Does anyone know how to install a countdown calendar on my blog? I want to do one for the HSN Conference, but I can't find anything on the internet.
Every blogfest I join gets more and more fun. Rachel Morgan and Cally Jackson are hosting the Power of Tension Blogfest, which I'm super excited about:
The goal is to write up to 300 words that just drip with tension and will tie us up in knots wanting to know more. It doesn’t matter what the piece is about, as long as it screams tension.
I chose an excerpt from my WIP, Hunger. It's from Eric's POV. I hope you like it.
I walked out of my room the next morning feeling deader and more tired than ever. It was a terrible coincidence that a girl walked out of Alex’s room at the same time. She and I briefly made eye contact before she looked away and we were still with awkwardness. She was disheveled. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were askew, and make-up was smeared all over her face. She held her purse to her chest as if she was afraid of losing it. What struck me the most was how her eyes were wet and her lip trembled. She ran down the stairs.
I knew I’d be furious when I saw Alex, but I had no idea the rage would be so intense until Alex came out wearing a dirty robe and the same satisfied smirk he always wore. I always assumed that one day, I would get used to Alex’s antics and I could at least ignore how much her repulsed me, but each woman feels the same. Their faces accumulate in my memory.
He saw me and grunted. “Don’t give me that look. You’re in no position to judge me.”
“What did you do to her?” I demanded.
“You would love to know, wouldn’t you? Then you can jump on your high horse and lecture me when you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I had to look away from his smug face because I was twitching with anger and my hands were trembling. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. I said through clenched teeth, “I don’t know why I keep coming back here. All I ever feel is disgust.”
“And you love that, too. Whenever I’m around, you can think, ‘Well, at least I’m not as bad as him,’ and then you can feel better about your existence and all the things you hate about yourself.”
“I don’t have to listen to this.” I stormed down the stairs with my hands still shaking.