Son of a Pitch! The Last One

Annicka/ September 25, 2017/ Blog, Editing, Writing/ 0 comments

Okay, okay. I know, I’ve been all over this event like bees to literally anything that’s covered in bees.

 

I really just wanted to use that gif. Anyway. I did the whole plot summary for you guys, now I thought I’d share the first 250 words of my novel. This has already been edited and I think it’s actually a lot better. The VERY VERY FIRST draft had a mini prologue–a flashback, actually. It went from super sweet lovey scene with Bitter and Catori to BAM Bitter’s dead, bye. I loved the juxtaposition, but it just didn’t work for the start of a novel. :c

Anyway–the first 250! (Well, 252, I finished the sentence.) Enjoy. c:

***

Bitter’s body lay on the table inside his tent. Only a day prior various papers littered its surface, including her last letter to him; creased and worn as if he’d read it repeatedly. His armor hung on a post beside him, polished brilliantly and waiting for him. He appeared peaceful and he might have slept, were it not for the deep, bloody wound in his stomach.

Catori stood just inside the tent, staring. This was the man she loved, the father of her child, the man she intended to marry. No—the body remained, but the man had gone. She feared to move closer, as though doing so would cement his death forever. The lure of him proved too strong.

Slowly Catori stepped closer. Fresh tears gathered in her eyes as she gazed down at her lover. This was not the man she knew and loved and yet it was unmistakably him. His fair skin, peeling from sunburn, turned ashen. Someone had closed his eyes, to her relief. She didn’t think she could handle him staring at her, unseeing. She touched his cheek lightly. Yes, he was real. His skin was cool to the touch.

“I miss you already,” she whispered. “And I love you.” She cupped his cheek and her heart constricted. “You weren’t supposed to die. You were supposed to marry me and watch your son grow.”

I would’ve liked to hold him. Just once. His last words to her tolled in her memory like a bell, heavy and dark.

 

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