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Showing posts with label catacombs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label catacombs. Show all posts

Friday, February 14, 2014

Afraid in the Catacombs

Time for another quick peek into my upcoming novel. Around Smoldering Coals.  Two children and their mother are trying to find their way back to their home in the catacombs. This is part of what I added today, so I haven't had the time to do a whole lot of editing on it.


Tayletha took two, then three candles from a stash near the door. After such a harrowing experience she wanted the comfort of light surrounding her. The fosser saw them studying the map Cedric had made for them and looked over their shoulder.
“I can draw you a quicker route,” 
Lydda and Tayletha looked at each other. Then Lydda saw the exhaustion in her son's eyes.
“Where is it?”
He took the wax tablet and started to erase it. Tayletha snatched it back. “We don't know you! Our pateras made this map and it's good enough for us.”

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Be Awful Careful What You Say


Whoops! Looks like I got carried away a bit. This isn't from Mary's Diary nor yet from the life of this middle-aged marm from way back in the North Country. Maybe you want to take a break from other things and see what's going on in the next book I am writing. (Well, one of them.)These are the introductory paragraphs



   
                  "You have to be awful careful about what you
                   say, Stephen,” Tayletha cautioned. “The sentry walks by
        every half hour or so, and if he even suspects that we might be out after                       dark because we are …”she glanced
 furtively about and her voice lowered, “or because our parents are 
-you –know-what- we will be in deep trouble.”
      Her five-year-old brother nodded soberly. He knew very well 
how the “enemy” raged against the Christianus and would use any 
excuse to throw them to the lions. Stephen shivered a little at the thought,
 and clutched the loaf of bread closer to his thin chest.
Tayletha crouched even lower than she had been and inched her way
over to the balustrade bordering the flat roof. Every so often, she flattened herself against the rough surface and listened.
Far in the distance, the clomp-clomp-clomp of hobnailed Roman 
sandals on cobblestone streets sounded loud in the stillness. Soon the eerie flickering of the patrollers’ smoldering torch briefly revealed some ragged beggar boys darting back into the shadows. Tayletha sensed that the boys knew they were in danger of being clouted with a brawny fist if they were caught slinking around. Scavenging in the garbage strewn in the corners could most definitely wait for a safer time.