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Post by debim on Nov 9, 2010 10:43:52 GMT -5
Sorry, forgot to update y'all on the kid. He didn't win in any of the categories, his prof was mad about the non-win, and kid was a bit disappointed to come in 2nd. He's cool with it now since being nominated as a student is definitely an honor. We commiserated with excellent Chinese food capped off with a trip to Chinatown and more excellent Chinese food. I had fun!
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Post by vampyre on Nov 9, 2010 10:47:28 GMT -5
Bummer but it's still good. It will still look good on the resume andwho could say no to Chinese food?
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Post by Raven on Nov 9, 2010 13:49:02 GMT -5
Hey, Vicki wanted me tot ell you guys that she's sorry she hasn't been around. She's busy, busy, busy as usual. She sends her love.
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Post by deathlynx on Nov 9, 2010 17:53:48 GMT -5
We comepletely understand...life comes first, especially when part of that life is getting us more goodness to read little man is running around back to over-full energy so he's feeling much better...though he still has a perpetually runny nose and a nasty congestion cough...
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Post by Raven on Nov 9, 2010 18:33:52 GMT -5
Glad he's okay. Kids are so much better about handling illnesses than we are. We're the ones that are "babies" about it. And yeah, of course we understand about Vicki's absence. But she wanted everyone to know she's thinking of you! (Probably while she's writing a particularly nasty scene!)
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Post by Vicki Pettersson on Nov 10, 2010 10:14:02 GMT -5
Hi guys -
A guilt-induced drive-by -- thanks, Ravie, for keeping everyone updated (and for so much more). Debs, sorry your kidlet came in 2nd, but dude. Three noms? He's in the *game.*
Nat, I do indeed have art for NEON GRAVEYARD. I'll send it to Ravie to upload because I *koff* don't know how to post pics to the board.
And the snippet...also behind on the site so it's not there. Some of the content was appropriated elsewhere (you might recognize it) and the rest, though I liked it a lot, was dumped. I'm going to cut and paste here, so forgive the likely formatting issues. I'm doing the morning mommy shuffle, so you gets what you gets and the kid gets PB&J. ;-)
Talk soon!
*
Deleted prologue from CHEAT THE GRAVE:
His shadow emerged first, oozing from the underground as if liquefied, a visual he instinctively hated. He'd already disgusted himself by lapping at the filthy run-off streaking through the tunnel entrance, feeling like an animal, but unable to help it. With his initial thirst quenched - and, God, if that sewer water hadn't tasted as sweet as the lick of a woman's flesh - he vowed from here on out he'd treat himself only to the finest in everything. Harlan Tripp had been made to feel insubstantial for far too long to allow even a hint of it now that he was free. Free. He straightened from his tunnel slouch, his black leather vest squeaking over his stomach as he stretched in the velvet night. After running his fingers through hair that wasn’t damp with sweat for the first time in eighteen years, he resettled his Stetson. It was obviously cold out - the tough weeds were struggling and he sensed a lone bum shivering twenty yards away under a mound of cardboard and carpet – but the chill was especially intense for Tripp. Every inhalation was an icy slap at his lungs, each movement a stroke through the Arctic. He'd been trapped, slowly burning in a world closer to earth's heated core than this one, his body drying into a waterless husk. Any temperature short of a kiln set to full blast would be a shock to his system. “Eighteen years.” "Long time to be gone." The pile of debris buckled, the man he'd sensed beneath it sat up, and Harlan came to full alert too late. He shifted, but didn't need to see the encroaching shadows to know he was already hemmed in. The not-bum, sensing his spiking awareness - scenting it - grinned ferally. "Though not quite long enough." Tripp tried to relax, but adrenaline swirled into his limbs, bringing them to life. He'd need it. Widening his stance, he tipped his hat. "Warren." "Harlan." The leader of the agents of Light stalked closer, and Tripp squared off, though once he spotted their troop's Seer, Tekla, he was careful to keep her in sight, too. She was a canny, powerful bitch, and coming from Midheaven, he was especially wary of canny, powerful bitches. "As you can see," Warren said, gesturing so the ratty trench coat he wore flared. "It's a new world." Tripp tossed a sidelong glance at the Vegas skyline like he saw it every day. Telltale neon bulged from the desert floor, but he recognized little beyond that. Was that a fucking pirate ship settin’ anchor in the middle of the Strip? "Looks the same to me. Maybe a bit brighter." "That's because there's more Light," Warren replied tightly, then jerked his chin. "How'd you get out?" Now Tripp returned that feral grin, comfortable despite the half-dozen agents of Light circling him. "What you should be asking yourself, hero, is if I'm the only one who did." He pulled out a hand-rolled smoke while Warren pondered that, tucking his chin low and bringing the quirley close to light. It'd been too hot and dry to indulge much in the habit while trapped in Midheaven, but when Miss Sola allowed it - when he was permitted to recline amongst her stars and soft limbs and sweet scent - he reveled in the luxury. It hit him only now that Solange had birthed most of his addictions. "Nah," Warren finally said, shaking his head. "I sense no one but you." He wouldn't. Tripp just lifted a brow. "Raven probably removed my lock," Warren said, more to himself, missing the way Tripp stilled, smoke curling around him. Eighteen years of frying like bacon, and now that he was back, with a wrong to avenge and a woman to hunt, he was met by Warren Clark – a strong bastard, to be sure, but also self-righteous, and a yapper. And he’d just admitted to setting the lock on the entrance to that hellish underworld. Well, this time Warren'd gone and woke up the wrong passenger. Tripp flicked ash as Warren added, "You two always were thieves-thick." "Maybe it was your pip little agent of Light. Jo-an-na." Tripp enunciated each syllable, drawing the name out because he thought his knowing it, knowing her, would make Warren squirm. He merely jerked his head. "It wasn't her." Tripp tried again. "Well, it wasn't your former Taurus. Calls himself Hunter, right?" The newest man to fuel the fires of the underworld, Midheaven, kept calling himself that to infuriate Miss Sola, too. He’d refused to be addressed as JJ or Jacks, as she first suggested. Wouldn’t answer to Jaden, as she later insisted. Tripp spat on the cracked pavement. It wasn’t the wisest course of action, or one Tripp would ever choose, but then Jacks was a big ’un, and, Light or not, there was no accountin' for smarts. "Yep, he's been through the mill since you locked him up tight." Warren shrugged. "He entered Midheaven of his own accord." "If it helps you sleep at night..." Tripp blew out a stream of smoke, its acrid scent thick on the air. His throat was still raw and blistered from the years of confinement in a waterless world - it wanted to close up on him - but he swallowed down his cough, and rolled the quirley between his thumb and forefinger. He'd endured far worse. "Anyway, he told us all how you set it up so Joanna took over her dead sister's life. Olivia, wasn't it? Spilled the story, actually. Then again ... that tends to happen under torture." "Bullshit." "No, it's true. Said your Archer of Light was somethin' pretty special. Well," Tripp picked a loose tobacco leaf from his tongue, and flicked it on the ground. "Actually, he screamed it." The air stirred behind him, a swift thrust his way. "Stand down, Felix!" Warren yelled, and Tripp shifted to find a young brat holding a double-edged boomerang, frozen in his backswing. His glyph pulsed with light. "He's baiting us." Felix's chest rose and fell in rapid succession, but his features disappeared into shadow as he eased away. Tripp resisted rubbing at his eyes, not wanting to let on that they weren't yet quite right. "Don’t make the information any less real, though." He mumbled around his smoke. "Even now your former ally is beggin' mercy from the merciless." "You lie, Shadow." "I'm a rogue,” Tripp corrected. “A free agent, though I still know a brethren Shadow when I see one. For example, your Joanna is a natural." This wasn't exactly true. He hadn't sensed any such thing. But when the women who fancied themselves divas and goddesses and matriarchs in Midheaven had discovered the Archer of Light that they'd let go was a woman with lineage divided equally between the two warring sides of the Zodiac, the uproar was cataclysmic. They’d simply released the woman of legend, the Kairos, both Shadow and Light, his world's "chosen one." It was a great loss for the females who so coveted power. And Tripp intended to gain that power for himself. Widening his stance, he sucked in some more smoke. "No. Joanna was Light." "Goodness and," Tripp taunted, scattering ash, though Warren's use of the past tense gave him pause. He covered by inhaling deeply, holding his breath as he flicked his smoke to the pavement. Because Warren was pure Light, thus as dangerous as the Shadows. Resettling his black hat over his head, he pulled the last of his smoke deep in his scarred throat, and murmured around it. "Throw up the sponge now, and I'll murder you gently." "Harlan, you sure talk mighty funny." Micah. Long-time physician for the agents of Light. Tripp's gaze fell on the six-foot-seven-inch bastard, a man he hated even more than Warren. Pointing his stored breath in the giant's direction, he played up his drawl. "Fuck yerself, doc." Then he unleashed fire from deep within his bowels, both the resentment that’d been baking inside him for nearly two decades, along with all the hate he'd stored in his too-long lifetime. He felt like a dragon, leaning forward, almost heaving as he blew a thick ring around himself. Jet smoke encircled him, lapping out in unnatural slaps to whip the agents of Light – every chest now alight – while shielding him at the same time. If he could have spared it, he’d have grinned at the resultant screams, yet even as it was - with hellfire honed on long petrified lungs - a lone conduit broke through. It made him hiccup and lose a breath, allowing an air pocket in his defense. A tiny lick of soot turned back to attack him. Solange had warned him of that. His scream joined the others, effectively pinpointing him in the billowing muck. He ducked, simultaneously shielding himself and removing the conduit imbedded in his calf. The little missile wasn’t his – he hadn’t owned a conduit in years – so it burned his hand at the touch, but it burned even more imbedded into his leg. Yanking it out, he whirled like a discus thrower, releasing it on the third propulsion into the direction he’d last seen Warren. Chop off the head, he thought, though moments later the surprised cry that rang out was in the dulcet tones of a female. Oh, well. A limb would have to do. And it did. The Light was rioting, desperate to free themselves of the smoke, fighting to get to Tripp, but not daring to fire any shots while unable to locate their allies in the tar-thick muck. Knowing Tripp had no conduit, and thus nothing else to fire, Warren yelled for the troop to form a wing around Micah so they could advance that way. The big man was certainly easy enough to locate – his cries were as agonizing as you’d think of someone who was being flash-fried from the inside. So Tripp had a brief open window, freedom lay the opposite way. That fucker practically strapped you to earth’s core… And suddenly the only thing more urgent than Tripp’s need to survive was to give Warren Clarke a taste of brimstone and the unexpected. So he “joined” the agents of Light, a thought that would’ve made him giggle if he hadn’t been holding his breath. They didn’t scent or sense him next to them, too disoriented by the artery-clogging smoke. When the inky morass cleared enough for Tripp to make out a ratty trench and dirty dreads, he smiled, lifted the ever-present Stetson from his head – it wouldn’t do to bend the brim – and headbutted Warren into the future. Then before the other agents could react, he bent his knees, held onto his hat, and did something he'd been unable to attempt in nearly two decades. He fucking flew. Even with the head start, it was likely they’d catch him. They were nearly a dozen strong, one agent for each sign of the Zodiac, while he was alone, injured, clearly suffering some stiffness in body and mind, and out of practice in hiding the scent of his rising panic. But they might underestimate his thirst for freedom. A desperate man was the most dangerous kind. And sometimes the luckiest. As he blew past the airport he zeroed in on the crowd gathered at the Thomas and Mack stadium, and gave a little hoot. Some things hadn’t changed in Vegas … and thankfully the winter rodeo was one of them. Tripp disappeared into a sea of cowboy hats and steel-tipped boots, animal dung and hay rising to mask his fear. From the undercarriage of a horse trailer he watched the agents of Light give chase, until Tekla, second in command, finally signaled an abrupt halt. “Leave him.” Felix, the buck with the boomerang, jerked as if pulled up on a leash. "But -" “Harlan Tripp cares nothing for mortals, and won’t hesitate in using them as leverage. Just suck in his scent. Memorize it. We'll track him that way ... and if there are any others, he'll lead us to them too." Gregor, who’d also been with the troop when Tripp was last here, joined Tekla, glancing down at the small, fierce woman. Errant hair stuck straight out from her bun, all gray, most singed. "You think he was telling the truth? Someone else got out?" Her hard, dark eyes cut toward Tripp, but after searching only a moment, she looked away. "It doesn't matter. He's a rogue agent, and rogues have no sanctuary in this realm. The real worry is who opened that entrance." It hadn't been any of them? "He's after Jo." A young girl flanked Tekla's other side, a dark, silk, and now tattered scarf encircling her skull. For some reason her head was completely shorn, so she'd suffered no damage from the smoke that acted like fire. "Maybe." "We should warn her." "No. She's now a rogue, too." Tripp jolted, but still quickly, afraid his shock would pepper the air. But the ensuing silence was pregnant with unvoiced thoughts, and there was enough emotion – regret, guilt, sadness – wafting his way that his own went unnoticed. What the hell had happened among the agents of Light? Tekla, ever the voice of reason, finally sighed. "Come. Warren will be stirring. And I can still hear Micah screaming." So with Felix’s vow to send Tripp to a violent demise, they went to attend to one of their own, leaving Tripp to chew on the fact that the woman he sought, Joanna Archer, was now a rogue agent. He smiled from the shadows. His quest had just gotten infinitely easier.
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Falcon
Mere Mortal
What do you want to talk about? Politics? Opera? The high price of Tuna?
Posts: 155
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Post by Falcon on Nov 10, 2010 11:17:12 GMT -5
O.O Thanks Vicki you are really good at making us want more!!!! I am sure I'm right and everyone will agree with me when say DAYUM that was awesome!
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Post by debim on Nov 10, 2010 11:23:10 GMT -5
Ohhhhhhh! Very interesting......I likes it! Thank you!
One thing struck me....Vicki, you toss away stuff that is better written than some other peoples' published work. You rock at your craft!
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Post by deathlynx on Nov 10, 2010 11:50:36 GMT -5
One thing struck me....Vicki, you toss away stuff that is better written than some other peoples' published work. You rock at your craft! I completely agree here! it's amazing!
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Post by elle on Nov 10, 2010 15:25:18 GMT -5
*pouts* I don't check the board for a couple hours while I'm writing and all the cool stuff happens. and now I have to run off to work. but I will definitely be reading this when I get home from work tonight.
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Post by slayercat on Nov 11, 2010 15:55:28 GMT -5
Mmmmm, Vics, that was SO delish!!! But it was kinda like giving us one very delicious potato chip and then taking away the bag. Can't wait to read more!!! Your writing has gotten so fluid and evocative - I just love it, even in snippets! Thanks!! *hugs*
I am gearing up for a whole week of vacation - traveling down to NC to visit grand-kidlet for Thanksgiving. And yes, I am bringing Pumpkin Kirby!!! Will be the first time I have been able to take an entire week off in years and years. Yay!
I misses my VPeeps!!! xoxo *waves*
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Post by kiraglade on Nov 11, 2010 17:04:47 GMT -5
At work at the moment so will read tonight when i get the chance..
*Waves to Skitty =)*
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Post by Vicki Pettersson on Nov 12, 2010 13:35:47 GMT -5
*blush* Aw, thanks Deb. I really didn't want to toss it, but I thought the book would be stronger with the focus on Jo. Still, I loved Tripp, he was real to me, and I know he was real to a lot of you too. So I'm happy to share. Ohhhhhhh! Very interesting......I likes it! Thank you! One thing struck me....Vicki, you toss away stuff that is better written than some other peoples' published work. You rock at your craft!
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