Thirteen Stories ‘Til Halloween

13 stories, 2 crazy writers gearing up towards NaNoWriMo. Practice makes perfect, right? Share in the fun at http://13storiestilhalloween.wordpress.com/!

-J

IMPACT

Here’s an excerpt from IMPACT, the YA paranormal novel I’ve been working on and finally completed.  Impact follows an 18 year old who believes he’s pointless and a Shadow Reaper who is determined to prove him wrong.

~~~~~~

It starts with one.

My name is Moses.

He looked at the only words he’d been able to type in over a week. The project was due in less than a month, and all he could get were those four stupid little words. Sure, others had crept into his document, but they’d been deleted almost as soon as they crossed his screen. Stupid things like, I’m the best big brother in the world, and my friends think I’m awesome. Both were true, at least to a point, but nothing he’d written so far made him seem like a person who made any difference on the world. He was plain, average, and had done nothing in his eighteen years to impact anything.

.

My name is Moses… and I am completely pointless.

He scrunched his lips together and shook his head, turning off the monitor. This is so incredibly stupid. The assignment came on day two of his freshman psych 101 class. There were no introductions, no brief overview of what to expect in the class. Day one, they’d gone over the class register and split into study groups of five. Their professor, Dr. Abe Sawyer, released them with a “good day and we’ll see you tomorrow.” Moses couldn’t believe his luck. Day two came, and stabbed him in the back. What had seemed like a nice and easy A suddenly turned into hell, and Satan himself presided over it under the guise of a non-practicing shrink.

Say Anything

April is Script Frenzy month, and I’ll be basing my script on a novel I wrote awhile back.

I made a trailer for it… cuz I’ve nothing better to do until April 1.

>

You can read an excerpt of the novel here: http://www.jordandrew.com/say-anything/

I Can’t Remember

Mira sat at her desk, and turned on her computer. Her iTunes loaded, and she turned up the volume, as she sipped a glass of gin and tonic.  The glow of the screen offered enough light that she didn’t need her lamps or the overhead… or the bathroom light that frightened her nightmares away.

I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way… I just stopped.

She stopped typing, reading and rereading the line, one of many poems she’d never completely finished, and she thought about how true the words were. She had. Just stopped. And she couldn’t remember why or when, only that she had… and it hurt.

She remembered a time in her life when she loved her life. Not life, in general, but her life. There were parts that were dark, where she felt alone, and afraid, but she’d even loved those parts. She lived, and she loved, and in that love there was undeniable passion, especially when they were together… but then it was gone, and nothing made sense to her anymore.

So she stopped…

Caring…

Being…

Loving…

Living…

Existing…

As she sat and thought about the words on the screen, she wondered if once again this would be another piece left unfinished, and then she thought yes… it would. Finishing was not something she ever did. Finality scared her more than the dark. When something ended it was over… gone… forever. There were a few pieces she almost finished, enough that the words on the pages were understandable when read by others, but they always lacked the final scene, or sentence, or word… because that would have been too close to final.

Mira opened a file so she could look at the last poem she’d almost finished, and as she read through it, she wondered if maybe this time… this time she could end it… if maybe this time she could say goodbye…

I Can’t Remember

The radio’s on,

It’s never turned off.

I can’t remember the last time I

Was around quiet

The lights are still off,

I haven’t turned them on.

I can’t remember the last time I

Was around light

It’s smoky in here,

A bad habit of mine

I can’t remember the last time I

Was around fresh air

I’m so tired,

Tired of life

I can’t remember the last time I

Really slept

You still haunt me

Memories and dreams of you

I can’t remember the last time I …

And then she remembered what it was she couldn’t before… She flipped off the computer and sat in her darkness, trying desperately to remember his face.

©2011 Jordan Drew

Doris and Daphne Discuss… Zombies

 

 

I wrote this piece last November with a friend. I’ve been asked about it a few times since then, and I thought I’d repost it here for a little while since the site it was originally published on is regrettably no more. So with a nod, a curtsy, and big squishy hugs in the direction of my dear friend who made sense out of my ramblings, I give you Doris and Daphne Discuss… Zombies.

Click to read:  http://www.jordandrew.com/2010/12/dorisand-daphne-discuss-zombies-3/

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One Last Time

It wasn’t supposed to end that way. All or nothing, not one or the other. It wasn’t fair to know he had to go on without her. His sister came over often, saying it was time to move on, to let go, and she was right, but it didn’t make the decision to leave any easier….

Read more http://www.jordandrew.com/2010/11/one-last-time/

I Blame You

A post for my husband. Happy Anniversary, babe. <3

10/28/2000

http://www.jordandrew.com/2010/10/i-blame-you/

NaNoWriMo

A new post over on my website about NaNoWriMo. Check it out and let me know if you’re participating this year!

http://www.jordandrew.com/2010/10/nanowrimo/

Midnight

He knew he saw something, but he wasn’t sure if what he’d seen was real.

Click to read: http://www.jordandrew.com/2010/09/midnight/

Ghosts part 4

“You’re dead, Miles,” Felix whispered. “You can’t go home. There is no going back.”

The word smacked him, crashing into him like a wave. He felt the words in the very core of his soul…yet I did know that…somewhere deep inside, I knew. Miles closed his eyes. He saw her clearly then, dancing with him, both swaying to music inside their own heads. His arms wrapped around her waist, and she fit perfectly there. She was made for him – to be in his arms. “I need to get to my wife… my… Izzy.”He didn’t even realize he was moving until he heard Felix fussing behind him. He didn’t stop. He focused his thoughts on his wife… on Izzy.

Read More http://www.jordandrew.com/ghosts-part-4/

or start from the beginning http://www.jordandrew.com/ghosts-1/