MOURNING DOVE is 75,000 words. To
paraphrase Abraham Lincoln’s apocryphal quote to Harriett Beecher Stowe, it was
written to be the little novel that starts the great war against global warming.
#
Jen, sleeping, sensed that Mom entered her
room, bent over her, and kissed her cheek. Jen loved it when her mother woke her this way.
“G’morning, Honey,” Mom said “It’s our
last launch day and we need to talk. You turn sixteen tomorrow and you don’t
know what guys your age even look like. You
and your brothers have to be with other kids. Grams might listen to you; she
doesn’t listen to me. She built this place and doesn’t want to leave, but we
have to. I need you to convince her. And if Grams and Grandpa don’t come
with us, we’re flying to our family and civilization in Antarctica without
them. You got to be my partner in this. Are you in? Can I count on you?”
“Mom. Of course you can. I’m in. It will
be my mission, from almost sixteen onward.”
Mom put her arms around Jen and hugged her
close. It felt good.
“I love you, Mom.”
She hugged Mom back. Mom said, “Love you,
Jen.”
#
A flash snowstorm coated the ground seconds
before liftoff. Jen and Grandpa in the command bunker followed the take-off on
live video. When the rocket left the camera’s view, she watched another video feed
showing her older brother, Fred, at the outdoor weather station. He bent over
backward, staring straight up, tracking the flight. Suddenly, both legs flew
out from under him. At first, she thought it was funny. But their launch center
was on top of a mountain. He was on a narrow asphalt path, overlooking a steep
drop, and the blacktop was slippery. Mom, suddenly in the picture, reached for Fred
to keep him from going over the cliff. But as she grabbed him, she lost her
footing, too, and they both slid over the edge clutching each other. Grandpa wrapped
Jen in his arms. On a speaker somewhere, she heard her mother scream. Seeing
the empty cliff, Jen shouted, “No!. Mommie! Come back. I need you. Mommie!” Jen
sobbed, clutching her Grandpa.
In his arms, she could still feel her
mother kissing her awake that morning. She would never have that again. Her
mother’s mission? Her mission? She dropped out of her grandfather’s arms onto
the floor. She curled up into a ball, crying.
#
Ballantine Books published my novella
"Oceans Away" in Stellar Short Novels. I ghosted for Senator Paula
Hawkins, and our op-eds appeared throughout the United States. On Facebook,
LinkedIn, Twitter, and a blog, I have 50,000 connections, following MOURNING
DOVE and anxious for a copy. My day job is Beltway bandit wordslinger.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
