Monday, December 7, 2009

Excerpt: The Chat Pack by Dr. Kris Condi


“Give it to me!” A man’s voice shouted.

Corin screamed. She grabbed hold of the ledge so not to fall out the window. As he moved forward, the floor creaked and a chunk of boards fell to the second floor. He was too heavy to come to her, and she could never jump three flights to safety out a window. He got on his hands and knees and crawled to the radiator handle. He grunted then twisted with much strength until the hiss of pumping water and forced heat echoed. She edged into a corner on the ledge to avoid being burned. His face grew fierce as she tucked the safe inside her backpack.

“You can’t stay there forever,” he stated. She said nothing.

He grabbed a pool stick and poked at her face. She grabbed it, but he was stronger and yanked her to the floorboards. She quickly grabbed hold of the leather cushions and hoisted herself back on the ledge. The more he prodded, the more the floor cracked and separated. Seemingly searching for an object, he picked up a chunk of wood and threw it at her. She dodged the wood, but it hit her knapsack. Corin’s backpack sprawled on the floor, and the cookies fell to pieces. Pigeons flew past him; the sudden flight of the blackbird made him lose his balance. Or was he crippled like her aunt? He swore and called her a little bitch who was going to get hers, whatever that meant.

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