A Brief Encounter – Anna

Dead of July (Small)[4] Color 1

I am re-reading the first chapters of my upcoming novel to make sure  they are perfect. I also want to make sure I know them word for word and can answer all the questions that will be asked when being interviewed by Jay Leno and Oprah!  I am looking forward to being on TV. Sandra Thompson, a household name, a celebrity.  

I can dream can’t I?

Seriously, I am extremely excited about my novel ‘Dead of July’. It has been in the works for two years, and is now in the final stage of editing. I can’t wait for it to be published. This will be one of many as I have at least two more books planned.

For your enjoyment, below are a few lines from the first chapter of ‘Dead of July’. This is what happened when Anna and Sheila met for the first time.


“Ich spreken nur eine bisien Deutsche,” I told her, hoping I had chosen the right words.

The tears started rolling down her cheeks again and she sat back down on the bench.

            I really wasn’t sure what to do next because I didn’t understand what she had said to me, or why she was crying. I had intended to go to German lessons that were given by the army, but never got around to it. Same old excuse, never enough time, always something else to do. I was debating what to do next when I heard someone shouting in a loud angry voice. The noise was coming from the direction of the gate I had just entered.

Anna! someone was yelling. Actually, it sounded more like a growl than a yell.

This gruff male voice was yelling more than just her name, but all I could understand was “Anna.” She immediately stopped crying and literally froze. She looked at me with a terrified expression on her face, so I could only assume that this was the person who made her cry. The man standing at the gate was now yelling loudly enough to scare us both. I took a couple of steps toward the path, which gave me a clear view of the gate, and saw a stocky man standing there. He had dark hair and a very rugged, angry-looking face. For some reason he made me think of a Russian Cossack and I knew I didn’t want an encounter with him, especially here in a park alone. He saw me and the look on his face was murderous. I knew we had to get away.

 Impulsively, I ran forward to the bench and grabbed the girl’s hand. “Anna?” I asked. She nodded her head and looked at me with fear in her eyes. We ran in the opposite direction from the gate and away from him. She needed no persuasion; she just followed me. We ran to the other gate and I opened it quietly. We slipped through silently. The voice still raged behind us, but it didn’t seem to be coming any closer. I felt pretty uncomfortable running with two beers and a bratwurst not quite digested in my tummy, so we ran a little farther and then stopped. I turned and looked at Anna, who had stopped crying and seemed a little more composed. I let go of her hand and she looked up at me.

“Danke,” she said.



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