What The Storyteller Brings – Book 1: Waters of Virtue
by Robyn Y. Demby
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Travel Blog: A Wedding to Remember
Fiction, fiction, fiction… I find that stepping away from reality for a minute is therapy for me. I like the control I feel when I’m writing my narrative. And the feeling of getting away for a bit is almost like going on vacation, only less expensive! In a world that I create, there are surprises around every corner, just like with reality. And whether I can attract a handful of readers, or hundreds, I hope you enjoy my website; so let me bring you the stories and let me bring you the fiction…
What the Storyteller Brings – Book I Excerpt:
Cherrelle’s Nikes were pounding the smooth pavement of The Trail. On both sides of her was the forest, and just behind the trees on her right flowed the canal. She was tempted to run the whole eight-mile stretch just to see what was at the end.
Hot, rhythmic air pulsated around her. Nothing was in her way. Blue sky was her only limit. The air whooshed under her feet. A sheen of sweat dampened her body as she ran smoothly to the electric beat of her own self-discipline.
As she slowed her pace, she heard a cracking noise behind her—almost like the sound of a tree branch breaking. Cherrelle stopped and turned. A man wearing a mask emerged from the trees. Fear leaked into her veins. He stood there for a moment; brown eyes watching her. He rushed towards her. Cherrelle gasped and quickly backed away. She turned and broke into a sprint, dodging off the paved road and into the trees. She stopped. No. Reaching tree branches might claw at her and pull her back. She shot a terrified look over her shoulder.
The distance between Cherrelle and the masked man was shrinking. She pushed herself forward. The parking lot was only a hundred yards away. She heard him exclaim in pain, then turned to see him on the ground holding his ankle. She kept running. And running.
And running, and finally, she reached the parking lot. She got closer and closer to the car. With shaking hands, she reached for the door. She dropped the keys. She swiped the keys from the ground but dropped them again. She glanced behind her, grabbed the keys again, shaking and looking behind her again and again and again. She slipped the key into the lock. The door opened. She looked behind her once more, then scrambled inside. She locked the doors.
The back windows were slightly open, so she crawled into the back and rolled them up. She jostled herself back into the front seat again.
Panicked thoughts raced through her mind: Where is he? Is he really hurt? Is it a trick? Is he waiting for me to do something stupid, like get back out of the car? Maybe I’ll run him over! She reached for the car keys in the passenger seat, but they weren’t there. She checked the floors and the glove compartment. She checked her sports bra. She ran her fingers along the waistline of her spandex shorts. Nothing. She ran her hands along the floor under the passenger and driver’s seat. She scrambled into the back seat again. Nothing.
And that’s when she saw them: hanging from the lock of the driver’s door were the car keys.
The temperature in the car had risen. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She needed oxygen. She inched the window down; breathable air came in. She watched the entrance of the Dismal Swamp Trail, as if expecting to see the man come bursting out.
Seconds dragged by. Oh, boy it was hot. Sweat drenched her. Her back was wet. She kept wiping the perspiration from her forehead. She rolled down the window just a little bit more…just a little more…just a little more air.
The bear sculpture stood tall and silent. She squinted at it and leaned forward. Did its lips just move? Was the bear trying to warn her that the man was approaching? Cherrelle’s eyes widened when the man emerged from behind it. Her eyes darted everywhere, praying to herself that maybe a jogger or a biker would appear and scare him away. Somehow, she felt the protection of the car was not enough. What if he used a rock or some other heavy object to break the window? What would she do then? She placed a trembling hand over her mouth and watched him. He stood there, hands at his sides, motionless, watching her. From the back seat, she leaned forward and glanced at the keys hanging from the lock. She knew that if she stayed inside the car, he’d simply turn the key in the lock. She needed to get out and grab those keys. With sweaty hands, she rolled the window all the way down, her hands trembling, her breathing ragged, fingers stretched, reaching for the keys…the keys.
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Book Trailer Credits:
Blue Water by simonkr/iStock by Getty Images:
https://www.istockphoto.com/video/water-ripples-gm180616751-20498647
High School Student Facing Camera by Vasyl Dmytriiev/iStock by Getty Images:
Girl Talk in Bedroom by Nicky Lloyd/iStock by Getty Images:
Moving Mouth by tslava/Adobe Stock:
Awestruck girl by SequenceStock/Adobe Stock:
Man With Gun in Woods by Christina Eve/NOTWNetwork.comActor: Maniel Ellison
Photo Credits:
Man in Woods by breakermaximus/iStock by Getty Images:
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Hello World!
Fiction, fiction, fiction… I find that stepping away from reality for a minute is therapy for me. I like the control I feel when I’m writing my narrative. And the feeling of getting away for a bit is almost like going on vacation, only less expensive! In a world that I create, there are surprises around every corner, just like with reality. And whether I can attract a handful of readers, or hundreds, I hope you enjoy my website; so let me bring you the stories and let me bring you the fiction…
What the Storyteller Brings – Book I Excerpt:
Cherrelle’s Nikes were pounding the smooth pavement of The Trail. On both sides of her was the forest, and just behind the trees on her right flowed the canal. She was tempted to run the whole eight-mile stretch just to see what was at the end.
Hot, rhythmic air pulsated around her. Nothing was in her way. Blue sky was her only limit. The air whooshed under her feet. A sheen of sweat dampened her body as she ran smoothly to the electric beat of her own self-discipline.
As she slowed her pace, she heard a cracking noise behind her—almost like the sound of a tree branch breaking. Cherrelle stopped and turned. A man wearing a mask emerged from the trees. Fear leaked into her veins. He stood there for a moment; brown eyes watching her. He rushed towards her. Cherrelle gasped and quickly backed away. She turned and broke into a sprint, dodging off the paved road and into the trees. She stopped. No. Reaching tree branches might claw at her and pull her back. She shot a terrified look over her shoulder.
The distance between Cherrelle and the masked man was shrinking. She pushed herself forward. The parking lot was only a hundred yards away. She heard him exclaim in pain, then turned to see him on the ground holding his ankle. She kept running. And running.
And running, and finally, she reached the parking lot. She got closer and closer to the car. With shaking hands, she reached for the door. She dropped the keys. She swiped the keys from the ground but dropped them again. She glanced behind her, grabbed the keys again, shaking and looking behind her again and again and again. She slipped the key into the lock. The door opened. She looked behind her once more, then scrambled inside. She locked the doors.
The back windows were slightly open, so she crawled into the back and rolled them up. She jostled herself back into the front seat again.
Panicked thoughts raced through her mind: Where is he? Is he really hurt? Is it a trick? Is he waiting for me to do something stupid, like get back out of the car? Maybe I’ll run him over! She reached for the car keys in the passenger seat, but they weren’t there. She checked the floors and the glove compartment. She checked her sports bra. She ran her fingers along the waistline of her spandex shorts. Nothing. She ran her hands along the floor under the passenger and driver’s seat. She scrambled into the back seat again. Nothing.
And that’s when she saw them: hanging from the lock of the driver’s door were the car keys.
The temperature in the car had risen. Sweat dripped into her eyes. She needed oxygen. She inched the window down; breathable air came in. She watched the entrance of the Dismal Swamp Trail, as if expecting to see the man come bursting out.
Seconds dragged by. Oh, boy it was hot. Sweat drenched her. Her back was wet. She kept wiping the perspiration from her forehead. She rolled down the window just a little bit more…just a little more…just a little more air.
The bear sculpture stood tall and silent. She squinted at it and leaned forward. Did its lips just move? Was the bear trying to warn her that the man was approaching? Cherrelle’s eyes widened when the man emerged from behind it. Her eyes darted everywhere, praying to herself that maybe a jogger or a biker would appear and scare him away. Somehow, she felt the protection of the car was not enough. What if he used a rock or some other heavy object to break the window? What would she do then? She placed a trembling hand over her mouth and watched him. He stood there, hands at his sides, motionless, watching her. From the back seat, she leaned forward and glanced at the keys hanging from the lock. She knew that if she stayed inside the car, he’d simply turn the key in the lock. She needed to get out and grab those keys. With sweaty hands, she rolled the window all the way down, her hands trembling, her breathing ragged, fingers stretched, reaching for the keys…the keys.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Book Trailer Credits:
Blue Water by simonkr/iStock by Getty Images:
https://www.istockphoto.com/video/water-ripples-gm180616751-20498647
High School Student Facing Camera by Vasyl Dmytriiev/iStock by Getty Images:
Girl Talk in Bedroom by Nicky Lloyd/iStock by Getty Images:
Moving Mouth by tslava/Adobe Stock:
Awestruck girl by SequenceStock/Adobe Stock:
Man With Gun in Woods by Christina Eve/NOTWNetwork.comActor: Maniel Ellison
Photo Credits:
Man in Woods by breakermaximus/iStock by Getty Images:
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