Hello to all my faithful followers and friends, (which should be the same readers).
You'll never guess what I did yesterday.
Give up?
I broke down and ordered three paperback copies of Bridgetown High. They're supposed to arrive tomorrow from Amazon.
Do you have your copy yet? If not, why not?
It comes in either kindle or paperback. you can go to this
page to
order your copy and read the reviews. You'll be surprised that it's
gotten close to all 5-star ratings and some very kind reviews. If you
feel inclined, please write another review. The more reviews (hopefully
all good ones) the more likely it will sell and become the best-selling
novel it is meant to be (ha ha ha).
Also, don't forget to "like" and "Share" this posting.
I
think I told you on last Monday that I would post a scene in Bridgetown
High that I'd discarded. Well, I can't find the one I wanted to use.
So, instead I'm going to post an excerpt from the current novel.
No spoilers. Just hope you enjoy it. It's a bit bloody, but a turning point in the story.
Enjoy!
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Except for the muted sounds of
music from inside the auditorium, the schoolyard felt quiet. Too quiet.
The auditorium
door shut behind him and the darkness hemmed him in. Looking up, he realized all
the schoolyard and parking lot lights were out.
Moving toward the
parking lot, Mark’s foot crunched some broken glass on the sidewalk. In the
dimness, he could make out the base of a broken light bulb in the socket of the
light fixture above him.
A gust of wind
rustled the leaves in the nearby bushes and trees lining the sidewalk. Behind a
bush at the end of the sidewalk he thought he saw a shadow move. Mark shivered.
Was it his imagination?
As he kept moving
down the short sidewalk to the parking lot, he heard another rustling sound from
behind the bush. This time there had been no breeze.
Another shuffling
sound stopped him. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck bristled.
The half-moon
broke through restless clouds, then hid again. In that moment, he saw and heard
another shadowy figure skitter from one bush to the next. Was someone hiding
behind that bush?
Pop… pop… pop. He
heard the sound of cracking knuckles behind him. Mark spun around. Two dark gray
shapes emerged from the corner of the building. Stalking toward him.
Mark turned back
to the parking lot. From behind a bush next to the sidewalk, a third
silhouetted figure emerged, blocked his path, and started stalking toward him
in the same menacing manner.
The only route to
the parking lot was through the narrow opening between the bushes and the
building. Mark sprinted wide. He had to escape.
“Get him, Al!” he
heard Jeff call out.
That must be the
one Genie had called Alan Benaducci, Mark realized.
Alan was too quick
and stepped in Mark’s path, threatening with a large knife.
Before Mark could
dodge another way, Jeff and Bobby surrounded him and Alan drew closer. Even in
the darkness, Mark could see the crazed look in Alan’s eyes. He looked even
more dangerous than Jeff.
“I told you to
watch your backside, slick,” Jeff said. “Like I said, I don’t like no
draft-dodging, city slickers messing with my chick. Capisce? You get it? So,
now we’ gonna teach you a lesson you ain’t never gonna forget.”
Mark knew he could
take Jeff or Bobby, maybe even Al, in a fair fight, but he couldn’t beat all
three of them. “I’ll fight you, Marino. Just not here. I don’t feel like getting
kicked out of school over a bum like you.”
Jeff swore again,
then laughed. “What’s that to me? I think you’re just a plain chicken. That’s
why you’re a draft dodger, making guys like Bob an’ Alan an’ me go to the war
for you. So, I don’t care what you think. When we’re through with you, you’re
gonna be dead anyways! So it don’t matter none. So, it’s about time you figured
out when I say something, I mean it and I play for keeps. You get what I mean?”
Mark tried to run
and break free from the triangle, but Alan and Bobby grabbed his arms and
pulled him off his feet, throwing him down on the grass.
Rolling out of
their grasp, Mark jumped back up and tried to run again. But Bobby and Alan
grabbed him again and held him tight.
Jeff shook his
head and chuckled. “Now, you lily-livered puke. You’re a dead man.” He slugged
Mark’s stomach, knocking his breath out, then a slug to his face stung and spun
his head to one side.
“Come on, you
chicken, fight me,” Jeff said, then spit in Mark’s face again.
The sick ooze made
Mark nauseous. In spite of being held tight by Bobby and Alan. Mark leaned his
head to wipe his face on his suit jacket sleeve. It was useless to fight
against three of them.
“I said, I’m not
going to fight you here, Jeff. But I’ll fight you any other day you want where
no one can see how I’m going to kill you for killing my family!”
“Kill me? Ha! That’s
funny!” Jeff laughed. “Me? Kill your family? Now that’s an idea. What’s the
matter, worm? You afraid you’re gonna get hurt? I think you’re just chicken to
fight me. You gonna run home and cry to your dead mommy? Or should I say mummy?”
Jeff belly laughed.
The jab about his
mother stung again. Not only had Jeff killed his family, now he had to gall to
rub it in. He wanted to kill Jeff for that remark and he struggled to break
free so he could slug Jeff, but Alan and Bobby held him too tight. “Tell them
to let me go. I’ll show you who’s chicken.” He put up his arms to fight in
spite of being held tight.
Then, Jeff slugged
Mark hard in the pit of his stomach.
Buckling over, he
nearly blacked out, gasping for breath. Propped up by Bobby and Alan, Jeff
threw an uppercut that slammed into Mark’s wet face.
Bobby and Alan
tried to push him to the ground again, but he staggered to keep his balance. He
was sure Jeff had broken his nose with that last blow, and probably knocked a
tooth loose too. He could taste the coppery taste of his warm blood, and felt
it dripping off his chin as he gasped for air.
Mark struggled to
dodge the blows. He swung his arms and lowered his head to try to block them. A
high kick slammed into his left eye, shutting it.
Bobby and Alan
finally let him go, but before Mark could escape, a hard kick to his groin
doubled him up in unbelievable spasms of pain. His head struck hard on the
sidewalk as he fell.
Rolling back onto the
soft grass he attempted to escape his tormentors, but another kick slammed into
his face, shutting his other eye. He tasted the sweet grass, mixed with dirt
and blood. They were going to kill him. God, help me! It was the first
prayer he’d said since his family’s death.
Mark couldn’t tell
who was hitting him any longer. Every blow added a new layer of pain and agony.
“Should I finish
him?” Alan laughed.
“No! Not your
knife,” he heard someone else shout. It sounded like Bobby, but it didn’t
matter. Another hard kick to his groin and another to his ribs knocked more
wind out of him and crashed additional pain through his already contorted body.
Another kick to his head and he saw stars.
Now, Mark was only
vaguely aware of the kicks. The blows to his back. To his head, his stomach,
and again his groin. Stiffly, he tried to curl tighter into a ball and covered
his head with his hands and arms.
Another kick
crashed against the side of his head. A bright light flashed in his head.
Suddenly he was on
the bridge, in his family’s sedan. His mother, father, Sabrina and Amy. Then a
car passed. Red taillights. Was it Jeff’s? The car hit his car. His dad over
corrected. The gasoline truck bore down on them. The family car toppled. An
explosion. He saw Amy on the pavement covered with blood.
It all happened in
an instant. Then he heard a girl scream and another blow to his head turned
everything mercifully black.
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