The Process

** So in my last entry I posted a first page for the novel I've been working on. I say A first page, because frankly-- There have been MANY.  There were several critiques offered here on the blog ( Thankee kindly!) And one very valued mystery critter who shall remain nameless ( I am, as ever sir, your humble and attendant servant) This is what I cam up with-- A LOT more sentence structure variation and hopefully a stronger sense of place. Let me know what you think!**

Heat and humidity grabbed me. I kept moving. In a few steps, I felt the slight "pop" of walking past my store's magical wards. 

 

I paused and took a moment to breathe in Philly. Above me a sliver of open sky peeked between the jagged teeth of ancient buildings. The city lights obliterated the stars, one of the few things I didn't like about urban living, but a blind man could have seen the shooting star that streaked across just then.

Ambling along, I blithely stepped over clumps of trash on the street. I wondered how many other people had seen the meteorite. My feet carried me down the usual path-- past vomitous ginko trees and over steaming grates. My mind was on home, my comfy couch, my dog and a good book. 

 

Walking with my eyes on the sky was pure, unadulterated dumb. I'd spent my whole life in Philly. I knew better than to wander around, not checking down dark alleys--not peering behind crouching stoops.

He was just crossing the street, or so I assumed. But instead of breezing by, he grabbed my hand. It floated across my chest and then held there. His body snapped behind mine, commanding, like a strong dance partner. It's like we're doing the tango. Time slowed. He held me closer, my arm pinning my body to his. It wasn't until something cold and sharp pressed into the soft space under my ear that I realized just how fucked I was.