just for fun!!

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Fridays are usually for my friends but I hate to get in a rut so… today is just for fun. In July, DEADLY COMMUNICATIONS was released. It features a speech pathologist who gets a little too involved with her clients! Anyway…I’ve been writing for 19 years and Deadly Communications was my first effort of blending my real life job with my writing.

Why is that?

Because I know just how boring being a speech pathologist can be. Now don’t get me wrong, I loved my job and I miss it– a lot! But the reality of the job is it can be a bit repetitious to say the least. I’ve listened to more Ss and Rs than you can even imagine.

So it was hard for me to imagine a story with a speech pathologist that could be exciting and interesting to readers. Sure I found it super exciting when I heard a child say “Sally sells seashells by the seashore.” perfectly–but that’s me.

Anyway, one day the story popped into my head. I now have 3 Deadly Communications mysteries written. The second will be released sometime next year.  So this was a long way of getting to my point.

There are jobs that lend themselves to suspense and mystery stories, such as police officers, private investigators, even reporters. But a speech pathologist? The thing is I’m not a police officer, a private investigator or a reporter. But I’m none of those things so when I use those characters I have to go light on the job aspect but I didn’t have to do that with DEADLY COMMUNICATIONS.

I was able to write my therapy scenses with complete confidence that it was realistic.

Let’s have some fun!

I’d love to hear your scenario for your job or someone else’s along with a suspense scenario for it.

Example: A speech pathologist who gets too involved with her clients finds herself  facing a kidnapper without any backup or a gun!

So, what’s your job and the suspense scenario to go with it?

UNTIL NEXT TIME…GOD BLESS & GOOD READING!

This and That…

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So, I hope you’ve noticed a little more action happening here at Tiaras & Tennis Shoes. I hope it’s not too much–I don’t want to be a bother! Anyway…I’ve sort of designated Mondays as Me Monday. I’ll try to save posts about my books and myself for Mondays. Wednesdays have become Writing Tip Wednesday and Fridays are for Friends.  Saturdays or Sundays will be the day for a devotion.

Of course, all this is subject to change at a moment’s notice!

And you certainly won’t be getting every type of post every week–again I don’t want to be a bother!

So today is Monday and that means I get to talk about ME!

DEADLY COMMUNICATIONS has been out for a little more than a week. From what I’ve heard, people are enjoying it.

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AMAZON

 

The good news this week is that I was just offered a contract for the second in the Deadly Communications series! I’ve been holding my breath waiting to see if my publisher liked it. Apparently, they did!

I know a lot of people seem to assume that it’s a given that the next book I submit will be published, but I don’t feel that way at all. And I know of authors who got their first contract and then took years to get another one. So I’m grateful for each contract that comes my way.

Entitlement isn’t something any writer should feel when it comes to getting published. In my opinion author entitlement brings on mediocre books. And I want to write the best story I can every time.

I feel so blessed to be able to create godly stories and even more that people seem to enjoy them.

So that’s about it for me…

UNTIL NEXT TIME…GOD BLESS & GOOD READING!

 

 

IT’S HERE…Deadly Communications!

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I”m so excited to announce that my latest release–DEADLY COMMUNICATIONS–will be out sometime today at most of your favorite online bookstores!

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Deadly Communications is a new novella mystery series that features Maven Morris, a speech-language pathologist (better known as an SLP) who gets a little too involved in her client’s life. In Deadly Communications, the first in the series, Maven is struggling to cope with several life-changing events in her life.

But, in fact, she’s not coping well at all!

Lizzie, her well-meaning friend, decides it’s time to step in and help…and that’s when all the trouble starts!

This is what the back cover blurb says:

Improving communication skills is never easy. In this case, it could be murder!

Maven Morris is a speech-language pathologist on medical leave–or as she likes to put it: out to pasture. When she’s offered a lucrative position by one of the community’s most powerful men to help his traumatic-brain-injured daughter improve her communication skills, Maven discovers deadly secrets behind the iron gates of the mansion.

Now, she must find the courage to seek justice no matter who gets hurt–even if it’s her. 

As a speech pathologist for more than 30 years, this book was especially fun for me to write. I hadn’t planned on writing a story, let alone a series featuring a crime-fighting speech-language pathologist, but three things happened within a few days of each other to inspire DEADLY COMMUNICATIONS.

First, my brother asked why I didn’t write a story featuring a speech-language pathologist. To which my answer was it would be difficult to come up with a suspense story with an SLP as the main character. After all, I know how boring my life is! I couldn’t even imagine how an SLP could get involved in a mystery.

Secondly, a few days later I was talking with someone whose daughter had been involved in a serious car accident and was now experiencing communication difficulties due to a traumatic brain injury.

Thirdly, as writers are prone to do, I was sitting daydreaming and had a vision of a young woman running through the woods and then into ongoing traffic on a highway..

That’s all it took!

My writer mind took over from there and DEADLY COMMUNICATIONS was born!

To celebrate the release of DEADLY COMMUNICATIONS, I’m giving away an e-copy of the novella. All you need to do is leave a comment! The winner will be picked next Friday–July 25th.

Don’t know what to say? Here’s a few questions that you can answer: What’s some other jobs that might seem like you couldn’t write a mystery about? What do you think an SLP does? What’s your job and how could you use that job as part of a mystery?

UNTIL NEXT TIME…GOD BLESS & GOOD READING!

 

 

My Writing Journey–Why Christian Fiction?

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I didn’t start out writing Christian fiction. My first bumbling efforts at writing novels were filled with all the things I now proudly tell people are NOT in my books–bad language and explicit sex scenes.  Anyway, I can tell you I am so thankful I wasn’t published until I made the switch to writing Christian Fiction.

So what exactly is Christian Fiction? The answer to that question is as varied as the books you’ll find when you search the genre Christian Fiction. A few years ago a preacher I was listening to gave this definition for a parable:

It’s an earthly story with a heavenly message.

As soon as I heard that definition, it resonated with me. That’s the way I view Christian fiction–an earthly story with a heavenly message. Or in the case of science fiction it might be an-out-of-this-world story but it still has that heavenly message!

So, what’s the heavenly message? Again, there are lots of choices. Most of my stories seem to focus on God’s love; forgiving others; and living out the Golden rule.  I don’t limit myself to those themes, it just seems to work out that way most of the time.

I’m not much for following rules, but I do have a few as I write. First absolutely NO bad language, NO explicit sex scenes; and NO premarital sex (though a character make reference to it but always as a regret or a mistake.) Most of my characters are Christians at various stages on their walk with God. Some may not be actively following their faith at the beginning of the story, but as the story progresses, so does their faith.

So, I’m not just a writer, I’m a Christian writer. And I’m not just a Christian writer, I’m a Christian Fiction writer, and for me that means something. Just as the title Christian means something.  Taking the title of Christian Fiction writer means I will write in such a way as to be God’s ambassador to my readers.

Sounds a bit lofty and even arrogant, doesn’t it?

As someone said (I think it was JFK) we’re either part of the problem or part of the solution. I choose to be part of the solution with the stories I write. There’s so much darkness in this world, I want to add some light. So even though I write mysteries and suspense stories, they have a message of faith, hope and love.

And that’s how I derived my tagline: Lillian Duncan…stories of faith mingled with murder & mayhem!

 

 

They’re baaaack…

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Reggie and Dylan are back in my new release, UNTIL DEATH DO US PART.  We first met them in Pursued as they met, were chased by a crazed killer, and fell in love.  Now they’re married. Happily married you ask? Well….you’ll have to read the story to find the answer to that question. But I can tell you there are plenty of hold-your-breath moments as Reggie and Dylan live out their faith–meaning helping others who are in trouble.  And trouble they find!

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AMAZON LINK

 

 UNTIL DEATH DO US PART:

When Reggie vowed until death do us part, she had no idea how close she’d come.

Newlywed Reggie Monroe struggles to find her happily ever after. As much as she loves her husband, she finds life to be overwhelming as she attempts to be the perfect farmer’s wife in rural Ohio.

When Dylan receives a mysterious message from his best friend, he knows trouble is brewing. To keep Reggie safe, he encourages her to visit friends, but keeping secrets from Reggie is never a good idea. It only makes her more curious—and everyone knows that curiosity killed the cat!

Until Death Do Us Part becomes more than words as Reggie struggles to stay alive and reunite with her husband.

AMAZON LINK

UNTIL NEXT TIME…GOD BLESS & GOOD READING!

 

 

CHRYSALIS–CHAPTER 9

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Chryssie was back in the tiny room—her prison.

At least she wasn’t tied up any longer. Instead, she was eating a sandwich the goon gave her. He’d left her in the room alone, but told her the door was locked and he would be right on the other side.

If she dared to even rattle the door knob, she’d be tied back up.

So, instead she was eating her sandwich and trying to figure out her next move. The only window in the tiny cubicle was above her head. From what she could see through the window, she was in a basement.

Apparently, still in town since she could see a few buildings as well.

After she’d eaten, she got up and moved the chair to the window as quietly as she could. No use warning the goon she was trying to escape.

She climbed on top of the chair. Reaching as far as she could, she was able to touch the window. Even if she could unlock it, how would she get through the window?

She sighed.

The tiny room had the chair and the sofa. Nothing else. She might be able to move the sofa over and then put the chair on top of the sofa. But if the goon was actually outside the room, he’d hear her.

Should she take the chance that he’d lied to her? That he was actually gone doing other goon business at the moment. It was possible.

She stared at the door.

Possible but not probable.

She was sure he was out there just waiting for an excuse to come in and hurt her again. She reached back to the window and curled her fingers around the ledge. Using all her strength, she tried to lift herself up.

Nothing happened.

Just as she suspected, even if she managed to get the window unlocked, she wouldn’t be able to lift herself up so she could squeeze through it. Standing on her tip toes, she could see the sidewalk.

Maybe, she could stand here and wait for someone to go by. Then yell at them to go get help. Other than that, she didn’t see a way to get out of this situation.

          God, I really need you. I know I don’t deserve it, but I could use a little help here—well a lot, actually.

She heard a sound at the door. Before she could jump off the chair, it opened.

The goon stood there, shaking his head. “See, this is what I mean. I do something nice for you and this is how you act. Good thing I decided to check on you.”

Thanks a lot. God. So much for prayer working.  “It doesn’t matter. I couldn’t get out anyway.” She demonstrated her inability to lift herself up.

“But you tried. And that doesn’t make me happy. Good thing, the boss said not to hurt you. You really get on my nerves.”

She jumped off the chair and smiled at him. “Well, if I’m so annoying why don’t you just let me go? That way I can get out of your hair and you can get on with your day.”

“Yeah, you wish.”

Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty. But there was no way she would let him know how terrified she was. After all the boss had told him not to hurt her.

But she wasn’t quite sure if he always listened to the boss or not.

****

Chryssie opened her eyes, groggy and confused.

But it all came back in the next second. Having given up on the idea of escaping, she’d finally decided to sleep since she hadn’t done so in more than twenty-four hours.

The goon had been in the room staring at her when she’d laid down, but he was gone now. But she was sure he wasn’t far away. He’d left the door open a crack, probably so he could hear her if she tried anything else.

She had no idea what time it was.  A glance out the window told her day had given way to night. Chryssi  sat up and stared around her at the four walls. The room was empty except for the sofa.

The goon had even taken the chair out. No weapons. Nothing to help her.

How could this have happened to her? One moment things were finally going her way, the next her life was falling apart. She might not even survive until morning.

She heard voices.

Chryssie moved to the door to listen.

“How’s my girl been?” Chuck’s voice. How dare he call her his girl? He was the reason she was being held in this prison. Her face warmed as her anger increased.

“She’s a pain. That’s what she is. Next time, have someone else be the babysitter. I hate sitting around all day. It drives me crazy.”

Yeah, I’ll remember that. So, are you ready to prove that you have what it takes to be a part of this wonderful business organization?”

A mumbled yes followed. The voice was different than the goon’s. Now there was another bad guy. Three of them. There was no way she was getting out of the mess.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Sorry, Misty.” Her words were whispered.

“Let’s get this over with.” Chuck said.

This was it. She wasn’t about to give up and let them kill her. Chryssie moved to the side of the door.

As the door opened, she threw herself at the first person through it.

“What the—”

She screamed and slapped at him, but a moment later arms grabbed her and pulled her away from Chuck. The goon pulled her arms away from Chuck and held them behind her back.

“See, I told you she was a pain.”

Chuck’s eyes flashed black with anger. “So I see. Well, she’s a spitfire so I wouldn’t expect anything less. I didn’t think she’d go easy into the good night.” He walked towards her.

She cowered.

The goon laughed. “Not so brave now, are you?”

Chuck stood in front of her and then very deliberately raised his arm and slapped her.

She moaned as stars swam in front of her eyes. Warm blood trickled from her mouth and down her chin. She glared at him and did the only thing she could, she kicked at him, but he moved away before her foot could connect.

“Calm down, Chryssie. You’re making this so much more difficult than it needs to be. I don’t want to hurt you. If you listen to me, then life can get back to normal—for you and for me.”

Still glaring but not having a choice, she said, “Fine.”

The goon squeezed her arms together.

Chryssie winced at the pain. “Stop hurting me.”

“That’s enough, Stan. No reason to be a brute.”

His grasp loosened.

“I’m sorry you saw what you saw. It wasn’t part of the plan.”

Did that mean Chuck wasn’t just helping out his cousin? He did seem more like the boss than an accomplice. “I didn’t see anything.” Her chin jutted in the air in defiance.

Chuck shrugged. “Maybe not, but you saw more than you should have. Now we have to do something about it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His hand jerked up and slapped her again. “The time for lying is over. We aren’t going to be able to work this out if you don’t stop lying.”

Work this out? Did he really mean that? Was there a chance she could get out of here alive? She nodded.

“Chryssie, I like you. You haven’t had it easy and yet you’ve worked your way through college. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t have you telling people about last night.”

“I won’t. I promise. If you let me go, I’ll find a job far away and leave. You never have to see me again.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. Thanks to my idiot cousin, the police now know you’re involved so you can’t just run away. You’re going to have to turn yourself in and face the consequences.”

She stared at him. What was he thinking? Why would she confess to something she didn’t do? “But I didn’t do anything.”

“See, this is what I mean. Stop thinking about you and look at the bigger picture. All you have to do is tell them that the man attacked you when you left the bar and you had no choice but to shoot him.”

“Then I’ll go to jail.”

“Chances are good that won’t happen. He was a thug and it’s quite believable that it happened just that way. It was justifiable. And even if you have to do some jail time, it won’t be much. Besides, you need to think about your sister.

“If I go to jail, they’ll never let me have custody of Misty.”

“If you don’t do this, something bad could happen to her.”

Her stomach flip-flopped.

“But if you do this, I’ll make sure you get her after this is all over. That’s a promise.”

She stared at him. Did he really have the power to make that happen?

“And there will be some money in it for you as well. So you and your sister can make a fresh start.”

How could she trust him and where was the other man he’d been talking to? Chuck’s words hadn’t sound as if he was in a bargaining mood. What difference did it make? She didn’t have any power here.

Her chances of a butterfly life were gone. No matter what happened from here on out, her life would be filled with lies. But at least she would be alive. At least, she’d be able to help Misty have a better life.

She looked at Chuck and nodded. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Chuck stared into her eyes.

She looked away.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Chryssie, Chryssie, Chryssie. Your words say yes, but your eyes say no. I don’t think I can trust you.”

“You can trust me. I promise.”

“In spite of all you’ve been through, you’re still an idealist. You believe in right and wrong and that’s dangerous. Too dangerous for me to take a chance.” He turned towards the door.  “OK, you’re up.”

A man walked in.

Chryssie stared. It was the last person she’d expected to see.

Marv stood there with a gun in his hand.

Marv—the good Samaritan from the bar who was always driving the drunks home. Apparently, he wasn’t all that good. How stupid could she be? She’d really thought he was sincere all those times he’d tried to talk with her about God and Jesus and all that love junk.

Junk! That’s all it was.

His eyes met hers.

“Liar.” She spat out the word.

Chuck ignored her outburst and gave instructions. “OK, Marv. You take care of this problem and then you’re in. I’m leaving.”

“What do you want me to do with her?”

“Kill her.”

“Yeah, I know that but what should I do after that.”

“ Stan will help you get rid of the body. Make sure they never find the body.”

“It’s not the body.” Chryssie screamed. “It’s my body. How can you do this, Marv? I thought you were a Christian. It’s a sin to kill.”

Marv smiled—actually it was more like a lion’s snarl just before pouncing.

Stan squeezed her arms once again. Pain shot through her arms and shoulders. “Let’s get this over with. I’m tired of her. And I’ve got things to do. ”

Marv stepped forward. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He lifted the gun.

 

 

 

Uh-oh!  Things are looking grim for our hero. Almost done–one more chapter to go. Tune in tomorrow for THE END!

UNTIL NEXT TIME…God Bless and Good Reading! 

Good News–and a request!

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Yay!!  Just to let you know, I just finished the ending of CHRYSALIS. I think you’ll like the ending.

The story ended up being 10 chapters–so it’s definitely a short story rather than a novel or a novella. But that was on purpose. Since I’m putting the whole story up on my blog, it couldn’t be full-length.

As the story winds down, let me share a little about the process I use as I write. When a story is finished, normally I put it aside for a few weeks. When I’m fresh, then I go back to work on a second draft.

During the second draft, I’ll make corrections, add in description and more sensory detail. Sensory detail is about using all the senses including touch and smell  to make the story come to life. It’s the sensory detail that puts the reader in the middle of the action.

It’s the second draft where I spend more time developing the spiritual plot as well. I’ve already developed it somewhat in the first draft, but it still needs fleshing out.

Now that I know who the characters are-good guys and bad–they might have more to tell me as I go through the 2nd and 3rd drafts of the story.

As I said that’s my normal process. Whether I do that or not with this story, I’m not sure. I’ll Just have to wait and see what happens. My goal is that I’d like to do that and then offer the story for free here on my website, but I do have other commitments to think about as well.

Anyway, to my request.

I can’t say that I’m happy with the title of the story–CHRYSALIS. Now that the story is more than half over, maybe you have a better idea for a title, something that would at least hint to the suspense part of the story.

Any ideas?

The next chapter will be out soon.

UNTIL NEXT TIME… God Bless and Good Reading!

CHRYSALIS–CHAPTER 7

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Like an old Polaroid picture, the darkness in Chryssie’s mind slowly turned from black to gray and then back to reality. Instead of fully opening her eyes, she squinted not wanting to alert them that she was awake.

The man who’d hit her was leaning on the driver’s seat. “I had to do that. It wasn’t my fault.” The big man’s voice whined.

The driver said, “Tell it to the boss, not me. He told you not to hurt her.”

Who was the boss? And why didn’t he want her hurt? Not that it mattered, she had no intention of going quietly with them so they could kill her like the man had done to that guy in the alley.

Her eyes moved from the man to the back door of the van. It was crazy, but she had to do it. The rule was never to let them take you to another place. She’d heard police, self-defense experts, and even Dr. Phil say those words of advice.

She planned to take it.

Before she could change her mind, she jumped up and grabbed the back door handles…

“Hey…”

She didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. She managed to jump and curl up in a ball as she landed on the pavement. Her shoulder banged on the road, but not her head.

A woman on the street stopped and her mouth fell open as she stared at Chryssie laying on the pavement. Moving to her knees, Chryssie yelled, “help me.”

Chryssie’s yell motivated the woman into action. She moved toward her.

The van had stopped and the man with the fist marched towards her. His face was an angry mask of rage. He’d obviously forgotten he wasn’t supposed to hurt her.

The woman looked at the man and then back at Chryssie. She charged towards Chryssie reaching her before the man. She bypassed her and ran to the attacker. Her hand moved towards his face.

The man bent over and moaned as the woman ran back to her.

“Come on.” The woman grabbed Chryssie helping her to her feet. “That mace won’t stop him for long.”

Chryssie looked back at the van and her would-be kidnappers.

The two other men were out of the van now and running towards them.

The woman pulled her away from the road. Still stunned from the fall, she allowed herself to be led away. As her senses came back to her, she ran faster.  Chryssie looked at her rescuer. “You need to go. I don’t want you to get involved in this mess.”

“I can’t leave you.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll be OK. I work at this bar.” Police or not, Chryssie had to go inside.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, and thanks so much. Keep running. Don’t let them find you.”

The woman let go of her hand. “God bless you.” The words floated back to Chryssie as the distance between them grew.

Turning the corner, she noted the police car was gone. At least one thing was going her way. Footsteps banged behind her. Well, it didn’t matter. Chuck would keep her safe.

She sprinted the last few steps and opened the door.

Chuck stood behind the bar. Looking more like a lawyer than a bartender, he wore a business suit and his brown hair was trimmed and neat. Must have a meeting somewhere.

He looked up and smiled when he saw her. “Hey.”

She launched herself into his arms. “Help me, Chuck. I’m in a lot of trouble.”

His arms stayed around her. She’d be OK now. Chuck wouldn’t let anything happen to her. “What are you talking about? What kind of trouble?”

“Two guys are chasing me.”

“Chasing you? Why would they do that?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Where are they now?”

She was wondering the same thing. Surely, they’d seen her come in here. They weren’t that far behind her. “I don’t know. They grabbed me and put me in their van. I jumped out, but they started chasing me.”

Chuck’s moved his arms away from her, his face a mask of incredulity. “Are you kidding me?”

She pointed at her face, now sore from the fist, and the scrapes from falling. “Does this look like I’m kidding?”

“No, it doesn’t. Stay here. I’ll go outside and look around.”

“You might need your Billy club.” It was behind the bar at all times just in case the customers got rowdy. She’d never had to use it, but she would now if those men tried to kidnap her again.

He shook his head. “I won’t need that. It’ll be fine.” He put an arm around her shoulder and led her to a table. “Sit here while I go check.”

Chuck walked out the door. Her heart still raced and she fought the urge to go back and get the Billy club. In spite of what Chuck said, they might need it. He didn’t understand what was going on. He had no idea what she’d been through since last night.

Needing a drink of water, she stood and walked behind the bar. Chryssie stared at the shelf for a moment and then turned to get a drink of water instead. As she held a glass under the running water, her gaze moved to the picture-filled wall.

The glass fell from her hand and shattered in the sink.

Her gaze was glued to one of the pictures hanging on the wall. It was Chuck with a man. The man who’d shot that poor kid. Chuck had once told her the man in the picture was his cousin.

Her mind went blank for a moment. She didn’t know if Chuck knew what kind of man his cousin was, but she couldn’t take the chance.

As she ran towards the door it opened.

Chuck walked in. “Nobody out there that I saw. Now, sit down and tell me what’s going on?” He looked at her. He must have seen something in her expression. His face hardened. His eyes moved past her to the back of the bar, and then he nodded.

She turned towards the back.

Two men stepped out of the shadows.

ON WITH THE STORY…..

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And so our story moves forward. Hope you’re enjoying it. Remember, if you need to read any of the previous chapters, they are available through the archives.

 

CHRYSALIS–CHAPTER 6

 

As she walked toward the bar, Chryssie could barely stay awake. There was no way she could think about this mess. The police couldn’t really believe she had anything to do with the murder, could they?

Of course, they did. Her picture had been flashed all across the TV screen. Not only did the police think that, but probably every person she knew would believe it.

She turned the corner. The bar was across the street.

Her feet stopped. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at.

A police car was parked in front of the bar.

Maybe, it was a coincidence. She sighed. Or maybe not.  She couldn’t take the chance. So, she’d get her car, find a place to sleep, and then figure out what to do next.

Quickening her pace, she walked across the street and into the alley. The memories of last night in the alley flooded in as she walked the same steps. She shook them away. This was not the time think about it. Right now, she had to get her car and then talk with Chuck.

Once she was in the alley, her heart rate slowed. She walked towards the parking lot and her car. As she came to the bar’s back door, she stopped.

Maybe, she could slip into the back and wait for the police to leave. That way, she could talk to Chuck afterwards. Was that really the best thing to do? If she talked to Chuck, she would be involving him in her mess.

That didn’t seem fair.

In her current state of exhaustion, that seemed to be the only solution she could come up with–talking to Chuck.

She rubbed her head in an attempt to clear her thinking. It didn’t help. OK, she’d hide in the bar until Chuck was alone. As her hand touched the doorknob, she remembered it was always kept locked unless someone was out here smoking.

There went that plan out the window.

On to her car.

Taking a deep breath, she moved down the alley. When she’d reached the end of it, she stopped. Looking around, she assessed the situation. Not much to see. A few people were walking to their own cars, some with shopping bags.

It was a bit of a walk from The Maze but parking was free. The lots nearer charged up to fifteen dollars. Some of the hardier shoppers chose to walk the distance to save the money.

She rubbed her sweaty palms together and took a deep breath. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. All she had to do was step out of the shadow of the alley, walk to her car, then leave.

A piece of cake.

And yet, there she stood. Not moving .  Just staring. She couldn’t shake the bad feeling she had. It was just paranoia on her part. And with good reason after all that had happened to her in the past twelve hours.

She couldn’t just stand here in the alley forever.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out moving quickly towards her car. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a van door open. Her heart skipped a beat.

Her feet slowed on their own accord, but nothing happened.

Another tentative step towards her car. Only a few more to go.

The van door was open but no one stepped out. Maybe, it was just a coincidence. Pulling her key out of her jean’s pocket, she jogged towards the car. She heard a noise behind her.

Her head swung towards the noise.

Two men were rushing at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another man jump out of the van. Not good, but she was at the car. Sticking the key in the lock, she twisted.

At the same time, the two men grabbed her arms.

She screamed, but no one was around to hear her. As she kicked at them and struggled, they dragged her to the van. Lifting her up, the two men heaved her inside and tossed her on the floor.

Before she could sit up, one of the men was on top of her.

“Keep her quiet.” A voice said.

His hand clamped down on her mouth.

Chryssie bit it.

The man called her a name and in the next instant, his fist connected to her mouth.  Pain exploded and then the stars and then darkness.

 

UNTIL NEXT TIME…God Bless and Good Reading!

CHRYSALIS–CHAPTER 3

4 Comments

So, here we are again. I know you can’t see me, but I’m smiling…. When I start writing a story, I never know exactly what’s going to happen or if the story will have enough momentum to make it the end. This one does! I’m almost regretting my decision to post it for free–almost. Don’t worry. I’m going to see this story to the end. I hope you’re enjoying it.  FEEL FREE TO POST ANY COMMENTS OR IDEAS THAT YOU THINK MIGHT HAPPEN…you never know I might use them.

If you need to read the first 2 chapters, go to Chrysalis in the archives. Thanks!

CHRYSALIS–CHAPTER 3

In that split second, Chryssie knew she’d make a mistake—possibly a deadly mistake. Forgetting about her exhaustion and throbbing feet, she fled into the darkness.

By the sound of the footsteps behind her, these men were much faster than the man who’d chased her earlier—maybe faster than her.

Her only advantage was that it was her neighborhood.

And she planned on taking full advantage of that.

Still running, she turned into the Dunner’s yard. “Sparky. Sparky.”

Sparky started barking, just the way she’d known he would. Sparky was a hundred pound Rottweiler that loved her and the walks she took him on. Another way she made extra money.

Sparky bounded out of his huge dog house and ran straight towards her, probably thinking it was time for his walk. His feet landed on her shoulders as he lapped her face. “Watch’em, Sparky.”

The dog went to immediate attention. Chryssie ran to the dog house.

Sparky barked. It wasn’t the happy-to-see you bark.  She peeked out from her spot beside the dog house. The men stood at the edge of the yard staring at Sparky. Sparky strained to get to them.

“Where is she? I can’t see her.”

“She’s gotta be here. I saw her run this way.”

Chryssie shoved the dog house away from the fence—the fence that Sparky had dug a hole under earlier in the summer.

Good thing the Dunners hadn’t fixed it yet.

As quietly as she could, she slid under the fence and into the Miller’s back yard. The fence post scraped her back, but other than that she’d survived another chase.

This was insane.

As she ran through the yard, Sparky still barked. Those men weren’t getting in his yard any time soon.

How had they found her? Her heart still racing, she slowed to a walk as she left their yard.  What should she do now?

Looking down at her empty hands, her heart sank. Somewhere in the chase she’d lost her purse. Now, she had no money, no keys, nothing.

She needed to get to a phone to call the police. The sooner she did that, the safer it would be for her. Unfortunately, the phone was in her apartment. The apartment she was afraid to go to. The apartment she didn’t have keys for.

Of course, she could go to the manager. She looked at her watch. Almost six o’clock. Mr. Roberts probably wasn’t even up yet. On the other hand, he told her never slept late.

But those men might have gone back to wait for her, thinking that she had no other choice but to go there as well.

She shook her head.

They were right.

In another three hours, she’d need to be in class to take that final exam. If she called the police, they’d want to question her for hours. The school would probably let her take the exam later, but she wasn’t going to take that chance.

As much as she hated the thought, she had to find another way into her apartment. After that she could get Mr. Roberts to open her door, change clothes, take the exam and then go to the police. It might not make them all that happy that she’d waited so long to contact them, but she had to take that exam.

That’s all there was to it.

She wanted to be a butterfly—for herself and for her mother. But most of all for Misty. Sweet, beautiful Misty.

As she neared her apartment building from the back entrance, her feet slowed. Chryssie had to make sure the men weren’t there—looking for her.  She slipped behind a tree and waited.

No one around.

Quickly, she moved from the tree and ducked behind a car in the parking lot. Her senses were on high alert. When the time felt right, she moved up to the next row of cars and then the next.

Only one row of cars stood between her and the door.

Now, she had to wait for someone to come out so she could get inside. Shuffling noises caught her attention. Peeking out from the car, she saw one of the men who chased her.

He walked casually around the parking lot, his hand in his pocket.

Her heart rate soared.

Did he have a gun in his pocket? Of course he did. She closed her eyes wondering how she’d gotten herself in such a mess. Tears flooded her eyes. She tried so hard to do the right thing.

And she was so close, but it was all falling apart.

The gap between her and the man was getting smaller. Chryssie couldn’t run. If she did, then he’d be sure to see her. Instead she flattened herself on the gravel and rolled under the car, hoping the owner wasn’t an early-to-work person.

Footsteps.

His footsteps, no doubt. Why didn’t they go away? Did they think she was so desperate that she’d come back to the apartment after they’d chased her away?  She rolled her eyes. Obviously, she was that desperate.

Shoes came into view.

They stopped.  The shoes were so close she could touch them if she wanted to.

Don’t look under the car. Chryssie held her breath, afraid the man would hear her. Don’t look under the car. She needed air, but didn’t dare breathe.