On Tuesdays I post a teaser for my current work in progress along with my friend M.R. Graham. I invite my writer friends to join in. If you do, post a link in the comments.
The rules:
Post a link, image, quote, or excerpt related to or taken from your current WIP.
State the name of the WIP.
Do NOT explain yourself! Resist the urge to wax poetic. This is a hint, not an outline.
ALCHEMY
My
plans for losing myself in one of my books before bed died when my father burst
into my room. The automaton maid, or Margo as I liked to call her, pausing the
hairbrush midstroke through my long, black hair and gave a slight curtsey, her
plastic eyelids closing over her glass eyes. My father pushed back an errant
strand of brown hair from his face and strode across the room to the
television, which was playing at a low volume. The color image of a man
embracing a woman as he leaned close to kiss her disappeared as Father pressed
the power button.
“Gather what things you need. You’ll be
sleeping in the Chamber,” he said.
I stiffened, a sinking feeling resting
in the pit of my stomach. “But why? Have I done something wrong?”
He studied me for a long moment with
his dark eyes narrowed. “I don’t know; is there anything you’d like to tell
me?”
I gulped, my mind going back to the
festival I had visited in town a week ago. It hadn’t been my first visit. I’d
occasionally been able to slip away and walk to Bela Vista to take in the
sights and experience what other people were like. My favorite part had been
visiting the bookstore with its shelves of secondhand books. I’d even managed
to buy one or two and hide them away in my secret spot in the garden. Had he
found out?
“No,” I said is a small squeaky voice.
He sighed and rested a hand on my
shoulder. “This isn’t a punishment, but I need you to follow my instructions.”
Margo turned her doll face head to me
and her singsong voice came from her open plastic mouth. “Do you need me for
anything, Mistress?”
“Begin the Wipe Clean Function. Bring
the other automatons in on this,” Father said. “No word of Zoe shall pass
through your lips until I say otherwise.”
“Understood. I shall retrieve the
trunks and begin the Wipe Clean Function,” she said.
Margo curtseyed again and ambled out of
my bedroom. Father took my hand and pilled me to a standing position, gazing at
the long white nightgown I wore.
Ooh! I wonder what's causing the need for a wipe. Interesting.
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