Last night I was haunted by my novel. This happens when I don't write in it for a long period of time, say, like two weeks. My characters tend to frequent my dreams and disrupt them. They like to be center of attention. So they visit me to remind me how much the world needs them. It is humorous really. I think I would get more sleep if I stayed up all night writing than if I try to sleep with their hauntings. Today I wasn't able to write any, so I am sure tonight will be a sleepless one.
I did manage a nap today, however, so maybe I can write some while the little ones are sleeping.
A few more facts about me. I like to watch reality shows. Some of my frequently visited shows would be: America's Next Top Model (I like to watch the photo shoots, I could live without the drama), Face Off (I would love to dapple in that. When my books are movies I will get that chance. Naturally I want to be apart of bringing my characters to life in a different media.), Project Runway (Some of the outfits I would love to buy and wear. What can I say? They are up my ally.). I also watch some paranormal shows. I started that for my novel, but it is really interesting. I must say I like the shows that don't have background music to bring suspense. I like it more when I can listen really carefully and hear what they hear before they bring your attention to it. One of the shows I enjoy is Ghost Adventures. I have thought about going to an actual "Ghost Hunt" but I have a few qualms about it. First. I have no one that wants to go with me. They all don't like "scary" things. Second. I am almost certain something would come home with me. I am just that likeable. But as much as I would like having some clinging spirits tormenting me, I would rather not submit my children to that. Besides Nero Kelldonis is enough demon for me right now. Having him in my head is such a great joy.
I know I sound like all I do is watch shows. It is a lie. I actually don't watch TV at all, and if I watch a show, it is on hulu or youtube. But that is rare.
I do read a lot. I don't ever want to have no time to read. So I make time for it. And to add to that. I like to physically read books. Yeah, I will read the occasional book on the computer, my phone, or some electronic device. But nothing will replace the feeling I get sitting in a chair or on the couch flipping page after page. Reading a whole novel in one day. Picking up another. Sigh. Good times.
For those of you concerned about my husband. He is doing fine. He was on guard duty today so he was really tired. Had to stay up all night. I don't know what he was guarding. He didn't say. And I don't ask. I do like to imagine that he is one of those secret agent types. The ones that are always in great danger, but will simply say their day was tough when they talk to their spouse. Yes, that is what my man would actually say to me. He would be this situation and say that.
"Tell us. Where can we find the Emery Chip?"
His body ached from the torcher it had endured the last three days. Eyes swollen from beatings. He could taste iron from his own blood in his crippled mouth. They expected an answer today. But he knew it would go with him to his grave. Foggy though it was, his mind slipped back to his family. They would never see him again. If he could have cried he might have, but then, he wouldn't. It would do no good. What lie would they send with the news of his death? All his wife knew about his "job", was he worked on army vehicles and filled them with gas. He chucked then grimaced at the thought of men in uniform explaining he was crushed in some accident with a large backhoe.
A heavy muscular hand slammed against his temple, shattering his thoughts and shaking his stomach with writhing nausea. "You think this is funny?" furious, Vagner Houghvandorm, was loosing patience. Something he claimed to have in spades when they had captured him a few nights ago. "I am through with this game. It is obvious you are simply a simpleton and know nothing of what I am seeking. Thus you are of no use to me anymore." The stately man stood from his cushioned chair adjacent to the soldier. "Dispose of him." Houghvandorm was through playing with his mouse. The game was over.
He sunk his head sending a prayer to his family and his friends. Wishing them to be happy and safe. Hoping his actions would never find them.
In this state he could distinctly hear something. A ringing besides the familiar one he had had from the last few strikes. A beep. A second beep. Rapid beeping. A bomb!
With his last strength he flipped his chair over tossing himself to the floor away from the soon to be blast. Befuddled the tormenters had no time to act when the bomb blasted through a wall sending debris slicing through the room. A virtual onslaught of death.
Someone walked through the makeshift door. Stepping hard on the rumble cluttering the floor. "Always saving your butt." it was Claymore, the devil himself. "You look awful."
"Yeah, well, you took your sweet time getting here."
"Always do."
More footfalls, and another familiar voice. "You ladies going to patty cake all day, or are we going to blast our way out of this rat hole?" Agent Gould was testy as always. You'd think that woman would love her job. Blowing things up for fun.
Claymore swept the soldier up in his strong arms quickly. "Okay, lets get you out'a here princess."
"Remind me to wipe that grin off your face when we are done with this." he gritted the words out. It was all he could do for the meantime to not faint from the pain. That would be all this group of mercenaries would need. He would be ruined in the field forever.
Later in the infirmary. He dialed his wife's number from memory into the hospital cell. She wouldn't be able to call him back with this number, but she knew that she couldn't call him. Her phone didn't work over seas anyways.
It rang. He sighed when he heard her voice she uses for strangers. He liked to tease her about it. Heaven help her she sounded like a sex hotline girl when she talked to strangers on the phone. It wasn't her fault. She tried to disguise it when he brought it to her attention, but it only made it worse. She turned him on. "Hey honey. It's me."
The stranger voice was gone. Replaced with the sweet natured concerned voice he loved just as much. She missed him. She loved him. The kids were fine. Everything at home was good. She wanted to know how he was. How was he? He looked at his busted ribs and fractured arm. He chuckled into the phone. She was concerned. She knew that chuckle. "Yeah, I had a hard day. The soldiers I am in charge of were misbehaving again. And kept breaking things. I am in the hospital now because of some minor thing. Don't worry. I am fine." The conversation had to be short, but he could hear the kids in the background getting rambunctious anyways. His wife would have to take care of them anyways. "I love you. Talk to you soon. Bye" Again he wanted to cry. But that would never happen.
Okay, so I don't wish that on my husband. Though he does bring about a lot of ideas. I tell him about some of them, and he often laughs about it. Who knows, he might just be covering up.
Well, I am going to end this here. Hope you enjoyed my story.
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