It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Welcome back! This week is our picture prompt week and all posts must be 300 words or under and reflect the chosen image. Today we have a snippet from a Christmas story I’m writing called “The Christmas Oaks” which is part of my new Laurel Holidays series of seasonal MM romances. I’m really enjoying penning this love story and I hope you enjoy this short excerpt.
In this snippet, Bryn is heading to an old hunting cabin he’s inherited from his grandfather, a man who turned his back on Bryn when he came out. This is a trip home for Bryn, who left the rural village for college and never returned. Upon arriving at the camp he finds more than a few mice have set up house there…
This story may have gay erotic scenes, strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
“Thanks again. I’m going to probably spend a few nights but will call when I’m ready to return to civilization,” I yelled to be heard over the engine.
“Good luck with that. You may have to hike to find some bars as the cell service out this far is bad. I did stack up some firewood the last time I made a walk around the place when I was scouting for a place to hang my deer stand in the summer. You’ll be good for heat and water. Hopefully you packed a book to keep you company.” He swatted the overstuffed backpack resting between my shoulder blades. I was also toting a duffel bag with food, bedding, toiletries, and toilet paper. “Make sure you get some good interior shots. Hopefully the critters haven’t had time to chew their way in. Damn porcupines made a hole two feet wide in the side of my deer stand.”
“If I find one thing in that cabin that’s not supposed to be there, I am going to be pissed,” I yelled. Jeff grinned, patted the old blue helmet he’d let me borrow, then handed it to me. I tugged it over my knit cap, buckled the strap tightly, and with a wave, I was off. The Cat roared along the edge of the pasture, following the subtle indentation in the deep snow where a trail – two tire tracks – lay buried. The farmer that owned these hay fields drove along the edge of the fencing in the summer when it was time to collect hay. I’d worked for him a few times when I was young to earn some money for school. Jim set great store in helping his neighbors. The sun was bright, the air bitterly cold, and the scenery and speed exhilarating. The snow was pristine aside from deer tracks. The road stayed aligned with what looked to be new barbed wire fencing for at least two miles, then it took a sharp right into the woods, leaving the hay fields behind.
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Copyright 2019 ©by V.L. Locey
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