Sunday, July 3, 2011

Sample Sunday: Meese

Oops! Forgot it was Sunday. My how time flies.Well, I still have 4 hours left of it, so here's an excerpt from the novel I'm working on, Meese.


The door banged overextended on its hinges and nearly hit her when she stormed out, trailing a laughing Rachel.

“Dude, come on, it was funny!”

Mieshka’s face was beginning to resemble Mieshka’s hair, except pinker. She walked faster, an act which had more effect due to her excessive leg length.

“Oh, come on man, it wasn’t that bad.”

Mieshka didn’t know where she was going. She was storming blindly, but she was definitely storming. She was glad she didn’t have any school books, not on the first day. She broke into a run.

“Mieshka! Hey!”

She sprinted, and when she reached the corner, she turned and dug in. She went lower, and directed all her current sentiments about Rachel into her feet, which pounded the pavement and pushed her forward.


Rachel’s voice seemed farther away now, though that was more due to Mieshka’s rage and hurt than any physical distance. Rachel was, after all, also on the track team. But Mieshka didn’t stop. Time slowed down, like it did in races. She strained for speed.

But she paused when she ran into what she’d thought was a park but was really a dead end. It took her a few seconds to realize this, though, and by the time she’d hit the middle of what appeared to be a courtyard, she’d slowed to a walk. Her face felt hot, and the walls of the yard were concrete with some designs on it. She recognized them from somewhere, but she couldn’t say where.

“Oh shit,” said Rachel, who had entered in after her, had realized where they were.

“What?” Said Mieshka, whose anger was slowly being replaced. Running had always calmed her down. The strangeness of the square was odd enough to hasten on the process. Unfortunately, her anger was being replaced by a distinct edge of unease.

“We gotta get out of here,” said Rachel, “this is where the Fire God’s ship fell.”

Mieshka turned just in time to see Rachel’s eyes widen as they moved to her. Mieshka looked down and, for the first time, saw that she appeared to be standing in the middle of a spiral formed by lines in the brick mosaic. The lines, she noticed, were starting to glow.


Rachel hadn’t needed to shout. Mieshka had no delusions of courage. Mieshka caught up to Rachel at the gate, and they both bolted across the street and back up the way they had come. They didn’t stop until the courtyard was out of sight.

“What,” asked Mieshka between heavy breathing, “the fuck was that?”

Rachel laughed. It was more like a small shriek, and it had some kind of hysteria at its roots.

“I guess the stories are true,” Rachel, too, was struggling to breath. But the pause between her sentences seemed more for effect. Breathing was just an excuse. Mieshka thought she heard another strangled laugh. “They say he likes redheads.”

Meese frowned at that, not understanding. But when she did understand, she stopped breathing.

“Are you fucking serious?”

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