Or: Thea’s too lazy to write a blog post
Today a guest post from the inspiring writer, Patricia Lynne (Website) who is launching a new book today! Huzzah! Note the gratuitous !!!s.
Enjoy and leave a comment. A Random winner will receive a copy of the ebook
My name is Cyclop Blaine and I am a real person.
“You are mine.”
I am a real person: heedless of a childhood spent under the supervision of an old man I only know as Master.
“You belong to me.”
I am a real person: regardless of my teenage years bound by violence as the adoptive son of the Victory Street Gang’s leader.
“You will obey me.”
I am a real person: despite the visions I see in others’ eyes. Snapshots of their futures.
“You will cower before me.”
I am a real person: my life will be my own. I belong to no one.
“You. Are. MINE.”
“Cyclop, how do you stay so skinny with all that food you eat?” Meemaw Cheryl asked. The ice in her glass clinked as she motioned to my food. Her gaze turned to the girl’s parents. “I swear this boy could eat a horse and not gain a pound.”
I ducked my head as heat rushed up my face and neck. I adjusted my hat, hoping to hide the blush.
“Always wearing that hat too. Even in church. I tell Tyler all the time, if he don’t make you take that hat off, I’m gonna whoop his behind. I did it when he was a baby and I ain’t afraid to do it now.” Meemaw pointed her glass at me again. “And then I’ll whoop yours. You don’t wear a hat in the Lord’s house.”
“God ain’t gonna care if someone is wearing a hat in church. He’s just glad the person is there,” Darryl said as he joined the group with his own food. For a moment, his gaze met mine. Guilt nipped me at the hurt in his eyes.
“Darryl Paul Blaine, don’t you sass me,” Meemaw Cheryl snapped.
“I’m not sassing you, ma’am,” he innocently replied.
“No,” Meemaw Cheryl said with mock disapproval. “You just sticking up for your brother.” Her attention turned back to the girl’s parents. “These two were thick as thieves from the moment Tyler brought Cyclop home. Found the poor boy huddled in a dumpster in the middle of winter. Barely a scrap of clothing on him. Abandoned.”
More heat crawled up my face. I kept my gaze on my food, trying to sound casual. “I wasn’t abandoned. My mas… the person caring for me died. No one wanted to take me, so they left me on a street corner.”
“You was abandoned,” Meemaw Cheryl insisted. “I pray the Lord have mercy on those cruel souls because I sure won’t show any. Don’t matter if you don’t want to; if you have to, you take your family’s child in, care for them as your own. That’s what I taught my children, and I expect them to teach theirs.”
Meemaw Cheryl’s friends voiced their agreement. By now, my face was blazing and embarrassment coursed through me like a tsunami. Some of the humiliation eased when Darryl laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Thankfully, conversation turned away from me. Meemaw Cheryl and her friends coaxed the girl’s parents into talking. She remained quiet as she picked at her food. Even though her plate was half full, she stood and walked back to the table. I abandoned my food and followed. My nerves tightened as I stopped next to her. Play it cool.
“Hi, I’m Cyclop.”
“I kinda figured.”
The heat returned to my face and I mentally slapped myself. Of course she knew my name. They were just talking about me!
No biggie, I assured myself. Just keep playing it cool.
“So, do you have a name?”
I was not playing it cool.
To my surprise, she laughed. “Yeah, I do. Amber Smith.”
“That’s a nice name.”
She laughed again and I mentally punched myself this time. What was wrong with me? It was no wonder she was laughing. I sounded like a complete idiot!
“It’s nothing special or unique,” she replied lightly. “Not like Cyclop. How did you get that name?” She paused, meeting my one-eyed gaze. Her gaze flickered to my hidden eye and curiosity played over her face. “Well, I can guess.”
Patricia Lynne never set out to become a writer. In fact, it was the farthest from her mind in high school and college. But now that she has started, she can’t stop. Patricia lives with her husband in Michigan, hopes one day to have what will resemble a small petting zoo, and has a fondness for dying her hair the colors of the rainbow.
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Remember: Rattling Bones is FREE on Kobo and Smashwords. Grab a copy and spread the word.