Okay... turns out that right before I went ot bed last night I managed to bang out the required number of words with a few extra just in case. Somehow, I did the same thing tonight despite the fact that both the baby and I are a little ill.
Hopefully tomorrow we'll feel better because it's really hard to focus with an upset stomach.
Excerpt, Chapter 1 - Shadows of the Past
Katie heard her mother scream, knew she’d be running after them, or driving after them. Something. But she didn’t stop. The narrow gap between some of the cars was easier for her to fit through and she slowly gained on him. When she caught up she grabbed the coat with both hands, demanding that he stop at the top of her lungs. But he reached back and swatted her aside like a bug, slamming her into a car door, and then he kept running. Her lungs had hurt, her legs had burned and she was shaking so hard she had trouble getting back up. Then he was in the empty aisles furthest from the gym door and there was nothing to slow him down. Pauline was crying out, but while she could hear the pounding feet as the parents came running and their shouts of outrage, she knew they weren’t going to catch him before he reached the trees. And then he’d vanish again like he did last time.
Bastilla had shot passed her in a blur. Confined to the backseat of the car with the girls, she’d escaped when their mother got back out to see what the commotion was about and again raced to the rescue. Even now, years later, Katie was convinced that Bastilla would have put even a greyhound to shame, that nothing could have outrun the dog that day. Fast as he was, the man certainly hadn’t. But he’d reached woods.
A friend’s mother scooped her up and a father had run passed in pursuit, and all Katie could do was watch, terrified, as Bastilla hurtled across the open asphalt like something on a wildlife program, catapulted across the small drainage ditch and charged into the brush.
Then there were only sounds: the man yelling and cursing, Pauline screaming and the dog roaring with rage. Frantic, less able and less agile, the parents had valiantly followed, splashing through the ditch and flailing with their arms to clear the branches from their faces as they went in after them. They’d returned victorious, numb with relief, and Katie had sat with her mother, Pauline and Bastilla on the curb.
Posted by Egwenna at November 5, 2003 02:06 PM | TrackBack