I was reading about the page 99 test on http://www.page99test.com/ and decided to give it a whirl. It’s an interesting concept although I guess it’s not really new, it was new to me. Readers read your page 99 and then offer feedback and or decide based on this page whether or not they would be interested in reading the rest of the book. My husband has a copy of my book on his desk and a co-worker picked it up and read page 99. This is what started me thinking about it. It makes sense, because in my book, this is about the halfway mark, and some pivotal things are happening in the story here. Although, taken out of context, can you judge the book by it;s page 99? Anyway, here’s my page 99 excerpt from Secret Agent of God:
“That’s weird,” she said. “I haven’t had a problem all day.”
She had her arm wrapped with an Ace bandage. Another message came to me like a flash of lightning: “Her boyfriend hurts her.”
Makeup covered up the remains of faded bruises on her face. She couldn’t get the card machine to work, and the line behind me snaked around the market. I started to hyperventilate. I pulled out all of my cash to pay for my small basket of groceries, and sprinted out of there. Maybe I should have done something to help her. That thought still haunts me.
Speaking of haunting, I’d read that spirits can wreak havoc on electronic devices. It has something to do with them being all made out of energy. Wonderful, so now Spirits were following me around the grocery store and whispering things in my ear. I only hoped I wouldn’t start seeing them next.
I hated not having control over what was happening to my body and my mind. Father B. was still traveling around Italy. Maybe I should’ve gone with him. I could’ve stayed there; and been a runaway. Only how do you run away from your own mind? I checked the listings for psychiatrists in the area to see if any of them worked on a sliding scale.
I wake up to the hum of an engine and the sound of the tires on the driveway stones again. A car door opens and slams, the front door creaks and heavy feet pound the floor. Outside of my room, Ape and English bark at each other. It’s just how they communicate. I stand with my body against the wall, listening to their language. Tonight, I’m sure they’re talking about me. I hear Ape say, “Zahera.” English’s voice is louder. Maybe they’re arguing about whether tonight is the night they’ll kill me or not.
Now English sounds pleading. I know he’s been keeping me alive and he has his reasons. What I don’t know is exactly what those reasons are.
Thanks for reading!
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