Thursday, May 21, 2015

The Writer's Voice Entry


He doesn't look as satisfied or happy as I expected. In fact, pain darkens his eyes. "You are very young. It will be both a curse and a blessing in the coming months I think."

Seventeen-year-old Viola Fogg wants to keep her sickly brother safe. But when she’s caught impersonating a soldier in his place, she’s thrown into prison.

Eighteen-year-old Audrey Knight wants to be a hero and have grand adventures. It’s why she’s imprisoned after getting caught in an illegal prizefight.

Selected by the British SOE, Viola and Audrey are yanked from prison. In exchange for their eventual freedom, they agree to take part in an experimental attempt to beat the Axis Powers, and are given abilities beyond imagination. They become part of the Nightingales, a team of four super-powered female spies, trained for work behind enemy lines.

Dropped into France, the Nightingales set out to Paris, confident in their new powers, ready to destroy Nazis. Ready to be heroes.

Their mission is clear - join up with Parisian networks and use their powers to assist in driving the Germans out of France. But with the increasing danger in each mission, an unknown traitor in their midst, the Nightingales realize they weren’t prepared for any of this.

Audrey and Viola discover the bravery and grace of the women around them, the widespread illness of human cruelty, and the real definition of hero.

WATCH OF NIGHTINGALES is a YA Historical SciFi, completed at 70,000 words.

First 250 Words:

It comes and goes in surges, the acidic pain mixing with the blood in my veins. My wrist pulses under the bracelet, pumping in more power, enticing me to use it. To use what the meteorite gives me. Begging for a taste. My arms hang loose at my sides and I shake them out. It'll be fine. We spent eight weeks training for this and learning our powers. Today was our last test.
I'm an agent now.
My team, The Nightingales, could be dropped into France any day.
Choking back the grit in my throat, I push the door to the office open with trembling hands. I'm the last one finished meeting with Mr. Pipping. The others are already on the way to the tea shop.
Of course it's raining. I tug the hat down farther onto my head, wiping my face with the back of my sleeve. My fingers fidget with the black and silver bracelet rooted into my skin, wincing a bit at the pain always firing through me. Dried blood around the meteorite begs to be scratched and picked, but it took three hours before it stopped bleeding last time. So much for them masquerading as pretty bracelets. I'll clean it with a swab when I get back to the flat. Something in the composition of the rocks keeps the holes from closing around our skin. Even Audrey can't heal around it. Her skin only closes when the bracelets are off. The rest of us make do with swabs and bandages and scarves to hide them when we aren't in uniforms.