The Violinist

Working on a new novella (or possibly a short story) with the working title “The Violinist”. It’s a horror piece. I’ve paused at 1646 words. My character’s arrived at the place she needs to be, and the whole thing is shrouded in magic and mystery as much as possible. First draft so too much telling and not enough showing, but I will sort that out later. Writing, a wonderful way to spend a hot afternoon.

Here are the first few paragraphs of the first draft as a wee teaser for you.

Elizabeth Harper drew breath into her empty lungs. Frost burned her throat and set her chest on fire. Her naked back pressed against cold metal and a whisper of material clung to her face. Elizabeth was completely alone in the silent darkness.

The sheet fell from her as she sat up. Goose flesh prickled her skin and the darkness seemed absolute. A flicker of light from above, once, twice, before a fluorescent tube illuminated the room, humming like an angry insect.

Her eyelids were heavy, although there was nothing in her head to weigh them down. Her muscles ached and she wondered how long she had lay unconscious in this featureless room with only chilled air to keep her company. She tested her memory, but found no clue as to how or when she had got here. The fear that someone might return coaxed her into action and she swung her body around so that her toes could reach the linoleum. For want of anything more substantial she wrapped the sheet around her body and risked sliding from the trolley, hoping her legs would be strong enough to support her weight. They shook in protest at first, but held her up and allowed her to stagger across the room to a double door. The handle clicked as she pressed down and the door opened into an office. Like before, the strip-light blinked twice before catching and shadows reached for her twice before they were banished by its brightness. She stepped through the doorway.

(image borrowed from f 777 dance of the violins, artist information as yet unknown)

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