Hi! Welcome to another Weekend Writing Warrior and Snippet Sunday round. Every week writers post 8-to-10 sentences on their blogs from a published or unpublished book. Then we "hop" around and leave comments on each other's snippets. Whether our work is already published or in progress, the helpful comments help us become stronger writers on our next WIP. We welcome EVERYONE's comments.
Justin returns to his apartment to figure out what to do to get Layne back... and to heal. He calls on Larry Davis, the family attorney; they previously had words about his pursuing Layne and it didn't end well.
(the following has been creatively edited to fit) ...and now the
Justin went straight to his apartment, if he showed up at the office or at the house he'd have far too much explaining to do. His face looked battered, one eye was black and his cheek was bruised and swollen, that was just what was visible; his heart was battered beyond belief.
He made a phone call to Larry Davis, he needed Larry's help.
Justin peeled back his shirt to look at his side again, the angry bruising on his rib cage was just as ugly as it felt. He was downing another three Ibuprofen when his doorbell rang; if he were lucky it would be Larry, if it were an answer to his prayers it would be Layne.
Larry was at the door, he looked at Justin’s bruises, "what the hell happened to you?"
"It would seem that I pissed somebody else off," Justin said wryly.
“You left the message that you needed my services," Larry noticed Justin's grimace as he turned, "you really are hurt."
"I'll live," Justin sat gently, "Layne and Dennis were kidnapped this morning, although everyone would like to think that she went back to her husband."
"The PI’s report never said anything about a husband, by the way our PI is missing."
For more WeWriWa Snippets, go to:
About Common Bond, Tangled Hearts
Layne Gillette’s world is turned upside down when a man she has never met shows up to lay claim as the father of her 6-year old son.
Justin, the victim of a fraternity prank, and Layne, the subject of a forced insemination, have produced a beautiful child that they are both willing to protect… at all costs.
The two parents realize they can love each other, but when Layne’s abusive “ex-husband” shows up, they are torn apart by danger, kidnapping and lies. Justin won’t give up until Layne is returned to him. Layne uses her newfound strength, courage and knowledge to defy Charlie’s ugliest demands.
There is a scene in my novel Karma Visited (one of the dream sequences) where the heroine watches a large group of bedraggled and soaking wet people entering a shelter after a devastating storm and flood ~ this scene was stolen in full from my own memory of Superstorm Sandy in October 2012.
A section of my hometown in New York's Hudson Valley was devastated by the high tides, pouring rain and violent winds. Homes that sat alongside the majestic Hudson River were literally washed away; other homes, more inland, suffered downed trees crashing through rooftops. In total nearly 100 residents had no where else to go and needed shelter to ride out the rest of the storm and to live temporarily until other arrangements could be made. It was heartbreaking.
As an Executive Board Member of our local ambulance corps it was my responsibility to liaison with the town and emergency services to set up a shelter for the displaced. The night the storm was at its worst, while my husband, son and daughter-in-law were riding the rigs and rescuing people from the high waters, I stood in the hallway of our building with other volunteers when a busload of frightened residents were dropped off and I watched them come down the hall - the memory remains burned into my mind.
Writers are often told to write what they know - I did.
Superstorm Sandy wreaked havoc three years ago this week
Annie was standing at the end of a long hallway. A group of people were walking towards her. She noticed tear streaked faces and vacant eyes that had already seen too much. One woman was holding a toddler to her chest; both of them were soaked through and shivering. A young girl was holding a calico cat; the cat clung to her, and both of them looked scared. Arms around the furry feline, paws around the little girl’s neck, both of them looked like all they had in the world was each other. Silent tears were rolling down the girl’s cheeks.
The destination for the mass of bedraggled storm victims was a rickety table. Two women sat there asking gentle questions and taking names. As the evacuees signed in they were ushered into the room behind the table. A man brought in a heavy wool blanket and wrapped the woman and toddler in it. Through the tears and anxious whispers Annie heard the words rain, tornadoes and death. The shocked expressions and quivering voices bore testimony to the fierce winds of the monsters that left devastation in their path.
Looking around the room now teeming with both the rescued and the rescuers, Annie saw trophies and photos of uniformed men and women marching next to fire trucks and ambulances. The local fire department opened its doors as a shelter for the survivors of the storm. Even the heroes who were doling out blankets, hot coffee and comfort looked scared and overwhelmed. Every now and then she saw a shelter worker offer a consoling and light touch on the arm, a hug, a shoulder – human touches that were beyond her ability. Annie wondered why she was there, what she could do to help them.
The evacuees clung to family members and friends who walked in with them. She heard people crying as they spoke about homes that collapsed around them. A few people stood and shouted random names with passionate pleas for any information. A shelter volunteer began handing out dry clothes for people who needed, others got blankets and toiletries, a few of the very young were given stuffed animals and toy trucks. A non-stop stream of coffee, juice boxes and cookies were offered all around. People sat at tables clutching their new possessions, an armful of material things that represented all they owned.