Kristina Fugate is hosting a great blogfest over at: http://kaykays-corner.blogspot.com So hurry over and get signed up and participate! The rules are simple, and she's giving away a $20 Amazon gift card to a lucky participant! She says: "We've all heard it a millon times: If your book doesn't catch the agent/publisher's eye quickly, they'll probably reject it. So, I'm sure at one time or another we've asked ourselves, "Does my WIP catch people's attention right away?""
Here are the first 550 words of MANIFESTED, currently undergoing a major revision. :) So, please, leave your critique in the comments, or feel free to email me (my email is listed in the sidebar to the right). THANKS!
MANIFESTED: Chapter 1
Luke Michaelson sat at the small desk in his bedroom and methodically spun a closed pocket knife with his index finger. A camping trip in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho sounded like a stupid idea to him, but Mom and Dad insisted this next week would be a great adventure. Dad expected him to help pack today, but first Luke needed a few minutes alone.
With his thumb and index finger, he tugged at the stubborn blade of the pocket knife. Unable to open it, Luke reached across his desk and dragged the lamp closer. He gripped the casing of the pocket knife tightly with his left hand and yanked with his right. When the blade flipped out suddenly, it surprised Luke, and he let go of the knife. As it slipped from his hand, the blade slashed the skin between his thumb and index finger.
Luke groaned, shook his hand, and then tried sucking the cut to alleviate the pain. Nausea swelled in his gut, but he refused to panic. When he withdrew his hand to examine the damage, no slice remained. He leaned forward and held his hand under the bright lamp. Light glinted off the opals he wore around his wrist, making him squint momentarily. But no cut remained. Nothing. He studied the alarm clock next to his bed, 10 a.m. Dad shouldn’t miss him for awhile yet. So, he hopped up, locked his door, turned up the volume on his music, and sat back down at his desk. He picked up his pocket knife and examined the blood glistening on the edge of the blade. Luke looked at his hand where the cut should have been. Nothing.
He held the knife near his forearm willing himself to make a small cut, but he couldn’t do it. He set the knife back down on his desk and walked over to his bed. Am I crazy? he thought and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked again at his healed hand. With determination, Luke moved back to his desk, grabbed the knife, and quickly pulled the blade along his forearm near his opals.
As the pain seared through him, Luke collapsed onto the chair and propped his arm against the edge of the desk. He took slow controlled breaths as he watched the wound neatly knit itself back together. A thin red line remained visible, but no blood. It wasn’t his imagination. He pulled the blade across his skin again. A drop of blood fell from the blade, but within a few seconds, only another narrow welt lingered on his skin. Of course, the slices hurt, but less each time, and the ones closest to his opal bracelet healed the fastest. He made one more cut, slower and deeper, and watched it mend. Crazy, Luke thought and shook his head in disbelief while his mind raced for a solution. He wondered if the metaphysical properties of the Boulder Matrix Fire Opals he wore could be responsible for the rapid healing.
“No,” Luke whispered to his empty bedroom and shook his head faster. Even though his younger brother Billy had constantly yammered about the special properties and powers of rocks and crystals, Luke had never believed him. “No way.”
He wiped the blade on his jeans...
Leave your critique and comments below! Thanks. Happy blog-hopping.
(Oh... and if you'd like to read the whole chapter, visit: http://www.margokelly.net)