Another Sample of “Indian Paintbrush”, A Thriller by B. K. Jones

After a couple of relaxing weeks living out in the boonies, we moved to a new spot yesterday, where we have good sun exposure for our solar panels and phone service. Finding a place where we can get both seems to be quite challenging here in the forest around Cloudcroft, NM.

I made some good progress on my next novel too. There’s nothing like getting out in nature for me, and away from people for a bit, to get my imagination going. The lack of cell service sometimes doesn’t hurt either. When I get a little further along, I’ll also post some samples from the new novel too.

Sharon also has some new photos up on her Facebook. Be sure to visit our “About Us” page and click her Facebook link to see them. She is a very talented photographer in my opinion, however biased it may be. She’s also very beautiful!

That’s enough about us for now. Here’s the second sample of Indian Paintbrush….

“Why are you whispering? Why don’t you show yourself you sonofabitch?” Andy said sternly as he tried to turn and look at the person who spoke to him. He could hear the sound of leather soled boots shifting and scraping on the concrete behind him. The bastard was moving to stay out of his line of sight, Andy thought to himself.

               “I know you’re scared, bud.” the voice said as Andy made another attempt to turn himself to where he could identify his assailant. “It’s ok though. You won’t be scared much longer.” the voice said, still whispering. With that last statement from the stranger, Andy felt cold chills all over his body. He didn’t know who this person could be or why anyone would want to do this him, but he had a pretty good idea what the stranger meant. He decided at that point he no longer wanted to see his assailant.

               Andy just hung there not saying anything else, just waiting for his fate. There was nothing else he could do. He thought of screaming out for help, but he knew his wife was gone into town, and he knew no one else was near enough to hear him. He remained silent. He refused to beg for his life like a coward. If the stranger had the intent of killing him, Andy figured he would follow through with it no matter what he said. So, Andy chose to keep his dignity. He kept silent and still, and prayed to God to take care of his wife and his parents if he should not make it through this ordeal.

               Andy heard the sound of the boots shuffle slowly on the concrete behind him. The sound moved around him to his side. He closed his eyes. Then he could feel the presence of someone in front of him. He kept his eyes closed.

               “Open your eyes.” the man ordered him. Andy didn’t open them. “You hear me, bud?” the voice said. He wasn’t whispering now. The voice sounded familiar to him now, but he couldn’t remember when or where he had heard it. “I said open ‘em!” the man said more sternly, but not too loud.

               It seemed like a lifetime went by as Andy hung there, refusing to open his eyes or say anything more. It had only been a minute or so in realty.

               “Do what you’re gonna do or get the hell outa here and leave me alone!” Andy finally said.

               “Oh, I’ll leave soon enough, bud.” The man responded coldly. “Man, you never saw it coming when I whacked you on the head with that hammer, did ya, bud?” The man said almost jokingly. “Your just as hard headed as ever, bud.”

               Andy still couldn’t place the voice. The man seemed to know him, though. He thought about looking at the man, now standing before him as he hung there by his ankles in the barn. The stranger kept referring to him as “bud”. He couldn’t recall anybody ever calling him that. Maybe it was something he called everyone.

That’s it for now. Thanks for taking an interest in our lives.

Till next time….

Brian

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