• Wendy Withers
  • First Three Pages of Novel: Rated Uh-Oh for Language, Violence, and Sexism
First Three Pages of Novel: Rated Uh-Oh for Language, Violence, and Sexism
Written by
Wendy Withers
July 2009
Written by
Wendy Withers
July 2009
I was asked to post the first three pages of my novel, so here goes. Just so you know, this is an urban fantasy novel about a young woman who finds herself suddenly thrust in the middle of a supernatural war. Some of the characters are jerks. The voices sounded far away, almost as if Lou’s ears were filled with cotton. “Why did V have to pick a fattie?” “Shut up, we need her.” “I don’t like this at all. This isn’t how we do things, Chuck.” “We don’t have time to do things the right way. And, anyways, V said it will all be fine. All the traditions are just filler, a way for everyone to feel like part of a club. Tow the line, and all that. Except, we don’t need her to tow the line. And, for all we know, all this knowledge she holds in that melon of hers is going to put her one step ahead of where we were when we joined the fold.” Lou groaned as she struggled to sit up. Everything ached. In fact, muscles she didn’t know existed felt like she’d been overworking them, but what could she have done to stress the top of her left shoulder? Once she was up, the blood rushed from her head. Lou fell back on her elbows, squinting up at the ceiling. Even with the pounding, her eyes began to focus, and the world became clear again. The light seared a red haze into her brain- she fought against it. “See? She’s waking up. If you had kept your fat mouth shut, we could have had a few minutes to prepare.” Lou tilted her head to the left against the throbbing in her temples. A couple of strange men were pawing through papers on a simple, wooden bureau just as alien as the men. Her hand snaked up to her chest and slowly down, over her rumpled black tee and jeans. Nothing felt torn or hastily thrown on. “Did you drug me?” Lou asked as she feebly lowered herself back down. She noticed now she was on a couch, and she could feel some sort of slip cover under her. To her right the back rose up, with what looked like black satin draped over it. The back of her hand was like a weight against her skin as she rested it against her cool forehead. Lack of fever was a good sign. “Did you drug me?” The first man taunted. “Bitch, you’re lucky we didn’t drug you. In fact, honestly, you’re lucky we noticed you at all. You should thank us. Did you drug me?” The voice turned more nasty with each word; by the time he stopped talking his voice was a high falsetto. He spat on the ground as he turned to her, a knife in hand. “We usually wouldn’t bother with someone as weak as you, but we were desperate. With any luck, we’ll be rid of you soon, and we can move on to someone better.” Lou tried backing away from the man with the knife, but it was like she was moving through water. With the blade an inch from her nose, she was pressed against the back of the couch, trembling. He waved the gleaming metal back and forth, then leaned over so she was looking directly into his black eyes. “Now, you be quiet, and we won’t hurt you. Not a peep.” “You’re scaring her.” The other man’s voice was quieter, almost thoughtful, Lou thought. He joined the first man and studied her, his hands on his hips. Lou pulled herself up, her head lolling back against the top of the couch and a wall, tried to stare them down. Holding her head up was a chore. She bared her teeth, glaring. The bigger one, the first one, laughed. He was muscular and stocky and still had the knife in his hand. He swayed a bit back and forth where he stood. His brown hair was cut straight around his head, and his eyes were too small for his face. The second one had a shaved head and an accent. He was the paler of the two- not exactly sun worshippers, but their skin were two different healthy shades of brown. She couldn’t quite place the accent and decided he might be from California. Or, from somewhere in Europe she couldn’t quite place. The smaller one squatted so he was eye level with her, his own dark, murky brown eyes open wide, wrinkles creasing his brow in worry. “Hold tight. RJ isn’t as tough as he looks.” “The first one snorted and turned back towards the chest, taking the knife with him. “In fact, he’s like a pussy cat. We both are. Just do what we tell you and listen to us, and soon everything will make sense.” “Did you drug me?” Lou asked again. “No we didn’t drug you,” he paused, looking down at a shiny card in his hand, a shiny card with a small, color picture of her and tiny holograms of the state of Florida winking at her. “Ms. Lorraine Walker. Is Ms. fine? I didn’t see a wedding band on your finger.” “No, not married. People call me Lou.” “See how easy that was?” The smaller one directed to his cohort. “Me and Lou here are friends now. I have a better bedside manner.” He smiled and winked at her.

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