s #CleanWIP theme and collaborative article is Forest. [More info]
“No traveler, whether a tree lover or not, will ever forget his first walk in a sugar-pine forest. The majestic crowns approaching one another make a glorious canopy, through the feathery arches of which the sunbeams pour, silvering the needles and gilding the stately columns and the ground into a scene of enchantment.” ~ John Muir
The family asked me to do the eulogy for my lifelong friend. I feared I’d break down. I made it to the end; I turned to his shadow, draped coffin, “Sundance, may you fish in heavenly blue waters and hunt in the forest of green.”
In less time than it took for tears to dry, a cluster of women and children stepped into the shade of the trees, followed by mules carrying supplies. The soft floor and woody walls of the #forest absorbed muffled crying. Most left behind a father, husband, or brother. #cleanWIP
#CleanWIP (Theme FOREST) They came upon an unfamiliar forest path. How long had they been riding? The exhausted horse heaved, and Nelwina felt an unaccustomed twinge of guilt for misusing the poor animal.
#CleanWIP He’d nearly reached them. He dropped down below the #forest canopy, torn between making a suitably discreet approach and terror that the witch might be in the very act of cutting out Yuliya’s heartroot.