Here is some of what I wrote; feel free to tell me what you think.
Life is good!
BROKEN ANGEL excerpt... copywrite 2014, all rights reserved
I awoke to the sound of birds screeching outside my window. I’ve always slept with a window open waking to the joyous sounds birds make with the dawning of a new day. That has all changed since being banished to the human realm. Now the local birds woke me with angry squabbling, serving as a reminder of how I felt.
“Get out of here,” I warned throwing a shoe in the direction of the unwelcomed intruders causing a rush of thrashing wings. “Good, and don’t come back until you can get along.”
My next breath was met with the sweet scent of freshly baked scones wafting upward from the tea room below. “Ah, crap,” I mumbled throwing the covers back, “what time is it?”
The clock read 6:50; Vanya got an early start on her day I groggily thought rolling out of bed making my way to the toilet. Hands washed, I splashed water over my face while looking in the mirror. Staring back were my father’s deep green eyes and mother’s elegant face; a cold reminder of what I’d lost. “What are you staring at? You both got rid of me, so leave me alone,” I yelled throwing the towel to the floor and stomping back to my room.
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt I descended the stairs to find the living quarters abandoned. Good, I’ll have some quiet time before the inquisition, I thought rooting around the kitchen for a quick breakfast. Ah, cheese and an apple; doesn’t get better than that. Grabbing the newspaper off the counter I headed to the sofa.
“Let’s see what you’ve brought us today Scotsman,” I said opening the newspaper. “Retirement planning, not ready for that…25 things to do on the Scottish Islands, not interested…well, well, well…I don’t believe it.” Interest piqued, I folded the paper for easier reading. “Thomas Duff, a local, was found this morning wandering the wood in severe shock. He was transported to a nearby hospital where he is reported to be in good physical health, but doctors are concerned about his mental stability. One doctor told reporters, “Mr. Duff repeats the same phrase, ‘Beware of the demon stag.’“ Blood tests do not support the claim that Mr. Duff was using recreational drugs however, stags have not been seen this area for decades…”
“Got what you deserved didn’t you, mate?” I smiled. “What they don’t know is that you were poaching for pelts. We tried to warn you, maybe you’ll listen next time.”