Not much to report lately, aside from this past week's Magic City Writers group meeting being helpful and productive.
Now, as promised, a segment from the rough draft of Oasis, my current work-in-progress:
The heat made breathing difficult as he approached. His eyebrows and the front of his hair singed away, and he burned his hands badly, but he managed to pull and roll the wingpack frame away from the flames.
Wild with dread, half-insane with fear, the skin of his hands blistering and cracking as he worked, he found the release and freed what was left of his little girl. Her hair was frizzed and blackened where the fire had touched it, her seared face red and black. Her eyes were closed, as though deep asleep, dreaming of Hafid and his flying lessons. She was limp as a doll. She didn’t breathe. Her head swung horribly from the end of her neck.He rocked her, weeping into her hair as sirens approached.
More to come before too long.