Why the blog?

I write as the Spirit moves me. I have prayed about what I'm supposed to do with my life a lot. A lot. Writing. Writing is what I believe God is leading me to do. Whether or not He wants me to write for anyone to read is His business. Much of my writing has been therapy for me so maybe I'm the only one who is supposed to read it. So, why the Blog? As a sounding board, a note pad, a place to keep my ideas and thoughts. A place to share and promote my books, and photography. Written prayers, a place to vent. Possibly, even a place for the unknown reader to learn about the love of Jesus.

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Book sample for "Black Purple Sky"


CHAPTER ONE

Mirrors don’t lie. They are not capable of it. They merely reflect what exists on the other side.  It is the viewer, the one who looks into the pane of glass, who interprets what they see. Sometimes the viewer loves what they observe whether it be beauty, happiness, or transformation. On occasions, specifically an occasion like this one, reality hits hard.  It lands square in the face and jolts the viewer to accept what is, what has become of them, and what must be done.

Gretchen’s jaw dropped, her stomach churned, and she gasped audibly as soon as the woman’s hands uncovered her eyes and she looked into the mirror. Her face, under the garish makeup was ashen gray. Who was that poor, pitiful, hideous creature in that awful dress?  She was oblivious to the chatter and bustling activity around her, the fingers fussing with her hair, as she stared at the girl in the mirror.  She was unrecognizable. Sure, she knew she was staring at herself, but it wasn’t.  The girl’s eyes were sad. Dark circles were covered with heavy make-up as was the rest of her face.  The eyelids had been painted a particularly ugly shade of blue, which clashed with the brilliant blue of her eyes. Her cheeks were orange, and her lips, oh my.  The lips were bubble gum pink.

Gretchen forced back tears. What did these horrible women do to her? Gretchen’s long blond hair had been curled, teased, piled high and glued with a case of hair spray.  On the top of her head was a silver crown with poufs of satin and lace which was her train and veil. She dared not look down.  It was like looking at a bloody accident. Horrible, but compelled to look. The garment started under Gretchen’s chin. It was an ugly, vaguely off-white satin with ruffles.  Lots and lots of ruffles.  The top of the collar, just under her chin was lined with ruffles.  Its shoulders puffed up as if a child had cut and sewn the dress and stuffed it with pillows then glued all the scraps onto the shoulder and sleeves.

“Oh my God,” Gretchen thought to herself as she touched her cheek, “kill me now. What have I done to deserve this? He told me I was beautiful. I used to be...”


Ready for more???  Get your full version at SmashwordsAmazon, or if you want it in paperback it is available at Create Space.


This book has been nominated for a Global E-book award


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Colleen Wait Edits

Colleen Wait Edits