I tend to open my Sunday Snippet blog posts with 'My Week in TV' run down and I realized I've never really explained why. It goes back to one of my big reasons for writing in the first place—what if? Television, GOOD television, always makes me ask things like: what would happen if… or what could this character do if that character did [insert random scenario here]. Seriously, the 'what if' possibilities are endless, which when it comes to writing, provides a crap ton of fodder for the imagination, right?
Of course, the definition of good, great, and awesome TV is subjective. The shows I love may be something you hate, so apologies if this part of the blog is mucho boring. J
Quick recap for the past week: The Walking Dead delivered, as mentioned in my last snippet post. Bitten and Lost Girl both made for brain eating material. Almost Human had a solid episode, and I really forget how much I kind of love that show until I'm watching it, you know? Arrow finally returns this week and I sooooo can't wait. All in all, the Olympics are great and all, but I'm glad my favorite shows will be back.
Tonight's post is from Loss, a novella where my main characters experience losing a person they're very close to and how they deal with the fallout. Hint: Not well. LOL
Here's the tagline:
Welsh Hollingsworth is the golden child of Clan Grimstone, but when he's expected to fill the void left when his dad dies, he can't quite figure out how and he hopes Cagney Gaines can help him find some insight. Cagney can't deal with the loss of her mentor, the one constant in her chaotic world and she leaves when Welsh needs her the most. One year later, she returns to find a very different Welsh—one who doesn't welcome her with open arms.
And a preview snippet…
Wallace dead. Welsh couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Carmine gave him the news and Welsh exited the alcove, unsure where to go. He leaned against the sterile wall, sinking down, his feet unable to hold him upright. The loss hit hard, harder than he expected. Tears pricked behind his eyelids and he blinked, trying to clear his vision.
Cagney kneeled in front of him. She held silent, words not needed. She felt the void, just like Welsh.
She reached out a hand, a tentative motion, so not Cagney. She moved with purpose and used strength and skill to make things happen. Her hands touched his arms, barely gliding over the surface before cupping his face.
Welsh broke. A quiet sob escaped and his shoulders shook. Cagney moved closer, drawing him near, tucking his head under her chin. He wrapped his arms around her, breaking down, letting tears flow unchecked. His father, his foundation, gone. The head of Clan Grimstone ended his journey, cut down by a rival clan.
Cagney didn't speak, but she pushed her strength towards him. He welcomed the burst. Would need it soon.
Welsh eased back, holding Cagney's gaze. She met his stare, grief shining in her eyes, tears pooling in the corners. She swallowed hard then nodded, her lower lip briefly quivering.
A throat cleared. "Uh, Welsh?" Carmine, minus his bloody scrubs, held up a phone.
Welsh dropped his head back, blinking fast and scrubbing his face with his palms. He blew out a harsh breath and slowly inhaled, dragging the air deep into his lungs. Cagney moved back and got to her feet, giving Welsh room to rise. He stood and walked several steps, trying to compose his thoughts and get his emotions under control.
Swiping at his face, he exhaled and turned, taking the wireless device from the doctor. "Yeah—" His voice cracked and he coughed, clearing the phlegm from his crying jag. "Hollingsworth, go ahead."
The line crackled, Jacko, one of the scouts replied. "Welsh? I expected the old man." More static. "Look, Bainbridge has the rest of Clan Stoneworth on the move. They're coming in from all sides. You've got maybe fifteen to twenty minutes before they strike."
Welsh closed his eyes and fought back another wave of grief. "All right, Jacko. You get back here. We'll need all good hands to fight this battle."
A loud boom sounded over the line. "Shit, Welsh. I think they're trying to take out the tower." A long pause. "Aw, fuck. Welsh, what do you know about the old subway line that runs along the river?"
Welsh scrambled to recall anything his old man told him. "Why? What's going on?"
Jacko cursed again. "A shit ton of men, probably a hundred, entering from the Eighth Street station." Another loud thundering in the background. "Shit, they're definitely trying to take out the tower."
Welsh tensed. "Jacko, what's going on? Are the men armed?"
Silence met his query.
"Jacko? Talk to me?"
A burst of static, then Jacko replied. "Welsh, I'm coming in. Get someone to cover the subway terminal closest to Hollingsworth House."
The line went dead.
Fuck. Welsh turned and his gaze clashed with Cagney's. She'd heard enough to know the situation. Cagney gave him a brief nod and squared her shoulders, ready to throw everything she had into the fray. She'd stand firm and hold the line.
Welsh crossed the short distance between them, backed her up against the wall and caught her lips with his. She melted into the embrace, bringing her hands up to drag him closer.
She broke the lip lock and pressed her forehead against his. "They're looking to you for leadership now. I've got your back, no matter what." Her mouth met his for a quick, hard kiss. "Go. Get everyone ready. We'll make our stand."
Welsh trailed a finger down her cheek. "Thank you."
Backing away, he made his way down the long corridor to the big doors leading out to the main hall.
He didn't want to face his people, his clan, and deliver the revelation of his father's death. But… he would take a page from his old man's book and use the news to mobilize everyone, to give them a reason to fight hard and use their abilities to strike a heavy blow against Bainbridge.
Welsh's lips curved. His dad's motto—steal from the best—certainly came in handy and Welsh would use it to avenge Wallace's death.
So far, this story is coming together nicely. Well, the writing is flowing smoothly. Nothing for the characters is. :D
That's it for this week.