I'm listening to Jim Brickman's CD Destiny and loving the piano music. It stirs the imagination and calls to my muse. I've got a lovely scented candle burning and a fire in the fireplace. A friend invited me to visit today. She has a little farm in Alvin, and I would have enjoyed her company, her fireplace and old movies, but I opted to stay home and let the words of my WIP flow because recently they've been as sluggish as molasses.
Here's a tidbit that has started to flow. Since no one had posted today I thought I'd jump in and ask if I'm on the right track. Tentatively titled, Doomsday, here you go:
As if the sun had been switched off, the sky darkened. Lightning flashed, struck a small tree sizzling along the trunk. Thunder rumbled, shaking the ground. Fear streaked through her. That was way too close for comfort.She’d make a dash for the courthouse before the storm broke. As she stepped off the curb, the car came from nowhere.
A flash of white, the vehicle struck her left hip, and she was flying then falling. Her head slammed against the pavement with a resounding thud. Road rash burned her arm and leg. She grabbed her head, felt something warm, tensed for the pain. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes to gaze into the darkest eyes this side of midnight.
“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice tender music, “but I can heal you. In fact, you must survive.”
Wavy blond hair brushed the button-down collar of his white shirt. The beautiful voice soothed the gong echoing in her head, and his exquisite his face stunned her speechless. But the strange eyes were unnerving. They were totally black, obsidian orbs ringed long lashes.
“Who are you?” She looked around, and Main Street was a psychedelic blur. “Where am I?”
“You are with me.” He lifted her fingertips to his succulent lips. “Safe.” He tensed, sniffed the air, looked around. “We must go.”
Lightning fused heaven to earth. Thunder rolled across the bruised sky, drowning her gasp of awe and dread. In her twenty-five years, she’d never seen such a splendid and frightening display of electric force. Could the doomsday prophets be right? A hard shudder resonated through her entire body. Did the end of the Mayan calendar signify the end of days?
Posted by Nightingale | 8:46 PM | angels, armaggedon, dark paranormal romance, fallen angels, Grigori, Linda Nightingale, Mayan calendar, The Wild Rose Press, Urban Fantasy, Winter Solstice | 14 comments »