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Ready for publication

Precious Blue, novel (excerpt)

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Chapter one. The Lane

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I was standing in the middle of a lane bordered by walls of colossal pines. Their paws hid the sun, and their roots bulged at the edges of the track. The sky blue boot of my poor, old Viva was sticking out of the underbrush. My left hand was clutching my right, slippery beneath the fingertips. I knew why it felt like this. Blood. Pulsating and hot, and I was too terrified to look.

I checked if I still remembered my name—Osten, and today’s date—eighth of October, Wednesday. Then, I shuffled up the lane into the light, back to the T junction. Diverted Trafic. The sign had been written in crooked letters and nailed to a wooden barrier. A rusted-out digger slumbered in the ditch. Tree stumps dotted the side of the B road as it snaked into the first slopes of the Highlands.

I started to shiver. Not a single car in sight. Nothing but dust, the ringing of insects, and my hand. It was swelling up. I dashed up and down the road, away from thoughts of dying of blood loss or infection. Gangrene, the wet kind, with a rainbow of colours. And sepsis.

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