WeWriWa: EU31

   
Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors. I'm reposting the bit about the relaxed rules in case I've missed anyone:
     In short, the WeWriWa rules have been relaxed. The goal is to maintain ease of finding the weekly snippet, but allowing more promo for published books.  You can check them out here: http://wewriwa.blogspot.com/p/the-rules-of-wewriwa.html
      We love our core group, the close-knit community that has evolved here at WeWriWa, the ease and joy of our weekly 'gathering,' but we also recognize that the time authors spend sharing and commenting has to make marketing sense, too. Time is precious.  It would also eliminate the need for the "wonky punctuation to stay within guidelines" disclaimer.   

      If you'd like to participate or read tempting morsels from other authors, please sign up--or check the linky list at: http://wewriwa.blogspot.com/
Also, check out the Snippet Sunday group on facebook. 
     This snippet is from Emmily, Unbound, an SFR story.  To read a compilation of all snippets posted for this story, click Here: Emmily Unbound, Chapter 1  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 the mountains of Pennsylvania, into an old, remote, hunting camp her parents willed to her. It's her first full day here and after a trip to town to get supplies, she's in the midst of being carjacked--or kidnapped or taken hostage--out in the boonies. Last week was a bit of a cliffhanger. Sorry, this week might feel that way too. :-) Last week ended with: He leans down close to the glass and I don’t have to see through those dark glasses to know he's locked eyes with me. He speaks in halting words. “We… need your… help.”

        Now, the  snippet:

         I can barely breathe, let alone think.

     “We do not wish… to… harm you. We need your help.”

      Am I hallucinating? I mean, never in my life have I… Still…am I imagining this middle-aged man with long and silky hair so white it looks like it has no pigment? Not natural. The hair or the crazy vision. I’d pinch myself, but I’m paralyzed or petrified. Both.

      Mr. Gun-at-my-window hasn’t budged.

     That's the snippet. If you'd like to read a few more sentences, it continues below...    

  

     His hair? Maybe he just bleached the hell out of it. A string of beads hangs in one thin braid near his face, his too-perfect face. I can’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses he wears. They all do.

     Hair? Glasses? Holy shit! Who cares? The gun. The gun…

       Yeah, despite her best efforts, she is starting to lose it. Then she gets back on point. The gun... the gun.  Still, she might be doing better than I would ;-)

That's it for this week.  Thanks so much for reading--and if you left a comment, I'll add a virtual hug.