Since my last post here, I've graduated college, put out The Sunshine Series (that's right, ALL of them! FINALLY) in print, went to an art show, created an editing company, which, by the way, is also looking for stories for anthologies, drank lots of tea, worked on Animal (the horror/suspense spin off), won an award for the first chapter of my Android Story (like, what? Is this real life?), and went gluten free (for health reasons. Don't ask unless you want to be bored to tears).
Anyway, the most important thing right now is The Donor (it's the title of the post, damn it!). Remember this blog post a while back? The one where I asked you to vote for the next story I would put out? Turns out you guys really like two things: The Donor and Androids.
But The Donor won out in the end (by the very skin of its teeth).
There are two sign up sheets circulating around the internets: one for the cover reveal (June 9th) and one for the blog tour (June 30-July 21). If you've already signed up, thanks, you rock! If you're a reviewer/blogger, why not give a short piece of mine a try?
And as always, please, please share them (or this post) around. This whole independent thing doesn't work if there's no word of mouth.
So. Without further ado, here's a little, itty bitty excerpt from The Donor to
He leads me into the house, shutting the door behind us and flipping on lights ahead of me. The inside is just as unassuming as the outside. No crystal vase on the dining room table. Just hardwood floors. No plasma screen in the living room. No original artwork. Just plain, white couches, a coffee table, a desk. The only thing that hints at his wealth is the huge fish tank across from the sofa. I’m not aware that I’m moving toward it until my hand is pressed against the glass. Bright purple and orange coral sits on the bottom, two large black and yellow striped fish slowly swim past my face. I spot three brown seahorses hanging behind a rock, bobbing with the current the filter is creating.
“Do you like them?” he asks from directly behind me. He’s taken off his coat and sat it alongside my suitcase on an arm chair. He’s also rolled up the sleeves of his pressed shirt.
“Yeah,” I say, turning back to the tank. “Not everyone can keep seahorses alive.”
He lets me stare a while longer before he says, “Would you like to sit down?”
I turn around, slightly self-conscious that I went all gaga over something he probably never thinks twice about. If one died, he could drop another two hundred dollars and get one over-nighted without much thought.
I slip off my backpack and down on the couch across from the seahorses. I take off my coat too, and give it to him when he holds out his hand. After he’s placed it next to his, he sits down next to me.
When neither of us says anything, I say, “I like your house.”
He rests his hands on his thighs. “Thank you.”
Then silence again. He smiles. I smile. I adjust the hem of my dress over my knees.
“So did you bring the paperwork?” He asks.