New week, new Wednesday, not so new words but that’s okay. At least I have a snippet to share that meets the #1lineWed prompt of **BANNER**. I haven’t had a banner day so far but it’s early so I’m hoping things improve. Multi-tasking is a pain but I’m working on it, balancing revisions with new words and updating back matter, new blurb writing, and getting out new words on the WIP. Anyway, as this is the prologue to CROSSFIRE, I’ll just leave it here to speak for itself. 😉
Thick mist drifted in off the firth and the mournful blast of the foghorn reminded boats and ships out in the harbor of the rocky shoals reaching like claws to snag unwary sailor. Fraser Kincaid stared at the granite headstone standing like a sentry in a hidden corner of the cemetery. His chest burned with the tears he refused to shed. Dougal didn’t deserve his tears. Anger, yes. Disdain, likely. But not this terrible pain threatening to rip him straight down the middle.
The monument’s epitaph mocked him.
LOST TO THE WAR; LOST TO PEACE
The block letters were chiseled across a bas relief banner stretching across the width of the stone. Not for the first time, he wondered what words would memorialize the banner on his own monument.
“Feckin’ fool,” he muttered under his breath.
He shook off the warm hand that landed on his shoulder. He didn’t need it to remind him of the men at his back. Brothers-in-arms. The Hard Target team. Duke Reagan and the others had his six. Always. Not like Dougal.
“He took the easy way out.” Kin spat the words, their taste bitter on his tongue.
“Every man has his own demons, yeah?” Lochlan O’Toole stepped up beside him. “’Tis not an easy decision, what he did.”
Every man gathered there had seen action. Had killed to survive. Had killed as ordered. Had demons from walking through the fires of hell to just survive. But was just surviving enough? This was a question too many veterans asked and one that often went unanswered.
The one woman in the group slipped beneath Duke’s arm. Cory’s red hair was as bright as copper despite the fog. Contentment settled around Duke and Kin knew. Surviving wasn’t enough.
There was more. And he would find it. Find her. Or die trying. And maybe, just maybe, his epitaph would read something heroic. He glanced at the men and woman who stood with him on this bit of heathered moor. The wind kicked up, herding the fog into ghostly wisps, and it teased his shaggy hair off his forehead and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
A voice carried on that wind, one both familiar and forlorn. “You’re no coward, mate,” the ghostly voice whispered in his ear. “Now get your arse out there and go fight the good fight.”
And there you have it, the opening salvo of CROSSFIRE. It’s a short snippet today but due to circumstances and on account of because, not many new words and no real time to make some up. That’s okay. SEAL MOON has been revised. One down, three to go. I ended up adding a bunch of words to the book, really beefing up the end, in addition to adding in the Hard Target team guys. Hey, I still have 15 days to get it all done. And a bit longer to finish CROSSFIRE. Have to admit that I’m liking to words I written so far so…yay! Writers, having any banners you want to share with the readers? And readers, your question for the day: If you were marching in a parade, what would your banner say?