You can read the first section for free by clicking through. Do that and determine if you’d like to read the rest. If you do happen to give it a read, a review (good or bad) would be appreciated. Thanks bunches. Even if you don’t click through, I’d like to know what you think of my cover. I worked hard on it. That’s the 6th iteration, and by far the best. It’ll make a lot more sense if you read the first part of the story.
Also a couple other updates: I’m currently working on the 3rd draft of Sins of a Father and I’m 5000 words into a new novella I’m working on called Dark Wilderness. Once I finish those two things I’ll be diving into the second draft of The trials and tribulations of Cherokee Johnson. Then its on to the final draft of Sins of a Father, which I hope to be finished with by the end of the year. I might even be able to squeeze in a first draft of Witchwood (working title that will likely change), which will be either a novel or novella starring Winger in his younger days, back at the very beginning of his journey. Plus I’ll likely be doing a new sculpt or two in there. I’m finished with Luka. I’m just working on acquiring some materials to make a plaster mold and from there I’ll probably make a latex mask or foam latex head to use as a Halloween prop (doubt it’ll be done in time for this year though). Busy, busy, busy! But at least it’s doing fun stuff.
Now that my shameless plug and boring updates are out of the way and you’ve lined my pockets with gold from buying my story (and such a tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, extra tiny, miniscule flake of gold it is), let’s move on to the real reason you’re here. You’d like to see where my 100 words take Winger this week. Check out the previous installments by visiting my Winger Drabbles page.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting the party and you, dear hooligan, for reading.
Hope (The Winger Chronicles: Part 8)
Liv passed beneath the pendulum and felt her way around the dark room while Winger tended to his injured arm. Her fingers landed on a protrusion- cold and metal. Her hands quickly teased out its shape.
When she realized the object was a ladder, she looked up and saw a glimmer of hope in the form of a white ball of light high above- no less than a quarter mile. The sound of far off waves crashing brought a smile to her lips.
“There’s a ladder!”
Winger knotted the bandage with his free hand and gritted teeth. “Up or down?”