We made it to another Friday!
Since it's the 26th, I'm including a section from page 26 of my second Kennedy Stern novel. I'm still working on a title for this one, but the rough draft is finally done!
In this scene, Kennedy has been running through a dark subway tunnel. Now she's not sure if she was running from a real stalker or if her imagination got the best of her.
Stupid. Stupid what you do when you're so afraid your neural circuits shut down one after another like a domino effect of idiocy. Isn't that what her self-defense instructors had warned her about? Isn't that why they ran her through all those painfully awkward simulations, so she could think straight when her veins flooded with epinephrine and her mind clouded with the rush of fear?
Kennedy took a deep breath. There was nothing to hear, nothing around her but perfect stillness. If she didn’t know better, she might have thought herself the only human in a twenty-mile radius. Maybe she should go back. The farther she went down the rail, the more she distanced herself from people who might help her. If there really was someone after her in the first place. What if this was just another attack, a trick of her brain that now seemed to think trauma was a normal, everyday part of life, something to fabricate if reality didn’t provide enough danger?
Part of her wanted to reach out, touch the phantom that had made her so scared, figure out exactly what it was made of. Probably not even a person at all. She thought about Little House in the Big Woods. As a little girl, she had laughed so hard at the part when Pa was walking home late and saw a bear blocking his path. After a terrifying standoff in which the bear didn’t move a muscle, Pa finally charged it with a stick, only to find that he had been having a stare-down with an old tree stump. It had been hilarious back then picturing Pa with his big broad shoulders and his long scruffy beard getting scared by a silly shadow. Kennedy had never thought until now about the way his heart must have thudded underneath his flannel shirt, how his thoughts must have turned homeward to Ma and the girls, wondering if he would ever see their faces or hold them in his arms again.
Huge thanks to Hallee Bridgeman for co-hosting the Christian Fiction Friday blog hop with me! If you write Christian fiction, please join in!