Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Gray and Burnished Granite Seas

Finally, the Charity Sips have been released out into the wild!

These are charity sips because the authors are donating all their royalties to Outserve-SLDN, and Torquere (the publisher) is going to *match* the royalties. So it is a double win for the charity.

So, the link, after all that waiting, to my story: Gray and Burnished Granite Seas

And the link to the whole charity sip collection (there's something in there for everyone): Men In Uniform Charity Sips


And here's a little sample from my story:

Frank stared down at the glossy granite beneath his feet. It was dark gray and felt fathomless and deep, like the pitiless ocean itself, both a friend and an enemy, going about its business without regard to the human lives near it.

The clear, reedy sound of a clarinet skimmed across the vastness of the memorial amphitheater, a familiar tune. It should have been lonesome sounding by itself, but it instead recalled the music of his years with Tom, and brought a bittersweet melancholy that made Frank more glad than anything for the reminder of that time. The clarinet melody was shortly followed by a light touch on a piano and the thump of a stand-up bass, and the distinctive, melodramatic sound of a vibraphone. Frank looked up, expecting to see a band, perhaps a float or a parade, given that the instruments didn't march well. He scanned the area, but it was unusually deserted, and there was no source to be found for the music.

His eyes fell on the statue of the Lone Sailor, and his mouth grew suddenly dry. There was a roaring in his ears, as if he was at a Red Sox game and a player had just hit a grand slam, and Frank's chest grew tight with decades of emotions.

The Lone Sailor statue was positioned on an area of dark gray granite and consisted of an upright man, tall, with a faraway look in his eye, and his collar turned up against an oncoming chill, sea wind. Resting near a cleat was a large, hefty duffle bag, as if ready to be picked up and slung over a shoulder. Made of bronzed metal, it looked like a scene frozen in time, and Frank squinted with his faded eyesight at the figure.

For a moment, it had seemed as if the statue had shifted. It had hunched its shoulders, and tilted its head so that distant, considering look had left the horizon and focused on Frank.

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