I've been away for a while- had to deal with some RL stuff.
Here's part of the first chapter of my new novel, which is currently untitled. The working title is Life of a Raindrop.
Thoughts and criticism are welcome (as well as ideas for a title)!
Quote:
>The pigeon strutted nonchalantly toward me, the picture of cool surrounded by chaos. He didn't flutter his wings- not once. They seemed to be clothing to him- there for the purpose of conforming with society's expectations. No, he walked like an expert on walking, jerking his head back and forth in time with his steps. I found myself staring at such a being. How 'bout a trade? I thought. I'll fly, and you....
>I stopped. What could this character want from me? Mulling over my present condition, I came up with nothing. Then I studied the bird. Hmm... your wings for my brain, I offered. You'll be the smartest pigeon of all time, and I'll leave my cares behind and fly forever.
>What are you talking about? the pigeon replied. You can fly if you want to.
>I started. He was right, just as he was wrong. Of everything I could do, flying was the only one I would really miss, and it was one of the ones I had to hide.
>Why? inquired the pigeon. Why should you hide who you are?
>With that- just as the taxi pulled up- I lifted myself into the air. The midday Central Business District traffic roared under my feet, dissipating as I rose into the hot, thick summer air. I heard the flapping of wings behind me; my new friend had burst into the sky with me, as a sendoff. After I noticed him, he peeled off toward the river. I flittered about for a while, then headed for one of the last skyscrapers at the edge of the CBD. My office was empty, so I phased through the translucent glass window and sat at my desk.
>Mai charged in as I leaned back in my chair. "Ms. Grier..." She frowned, puzzled. "I thought you were with a client! When'd you get back?"
>"Just now," I replied vaguely. "Any news?"
>"Um... the Sanders called to say they're looking at another designer. They haven't decided yet. I think you should meet with them, in person."
>"Why should I do that?"
>She said slowly, "Because... it's your... gifts they're worried about."
>I folded my arms and leaned back a little further.
>"They're both normies- I mean, normal. They're a little wary about dealing with a gifted, even if your powers are harmless." She shrugged. "I mean, I feel your pain-"
>"You should, Mai. You're emphatic."
>"True, but it doesn't take any supernatural gift to see that you don't like dealing with people."
>"Maybe not, but I like making money. Call the Sanders and tell them I'd like to meet them for lunch tomorrow- they can pick the place and time. Have them bring pictures of their new house."
>"Yes, ma'am." Having accomplished what she wanted, Mai happily charged back into the reception lounge. The door swung closed, but not before I caught a glimpse of its black lettering: Eileen Grier, Interior Designer.
>I stopped. What could this character want from me? Mulling over my present condition, I came up with nothing. Then I studied the bird. Hmm... your wings for my brain, I offered. You'll be the smartest pigeon of all time, and I'll leave my cares behind and fly forever.
>What are you talking about? the pigeon replied. You can fly if you want to.
>I started. He was right, just as he was wrong. Of everything I could do, flying was the only one I would really miss, and it was one of the ones I had to hide.
>Why? inquired the pigeon. Why should you hide who you are?
>With that- just as the taxi pulled up- I lifted myself into the air. The midday Central Business District traffic roared under my feet, dissipating as I rose into the hot, thick summer air. I heard the flapping of wings behind me; my new friend had burst into the sky with me, as a sendoff. After I noticed him, he peeled off toward the river. I flittered about for a while, then headed for one of the last skyscrapers at the edge of the CBD. My office was empty, so I phased through the translucent glass window and sat at my desk.
>Mai charged in as I leaned back in my chair. "Ms. Grier..." She frowned, puzzled. "I thought you were with a client! When'd you get back?"
>"Just now," I replied vaguely. "Any news?"
>"Um... the Sanders called to say they're looking at another designer. They haven't decided yet. I think you should meet with them, in person."
>"Why should I do that?"
>She said slowly, "Because... it's your... gifts they're worried about."
>I folded my arms and leaned back a little further.
>"They're both normies- I mean, normal. They're a little wary about dealing with a gifted, even if your powers are harmless." She shrugged. "I mean, I feel your pain-"
>"You should, Mai. You're emphatic."
>"True, but it doesn't take any supernatural gift to see that you don't like dealing with people."
>"Maybe not, but I like making money. Call the Sanders and tell them I'd like to meet them for lunch tomorrow- they can pick the place and time. Have them bring pictures of their new house."
>"Yes, ma'am." Having accomplished what she wanted, Mai happily charged back into the reception lounge. The door swung closed, but not before I caught a glimpse of its black lettering: Eileen Grier, Interior Designer.