Day 22 of the National Novel Writing Month
Daily insights with excerpts from #nanowrimo
By Emma Palova
EW Emma’s Writings
Lowell, MI – I would like to wish a Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends and followers around the globe.
As the tension in Europe intensifies with pending strikes in France and Czech Republic, I am deeply humbled by the Thanksgiving feast of hardiness and determination of our predecessors to survive.
I am thankful for this country’s abundance and the free creative spirit. I look forward to spending the holiday with our family from Big Rapids and Hastings. My deepest unfullfilled wish is for our French family to be here with us as well.
In the creative spirit of this free country, I logged in this morning with 42,578 words doing my personal part in the 50K word marathon.
The short story “40 Hunks” is a part of the new collection of short stories “Secrets” (c) 2018 Emma Palova. This is a sequel to “Shifting Sands: Short Stories” (c) 2017 Emma Palova.
It is my clear intention to see “Secrets” to print in 2019 after the revision months of January and February suppported by the National Novel Writing Month.
For more info go to:
Excerpts from “40 Hunks”
The work guide didn’t respond and turned his head away from Jose. He got immediately on the phone with the central farm.
“We’re heading out,” he said. “I need to count the heads. There’s supposed to be 40 men aboard. I need to count them to make sure I don’t have 50. We already looked in the storage; just fuel containers, no extra men.”
Jose decided to mind his own business and ignored the guide who walked to the back of the bus counting the men.
Antonio got up angrily as the guide approached the back of the bus. His shirt was ripped in the back and he had leather bracelets on his wrists. He grabbed the handle bars below the ceiling of the bus, and swayed in front of the work guide.
“How may I help you, gringo?” said Antonio in broken English. “How many times are you going to count us? There are 40 men on this bus. That doesn’t include you and the driver. I want to keep it that way until we get there.”
Antonio looked at the work guide and ripped off his name tag and threw it on the floor.
“There you go,” he laughed. “You’re nobody. You white piece of shit. Remember that.”
Antonio fell back heavily on the torn seat with white fuzz sticking out. He pulled some of the fuss out of the seat.
“I’ll stick this into your mouth, if you don’t stay quiet,” threatened Antonio.
The guide retreated to the front by Jose, who was now whistling to a tune on his cassette player.
“Man, you got a rough crowd here,” said the guide. “Who is that big dude?”
“Nobody, just like the rest of them,” said Jose. “Leave me alone. I need some rest.”
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