Welcome Warriors, and Snipsuns and anyone else who wanders in. Happy first Sunday in November. Yikes! November ! :-)
For all of you taking the NaNoWriMo plunge--Here's a BIG "You can do it! GO WARRIORS!" :-)
Weekend writing Warriors is a weekly bloghop. Each week, participants sign up HERE at wewriwa.com, then post 8 sentences of their work, published or unpublished, to go live between noon, Saturday and 9:00 AM Sunday EST. Then we visit each other and read, comment, critique, encourage--all those things that do a solitary writer's heart good.
The Snippet Sunday group can be found HERE
Deamante looked out the window past swaying branches of a wisdom tree. The late afternoon light obscured by heavy clouds lent a strange color to the river beyond. The water itself looked red, capped with pink froth, tumbling and crashing over and around red boulders. Another booming round of thunder rolled above them, snapping his attention back to the room. “It is an omen, an omen of his strength, that something so formidable, so mighty as a storm… will sweep across my son's first breath of life.”
Without even looking away from Bella’s face, Crinda accused, “I've read my glass and bones, the real omens. Mine came as a gift; yours come now, false and hollow. Damn your pride, Deamante; you forced this. You stole her away from our people; you took a woman little more than a girl.”