Six Sentence Sunday

Welcome to “Six Sentence Sunday”. Thank you for visiting and especially for any comments.

This six comes from my unpublished novella, Prometheus Unstitched, about a prickly superhero costume designer named Cory Blindbarrow, and one of her customers, Theo Richelieu, aka Prometheus Man.

Immediately prior to this six, the pair had discussed the unusual physical effects Theo had on Cory. When he kissed her, the silver streaks in her hair turned black. The effect was temporary, however, so Theo experimented with a repeated kiss and determined the cause. Cory is none to happy with his conclusion, though she can’t deny the truth of it. Theo speaks here:

You want me. You don’t want to want me, but you do, or at least your body does, so much even your hair is aroused by me.” Again he chuckled, loud and hearty. Between guffaws, he choked out, “Welcome to my world and that of every boy beginning at adolescence. It’s not so fun sporting evidence of desire, is it? Kind of embarrassing, eh?

Yikes! I think that would be very embarrassing and one reason (of many gazillions) I’m glad I’m a woman and not a man. Ha!

Be sure to check out the host site, Six Sentence Sunday, for links to more tantalizing snippets from some very talented writers.

Welcome to “Six Sentence Sunday”. Thank you for visiting and especially for any comments you might leave me.

This six comes from my 2010 NaNo novel that’s still unfinished though it earned me a win last year. Sins of Our Mothers, currently at about 60k words with perhaps another 20k to go, is about:

An American woman, Neely Shaw, is arrested twenty five years after her involvement with a group of Irish terrorists and their British kidnapping victim. She’s extradited back to England. In a series of interviews, conducted as Neely’s trial unfolds, her interviewer, Siobhan, learns that the victims and criminals aren’t nearly as black and white as the press would have the public believe. And Neely is guarding more secrets than just those of a criminal nature.

In this six, Neely has just arrived at a London jail for processing and interrogation. Neely speaks first, then the Crown’s interrogator, Siobhan Feeney.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of bail here is there?” She knew it was a stupid question before she’d uttered the words, but she had to at least ask.

Siobhan made a scoffing noise, the nice young woman from earlier that morning long gone. “Slim to none. You’re a flight risk, Neely. You fled the country after the crime and have been so good at hiding, it took us twenty five years to find you.

Be sure to check out the host site, Six Sentence Sunday, for links to more tantalizing snippets from some very talented writers.