Read Part One and note abut this story.
Yanko paced along the terrace’s west wall. He ignored the view of the Castillo de Santos Sergio y Baco lit up against the darkness of the Bay. He didn’t think of this spot as the place Dieter proposed to him or the place where they were married. His entire being focused on finding the spark of two men.
He sensed Boris, the man he died for, behind him serving coffee. Tamás was on a bicycle frantically peddling through the night. Dieter, Tucker and Meg were on their way. His family was gathering, being pulled together, but two strands were missing. He pushed harder. Harder than he should. Nothing. Nothing but shock and horror on the very edge of perception. He slumped against the wall. “Bad juju,” he whispered. Continue reading “Pulse: Part 02”
So this thing happened down here in Orlando early in the morning on June 12, 2016. I’m still processing it. I’ve raged on my Facebook feed. I’ve cried. And I’ve talked to friends. But I wanted to respond with my writing, but how?
Then I wondered how my characters would respond. So I started writing. This is the story of how the folks in Bennett Bay responded to this horror. I’ll be posting the scenes as I finish them, so they are rather rough. I’m not sure what I’ll do with the finished story. It may just live here on the blog.
Please feel free to comment here about your feelings about this story and/or this event.
This story references characters and situations from “Slay me,” said the dragon, Dark Love, and Return to Cooter Crossing.
Pulse: Today We Are All Orlando
Yanko frowned at the spreadsheet on his laptop. He hated inventory reports and two in the morning probably wasn’t the best time to do them. He leaned back and unconsciously twirled his engagement ring on his finger, rubbing his thumb over the black schorl stone. It was a Reinhold family heirloom his husband Dieter gave him as an engagement ring. “Something’s not right.” He looked around the dark office. It felt like it was closing in on him. The air was thick, like he was trying to breath water. He stood up. Unease seeping through his body like cold. This felt familiar. Something like when Max got the news about Flora May passing. But it was different—further away and more horrendous.
“Get a grip,” he said. “Need some fresh air and make an appearance at last call.” Continue reading “Pulse: Part 01”