A Sneak Peak!
It is a snowy Monday here in DE, and with the exception of the photos you see on today's blog, I have done nothing but nothing. Sometimes you need a good dose of lounging around just for the sake of it.
I am working on my next short story. Its working title is "The Moon Colony." I suppose that is better than what I originally had for Lucius Sinclair, "Patrick the Telepath." Lucius's name was originally Patrick.
I'm looking at my documents, and I see some doozies of rough drafts including "NextStory" and "Dustybadhabit." This is where I am thankful for the ability to revise.
And on that note, here is a passage from "The Moon Colony." Keep your eyes peeled because I have something awesome in store for this story once I finish revising it.
Aside from the dust, the greys of the hallway were just as pristine as the glowing halls of her home. Her beam fell across a gaping shadow. Nez headed for it. It was a slender doorway. The door itself was twisted on its hinges. She grimaced as she peered at the warped metal. It looked as though a giant hand had grabbed the upper left edge and started peeling it away.
Nez shivered and stepped around it, into the opening behind it. The adjoining room was only ten by ten feet. A compact, metallic desk lined each wall. Papers were strewn about the floor, covered in a thin layer of dust. Nez noticed a black coffee cup on the desk directly across from the remains of the door.
She stepped over the papers, closing the gap between herself and the desk. A reflection of light glimmered off of something inside the cup. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was a thin layer of coffee. Turning, she looked at the other desks. Drawers were open, their contents shuffled like cascading dominoes.
I need to hurry up...My air won't last forever. She faced the desk with the mug because it was a little nicer than the other two. A folder rested at the far edge of it, which she fumbled with until she got it open. A single sheet of paper without a proper heading stared up at her. It's a memo.
I am working on my next short story. Its working title is "The Moon Colony." I suppose that is better than what I originally had for Lucius Sinclair, "Patrick the Telepath." Lucius's name was originally Patrick.
I'm looking at my documents, and I see some doozies of rough drafts including "NextStory" and "Dustybadhabit." This is where I am thankful for the ability to revise.
And on that note, here is a passage from "The Moon Colony." Keep your eyes peeled because I have something awesome in store for this story once I finish revising it.
"The Moon Colony"
This snippet is subject to revision before I finalize the story!
Aside from the dust, the greys of the hallway were just as pristine as the glowing halls of her home. Her beam fell across a gaping shadow. Nez headed for it. It was a slender doorway. The door itself was twisted on its hinges. She grimaced as she peered at the warped metal. It looked as though a giant hand had grabbed the upper left edge and started peeling it away.
Nez shivered and stepped around it, into the opening behind it. The adjoining room was only ten by ten feet. A compact, metallic desk lined each wall. Papers were strewn about the floor, covered in a thin layer of dust. Nez noticed a black coffee cup on the desk directly across from the remains of the door.
She stepped over the papers, closing the gap between herself and the desk. A reflection of light glimmered off of something inside the cup. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was a thin layer of coffee. Turning, she looked at the other desks. Drawers were open, their contents shuffled like cascading dominoes.
I need to hurry up...My air won't last forever. She faced the desk with the mug because it was a little nicer than the other two. A folder rested at the far edge of it, which she fumbled with until she got it open. A single sheet of paper without a proper heading stared up at her. It's a memo.
We've been ordered to move. Grant funding enabled the research team to re-purpose and utilize the old military facilities here...Long story short, I angered the wrong person at Command, and the grants have been washed up. Take the cargo and transport it to you-know-where. Don't be alarmed with the screams; the cargo makes that noise when it is transported. Take an extra fuel tank. Sometimes a piece of cargo will fall out. It is a bothersome task to collect the cargo, especially without extra fuel.
Major H.R.
