Six Sentence Sunday is open to all writers. Just pick a six sentence passage from anything you’ve written—published, unpublished, whatever—and post it on your blog on Sunday.
Registration for the upcoming Sunday list opens the previous Tuesday evening at 5pm CST. More information is here.
Another six from my first drawer novel and a continuation of last week’s cliffhanger:
I scanned the area and saw Janice rounding the Customer Service Desk, Charlie jumping up . . . and a preschooler doing a giddy slalom through the new book displays, a large realpaper book clutched in his hands.
He was almost to the front sensors and the side panels were between me and the door. I judged the distance, took a few running steps and leapt over the sensor racks, trusting that my badge would keep me from getting fried on the spot.
I tackled the kid just as he was pushing the door open and, for a moment, thought we were clear.
Then the street alarms fired up.
I yanked the book from the howling boy—Richard Scarry’s Collegiate Dictionary— and ignoring his sincere attempts to bite through the armor on my forearm, slapped the manual override to the door and hurled the book into the street as hard as I could, hoping the alarms were keeping the sidewalks clear.