SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY - DRAWN tripping over more than cloaks

A fabulous photograph by Joseph Devon

This week's 6 has been put together with indecent haste. I've been bouncing backwards and forwards to and from the hospital. So far, the news on my Mum's heart condition has been variable but, all things considered, good. *fingers crossed.


In case you haven't read any of the SIX SENTENCE tasters, this is what DRAWN is all about: 


DRAWN


Darrah has been charged with finding and rescuing the Regal's heir. The evidence suggests he was taken by a band of Sarkisians who feed directly from the living. Darrah fights her cultural prejudice and instinctive fears when The Sarkisian Council send Fauld Hale to work alongside her to rescue the boy and maintain the fragile peace between their peoples.


This week I have been struggling to keep my section down to only six sentences. ;)


SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY:

Hurrying, she stumbled over his long grey cloak. Even beyond the camp's flickering firelight, Darrah felt hot, small and exposed. The shivers still shook her, blood and bone. “Wait, Hale.”

Hale froze – his back rigid – but he didn’t turn. 

"Why didn't you didn't kill him?"

HAVE YOU EVER WORN ANYTHING THAT WENT FROM THE PERFECT THING TO SOMETHING YOU WISH YOU'D NEVER BEEN SEEN IN?

A DEATH OR SOMETHING DIFFERENT FOR MY SUNDAY 6

red 6 by holeymoon on flickr

When I'm not writing MG I slide over to the paranormal side.


DRAWN


Darrah has been charged with finding and rescuing the Regal's heir. The evidence suggests he was taken by a band of Sarkisians who feed directly from the living. Darrah fights her cultural prejudice and instinctive fears when The Sarkisian Council send Fauld Hale to work alongside her to rescue the boy and maintain the fragile peace between their peoples.

Darrah doesn't trust Hale, he has too many secrets and too much power. It's almost as if he knows what she is thinking... or worse. 


This is my life or death SUNDAY 6:

Inside the brilliant golden glow that emanated from the Sarkisian, Darrah was consumed by pain that burned from her heart to her fingertips and toes. Clenched fists dug into her back as, with his arms wrapped around her, Hale held her close. She could also feel Hale's rising need and that reaction from her frosty companion confused her. She stared into his dark eyes. Once the connection was made, it was the determination she saw there that held her. "What do you want?" 


Comments are always welcome :)

Every lunchtime I spend a twenty minutes Writing Recklessly. I'm using the prompts set by Sally Quiller from her 100k in 100 days Challenge. I'm enjoying writing something different everyday.


WHAT ARE YOU ENJOYING ABOUT WRITING?

SIX SENTENCES FOR SUNDAY - DRAWN - NEXT TIME, FAMILY IRRESPONSIBILITY?

Blast!


Family and all things Sunday have conspired against me again, and I am late to post. I'm beginning to think being rude to the family in Family Time is the only answer, that or posting on Saturday night late - so late it counts as Sunday.


Oh woe!


I read the reminder that chiseling and chipping at another writer's work is by invitation only so please, feel  yourself well-and-truly welcome to offer suggestions on ideas,  punctuation or vocabulary selection and a HUGE thank you to all of you who do :D


DRAWN fantasy/romance




Darrah is The Arm of Elthor's Corp - this gives her responsibility for the men she selects to train and to lead. Her secret mission is to find the Regal's heir who has been taken. The evidence suggests that The Sarkisians - who, with their unusual powers and their need to feed directly from the living, are hated and feared - are responsible. Darrah, who has personal reasons to want all that race to husk and crumble is finding it hard deal with her reactions to Hale who has been sent to find out who, or what, is trying to destroy the fragile peace between their peoples.

As Darrah slipped she scrabbled around for something to hold.

There were no rocks or roots in the cascade of small stones, dust and disturbed bats.

Louder than all, rushing blood filled her head with an ocean of sound. The sandy stone, frosted by glittering crystal, whirled by - light and dark, in turn - and all of it gilded by glimpses of the Sarkisian's golden skin. As the blended images spun in her mind, she ran her hand over the leather strips that banded his arm until she curled her fingers around Hale's wrist. 

Time slowed when Darrah realised she now hung over a precipice and the Sarkisian's fingers strained away from  her.

Happy Sunday! I hope you are all keeping up with your writing targets and the words are flowing.

ARE YOU FINDING IT HARD TO BALANCE WRITING TARGETS WITH OTHER RESPONSIBILITIES?