Jeff Wade
I am currently working on several stories, one of which is entitled "Drawer #7." Here are the first few lines:
The room was dim and smoky, the mirror filthy with nicotine residue and dust, but this much was clear:
That was not her face!
Not her eyes, but then . . . what did her eyes look like anyway? She inched forward cautiously for a closer look.
Another one is called "Tunnel of Love." No, it's not a romance novel. It's about two adult brothers who make the mistake of going spelunking without telling anyone. That's a big no-no in cave exploration! But alas, they are completely inexperienced in the field.
It was an innocent mistake. During a walk in the woods, they discover a Volkswagen sized indention on the side of a rocky hill, in the back of which is the opening to a natural tunnel. Curious, they crawl in, feet first, one after the other to investigate. The situation disintegrates when they find themselves stuck. Now what?
Finally, I'm working on a children's story about a little homeless girl who lives under an old oak tree on the outskirts of the town fairgrounds. A martial arts expert, she saves a little boy from a gang of bullies—then disappears. How would a girl of no more than ten be able to fight like that? Who is she? Where does she live? Why did she help him, only to vanish after the scuffle? The next night, the boy returns to the fair grounds to get some answers...
The room was dim and smoky, the mirror filthy with nicotine residue and dust, but this much was clear:
That was not her face!
Not her eyes, but then . . . what did her eyes look like anyway? She inched forward cautiously for a closer look.
Another one is called "Tunnel of Love." No, it's not a romance novel. It's about two adult brothers who make the mistake of going spelunking without telling anyone. That's a big no-no in cave exploration! But alas, they are completely inexperienced in the field.
It was an innocent mistake. During a walk in the woods, they discover a Volkswagen sized indention on the side of a rocky hill, in the back of which is the opening to a natural tunnel. Curious, they crawl in, feet first, one after the other to investigate. The situation disintegrates when they find themselves stuck. Now what?
Finally, I'm working on a children's story about a little homeless girl who lives under an old oak tree on the outskirts of the town fairgrounds. A martial arts expert, she saves a little boy from a gang of bullies—then disappears. How would a girl of no more than ten be able to fight like that? Who is she? Where does she live? Why did she help him, only to vanish after the scuffle? The next night, the boy returns to the fair grounds to get some answers...
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