I’m doing a crazy thing that I have done in the past: I’m working on three new books at one time.  Writing during this Coronavirus pandemic is helping me deal with things; mostly anxiety. As I continue to write, I will post bits and pieces of my writing here on WordPress. Here are some snippets of what I’m working on. Enjoy.

Barrin Heights (sample)

When Lena pulled into the driveway of the house she was renting, she was greeted with a familiar sight: a Huffy 10 speed, laying on it’s side. She managed to park without running the bike over, and turned her engine off. The front door of the house suddenly opened, and out ran her nephew James. He quickly grabbed the bike and stood it upright. As Lena got out of her car, he shrugged at her. “I was coming to get it,” he said.

“Of course you were,” Lena said, grabbing her handbag from the passenger’s seat. 

“I had to go to the bathroom,” James explained. “So I just went straight inside.”

“Yep,” Lena said.

James sighed heavily. “Come on, Aunt Lena! Cut me some slack.”

“Okay,” Lena said. “Keep on leaving that bike outside. And when someone steals it, I don’t want to hear a word about it. Not a word, James.”

“Nobody’s going to steal it, Aunt Lena,” James said. He grabbed the zipper slider of his hoodie, and began to slide it up and down rapidly, smiling at the zip zip zip zip sound it made. He looked up at Lena, who seemed less than pleased with the noise, and stopped. “Sorry.”

Lena smirked at her nephew. “It’s fine,” she said. “I know it relaxes you. Although I don’t know how your new classmates will feel about it.”

James frowned. “They’ll probably be nicer about it than the ones I had. I hated those kids, Aunt Lena.”

“I know, I know,” Lena said. They entered the house through the side door, with James wheeling his bike into the garage and leaning it against a wall. Lena entered the kitchen and walked to the front door and locked it. You live with a forgetful twelve year old, she thought to herself. You already know this, so just keep looking after him and don’t let it bother you.

“What’s for dinner tonight?” James asked.

“Spaghetti,” Lena said.

James made a face at her. “Can’t we order a pizza instead?”

“I already defrosted the ground beef,” Lena said. “You know, when we move into our new house, we’re going to have to cut back on eating out. We need to save some money.”

James groaned. “Yeah, yeah. We can’t waste any more money. But can’t we have a pizza, one last time before we move?”

Lena put her hands on her hips, and sighed softly. “Well, the truth is, I really don’t feel like cooking anything tonight. And I guess that ground beef will hold until tomorrow.”

James leaned in slightly. “So?”

Lena chuckled and shook her head. “Okay! You win. We’ll order a pizza. Just a medium cheese pizza though, okay!”

“Yes!” James shouted. “From Marco’s?”

Lena let her arms drop to her sides. “From Marco’s.”

James went into what he commonly referred to as his ‘victory dance’: one half flossing, one half Antonio Brown’s touchdown dance. “Pizza from Marco’s!” he chanted. “Pizza from Marco’s! Pizza from M-A-R-C-O-S!”

“But you’re paying for it, right?” Lena asked.

James’s celebration came to a sudden halt. “What?”

Lena burst into laughter. “I got you! How do you always fall for that?” James smiled and resumed his victory dance.

The Age of the Daughter (sample)

Dylan parked her car in a municipal parking lot, between a late model pick-up truck and a BMW. As she got out of her car, she sighed. The next step in her journey was to board a bus. She looked around and found a line of people, waiting as a city bus pulled up along the curb. She walked over and joined the end of the line, taking one small step at a time as each person climbed onto the bus. When it was her turn, she paid her fare, and found an empty seat towards the center, where she sat by herself. She had read the visitor’s guidelines so many times she had them memorized. She couldn’t pass anything to the inmate she was going to see. She couldn’t speak to the other visitors or inmates. She couldn’t wear any jewelry (she hated being without her pentacle necklace). She could only wear a single layer of clothing. There were so many rules to keep up with, for what she believed was going to be a very short visit.

There it was: Rikers Island. Cold and isolated and ominous. She only came because of her aunt. Cassandra suggested Dylan visit her father at least once during his incarceration. As she signed the visitor’s log, passed through the metal detector, and waited, Dylan couldn’t help thinking about what her father had done to land himself inside Rikers in the first place. 

All of those women, she thought. All of those women who died so you could obtain more power. You were even willing to kill me….

She sat at the small round table, and waited. She looked around, and saw the other inmates with their families. Fathers were being visited by their sons and daughters; their wives and/or girlfriends. She looked at the faces of each inmate. You don’t belong here, she thought, as she looked at a Hispanic man talking to a woman and two small children. She looked over at an older white man talking to a younger man, and thought, but you do. You belong in here.

A correction officer led Marcus Maycriss into the room and removed his handcuffs. Marcus gave Dylan a half a smile when he saw her at the table. He sat down across from her. “You’re all alone,” he said. “Where’s Cassandra?”

“She didn’t want to be here,” Dylan said. “Quite frankly, neither do I.”

“But you came,” Marcus said. He clasped his hands upon the table. “They’re giving me some kind of medication to suppress my powers. I suppose you had something to do with that.”

“Of course,” Dylan said. “We certainly can’t have you walking out of here now, can we?”

Marcus narrowed his eyes at her.

“That uniform really suits you,” Dylan said. 

Marcus nodded towards Dylan’s long black dress. “Always in black,” he said. “Are you in a stage of constant mourning?”

“Yes,” Dylan said, smirking at him. “I’m mourning the lives of the women you killed. Considering the fact you used herbs from my garden to subdue them, it’s a miracle I’m not in here with you.”

Marcus shook his head. “I’m sure you would have found a way to get out of it,” he said. “You are your mother’s daughter, afterall.”

“And yours,” Dylan added. “I’m your daughter, too. But that doesn’t matter anymore.” She stood up from the table. “Well, I came, I saw you, and now I can go.”

“Leaving so soon?” Marcus asked.

“I’m done,” Dylan said. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will regain my strength, you know,” Marcus said. 

Dylan looked back at him just before she walked away. “Not if I can help it,” she said. Then she walked away from the table. She approached the officer at the entrance to the room, and placed her hand on his arm. He looked at her curiously. Her eyes began to glow with a brilliant purple light. “Inmate Marcus Maycriss needs the strength of his medication raised.”

The officer nodded, and walked over to another officer, touched his arm, and repeated what Dylan had said to him. That officer walked over to a nurse, who was assisting an inmate in a wheelchair. He grabbed her arm, and repeated the message. She nodded, and walked down the hallway. Dylan smiled to herself. Her message would eventually reach the doctors at the prison, and Marcus’s medication would become stronger. She’d have them medicate him into a coma, if she needed to.

I Probably Should Have Kept That to Myself (sample)

After checking in,  taking off our shoes and proving we were not a flight risk, we boarded the plane, and sat in our assigned seats. Together, we looked like three brothers and a dude they invited along: I’m the dude. My brothers all have dark brown hair and eyes, while I stand out with my blonde hair and green eyes. Walking onto that plane, I looked like a manager with a boy band behind him. Anthony and I sat side by side, while Stefano and Alonzo sat in the row behind us. It was going to be a five hour flight from LGA to LAS. 

One of the flight attendants passed though with little bags of peanuts and cans of soda. It’s a Southwest flight, so the soda of choice is a short list of Coke products. Want a Pepsi? Craving an Aquafina? Well, too damn bad! This is Southwest, and they carry Coke and Sprite!

I could hear Stefano in the row behind me, chatting up the flight attendant. He was practically interviewing her for a position no girl wanted: Stefano Sirci’s girlfriend. Where ya from? How often do ya fly? For fuck’s sake, just take your damn Sprite and shut up, man! The flight attendant managed to talk her way out of the interview by politely saying she needed to take care of the other passengers. I waited until I heard her push her little cart away, before turning around in my seat. “You are an embarrassment.”

“Me?” Stefano said, innocently.

“Dude, she’s just trying to do her job,” Alonzo said. “She doesn’t need you hitting on her.”

Stefano smiled proudly. “She was kinda hot, right?” I turned in my seat and shook my head.

I decided half way through the flight was a good time to start asking Anthony some questions about the trip. He was flipping through the pages of the inflight magazine, when I nudged him with my elbow. “Eh: let me ask you something. What did you do to score such an awesome deal?”

Anthony looked up from the magazine. “What do you mean?”

“Your job gave you a suite at a hotel in Las Vegas?” I said. “Come one, spill it. What did you do?”

Anthony shrugged slowly. “It’s just a perk,” he said. “My boss wanted to reward me for a job well done.”

I stared at the back of the seat directly in front of me. A perk for a job well done. Bullshit. He knew it and I knew it, but what could I say? We were 35,000 feet in the air, on our way to Las Vegas. I had been to Reno, but not Vegas, and I didn’t want to ruin the trip before it had actually started. He was hiding something from me, and I was determined to get it out of him before the weekend was over.

 

 

I’ll have more for you soon. Until then, stay safe. 

Woolaston Entertainment