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Excerpt of "The Threat"


This is a small excerpt of how my novel is looking for Nanowrimo 2013 right now. I'm working slow on it because I have so much on my mind. I don't want to confuse myself. Hopefully tomorrow I write a couple of thousand words and catch up!


1989
Still with the bloody golden dagger in her hand she dragged her feet to the exit backstage.
The crowd had disappeared, slowly they had exited the palace smiling because they had seen one of the most wonderful plays; the death of their own Queen.
CHAPTER ONE
“The first of many nights wondering why I’m alive.”
I never had a secured home. After my parents died in a car accident in 1972, I lived with my grandmother until her death six years later. After that, I was left alone at the age of eight.  The following years I found myself stealing to eat and clothe myself.
It wasn’t until I was 15 that I met Anastasia outside the movie theater. She was with her daughter  and it was quite frightening for her as I came from behind. I was hiding in a small dark alley right beside the theater where the garbage was disposed. I ran behind them and tried to snatch the bag but Anastasia was too strong.
“Hey!” She yelled. I let go of the bag and tried to take off. But she wasn’t holding on to the bag, she was holding on to my arm. “What are you doing?”
Her eyes scared me. They were so big and so brown and their slowly were filling with tears. But it wasn’t until I told her I was hungry that tears ran down her cheeks. I just felt terrible. I never stole from the poor, I took from those that wouldn’t miss a few dollars. I did always return the ID’s and credit cards. I just wanted the cash.
She didn’t bother to ask where my parents were, she gave me her hand and together with her daughter we walked to her home.
1982
“What’s your name?” She asked. I was sitting at the kitchen window devouring a ham and cheese sandwich. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have a name, I wasn’t anyone to anyone. The only three people that truly knew who I was were dead. I had become a mystery to society. There were no fingerprints of me and I wanted to keep it that way. “It’s stupid to ask, do you have a family? A place to stay for the night?”
I knew where this was going; she felt sorry for me.

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