Wednesday, April 20, 2005


I'm cheating on posting today because my plate doth overflow, like a filled storm drain. I still have green bookmarks. I'm still typing up workshop notes for the workshop Jenn Ashley and I are doing next Friday at RT. I have no costumes. I'm wimping out by bringing my Taco Bell chihuahua and going as Paris Hilton does Walmart. So i'm posting the first part of my Egyptian WIP, the book that will not end, the book that seems doomed to wander the desert, like Moses and the lost Israelites (hey, WHY didn't they ever ask for directions?)

Panther & the Pyramid
copyright 2005 by Bonnie Vanak

The red hair haunted him, as it always did, in his deepest nightmares.

Red. The color of blood. His blood. The hair… its crimson shock flapping in the air like a warning flag. The thick tangle of red gold billowed from the force of the wind whistling across the desert sands. Always the desert, the harsh yellow sun grating on his sweating body, mocking his dry, childish screams for help. Green eyes, brilliant as glossy emeralds, stared at him with scornful challenge.

He moaned, tossing and writhing. Hands clawed the air in a desperate attempt to fight his attacker. His attacker, who wanted the magic wishing casket buried deep in Egypt’s sands. He tried, oh, he tried so hard to wrestle it away, to keep its awesome power hidden, but his tormentor grabbed the box. Then words drifted from those mocking lips. “There’s no escape from the truth. You can’t hide from what you really are.”

With a strangled yell, he sat up. Sweat dampened the soft Egyptian cotton sheets beneath his naked torso. His hand shook uncontrollably as he wiped moisture from his forehead with the sheet’s edge. An ominous foreboding shook him.

It wasn’t the red hair this time, nor the words that caused him to tremble still. It was the face. This time, it wasn’t the face of the man who abused him that one day in the desert.

It was the face of a woman. And she would make him scream until only hoarse cries wrung his dry throat. Only this time, his screams wouldn’t stop with a dirty rag frantically shoved into his mouth.This time his screams would not end…

1 comment:

Janet said...

Bonnie, this is fantastic! How much more of this have your written?

BTW--who is that cute little birdie I see below? Do you have a new friend?