|MINE Chapter 1 (standard:action, 11518 words)|
|Author: Tom Soukup||Added: Feb 21 2003||Views/Reads: 2168/1286||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Chapter 1 of my new novel that I am currently marketing. It is an international action thriller involving terrorism and West African diamond mining.|
Chapter 1 Cambridge, Massachusetts Saturday, May 28, 2005 10:14 AM The teapot whistled softly at first, growing louder with mounting impatience as puffs of scented steam angled away from the tiny hotplate on the corner of the dresser. The wailing went unnoticed, fading into the background, as indistinct as the distant whine of a police siren somewhere in the city far away. Erin paid no attention. Her mind was farther away still than all these sounds. She was lost in the thoughts of today, of the moment. Of what would be. She stood at the window, drapes parted only enough to allow her eyes to pierce into the brilliant morning beyond. Bicyclists zigzagged by on the narrow street below, pedals pounding frantically as each hurried off to apparently important destinations, wobbling and weaving recklessly though the few straggling cars that plodded along Plympton Street. None saw Erin at her window now, and Erin saw none of them. She wondered to herself who she really was today, now that she had realigned her life. Her gaze remained unfocussed, cast to the sky above as if the soft folds of the billowy cumulus clouds hanging high above might somehow hold the answer. A barely perceptible wry smile spread across her thin lips. It had actually become quite natural these days, there most times even without conscious control. Something inside was its source. That something had been only recently born but beat within her with purpose. The tolling of heavy bells far above her in the Tower at last broke the spell. She blinked her eyes in reflex, and that flash of emerald green reflecting in the windowpane before her snapped her back to reality. The teapot whistle was losing strength now, its futility expressed in the waning hiss. Erin glanced back over her shoulder into the room, blinking in confusion as if the sound itself was foreign. She shook her head and dismissed it. There were plenty of errant noises echoing through the hollow hallways of Lowell House. Certainly this one didn't matter. Sharing a building with four hundred fifty others left little in the way of extraneous clamor that ever did. She turned back to the window and saw the face of the new Erin Logan turn with her. How wonderful it was to be who she had become. It was so very far from where she had been. She saw shadows of the past in the taut lines of her face. Even now as the summer was fast approaching, her skin held steady to the stark pallor of winter's greatest depths. She had learned long ago, and in very uncomfortable measure, that her pedigreed Irish heritage made the sun her lifelong enemy. A sprinkling of scattered freckles, barely a shade or two darker than the skin upon which they lay, scattered across her cheeks and gave the only hint of dimension to the otherwise albescent canvas. She grasped the loose ends of her poker straight hair and pulled it tight against her face. Its color contrasted her skin only in its ability to catch the golden rays of the sun from the morning sky. At times she looked skeletal even to herself. Wasn't it that, as well as her pale complexion, that was fodder for the names she endured as a child? "Ghost" they called her. "Spooky" at other times. "Casper" may have been the kindest although in high school she was even forced to endure the cruelty of being labeled "Albino". Before she let herself be dragged into the depression that such memories had often brought over the years, she was reminded of how far she had come, where she was now, and where her destiny would take her by day's end. The smile grew wider and she parted the drapes further to take the morning's glow fully on her body. "You'll remember me differently," she whispered across the rooftops. "You'll all remember." She drew her eyes to slits, emerald crescents that were as much a signature of her heritage as the rest. If beauty could be found on the face of Erin Logan, it was in her eyes. They spoke with outward expression, smiling when she smiled, sorrowful when that moment struck, and vengeful when need be. Her eyes would always reveal her innermost feelings. Rather than turning heads of handsome men and envious women, they more often betrayed her and accentuated her distance from her peers. "You'll see," she hissed and she placed her palms against the window Click here to read the rest of this story (1190 more lines)
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