Weekend Writing Warriors Blog Hop 07/13/14

Weekend Writing Warriors / #8sunday / 07/13/14
www.wewriwa.com

A weekly festival of writers sharing excerpts from their work.  

Many different genres; something for everybody. 

     Here is a passage from my unpublished young adult manuscript called BEING BENITO CARLEFFA. 

Ben was recently told that his mother had died.

∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫

I clenched Mom’s pin in my pocket––twisted, turned, and squeezed it tight enough to tear it in two, until the point jabbed my pinky. “No!” Yanking my hand out of my jeans, I sucked my stinging finger and gave it a rapid shake. Next, my hands covered my face and then worked their way to the top of my head where I clutched my hair in a firm grip. My heart pounded in my ears as I rocked forward and back continuously. “You’re lying.” I grit my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut to keep my tears inside. “Dammit!” I punched the door. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” 

 ∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫

#GBE2: No Comfort in My Fictional World

Although impoverished, fifteen-year-old Ben enjoys his loving mother, good friends, and the comfort of his rundown home; however, his world topples when a balding weirdo storms into his apartment, shoots his mom, and kidnaps him. He rides five hours up a rain-slicked highway to a lush mansion with sculptured bushes, the scent of blossoms from the yard, and historic paintings each overhung by a fancy light.

Although his new home says, "Enjoy comfort," Ben carries anger toward a mob father who is as cold as his apartment the day the heater broke. When Ben's temper flares, he strikes the villain and then finds himself pinned to wooden paneling while being whipped. 

From then on, Ben obeys with a passive aggression until he is tricked into performing a horrendous deed. He escapes into adventures that only a few of my friends know about because no agent has been willing to read my manuscript. Comfort is a foreign concept for my book characters.