#amwriting #FridayFiction Part 2 #TheVanishedBoy @harmony_kent #newbook #crimethriller
Hi everyone. I can’t tell you how much pleasure it is to pen my second ‘am writing’ post. It means I’m still going, lols. My new meds seem to be helping my breathing, so fingers crossed that continues! I avoided steroids this time, which is a relief, as I’ve had roughly six sets of those nasties since March last year. Since last week, I’ve penned over 14,000 words on The Vanished Boy. If you’re a regular here, you’ll have seen the blurb and cover already, so feel free to skip down to this week’s excerpt. I’d love to know your thoughts, bearing in mind this is straight from the WIP and is the first, unrevised draft. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone 🙂
About the Book:
A missed phone call in the night is all it takes.
When Carole’s 18-year-old son goes missing, she breaks into Jayden’s laptop to try to understand his life.
All too soon, Carole discovers just how little she knew her boy.
And when one lead after another dead-ends, the distraught mother has to face the unthinkable.
Sucked into a sticky web of deceit and lies, nothing is as it seems.
When your life turns inside out and upside down, who would you trust?
Distraught, Carole fishes out the emergency matches from the same junk drawer, carries those and the calendar out to the back garden, and sets all twelve pages on fire. She holds the corner and watches the paper curl up and brown. Smoke blows in her face, along with blackened bits of burning paper and ash. Carole coughs and drops the hot mess. It hits the long wet grass. After a few seconds, the flames fade and fail. For a full five minutes, unheedful of the Cornish mizzle soaking her clothes, and oblivious to the piercing cries of the gulls—fighting over scraps—she stands and stares at the remains, lost in thought.
Her neighbour, John, brings her out of her trance when he yells over the fence between their properties, ‘You all right, maid?’
She shakes herself and nods. With a sniff, she scrubs at her cheeks and clears her throat. ‘Yes. Thanks. Just … well, you know.’
His kindly eyes crinkle at the corners. ‘It gets you at the most unexpected times. That it does.’ John nods and walks on, leaving her to her grief. He lost his wife a couple of years ago, so he understands to a degree that most other people just don’t. How many times has her sister told her to get a grip and that she should be over it by now?
© Harmony kent 2021
You can find all of my books at Amazon: http://author.to/HarmonysBooks