Carol Moncado

Current Facebook Status: kept Em home because her head and back of her neck hurt and she wanted to sleep longer. She’s doing much better though :). Thanks for the prayers! [explanation: Em fell on the sidewalk yesterday and bonked her head – trip to Urgent Care followed because she was acting weird – Dx: mild concussion]

Currently Playing in the Background: NCIS from this week

Current Novel Track word count [only NT Novel]: 449 words of drivel, but 449 words more than I had this morning

Yay!  Flash Fiction Friday!  Get to hang out with Jan a bit, procrastinate on Novel Track and still write a few words ;).  I’m thinking some variation on this may end up in my NaNo project…  Jan’s is on her blog.  Anyone else wanna take a gander at it?  Use the first sentence, set the timer for five minutes and… GO!

The young executive stood in front of the picture window biting her nails.

The forest spread below her like a blanket.  This wasn’t where she wanted to be.  She wanted to be anywhere but staring at the pristine snow of the mountain meadow across the valley from her.  She wanted to be back in Florida.  On the beach.  Well, maybe not on the beach.  It was the wrong time of year for that, even in Florida, but at least she would have had the option of pulling on a hoodie and going for a jog on the boardwalk.

Instead she was here.  In the mountains.  In a state.  One of the United States.

Maybe.

She wasn’t even sure about where she was.

The window shades had been pulled closed during the flight.  They’d stopped in at least four cities, maybe more because she thought she’d slept through one of them.

All because of what she’d seen and who her grandfather was.

Had been.

Wasn’t anymore.

But still.  The mob didn’t forget and she’d gone to surprise her grandfather – a former federal agent – only to find herself running from a hit.  She’d managed to get away, but she’d seen who killed her grandfather.

Who she was sure had killed her cousins when they arrived not long after she’d left.

Some surprise party it had been.

“When can I go home?” she whispered.

The agent in the room hadn’t heard her so he didn’t respond, but she hadn’t been talking to him anyway.

“I look to the hills from whence my help cometh.”  Quoting the Bible, via The Sound of Music.  She was going to lose it if this went on too long.