I've been working hard on the second edition of Murder by the Acre. That's why Circles hasn't received any posts yesterday or today. I intend to resume the story on Friday. If any of you are reading. Sounds whiny, I know, but my stats are showing a great decrease in hits since I started Circles. Which is a shame because I reread it from the beginning the other day, and I think the story has a lot of potential. It's kind of large and not focused yet, but I think there are good stories there.
I should finish the edits and changes in MBTA tomorrow, and then I'll order a few copies for the upcoming Chisholm Trail Book Festival and the Ada Autumn Days. I intend to be there for both of them. Come and see me if you happen to be in the area. I always love seeing my friends.
Watched an old Star Trek episode the other day. The Man Trap. The TV show is dated, but the mission and the optimism is clear. Once space was our final frontier. Now it's our abandoned frontier. I don't expect that to change in my lifetime. We lost the ability to dream big. Perhaps the Chinese will carry mankind's torch. They certainly have more space flights planned than we do.
Speaking of Murder by the Mile -- which I wasn't, but I am now -- here's a brief excerpt from early in the book that I will use to close this post. Bernard, our hero, has chased a man into the woods. He should have called the police, but he didn't. His impulsiveness may cost him his life.
Excerpt from Murder by the Mile
When Bernard ran after the fleeing figure, he had no thought for his safety or what he would do if he caught whoever it was. It was instinct. What could someone be doing there? Didn’t criminals often return to the scene of the crime?
He rounded the corner and saw the person – a man – plunge into the shadowed woods up ahead. Bernard crashed after him, running at an angle to intercept his quarry. Briars and branches lashed at his face and tore at his clothes.
He was certain now that he followed the murderer. Bernard found his stride as he ran. His body finally remembered the rhythm he had in high school when he ran cross country for the track team. He felt like he could run forever. His heart pounded as he raced across a small clearing. He nearly tripped, caught a tree to right his balance, and realized he couldn’t hear any sounds from the other man. He had lost the trail. Or ... the murderer had stopped.
He tried to catch his breath, listening intently for any noise that would betray the other’s presence. In the long shadows, he realized he had made himself a target. He eased around the tree, trying to move as quietly as he could. Fortunately the ground was free of leaf litter, but every step he took seemed to thunder. He stopped moving. Tried to hold his breath. He listened. His eyes strained, but he realized that the woods were darker than he had thought they would be. The trees blocked out what little light the setting sun still gave out.
The sounds of the woods reasserted themselves. Crickets, a few birds, tree frogs. The whining of mosquitoes. He slowly let his breath out. Had the other man slipped away? Maybe, but Bernard could almost feel someone near.
He slowly walked forward. A small stream meandered through the woods. Bernard slipped on a slick stone. His foot hit the water. The splash echoed through the woods.
A loud crash to the left.
Bernard raced toward the noise.
It was the murderer!
The chase was on again, but this time Bernard began to close the distance. He had caught his second wind, and even though the darkness was falling across the woods, he could see the red flannel shirt of the man.
He tried to force more speed out of his legs, but the uneven ground and grabbing briars and branches hampered his efforts. He was close, but he couldn’t close the gap. He hoped the other man gave out before him.
They ran deeper into the woods. Bernard’s world narrowed to the flashes of the red shirt in front of him. It was so dark he couldn’t make out any other details.
Slowly he gained.
The other man stopped, turned, and barreled toward Bernard.
Bernard tried to dodge, but his momentum carried him forward.
They hit.
They fell, rolling on the ground, Bernard’s speed carrying him over the man.
Bernard scrambled to his feet.
The man came up swinging a tree branch.
Bernard ducked.
The man jabbed the wood into Bernard’s stomach.
Bernard couldn’t catch his breath, but as the man swung again, he caught the branch and held on.
The man pushed it and Bernard back.
Suddenly, there was no ground beneath Bernard.
He fell backwards down a slope.
Then he was free falling.
He hit the ground hard.
Darkness closed around him.
Copyright 2011 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without prior express written permission. Thanks for reading.
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