So…now that I’ve finished Yankari (or at least, it’s finished until I see red marks on it and have to fix it), I did a little organizing of my chaotic computer files. I’ve never actually learned to be disciplined in how I save files on my computer. I get this notion that whatever structure I have isn’t quite what I need, so I wind up making a new folder and then…voila…mayhem inside the hard drive ensues.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah. I did a bit of digital archaeology and found the two stories I started for Synchronic before settling on the third one, Rock or Shell, as the one to go inside the anthology. One of those two is called Life/Time in the New World. Or maybe Life/Time should be the title…I’m not yet decided on that.

Well, I read it, thinking it couldn’t be very good if I abandoned it for the other but I really liked it. As in…whoa, baby, what were you thinking giving this up? I could be delusional, though. You never know. I’m not unbiased. ::grin:: So, take a peek at the first page (it’s still a first draft) or so below and let me know what you think. Go on? Toss it? Burn it on the rubbish heap and try to forget I ever started it?

Life/Time in the New World

by Ann Christy

One

“Hello there. How are you feeling?”

Darren Gordan tried to focus on the blurry smudge above him. He could tell it was a face and the voice—a woman’s voice—seemed to be coming from that general direction. A fuzzy outline of dark hair surrounded a paler surface, two dark spots for eyes. The image wavered a bit as the face turned to the side. A moment later, an equally blurry shape he thought might be a hand tapped away at something that emitted sharp, computer-like tones with each movement.

The woman made a little “ah” and then leaned down, coming into focus as she neared. Darren stared at the outline, willing it to resolve into a person. He urged his body to move, a hand, his head—any part of him would do—but he felt as heavy as a boulder. There was only a dead and weighty feeling in his limbs. Only his eyes seemed to be obeying him at the moment and then, only so much.

Her hair came into focus before the rest of her, flowing down toward him as she leaned in. Beautiful dark hair with regular waves that ended in little-girl curls touched his shoulder and he could feel the slight weight of them against his skin. The tiny weight relieved him, spared him from wondering if he had been paralyzed and left without feeling forever. Then her face suddenly resolved into sharp focus mere inches from his eyes.

“There you are,” she said, her lips moving into a gentle smile and her eyes searching his face. “Everything is fine. You’re just waking up and it takes some time.”

She brushed long, slender fingers across his cheek. The touch was soft and gentle and felt like a thousand feathers moving across his skin. She must have seen the strain in his face as he tried to speak because a line creased her brow and she said, “Just relax. I’ll stay here with you while things sync up.” The smile returned and grew, “You’ve been gone a long time. You can’t expect to just jump up and play cordball first thing.”

Cordball? Darren knew how long he should have been asleep and had prepared extensively for the potential changes that would take place in the world as he slept his way through time. This cordball must be one of those changes.