Effing Feline sees weird clocks
Fart-Fueled Flying Feline, Effing for short, writes the Weekend Writing Warrior posts on Mr. V’s behalf
I, Effing Feline, have elected to select for your delectation another selection from the latest WIP, Alien Contact for Heroines, by my servant, Edward Hoornaert, aka Mr Valentine.
This snippet comes shortly after the last one. Dusty and Reese were kidnapped onto a trawler, but they overpowered the villains and took over the boat. After a long, violent day, they spend the night in a secluded cove. Dusty fears that their night of peace is only a respite before the struggle resumes.
Dawn’s glow caressed Reese’s stubbled cheeks, his biceps, his abs. Dusty longed to caress him in turn, but no. Best let him sleep.
The Persistence of Memory, by Salvador Dali. Image via Wikipedia
Certain places from the past lingered in her dreams. She visited them often, and though they changed in the way of dreams, like familiar clocks melting over unknown rocks, she always recognized them and treasured them. The house on Cecelia Street, so much tinier in reality than in her memory; Abuelo Ramirez’s workshop, filled with tools she shouldn’t touch and the perfume of fresh-cut wood; Grandma Johnson’s cottage on a placid California lake.
Nothing bad ever happened in her dream places. If she had her way, this hidden cove would join those dream havens.
An hour later, Reese stirred, stretched, and gave her a lopsided grin.
“Promise me,” Dusty urged before saying anything else, “that you’ll bring me back to this place when”—she meant if but wouldn’t say it—”we get out of these troubles.”
Effing Feline again. Like Dusty, I have a safe dream place. It’s the rumpled blankie where I lay as a newborn kitten, curled against my mommy’s soft, sweet fur. Where is your dream haven?
Make sure you read the snippets by other great weekend writing warriors.
Other science fiction romances in the same series:
When American Indians from the future of an alternate Earth move their entire island nation to our Earth, Seattle biologist Ell Harmon makes the first alien contact and yearns to help the newcomers settle peacefully. But can she hold to that dream during their long quarantine together when she learns that Prince Tro Eaglesbrood has seduced her heart solely for the good of his kingdom?
Marianne Harmon is sick and tired of being just the kid sister of the famous queen of Kwadra Island. Although she daydreams about being a warrior, when rebels bomb the royal ball she’s shunted to one of the many tunnels that honeycomb Kwadra, where she awaits a captain of the valiant Royal Guardians.
Quinn Lebatarde, a scam artist fleeing the police, dons the uniform of a Royal Guardian killed by a tunnel collapse. When Marianne mistakes him for her bodyguard, Quinn can’t decide whether to save the feisty maiden, fall in love with her—or kidnap her. With bloodthirsty rebels pursuing them and a treasure map in his pocket, what will he choose?
