I’m participating in Six Sentence Sunday, a cool effort that invites authors to post six sentences from one of their works on Sunday morning. Six Sentence Sunday will then link the post on their site. It’s a slick concept, and I encourage everyone to check it out. This post is six sentences from my not-yet-published novel “No Good Deals.”
After drawing a huge breath and wishing for scorpions that stayed properly on the ground, Desh dropped and crawled after the woman into the wasp-swarming thicket. The wasps treated him kindly, in the sense that many of them shared their venom with him, injecting it into his flesh where he would be unlikely to mislay it. At the first sting he failed to muffle a squeak. A mahogany hand flashed towards his face, mashed his nose between its fingers, and gave it the kind of twist used to wring a chicken’s neck. Another cry rose to his lips, but he crushed it down since the hand remained poised like a claw before his face, every digit ready to deal out pain. Desh swallowed and accepted the numerous wasp stings as a kind of penance for being stupid enough to be alive.
Please check out some of the other authors linked at Six Sentence Sunday.