My upcoming novella, Dog Meat, is set in the 1980s in a made-up country (the “Colony”), but the following scene happened to real-life family friends of ours (now American citizens). Ward is a little boy at home with his family. His mother and father (“Patro”) are intellectuals, and Revolution soldiers think intellectuals are dangerous.
The soldiers were angry, so angry. The family’s front door stood ajar, and the soldiers tramped about the living room, knocking books off the shelves and smashing icons with sledgehammers and cane sticks. Ward tried to press his way inside his mother’s body to get away from the uniformed men.
Patro crawled on his knees first to one soldier then the next. “We have done nothing wrong,” he said. Patro’s protest brought a swift cane to the back of his head.
“Patro!” Ward yelled, and his mother covered his mouth with her trembling hand.
Ward’s father wept while the family’s small house filled with smoke from burning books and the bookshelves that once held them. Then the angry men attacked the piano with their sledgehammers, and the discordant wails from the dying instrument joined the cries of Ward and his mother.From Dog Meat** by Priscilla Bettis
In other news, I finished the first draft of my new novel (which might include an abandoned farmhouse and possibly ghosts). Woohoo! Horror author Rami Ungar asked if I was going to drink a bunch of good booze to celebrate and warned me not to drunk-blog about it. I told him nah, I was going to celebrate by eating a bunch of Oreos and sugar-high-blogging about it. (I sincerely hope I don’t regret this evening’s blog post!)
This quarter I am reading books from authors I follow online.
Photo by Luke Besley on Unsplash.