A work in progress.
Now that "The Kitchen Dance" has been published by Melange Books, LLC I can take time from my promotional efforts and work on my new book. I am currently over forty thousand words into my one hundred thousand plus goal of writing my second book, "The Darkhouse". For all the Southerners, like myself, whose idea of a frozen lake is a puddle is something you can skim a snowball across but can poke a pine twig through, the thought of sitting out on a frozen lake may be alien but I am doing my best to help the reader "feel" the cold and if you've ever have been cold, injured and frightened...well, imagine the discomfort my poor Kakie is going trough.
Filling the story with suspense and tension between the main characters is exciting for me as a writer. Getting my facts straight about the Hennepin County Sheriff's department and the research I have to do is proving to be very educational. I even visited Minnesota during the summer of 2012 to get a better feel for Minneapolis and the area where "The Darkhouse" takes place. I love that city and the research I have done on the local crime and corruption in the police department actually surprised me.
So, here is just a taste of where this story is going. Told in a combination of real time and flashbacks, I intend for it to be a bit of an intellectual challenge for the reader.
Chapter One
“I’ll kill
her.” Sam Quinn’s voice bounced off the ice like a snare drum. “I can do it.”
He dropped the seven-pronged spear, impelled by its own weight, and grinned as it quickly sank deep
into her flesh. “I just don’t know how I am going to live with myself.” He
swiped at the cold water slopped on his weathered face as he pulled the twenty
inch great northern pike from the hole in the ice. The sunlight penetrating the
ice cast a dull green glow on his prize.
The last streaks of evening
sunlight stretched across the lake glistening off the large chunks of ice piled
beside the small tent-like structure used for spear and ice fishing. A small sleigh,
spud, auger and a pair of ice tongs leaned against the hut hidden inside the
long shadows cast across the frozen Minnesota Lake.
Quinn, a few months shy of
sixty, was dressed suitable for the frigid weather, stepped from the door of
the darkhouse and squinted in the harsh sunlight. He pulled down the brim of
his Stormy Kromer to shield his eyes. He laid the thrashing pike on the frozen
lake and, bracing her beneath his boot, tore the trident from her flesh. He
tossed the pike with the rest of his catch ignoring her as she gasped for her
last breaths.
Please visit www.melange-books.com for more information on "The Kitchen Dance" and www.g2taylor.com for more information about the author.
