Tuesday Tales is a weekly blog featuring talented authors who post excerpts from their works in progress based on word and picture prompts. We’re a dedicated bunch that enjoys reading as much as you do. Today we have the word pencil to spark our imaginations. My snippet is from a draft dystopian. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Being yanked and squeezed through an inter-dimensional door the size of a straw knocked the wind out of me. When I could breathe again, I found myself lying face down on the floor beside my chair.
His Holiness hovered over me, along with the other members of the tribunal. “Give her some room.” Irritation turned his voice shrill.
I rolled over, crossed my feet, and came up in one smooth motion, grinning at him.
Like a wave of ants, the robed assembly glided back away from me. I never wanted to say “boo” so bad in my life. His Holiness, or Donkey Butt as I thought of him in my kinder moments, narrowed his colorless eyes. “Karise, your little episode has disrupted important proceedings.”
“Sorry, I have no control of what happens when the Anemoi take over.”
His flabby lips clamped into pencil stubs and then smacked open. “So you have declared before.” His expression said he’d love to toss me in the sub chamber and be done with me.
“Holiness, surely you do not question the ways of the Amenoi?”
He glanced around at the appalled faces of his cohorts and dipped his head in a token bow. “Not at all. Praise be the Anemoi.”
“Praise be the Anemoi,” chanted the group.
“I merely suggest we return to the matter at hand while the day is still upon us.”
I smiled inside, enjoying any small victory I could get against the old tyrant. “As you wish.” I made for the chair and then half turned as the door clanged open.
“Nein.” Martea scurried inside, carrying a small tankard. She stopped just inside the room. “Pardon, Holiness, but such a journey to the beyond requires a repast. Protocol demands it.”
He said nothing for several beats, and I was fearful Martea was headed for the sub chamber instead of me. After all, how did she know what had happened? Unless she had been eavesdropping, which was forbidden. Finally, he waved her forward, his countenance now shrunken in like a prune. “Very well. We shall reconvene tomorrow.” He eyed me directly. “Early tomorrow, Karise.”
Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the dystopian snippet based on pencil. Please visit the other fabulous authors at Tuesday Tales.
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Paranormal Romance