Here's an excerpt from a project I'm working on...it is definitely going to be a ride...
Dust covered stones crunched underneath booted feet, sending puffs of parched earth and sand into the air. Heat waves shimmered brightly in the distance, and to the untrained eye the bleached white sand appeared as water, rippling lightly in the slight breeze that blew softly.
Despite the scorching sunlight that bore down on the earth below, the tall man wore all black. Rivulets of sweat dribbled down his face, and the man’s charcoal sweat-soaked hair hung limply around the back and sides of his neck.
In one hand the man held a canteen of water, and in the
other, a gun. His large hand absently tightened around the rifle every few
minutes before relaxing. Out of habit or randomness no one knew. The man
himself was not sure. All he knew was that the gun was a tool…a tool of power…one
to be used wisely.
No one knows me, but they will…you bet they
will. Soon, things will change.
A grin stretched on his face, showing gleaming white teeth.
The man raised the canteen to his lips and took a deep gulp of water, then wiped
his stubbly chin with his sleeve.
A scream sounded off…echoing eerily in the wind. It was far
and distant, but not distant enough to escape the man’s ears. He peered into
the seething distance and saw a building ahead, which was only one of many that
lined a dirt road. It seemed peaceful and serene; your typical Nevada town, but
the man knew this was far from the truth.
This is where it all begins…so be it. They’re
screaming…and they don’t know why. But soon, they will…you bet they will…
The man turned towards the buildings, and began the long,
tedious walk across the rocky terrain. The wind blew in powerful gusts, picking
up dust and sand in its wake. The dust coated him in a thin brown film, making
his black clad attire appear less ominous. But no matter, the more he looked
like he belonged here, the better for first impressions.As he neared, the man almost grimaced…but he shook off emotions such as hate. Emotions only caused defeat, and defeat was not an option. A tall building near the entrance demanded awe. A large polished white cross rose high in the sky, a beacon of hope for all…
Hope…the man spat to his right and glared up at the sight with narrowed eyes. Hope was dangerous. With hope, miracles could occur. With or without hope, these people would see miracles. But not necessarily the kind they were used to. He was the first of his kind to enter this town unnoticed…but he had a feeling that that would change soon…too soon. He would use his unannounced arrival to his advantage before things went sour.
And when things went sour, the fun would begin.
That was one of the begenning scenes to Eleven, a novel that is sure to have thrills, chills, and spills! Who knows when it will be done, but when it is, it's going to be awesome!
