Been so damned busy lately, and unfortunately, not always with things that involve the written word, or that Ann can help with very much, like finicky old BMW fuel injection systems, and even with other things that Ann can help with, like photos for an upcoming ad campaign:
As well as some other images for “Krissy” and for the Ann-william.com site. We even went costume shopping for some Werewolf hair and a Red Riding Hood dress at a costume shop owned by the famous (at least in the Fantasy-Art world) Frazetta family.
But work has still gone forward on “Villains and Birdsong”. Mostly just because the story’s a good one. The main character especially is intriguing, with her “powers” and the way she’s chosen to use them. And while the story is still very much a rough draft, we thought we’d share another piece.
So here you go. Enjoy!
…She looked down and saw that her nails had drawn blood. Even though she’d tried so hard to be gentle.
Gary’s eyes went to her hand, then back up to her face. “Yeah, see?”
“Or Highway 1, outside Big Sur- you said you wanted to run that one. We could try a nice Ferrari. Or we could do White Rim Road, out in Utah, we could find a white Dodge Challenger- a nice, fast one, and no one else would-”
“Oh come on, Caly. Don’t you hear what you’re saying? No one else? I know what you want, but do you know, really, in your heart, what actually getting it will mean? Because it means- Ow! Jesus!”
Her nails had suddenly, somehow dug deeper into him. Enough so that she knew just by looking that he would have scars.
Unless, of course, she chose to fix him. Which she also knew right away that she would. She wouldn’t be able to bear the sight of what she’d done. She loved his sweet smi-
There it was again. At first she’d doubted it, but now she decided that it had to be true; she did love him. In her own way. And now she regretted what she’d done to him all the more, would certainly have to fix him.
But not just yet. First, he needed to understand.
“Sweetheart…” she smiled down at him. A small rivulet of blood had begun to run down the side of his neck. “Please get this through your head? I DON’T FUCKING CARE! Whatever you might think of this world, and all the people in it, its days are fucking numbered.”
A faint rumble of thunder sounded, and the breeze picked up for a moment. The birdsong and the chirping paused; nature’s equivalent to the shocked silence that comes after one throws a glass of wine on another in a fancy restaurant. That moment when Michelle Pfeiffer finally threw her glass at Al Pacino in “Scarface”. Only now Caly was the supposed “Bad Guy”.
She looked up and around at the sudden silence, a dark scowl on her face- “What!?”
The birdsong and chirping—the meadow’s version of polite restaurant conversation—resumed after one last moment of awkward quiet…
More to come soon!
Yours, and Yours,