When Daniel’s mum wakes him at five-thirty in
the morning, he knows it’s so she can go and take photographs. It doesn’t seem
to matter how many times he points out that most photographers take their early
morning shots in perfect safety, his mum just can’t feel safe—so Daniel goes
with her, even when its early and cold and the mist hasn’t cleared. Especially
when the mist hasn’t cleared. Muggers, Daniel can handle, but what on Earth is
he going to do about trolls?
Troll-Mist Morning is about family, and caring for
even the crazy members. It’s about a young person who looks after his mum, even
when he doesn’t see the same kind of dangers.
Troll-Mist Morning is available from Smashwords,
Amazon-Kindle, Nook, Kobo, and iTunes.
First Chapters: Troll Mist Morning
Carlie Simonsen
Five-Thirty Start
My
mum does crazy things like waking me at five-thirty in the morning and saying,
“Hey Daniel, can you come for a walk with me?”
So,
I roll over and look up at her, blinking my eyes against the light and pulling
the quilt up to my chin, and I say, “Why?”
She
says “I’d like to photograph that church in the mist.”
“Which
church?” I ask.
“You
know, that one on the corner. The white one with all the curves and that tower
thing.”
Yeah, real good words,
mum.
But I know why she’s asking me to come with her. She’s not as happy-go-lucky as
a lot of other photographers. She knows about the monsters that live in the
real world.
There
are days when she wishes she could be like the other guys in her class—the ones
who go down by the lake on their own at weird hours of the day, or the ones
that take their expensive cameras into the rougher parts of town to take
pictures of graffiti. Poor mum.
She’s
a bit scared of being out alone with her camera. She says when she’s behind the
camera, she can’t see what might be sneaking up behind her. I don’t tell her
that plenty of other photographers take photos in the early morning without
getting mugged. She’d just point out the few who have been mugged, and tell me
that’s what they said before they got
the snot beaten out of them.
She’d
say the others have just been lucky.
What
can I say? She’s my mum. I’ve seen her when she’s behind a camera. Lost isn’t
the word. It’s like she’s in another world. Forget muggers and murderers. Mum’s
more likely as to step out in front of a car, or fall down a hole. When she
takes pictures, all that she sees is the picture. Someone has to take care of
her.
So, what do I say when she asks me to go for a
twenty-minute walk at five-thirty in the morning? I always say “Yes”, and then
I roll out of bed and get dressed, and do my best not to mind.
END FIRST CHAPTER
If you would like to read more, Troll-Mist Morning is available from Smashwords,
Amazon-Kindle, Nook, Kobo, and iTunes.
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