The Selection
A science fiction short story published in Writers Bloc III, A Las Vegas Valley Authors' Showcase
ISBN 978-1-934051-49-8
Available at Amazon.com
Read an excerpt below
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The Round-Up
A fantasy short story published in A World of Their Own
ISBN 978-1-934051-56-6
Available at Amazon.com
Read an excerpt below
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The Gift of Ancestors
Book One of the AJ Silver MisAdventure series -- a young adult novel
--Pending--
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Excerpts
The Selection
Teko pushed off from the wall and approached the square. He deposited his shoes and shirt on the floor before crossing the lined border of the mat.
The smirk on Akyn's face made him suspicious. His gut clenched. Those two are up to something. But what? Teko remained alert.
"Begin," came the order to start.
He could overtake Akyn any time he wanted, but chose not to. He'd worked hard at appearing to bend under pressure at these events. Not winning, or not winning well, had kept him from being chosen so far, so when he left the weaker man an opening, it surprised him that Akyn didn't take advantage of it.
"You're getting weak," Teko grumbled low into the other man's ear as they locked arms about each other.
"You're the one that wants to appear that way," came the rebuttal, "but we won't let that happen this time."
In a move that falsely showed his opponent in control, Teko broke away. The knot in his stomach tightened. Until now, no one ever cared or commented that his performance on the Selection mat failed to demonstrate his true expertise. His concentration faltered in a moment of panic at being exposed, long enough for a full strike to hit his shoulder. Flinching at the sharp pain, he attempted to refocus.
It didn't work. Instead of allowing that sloppiness to take him out, the anger overwhelmed him and in two moves Akyn went down, quickly admitting defeat.
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The Round Up
Pivoting, Gitav sprinted for the closest roost. He raced up the narrow steps to the platform. No walls surrounded the floor, so the watchers could hang their heads over and survey more of the surrounding area. A single pole in the center supported a roof that provided shade -- not needed now in the dark of night.
He watched. Shadows played tricks on his eyes, but he saw nothing large enough to be a warlick. Movement at the edge of the platform drew his eyes. It turned out to be his own hands, shaking. What am I doing here? We're all going to die.
His breath came out in pants and he sucked in more air in an effort to gain control. The shakes subsided some. Just watch for warlicks. You're safe up here.
He swept the periphery over and over and then he spotted it -- a darting shadow with height. Drawing air deep into his lungs, Gitav turned to give the alarm. The sight of a dark-furred flexid standing over him drove it out on a squeak.
Nooo! Gitav threw his arms over his face to protect it and his neck from the sharp claws. When nothing happened, he cautiously peeked through them. The cat had crept up next to him to peer down at the ground. It's claws extended, digging into the wood and Gitav scooted back in fear. Please don't kill me, please don't kill me. The cat gave a chilling roar that caused Gitav to jerk back even further.
With his attention completely focused on not being mauled, Gitav lost track of how close he lay to the edge. That last spasm sent him over it. Time slowed as he fell and stopped when the world went black.