Harperpages

The blog of author Harper Alexander

‘Don’t Look Back’: Excerpt and Promo

Leave a comment

One of the promo posters I just made for ‘Paradise’, and the accompanying excerpt to go with it:

Paradise Promo 1

The slash of a branch against the girl’s cheek as she ran. Petals falling silently from the trees like flakes of ash. The lurch of the world as she stumbled.

The rasp of breath in the tranquility.

The warm, wet thud of her heart in her throat.

The musky smell of her fear piercing the heady pollens and nectars that saturated the air.

Run. Faster. Don’t look back.

Ducking under bows draped with frilly moss. Jerking free of the lacy tangle that reached after her like tentacles.

Through a clearing of dusky wildflowers.

Into a maze of mossy tree-trunks, the canopy above a-twitter with birds of twilight.

Don’t look back.

The wet crash as she cut through a glade of floating cherry blossoms. Panting as she dragged herself up the opposite bank.

Through the dormant grove of gray-limbed mystery trees. Sparrows scattering like bats dispersing from the nooks and crannies of the world.

The flutter of wings swallowed into the sky, and the eerie silence of abandoned ruins that fell over the grove.

Silence was good. Silence was golden.

No feet close behind her.

Under the low-hanging barren branches. Try not to startle at the skeletal entities that flashed by. Trees more frightening than scarecrows.

If only crows were what chased her…

Don’t look back.

Billowy pockets of mist. Sweet-smelling and tinted with soft color. The faintest of lavenders.

Swallowed into the haze. Slower pace, hands outstretched to feel the way.

Leafy branches giving way to her probing. Ripe, heavy apples bobbing in her wake.

Mist parting like tattered curtains.

Run. Faster.

Ahead was the bridge. She just had to make it to the bridge.

Open ground. Tripping feet. Heartbeat spiking to a crescendo. The pit of her stomach tightening like a snake around its prey.

Just focus on the bridge. Don’t. Look. Back.

Blurring steps.

Pock-marked vision.

The sweet sting of mist still in her nostrils, drug-like, making her stumble.

Don’t look back.

Don’t look back…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s