Hi everyone! Welcome to the first post in my Fiction Friday series. This is a very exciting day for me, as it's the first time I'm revealing my writing to the world. You can come back every Friday to see the next chapter.
If you miss one, don't worry. All Fiction Friday posts can be handily located by clicking on that lovely turquoise badge to the left of this post. (If you see a button that says Fiction Fridays, you'll know you have the right one.)
Lost is a very special book. I have written several since, but this is the first I felt was ready for publication. I spent years writing it, and it went through several variations and many titles. I got an agent with it. I thought it was time someone actually got to read it.
Each post will be linked to my Facebook author page. Please like it to find out special insider information about each chapter--like what inspired a certain scene, or if a certain character is based on a real person. I'll reveal all there! And I would love to have more people commenting, both there and here on the blog, so please don't be shy. There's nothing more depressing than a lonely blog--it's like talking to yourself.
Here, without further ado, is the prologue of Lost. Thanks for reading!
~ Prologue ~
Gasping hoarsely, the beasts push through the thick underbrush in search of their prey, their quick breaths sending plumes of frothy vapor into the night. The tireless animals weave between trees, their heavily furred feet crunching through thin patches of ice into water.
Beams of light dissect the dark into equal chunks of forest floor and midnight sky, expectation and fear.
This is one hunt where no one wants to find what they're looking for.
The area echoes with a variety of sound—the harsh pant of the German Shepherds straining at their harnesses, the soft crackle of leaves and branches under their paws, and the sharp snaps from the more careless tread of human footsteps.
Occasionally, a single cry splits the frigid air, sparking a volley of answering calls from the others—men, women, and even some children, who are bundled into heavy down coats against the cold.
The children's cheeks are flushed and their eyes sparkle with the excitement of being part of something they have never experienced before. If they are lucky, they will never experience it again.
The faces of the men betray their urgency, while the women’s show quiet desperation. Some of the hunters have tears running unnoticed out of their eyes and onto their cheeks, leaving hot trails on chilled flesh. Others focus only on the thin paths of white from their flashlights—flashlights better suited for locating candles when the power fails.
As palpable as the sound of the searchers' crashing journey through the bush are the feelings of dread they carry with them.
Their hunt is for a young girl, missing for over twenty-four hours.
Before the night is over, they will find her.