Six Sentence Sunday

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.

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

This six, like the past two weeks’, comes from an urban fantasy novel I completed a first draft of last summer, book 1 from The Land Of Enchantment series: My Fair Vampire.

I’ve shown two short scenes with Dori and her sire, Donovan, at odds with each other. In fairness to Donovan, he can actually be quite charming when he wishes. In this week’s six, he entertains his progeny, Dori, with what might or might not be a tall tale from his youth in eighteenth century Ireland. He has just finished explaining how he bested the Banshee who came to claim his grandmother. In return, the reaper-like spirit agreed to let Donovan choose his grandmother’s replacement.

I should also note that Dori has already remarked that while Donovan normally speaks with barely a trace of an Irish lilt, when he tells his stories, it re-emerges.

The next morning, we learned the terrible, terrible news that during the night the blacksmith had died. I told my Gram about my deal with the Banshee, and she said, ‘Ach, a wise choice me lad, though I’d have picked the ol’ witch who lives at the bottom of the next hill.’ ” He roared with laughter and the rest of us couldn’t help but join in. Watching him let loose was as funny, if not more so, than the tale itself.

I couldn’t help but quip, “No doubt you comforted the (blacksmith’s) daughter in her time of grief then as well, eh?”

He grinned wickedly, and with a faraway look in his eye said, “Aye, that I did.”

The full “tall tale” is posted in Dori’s journal if anyone wants to read more.

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