Dixie the dog

90rh

It’s been a busy February. Lots of moving pieces with me right now, there are several writing projects ongoing.

The latest, a side-job, is the fault of Dixie the dog.

How.

OK, I get writing ideas at the strangest of times. This latest episode happened during a trip to the vet, it seemed that Dixie the crazy Australian cattle dog needed a rabies shot. So I gathered her up, got in the car and went. Along the way was a deserted highway, the perfect place for my head to go into neutral.

A hypothetical popped into my skull, I worried at it like gristle in the teeth. By the time I got home, had a formed idea. Sat down and started typing.

Within 48 hours there was a complete outline and “beat sheet,” and I started to write.

I won’t divulge the working name of the book or its premise.

All I’ll say is that it’s an alternate history, and here’s a small taste of the opener.

Bill held out a Mills bomb. “Get down, sir.” The Lieutenant wasted no time ducking behind some sand bags. Bill primed the grenade and threw it underhand into the trench and squatted. As soon as it went off, he rolled into the trench and squeezed off a burst to the right.

He should have aimed left, instead. A German came hurtling out of the smoke, bayonet first. There was no time to swing the BAR, Bill did the only thing he could. With his left hand he drew the tomahawk from his belt and cast it in a flat whirl, hard.

The two men locked gazes for an instant. The German rifleman’s eyes lost focus, he staggered then slumped, his rifle hit the ground before he did. As Bill was pulling his tomahawk from the man’s throat, the Lieutenant landed in the trench. He looked at the bloody tomahawk, the dead German, and Bill. The officer nodded, then pointed along the trench. Bill led off with the BAR, every few steps he would fire a burst while the Lieutenant watched his back.

Once he almost shot a Welshman. With much unintelligible cursing, the man joined their clearing party.

After some nameless length of time, the acrid smoke cleared. There was no-one left but the dead. Bill spotted movement; he fired and missed. A shit-scared German threw up his hands, he couldn’t have been a day over eighteen. He said something in a high-pitched voice; he dropped to his knees. Both the Lieutenant and Bill prepared to fire. A tear ran down the kid’s cheek.

“Ah hell, sir, this is too goddamn much.”

Enough for now. Just want to let you all know that I am writing, and at the moment it’s working out pretty well.

Now, it’ll be a while before this gets out there, but unlike “Demons” (which totally kicked my butt), this one is happening right now alongside the collaborations.

I have fair confidence this one will make it to print.

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