"Chapter 4" is now done with draft A. It's another one pager chapter. Just a quick scene to introduce the characters, I seem to be doing a lot of these lately..
Quote:
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CONSTANCE
5
Desolation set grim resolve. Constance found herself shivering against the autumn air as she tossed another newspaper blanket into the pit of flame. With a roar and a belch of heat, the cold died a slow death. Her frail hands reached out towards the warmth, but found only cold. Unnatural. Erotic. She watched a while as the flames danced their coital dance. Growing and rising. Sighing with the wind. It was warm. But so cold. So very cold.
Unnatural.
The dancing of the flames brought her into a world of terror. Devils, monsters. Sinners and Saints. Her eyes lost focus and the world grew blurry. Two quick blinks and the whisper of the wind brought the fluttering of angel wings to the tip of her nose.
Black wings.
Wings of Death.
The skull smiled, stared, laughed at her. She rose; eyes transfixed as all of the world was burnt to ash at that very moment. Constance turned her back to the heat and the night. Slow, deliberate, painful steps took her east and then half a dozen paces south of the flames. She bent down and her bones creaked with age, the weakness of death’s embrace.
She stared into the hole and made a few desperate cries. Spasms and coughs wracked her body. Blood caked her lips. She reached through the hole and called his name: “Antony. Antony.” Whispering now. “Please. Please Antony. Where are you?”
Skittering sounds and the sharp rake of claws on broken pavement brought her face around. She managed the last of her strength to turn around and stare at the creature before her.
The rat seemed to smile at her. His whiskers lifted up and down. He nodded his head, a greeting between friends.
“Mother. You hurt.” His voice was high pitched and simple. Not Mickey Mouse pitched. But click and buzz pitched to the few around her.
Constance turned her head, shaking no. Her eyes said yes. Six days. It had been six long days snce the last fix.
“I. Help?” Antony’s red eyes frowned. “You sick. Need medicine.”
Before she could answer, Antony had run off and began tugging on the jeans of a tall black man. Constance watched as the man tried to shake the rat off, then look down to see the white patch on its back.
Antony looked up at him with pleading eyes and pointed towards Constance. They ran to her.
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