At the beginning of this year, I launched a crowdfunding campaign to help me put together my novel, what they call silence. I am writing the novel at this current moment and I am due to self publish in the summer. Here is a sneak peak:
A clambering bright square of light shone out from a twenty four hour store. The only other life apparent. Nye ducked in and perused the aisles, picking out a white wine miniature, not refrigerated. At the counter, she peeled a twenty from her newly prized, thick bundle of notes.
The hostel was asleep, but for Stewart’s TV, which shot muffled clapping and chatting down the corridors. He regularly slept with it on. He always needed some form of company, usually recorded. Nye, on hushed feet, took a glass from the pocket kitchen and slipped out on to the terrace, where the various transient residents usually smoked hash and had barbecues. Each new day a new group of excitable travellers from the States or Western Europe, wanting to charcoal prawns in the hot, dusky sun.
Nye sat on a white plastic chair and poured her warm white wine into her glass. She brushed her thoughts over the lurid details. And how easy it had been and how she had not wanted to cry and how she was going to live here forever, if she could.
But for a second, she imagined Stewart appearing at the door, with his bitter eyes and cold mouth and dirty fingernails and yellow lips. And saying “I’m going to take you on the table whether you like it or not.” And her saying, with insouciance, “Take me where?”