NEW YEAR’S ASPIRATIONS

 

Fortuitous Seas

How are your New Year Resolutions going?

Hopefully still on track – after all, it is only/nearly the second day of January.

Thanks to everyone who purchased their copies of BURDEKIN HEARTBEATS and to those who sent messages of pleasure during their reading.

 

Current Weather and Tides

 

Today I am back at the coalface with a million and one ideas and changes to the plan for my fourth novel. My resolution is to have this story’s first draft completed by May/June. Then it will spend two months or more doing the edits and hopefully ready for publishing in October.

Keep reading. Keep writing. Keep smiling. Keep safe.

Elizabeth.

www.elizabethrimmington.com.au

facebook.com/elizabethrimmington.author

 

A Pearl for your Enjoyment

 

The writing prompt for this homework piece had been “She clung to his hand, determined not to let go.”

FEELING IT

 

“Tell me, Red. Tell me the password code.” He gritted through those perfect white teeth in his perfect chiselled jaw. His hand clenched my wrist tighter. The glare of the late afternoon sun shimmered on his tousled blond hair.

Panic roared in my ears to the accompaniment of the pulse of the waves as they crashed upon the rocks below. My mind filled only with fear; passwords were beyond me. The socket of my right arm threatened to pop as my body hung suspended by Anton’s right hand. My left hand clung to the base of a small plant, a very small plant, clinging as desperately as myself to the cliff face. The toes of my one bare foot dug into the stony face seeking purchase. The one shoe had preceded me down onto the rocks below to pave the way for my inevitable track to follow. My other shoe scraped hopelessly at the scree of the terrain. The wild wind whistled in from the sea menacing my position.

My blue-eyed gaze never left the depth of his dark stare. To blink may sever this fragile cord holding me to my precarious position.

“Trust me, Red. Tell me the password.”

Somewhere in the blackness of my mind, one locked room continued to function. Logic.

Why am I going to trust this man who, only hours before, reneged on his promise to love only me to the end of time? ‘Sorry, Scarlett’ he had said, ‘I have to remain faithful to my career.’ Faithful to that Bridgett Garland and her island and yachts and fast cars, more like.

His teeth gritted as he demanded again. “Red, just give me the password to your bloody computer and I’ll get you out of here.”

I believe that, why? From the room of Logic again.

Doesn’t Anton realize I can’t answer him even if I wanted to? The flaming fires of fear have consumed my power of speech leaving only the dry ash upon the desert of my tongue.

My death grip upon his wrist slips a fraction of a millimeter but feels like a centimeter at least.

“AHHH!” The only noise I can make. How is it that my mouth is so dry but the palms of my hands can generate sweat and perspiration drips from my forehead? The salty fluid stings my eyes.

Another locked room in my mind lights up – Memory. I visualize again the craggy rocks fifty meters beneath me. Like a cluster of church steeples, they bristle waiting to impale me on their spikes.

I feel the gravity again threatening the grip of my damp hands.

My eyes widen. The sound of sirens fills the air. Are they here to save me? Have I only imagined their scream? The crack of gunshots immediately after sets my heart pounding. I know they’re gunshots. I’ll never forget the sound of gunshots.

My grip slips another fraction.

Once more the voice of my tormentor from above; the voice that could once set my body humming.

“Red, your time is running out. I have only seconds before I must leave.”

More gunshots. Anton’s cry of pain.

“Shit, I’ve been shot.” At his words, my heart stops, along with my breathing.

His grip relaxes. It was only for one second but felt like a lifetime.  A grunt explodes from my mouth as I felt myself being hauled upwards. Burning on the bare skin in contact with the cliff-face promises the need for mercurochrome. My groan fills the night as my body lays upon the safe ground; only my lower legs now hang over the ledge.

The easing of the pressure on my waist brought blessed relief. Director Dork’s loud hailer drifted in waves within my head along with the hum of the winch controlling the camouflaged safety harness.

“Geez, Scarlett, that was brilliant. You’re the only person I know who can throw themselves into a role like you do.”

Merciful blackness nestled me in its soft arms.

THE END