Over the past few months I started several new projects and shelved them just as fast. I eventually conceded that I can't write at the moment, so I decided to work on one of my first books instead of whining over my writer's block. 'Why do birds fly' will make you laugh, then cry, taking you on a roller coaster of twists and turns, sweet romance and heartbreaking events. A very simply written book (testimony of my early days) that I always loved, but for some reason I kept tucked away, never daring to release it. Will you love it as much as I do? I guess you can only find out if you read it.
No publication date has been set as yet. I am currently polishing it with the help of my new editor, my gorgeous husband-to-be Mike.
Here is an excerpt of 'Why do birds fly'.
The flash of light licked along the ceiling for a fraction of a second. No, he wasn’t dreaming, he’d seen it twice in the walk-in wardrobe. Alex Sanders tensed, his ears straining to hear any sound coming from that room. He stared quietly in the dark toward the open door, holding his head raised from the pillow until the muscles at the back of his neck started to hurt in protest.
I’m imagining things, he mused with irritation, falling back on the mattress. Of course it was only his imagination; the hour was way too advanced for anyone else to be in the house at this time of the night.
The light flickered once more, shortly reflecting in the bedroom mirror. He shot up again, looking tensely toward the door. The moonlight was slipping in-between the curtains, shedding a long stretch of silver on the carpet. He stared dumbfounded at the black shadow that crossed it for the briefest time, heading eerily for the living room. The sound of muffled steps moving away rapped in his ears. His heart started racing erratically, sending furious thuds in his temples.
Think, think, he mused again, staring helplessly toward the empty doorway. The light flashed in the adjacent room, dancing fleetingly on the wall.
Alex took a deep breath and pulled the covers away, considering grabbing the cell phone from the night table. He gazed hesitantly toward the living room. The doorway stared back at him in the dark, gaping wide its pitch black frame. He stood up and started for it with slow, measured steps, straining his eyes to grasp as much detail as he could.
His gaze glided around the living room, struggling to make out contours and shapes in the darkness. Nothing more than the familiar outlines of his furniture, he noticed with a surge of relief. He took another few steps, careful to muffle the sound in the thick carpet. The light suddenly flashed in the study, and this time it stayed turned on. He froze only two feet away from the door, subconsciously holding his breath.
Click! Click! Click! The faint noise was unmistakable.
I can’t believe it, Alex mused, bewildered. No, I must be dreaming. He peeked through the door opening and withdrew in a heartbeat.
The room was dimly lit by a flashlight that had been laid flat on the edge of his desk. Clad in black from head to toe, the intruder was facing the safe, leaning over it to hear the clicking sound of the drive pin as the drive cam spun the wheels inside the locking mechanism.
Alex stretched his neck to take another look at the thief, his gaze lingering a little over the small built of the black silhouette. Frantic thoughts started racing through his mind. There was no way out from the study other than through the door, he knew it. There was no way to trap the burglar in either. Too bad he’d never considered installing a lock. He bit his lip in indecision.
The series of clicks continued in slow cadence, stopping once for a few moments when a wheel in the wheel pack was picked up.
Alex closed his eyes and slowly let the air out of his lungs through puckered lips then lunged with lightning speed toward the intruder, locking his arms around him in a deadly grip. The thief froze in shock for a moment then started uttering labored grunts as he struggled furiously to ease the suffocating grasp. Alex firmed his hold, raising his prey off the ground. A piercing pain in his shin knocked the breath out of him. He dropped the intruder without thinking and reached down to his injured leg, barely holding his balance. Waves of pain kept stabbing him, searing, throbbing, excruciating.
His head snapped up as the burglar bolted for the door, his slim body rocketing across the room in a huge, feline leap. The door was only feet away when the black silhouette flew through the air and hit the floor, his head crushing against the corner of the desk with a sickening thud.
Alex stood frozen in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the limp body that lay on the floor. Maybe he’d tripped the burglar over, or it could have been the leg of the chair negligently left on the side of the desk, he couldn’t tell. He crouched down and started poking at the intruder’s ribs with the tips of his fingers. The body rolled slightly to one side, the head twisting backward in an unnatural position. Alex gasped.
No, this is a joke. It can’t be happening to me, he thought with desperation. He scooped the body up in his arms and strode back to his bedroom, colliding with an armchair as he blindly walked through the living room. The moonlight was still stretching silver curtains across the bedroom, making it easier for him to watch his step. He unceremoniously dropped the body on the bed and rushed back to his study. Where did I put them? He mused, staring around with irritation. His gaze restlessly swept the room for a while, lingering at times over the mahogany filing cabinets. There, he remembered, impatiently rummaging through a cupboard drawer to pull out a pair of handcuffs.
The bedroom was strangely quiet. The silence imprinted by the specter of death hovering around, Alex thought with a shiver. He stopped on the side of the bed and clutched the handcuffs in his hand, staring down in the dark at the black silhouette.
“Just in case,” he said out loud, clicking one cuff over the burglar’s left wrist.
He jerked the limp arm to run the chain behind one of the rounded bars of the headboard and clicked the second cuff over the right wrist, tugging hard to check that it had securely locked in place.
“I’m shackling a cadaver,” he exclaimed in disbelief. And I’m talking to myself too, he mused, shaking his head.
He felt blindly on the night table for his phone and stalked out of the room, clenching it in his hand. The small flashlight was still turned on in the study, its beam slowly fading away. He turned the light on and tapped the screen of his cell phone with feverish fingers.
“Daniel,” he yelled without any introduction, “I need you here right now.”
Daniel Shelton rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers and propped himself on one elbow. “What’s happening, Alex? Are you sick?” he asked, his voice still rugged from the deep sleep.
“I’m not,” Alex replied with impatience. He stopped to take a deep breath. “I have a stranger in my bed. I think I killed him,” he said.
Silence fell at the other end of the line for a moment. “Really now. Are you all right? Did you have a nightmare?” Daniel asked after a while.
Alex felt his temple boiling. “Daniel,” he snapped. “Just get out of bed and be here in five, do you hear me? I’m not joking. I’ll let the guys know you’re coming.”
He hung up unceremoniously and ruffled his hair, staring around the room. 2:04 a.m., he noticed, absently glancing at the clock. Adrenalin charged, he tapped the screen of his cell phone again.
“Frank,” he said, “Doctor Shelton will arrive here shortly. Let him in without delay.” Then he broke off the connection.
He started pacing the room with large, brisk steps, at times stopping to strain his ears for a sound. Any sound that might come from the bedroom. But death doesn’t make any sound.
* * * *
Until my next post, my best regards to everyone!