Love Bugs (novel excerpt #7)
As some of you know, Love Bugs is my novel-in-progress. After much thought, I’ve decided this is the final excerpt that will be available for free. The novel will be put behind the payway going forward for two reasons: (a) Since I hope to publish the book at some point, I’d like to keep it relatively private so it will still appeal to publishers. And (b) I’m also hoping to raise enough money to self-publish the book if (a) doesn’t happen.
Have I mentioned how much I appreciate your patronage?
Being Human will continue with regular free posts as well, ,of course. They just won’t be this particular work of fiction.
In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this week’s installment.
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If you haven’t read the previous excerpts, you can catch up on them here first:
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February, 2019
That night, Anastasia made herself a lovely bowl of savory oats–her favorite was to mix in chopped green onions and some curry powder--then settled on the balcony, bowl in hand. She was still rattled by the incident at the pool and took time to inhale the warm evening air to clear her head.
That poor man must have thought I was a batty old woman, she thought.
Well, if I’m going to get lost in stories, let them at least come from my own imagination, she told herself. She took a mouthful of oatmeal and considered her next chapter. The little girl who had taunted her brother in the pool that afternoon sparked an idea. Something about the water. . . she knew it was critical in the book.
Although all her popular novels had a science-fiction bent about them, Anastasia had always considered herself a literary writer. And the critics had agreed. Constructing an entire race who lived under water, and the interplay between them and the humanoids, was more complex than anything she’d ever attempted before. Previously, the far-away planets and strange alien names had simply existed as a backdrop for the true stories, the relationships and interplay between characters. But in this novel, she knew, the alien landscape would become an integral part of the plot.
She sat down and reached for the purple notebook and pen. The book immediately fell open to the first page of the novel, the opening line now etched in Anastasia’s mind: “Ever since she was a little girl, Satsana knew to fear the Sbarac. .. “
It’s off to such a great start, she thought, feeling into her main character once again. She swept her long hair off the page and tucked it behind her ear.
Maybe the dry spell is over. Her heart fluttered at the idea. It felt like she’d had a good sleep and then woke up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee in the kitchen.
That’s silly, I don’t even drink coffee, she thought. If only this stupid hair would get out of the way. There was a breeze on the balcony and her hair kept floating back over the page, over her face. Why did I grow it so long? She’d forgotten. Oh, it reminded her of Bradley. When they were young and she’d dyed it blonde, Bradley called it her “hairlo” because it was so long, the general frizz of waves surrounding her head like a halo. Now it was just an annoyance.
I can do this. She wiggled in the chair to find a position that felt perfect. Just another sip of tea before I keep writing. Now, where to go next? She considered her main character and what her life was like. Right, she’s about to meet her true love. Undoubtedly, obstacles would be in their way. It was never easy, was it?
Well, she and Bradley had certainly overcome their share of obstacles, especially in the beginning. But they’d managed it, hadn’t they? And Cassie grew up to be the amazing woman that she was today. It astonished Anastasia that her daughter could be so independent and yet still maintain a solid relationship with her husband.
I might have traveled a lot, that’s true, and I suppose I was always taking time for my writing. But it only made sense that Bradley be the one to stay home more when I brought in the bulk of our income. Of course Cassie would have been closer to her father in that case. And when he couldn’t come with me, we were in touch every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. We never went to sleep without saying “goodnight” to each other. Bradley always knew where I was and how to reach me. And of course I always knew where he was. He was at home.
It was true, she sometimes felt disconnected from her daughter, but that was to be expected with all the time away. And besides, Bradley was so much better with children than she was. Truth be told, he was better with everyone. He just had a knack for starting up conversations with strangers. They’d be at a gas station and he’d have a chat with the person at the next pump. By the time they’d filled their tanks, they were best friends exchanging cell numbers. It made Anastasia cringe a little, I mean one of those people could be a psychopath, but it always worked out well. And he never followed up anyway.
‘Okay, here we go,” she said to the half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. She made a grand gesture of sweeping her hair back and tucking it into her collar at the back. No more distractions. She lifted her arm high, pen in hand, swooping up and over the notebook, homing in like an eagle to set the pen down onto the pristine white of the page.
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2478, Month 9
It had been almost a year since Satsana left Sirh. While he slept, she’d packed her bag and crept out of the house without a sound. There were no second thoughts, and she never looked back. There was no need; everything in that house was merely a fading, unhappy memory.
She hadn’t dated or even spent time alone with a man since then. It wasn’t that she was afraid. No, it was more that she had lost interest. There was nothing men could offer that she would want.
Satsana spent her days at the library, immersed in her work. Evenings were for friends or visiting her parents. There were movies to see, new and old artwork to study, thousands of books that had been digitally preserved, that she could access any time.
She loved getting lost in the history of her people, learning about how they’d discovered new lands on Earth, populated new areas, until they’d been forced to leave with only a few months’ notice. They’d been planning this exploration for years, but hadn’t meant to depart as quickly as they had. In the end, only about two million humans were able to escape, with another ship of animals and vegetation that they transplanted to Relpek. Luckily, the planet itself was lush with its own animal and plant life, even if they weren’t always the most hospitable to Earthlings.
And, of course, there was The Promenade. She felt the same thrill each time she snuck out past curfew, skulking undetected and anonymous along the outskirts of the park. As a nubile woman almost old enough to be matched with a husband, Satsana knew she shouldn’t be wandering by herself at night. But there was something about the sound of the water, lapping softly against the sand, that she found comforting and soothing. She loved to move stealthily in the darkness, crouched in the neatly trimmed flower bushes, hidden as she listened to the water and watched the sky.
On this particular night, the sky was spectacular. As each sun set, slowly concealing itself beyond the horizon, it brought with it multiple soft stripes of color: mottled purple, orange, green, yellow. She was inhaling the fragrant air and admiring the panoply in the sky when she heard a strange shuffling, then a whimper, from beyond the bushes.
Then she saw him.
Satsana’s blood froze. The Sbarac! It couldn’t be anyone else. Although the Botygen made their rounds regularly throughout the night, the kind of muffled, repressed whine that she picked up would never come from one of them. But it couldn’t be a Sbarac, either, she reasoned: they were too violent in nature, too rapacious to ever be that quiet.
She had to look. It might be the last thing I ever see, she thought, but I have to know. She got on all fours and slowly lifted her head until her eyes could peek through a small opening between the branches. It took her a moment to comprehend what she saw.
A large Sbarac, clearly a full grown male, swayed slowly while turning his head left and right. His towering height was like nothing Satsana had ever seen. He had huge, rounded shoulders, almost as if he wore armor, and his arms were jointed in 3 places, allowing him a kind of double-jointedness so he could pierce someone in front or in back of him with equal ease. Rather than skin, he was covered in what looked like a carapace: a black, shell-like exterior, petal-like protrusions layered one over the other, at once allowing both movement and protection.
He turned and leaned down toward the ground, his body curving like an archway. What was he reaching toward–? It was a Sbarac child! It must have somehow gotten caught in the fence surrounding the park, one of its legs pierced by a loose wire, presumably as they fled back to their lair in the ocean.
Satsana could see the adult patting the child’s back, cooing and humming a strange, low, soothing sound, as he attempted simultaneously to pull open the gap in the fence. But with only one hand free, he couldn’t manage. The child was clearly in distress, its whines growing more fitful as it struggled to get free.
Satsana knew that the Botygen would be round any minute to check the park; on nights like this, she always made a point of staying put within her bushes hideaway until the guards left, at which point she’d sprint back home and sneak into her bedroom.
Now the male was turning his head quickly, left and right, scanning the park. He knows they’re coming, too, Satsana realized.
But he didn’t move, giving the child no inkling of the impending danger or of any desire he might have ti run. He just continued to soothe and pat, all the while working at the fence that had caught the poor child’s leg.
He could hop that fence to freedom in seconds, Satsana realized. But he’s staying here to comfort the child--perhaps at the cost of his own life, too.
She didn’t think. She jumped out from behind the flowers and ran toward the fence. It took only a few seconds. Before she could see what the male might do, she grabbed the opening opposite his claw and pulled with all her might. The child wriggled free and ran through to safety on the other side, leaving a winding trail of blood behind her.
Satsana braced for the pain, but instead, heard a low, gravelly voice: “Thank you.”
She sensed it was he who had spoken--but how could she understand? She looked up and their eyes locked. He had black eyes, deep set behind more of the shiny petals. She noticed a small scar, like a puncture wound or pock mark that had healed on his forehead.
Immediately, she knew this was not a killer. There was nothing but kindness behind those eyes. “I don’t understand--” she said. “How--? What are you--?”
“This is my daughter.” He turned to the child. “Eissa, you must never venture out alone again!” he said to her. But the relief was palpable in his manner and the sounds he made, low and quiet. It seemed surreal, but Satsana knew exactly what he was saying, even though she’d never heard the sounds that the Sbarac emitted before this very moment.
The child looked down and pushed herself into the man. He wrapped his long arms around her .
He’s hugging her, just as my father hugged me.
“Where do you--” but before she could ask another question, the Botygen’s sirens rang out in the distance, moving closer by the second as they listened. The next thing she knew, he’d disappeared--over the fence, back into the water.
She turned and ran toward home as fast as her legs could take her.
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