An empire. A rebellion. A husband. A wife. And two oaths.
In preparation for Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month), I have re-immersed myself in the lovely art of fiction writing. Check out this excerpt from my future novel:
I pressed my lips to hers. A spark coursed between us, dark and painful, so far from love. Her body, her lips…they were as stiff as a dead animal. I pulled her closer, begging her to respond. But all I tasted was salt.
She was crying.
“Let her go!” Johnathon pushed me away, putting himself between me and my wife.
I slapped him. Melissa raced to his side, grabbing Johnathon’s arm. But he was already upright, staring me dead in the eye. My wife and son standing against me. I wanted to yell, wanted to shake her until she agreed to love me again. I wanted to go back to the years when she’d lean in for the kiss first, when we had looked to the future together.
“Get in the carriage!” I ordered. Leila, my little girl, scrambled to obey, startling me with her presence. Johnathon held my gaze, eyes narrowed, so like his mother, a red welt blooming on his cheek, and walked out the door. He was confident, strong. He hated me.
Black trailed down Melissa’s cheeks. “You’ve ruined your makeup,” I said, gripping at what little control I had left.
She lifted her eyes and just for one moment it was as if the empire had never swept our lives from under our feet. She pinned me in place with her gaze, as she searched my soul. I groped for her, but my hand seized empty air. She had disappeared back into her room, taking with her the part of me she’d always had.
I rested my hands behind my head, releasing a long, frustrated sigh. No, things would never be the same. There was a wall, thick and impenetrable, between us. A wall of guilt and regrets. But surely I had not built it all on my own, had I?