Finally, I have started writing the 3rd book in the Whipple Wash Chronicles series – And it’s about Gosh Darn Time I say!
So friggen excited to get on with it. I have to tell you, I was getting a little worried that it might never happen. That I might never finish the story. That leaving my characters in limbo was going to be my legacy. But there I was, in the lunchroom at work, minding my own business, and all of sudden lines just started forming in my brain. I ran to the office next door, grabbed some scrap paper, and started jotting them all down.
PHEW! Is all I have to say.
Friends and foes come to me. Tell me what you have been up to. Tell me your story, I am open to listening to you again. Let’s finish this journey, your fans are waiting.
Here is a short excerpt (working copy) from the Prologue. Enjoy!
Not so long ago, in a far off land, when the earth was no longer young, and most of mankind no longer believed in magic and miracles, a stranger stood in the open door of a small, darkly lit apothecary’s shop. The air in the shop smelled of old moldy books, salves, ointments and sweetly scented candle wax; the pungent stench was somewhat overwhelming.
The stranger wrinkled his nose. The scents, and look of the place was in stark contrast to the other apothecary and pharmacies he had visited of late. He had lost count long ago to how many he had visited. However, they had all been clean and organized to the point of pristine. Instinctively the stranger knew he was on the right trail, and very well might find what he had been looking for, for a very long time.
He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light before he spoke to a robust woman that stood behind a counter at the end of the long narrow room that had shelves lining the walls on either side.
Her nimble fingers were meticulously counting out the prescribed dosage of medicine, from various sized bottles, for a patient and did not see the stranger enter. The only other person in the dark room was an elderly man that had long grey hair and a beard to match. He was sitting on a wooden chair that was located against the right wall of the shop. The shelves on this side of the room were heavily laden with medical journals; the old man was reading one of them. His eyes squinted and strained behind his bifocals that sat just on the edge of his nose as he tried to read the small print.
The stranger said hello and then shuffled his weight from one foot to other. The woman looked up in surprise, and so did the old man for he had not heard him enter the shop either. They both then peered at the outsider with a quizzical glare. Neither of them could remember the last time an unknown visitor had come to the village; the mayor and his council, they knew, would not be pleased. The old man quickly looked back down at the book in his lap, and then turned the page slowly.
“I will be with you in a moment,” the woman said harshly, before she went back to counting out purple coloured pills from a large container.
The stranger, not offended by her rude behavior smiled and nodded. He turned slowly to the left and looked with interest at the shelves on that side of the room. Several bottles, boxes and weaved baskets in varying sizes were stacked in the same haphazard manner as the books were on their shelves. The stranger seemed to take interest in one of the bottles that had a murky brown liquid in it. As he picked it up he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the woman’s full bosom rise and fall with a gentle sigh. He also noticed that she then looked sternly down at her side and nodded her head ever so slightly towards the back of the room where a doorway that was covered with a thick tapestry, was located.
When the stranger looked over at the woman, she coughed loudly and then rattled the pills in the container. The elderly man then stood-up quickly and took another book from the shelf. Only he chose one that had several books on top of it. When he pulled the book out, the whole lot crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
The stranger quickly looked at the old man, who fumbled with the books noisily before he placed them back on the shelf just as noisily. Their distraction however did not work, for the stranger’s keen hearing had heard the soft shuffle of small feet as they crossed the old wooden, plank floor toward the back door, and his trained eyes had seen the slight movement of the tapestry as something or someone disappeared behind it.
The stranger smirked inwardly and then sighed in relief; his long journey had come to an end…