The Lucky 7 Meme Award

Special thanks goes to Vicki Orians from Page after Page for tagging me with an award. I had been avoiding blogging today as I struggled to decide whether or not to post an excerpt from book two. This made my decision easy.

It's called The Lucky 7 Meme Award, and rules are:

1. Go to the 7th or 77th page of your work in progress.
2. Go to the 7th line of the page.
3. Copy the next 7 sentences or paragraphs. Remember, they must be as they are typed.
4. Tag 7 authors.
5. Let them know they’re it!

Since I’m currently working on the rough draft of book three while also editing FROM RISING FLAMES, I decided to share a little from both.

Book Three, pg. 77

I ran to her and motioned that she could come near us, but Colin pointed to his own home.

“Get her inside.” Colin’s voice was strange. I had never heard him speak with such authority or measure. He guided the children after him and opened his door.

Mother rushed across the road to help name and her children into Colin’s home while I ran up the road to investigate.

Colin followed me. “Be careful,” he warned. “There’s trouble that way.”

As he spoke, more yells erupted from the western forest. Then name arrived from the main road.

“Men,” he said, panting as he reached us. “Men from Morgan.”

The attack we feared for more than a season had reached us.

From Rising Flames, pg. 7

Father’s hands started shaking and he quickly turned away. As if ignoring Mother’s question, he knelt down and lit a tiny fire in the hearth. He sighed loudly before resuming his place at the table.

I didn’t have an answer, and it was obvious that he didn’t either. Mother ceased her attack and walked behind him. With masterful strokes of her fingers, she massaged his neck until a faint smile appeared underneath Father’s beard. Remembering the meal, I left them and resumed my work in the kitchen. Leila remained in her place, shivering from her own fears, until pounding on the front door jolted her away.

My young sister dashed toward the hall, but the door remained closed, and the pounding didn’t cease.

“Leila?” Father broke free from his trance.

“She’s gone upstairs, I think,” answered Mother. “She’s frightened.”

“I’ll get the door,” said Ethan. He scrambled from the bench near the window. His actions saved us all from another jolting outburst of pounding.

As the door creaked, I gripped the handle of the chopping knife tighter in my palm. It seemed to offer comfort.

There you go. I’ll have to tag 7 authors later (when I’m not at work.)

~ Jamie