Sometimes, he shares an excerpt from a short story.

From “Solitude” (by Thomas Weaver & Paul B. Spence)

I slept in someone’s tool shed on a pile of canvas sacking, that first night after I made my escape. I didn’t think I was entirely safe, but… safe enough, surely. They would have no way of knowing which Door I’d gone through, or even that I was no longer in the JRC, until it was too late.

That was what I told myself, anyway.

I was awake well before dawn, anxious to get more miles between myself and the place where a Door opened into that world. For a world a team had visited recently, things were fairly quiet. There was evidence of a massive battle, but I stayed away from those fields. The stench of the corpses sometimes followed me for miles, though. I didn’t think the locals would be happy to see me; whatever the JRC team had done here had probably resulted in many deaths.

Just in case, I left town and road behind, and set off across country. I miss the smell of the woods, the blue sky over my head… Have you ever seen a sky without clouds or rain? Soon, I told myself, soon I’ll find a place to stay for a few years, until they forget or give up. But I didn’t think it was going to be that easy, and I was right. They caught up with me on the fourth day: my onetime colleagues, sent to take me back to the JRC.

They were led by Kendall, his leg either fixed or replaced. The man who’d once taught me to use a rifle, just as I’d taught him how to use a crossbow, now faced me with my own preferred weapon at ready. Light glinted like ice and fire from the steel-tipped quarrel.

(Want to read the whole story? Download the free PDF from my clone-sibling’s website.)

 

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About Thomas Weaver

I’m a writer and editor who got into professional editing almost by accident years ago when a friend from university needed someone to copyedit his screenplay about giant stompy robots (mecha). Having discovered that I greatly enjoy this kind of work, I’ve been putting my uncanny knack for grammar and punctuation, along with an eclectic mental collection of facts, to good use ever since as a Wielder of the Red Pen of Doom. I'm physically disabled, and for the past several years, I’ve lived with my smugly good-looking twin Paul, who writes military science fiction and refuses to talk about his military service because he can’t. Sometimes Paul and I collaborate on stories, and sometimes I just edit whatever he writes. It's worked out rather well so far. My list of non-writing-related jobs from the past includes librarian, art model, high school teacher, science lab gofer… Although I have no spouse or offspring to tell you about, I do have six cats. (The preferred term is "Insane Cat Gentleman.") I currently spend my time blogging, reading, editing, and fending off cats who like my desk better than my twin’s.
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6 Responses to Sometimes, he shares an excerpt from a short story.

  1. J.R. Handley says:

    Looks good, can I get it for my Kindle?

    Liked by 1 person

  2. M.L.S.Weech says:

    Nice tension. I like the vibe.

    Liked by 1 person

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