First of all, I have to say:
Pop over there and wish her a happy day.
Sixteen-year-old Maiya Lemesa first noticed the man at the back of a crowd of mourners around the deathbed of old Mr. Winters. Perhaps it was the unusual intensity of his presence that drew her eyes to him when she should have been concentrating on the dying man. . . . But it was not his appearance that attracted Maiya’s attention. It was the rhythms of his body, the harsh tattoo of his heartbeat, the tension in his muscles, like something wild and ferocious barely held in check. His song coursed through the room, twisting its way through all the other melodies.
6 comments:
Oh boy, I just downloaded it to my desktop. Can't wait to read it!
Love the idea, I will come back to it soon.
First the thought that everything has a song is beautiful. And to be able to hear, and explore that, is a great premise to explore.
Ooh, I love the premise of this story. I'm off to read it! Thanks, Angie!
Thanks, Angie. This is great. I came by, just to say hello and see how you’re doing. I hope you had a splendid week!
Happy weekend!
THANK YOU! You are so sweet.
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