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Genre: Mystery & Suspense
About Night SilverLocation: Gresham OR Home Region: Age:18 Website: http://www.fictionpress.com/~nightsilverswhisper Favorite novels: Cry of the Icemark, No Plot? No Problem! A time for Dancing, Daughters of the Moon, Sons of the Dark, Truancy, for the Roses, the Secret War, Lord of Mhorror, the Clayborn Brides trilogy, Come the Spring, Favorite writers: Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, Tamora Pierce, Lynne Ewing, Stuart Hill, Julie Garwood, and Tamra Orr Favorite music: Bond, Shiny Toy Guns, Josh Groban, Barrage, Chess, Brio, Vangellis, Savage Garden, Blackmore's Night, Chess, Interview with a Vampire, Non-noveling interests: To ski down a snowy mountain, to nap on a blanket in the sun, to stargaze with those I love, to stare into a campfire with my most adventerous company, to kayak down a steady river, to party on a dance floor, and finally, to sit in coffeeshop corners, and let my muse run rampant. |
Joined: November 9, 2006 This Year: Municipal Liaison NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 23 NaNoWriMo buddies: 5
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Brief Author Bio: Greetings fellow writers. I cannot even convey my excitement at this particular time. Anticipation is rushing through my veins, plots and characters are possessing my thoughts, and my fingers are getting the keyboard-itch. I feel that a tempest is creeping closer as each day passes me by. There is a storm on the horizon, and right now I am in the thick of silence that comes before it. I yearn to meet this challenge, I crave the inevitable confrontation with the characters that are only just now nagging at my brain. Their voices ring out, demanding to be heard, to be written, to be given true life...and who am I to deny them? I anticipate that which is to come. Excitement pushes my heart towards its passion, my brain shoves me towards my demanding characters, my soul is whispering plots, and my muse is crying out with the wish to spread its wings and fly. Join me, fellow Novelist, and let our muses fly to the skies. |
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Synopsis: Never Too Late
The rain falls in torrents, glues his black clothes to his pale body. He breaks through a door, trespasses into a house, and yet the sirens haunt him still. Even inside the warm house, the danger of his ghosts do not release him, and he knows the cops will not abandon their hunt.
20 years old and unafraid, he calls himself Cove. Inside this house, Cove goes from the hidden, to the trapped, to the hostage, to the guest, and finally, to the skeleton in the closet. The households single resident protects and hurts him, binds him and frees him, yet holds him as a prisoner of his own hideout. At 72, she does not scare him, but she does worry him. He fears that her secret could, as he used to say with humor, be the end of him.
Night Silver's Writing Buddies
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