How does the time get away? It was Wednesday when I
posted last, and now it's Sunday. I posted about Under the Ember Star being published. I did some promoting for it on facebook and
sent some emails, but not that much. I
haven’t had a lot of energy. Lana is
starting to feel the full effects of the radiation and is not eating well. Her saliva gland on the tumor side is no
longer producing saliva and everything tastes bad to her, and her throat is so
dry it often hurts her to swallow. I
think yesterday she ate a bite of scrambled egg, a little rice, and some
Italian Ices. She is drinking a lot of
milk, and they gave her some prescriptions to help with the saliva issue. So far they have not helped much, but maybe
it will take time to build.
In other health news, my blood tests came back with my
cholesterol at 210 and my triglycerides at 496.
I am now on my second prescription medicine, this one for triglycerides.
I was already on high blood pressure medicine.
I knew it was coming but didn’t really want to end up on two. Anyway,
pretty minor compared to Lana’s issues.
But enough of the less joyful stuff. I’m gonna try to find a good book and loose
myself in it. There are worlds of
adventure and joy out there, and if I can’t find much inside myself at the
moment, maybe I can take some in second hand.
Maybe I’ll read Under the Ember
Star again. It’s been a while, and the days when I was writing it were
quite full of joy.
Here’s a little excerpt from the end of chapter 2 and the start
of chapter 3, which is called “Smoking Blasters.” To set the stage, Ginn had a rough night and
wakes up to find that a veiled stranger has broken in and wants to talk to her.
But there are others looking for the stranger to, and they are ready to kill to
get him. Ginn hears a sound in her home that she shouldn’t hear. And…action:
“Who’d
you bring with you right now?” she demanded suddenly.
“No
one. I mean, they did not come into town.”
Ginn
surged to her feet, the apple dropped and forgotten, the kaftee spilling to the
desk. She filled her free hand with her second blaster. Her visitor recoiled,
hands going up toward its veiled face.
“Then
you were followed,” she snarled.
From
below, in the abandoned factory, a door shished open. From the street outside
came a sound like a sheet of paper tearing—a pulse weapon powering up.
Ginn
hurled herself forward, one arm sweeping her robed companion with her to the
floor.
The
wall at her back exploded.
Shrapnel
sleeted. Echoes hammered.
A
burning flake of metal furrowed Ginn’s left shoulder. She heard the sudden
grunt of the being beneath her but couldn’t tell if or how bad it had been hurt.
Dust and ash roiled and the already dim Kelmerian sun did little to cut it.
Lurching
into a crouch, Ginn hacked up some of the swirling grit, tried to draw shallow
breathes to keep the rest out of her lungs. The light-lenses provided a quick
catalog of what was left of her apartment. It wasn’t pretty. Her roof sagged,
smoldering. Half of it was gone. The remaining walls bulged outward. She wasn’t
living here anymore.
The
floor beneath Ginn creaked, as if about to collapse. Her enemies weren’t
waiting on that. From below in the abandoned factory, running footsteps sounded.
They’d expect her to try and escape that way—if she lived. But the stairs down
would not belong to her anymore. Her options were narrowing.
“Follow
or die,” Ginn growled toward her strange visitor.
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