Wewriwa: EU17

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors! I am so glad you found your way here, especially given the website issues we're having.
      Domain issues remain.   I really think I've exhausted all avenues. Godaddy still insists this is a Google problem. Google has no real people to talk to, just bots or AI, or something that doesn't care that I've paid for two years. ~sigh~

     That having been said, I do believe that for the foreseeable future, wewriwa.blogspot.com will be our home.  

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    Once again, thanks for bearing with us while we sort through this Google/Godaddy/domain issue.
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     This snippet is from Emmily, Unbound, an SFR story in first-person-present. 
     There could be wonky punctuation to keep within wewriwa guidelines. Emmily, the main character, has lost pretty much everything in the last twelve months: her marriage, her parents, her job, and her house. She and her dog, Murphy, are moving to an old hunting camp her parents willed to her. It's remote, in the mountains of Pennsylvania. They've just arrived,. She's checked the cabin inside and just finished running the vacuum cleaner. When she was outside to empty the vacuum canister, she saw someone running into the woods. She dashed back inside and checked locks etc. Last week's snippet ended with this:   Make that two Sluggers, one for the back door too, and a bear trap for the front porch.        

             Bear trap? Ridiculous, Emmily.  

  The snippet: 

               

       I need to stop my mind from continuing this wild ride it's taking me on. 
     I listen for any sounds that might be predatory. Aside from my hammering heart pounding in my ears, it's mostly quiet, just Murphy’s breathing and occasional bits of wood crackling in the red glow beyond the hearth.

     I take deep, slow, breaths and will myself to calm while I try to convince my inner scaredy-cat it was my imagination. But just in case, I go to the kitchen and grab a knife—a paring knife. Little good it will do if something big breaks through that door, but it’s all I have.

     On second thought, or maybe it’s third, or fifteenth—I’ve lost track—I grab the broom, thankful that it’s a sturdy old, full-size one. It might work better than the knife. I can whack someone from a distance with it. I pray I don’t have to use either.

          

     That's it for this week. Thanks for visiting! I am truly grateful for comments and suggestions, and for you taking the time to read it.