We’re nearing the end of Camp NaNoWriMo so I thought I would share one last excerpt of my novel, The Lost Girl.
This is a short excerpt from the middle of chapter thirteen. This is first draft material, but proofread for typos.
Enjoy!
“Now think of the happiest thought that you can think.” Peter ordered.
“The happiest thought? Like a memory of some sort?” Grace wondered.
“It can be anything you want, but it has to be something real.” Peter explained.
“So a memory…” Grace concluded. She put her hand up to her chin as she thought looking up at the sky. “Okay, I think I got one. That’s easy.”
Peter smiled. He took Grace by the hands again and led her to the edge of the cliff. “Now think of that thought and keep thinking about it!”
“What are you doing?” Grace frowned at the edge of the cliff.
“Are you ready?”
“Not really…”
“Go!”
Peter shoved Grace off the edge of the cliff. She tried to hold her balance at the very tip, but fell anyway. She flailed her arms and legs as her body accelerated faster and faster the closer she got to the water. She screamed knowing that this was going to be it for her. She covered her eyes with her hands bracing herself for impact with the water. If she didn’t die on impact, she would certainly drown.
Grace jolted when she was suddenly lifted back into the air. She dared to take her hands away from her eyes. Peter was holding onto her in his arms and they were heading back up to the top of the cliff. Through the air.
“What is going on?!” Grace panicked wrapping her arms around Peter’s neck tightly.
“Ouch,” Peter winced. “You just pinched my neck.”
“You just threw me off a cliff!” Grace shouted.
“Yeah, I don’t know why it didn’t work.” Peter muttered in sincere confusion.
“What didn’t work? I almost died!” Grace panicked as they made it to the top of the cliff.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Were you thinking about your happy thought?” Peter set Grace back down on her feet and folded his arms his chest deeply thinking.
“No! I was too busy thinking that I was going to die!” Grace yelled.
“You’re going to disturb the whole forest if you keep shouting like that.” Peter said glancing over at Tinkerbell on his shoulder, who was covering her ears. “Besides, you’re upsetting Tinkerbell. Human voices are extremely loud to them. It’s kind of like when you tap on the glass to a fish tank. It disturbs the fish.”
Grace stared at Peter with her mouth gaped open and her eyes wide. He pushed her off a cliff, she almost died, he began to fly, and he was making fish metaphors.
