The last few (several) days have been plot-work days for my novel. I just couldn't write any more until I had a clue where all this was going. So I'm not going to 'win' NaNoWriMo. That's cool, because I haven't lost anything, either. Instead, I've gained a novel with a plot, that's just waiting for me to write it. This particular chapter, from which today's excerpt comes, is tricky. I've had to move carefully with this one, and it has taken a lot of thought. It's important.
Abraham Archer woke to the feeling of being watched. He kept his eyes closed and his breath deep and even. He kept his body relaxed, and just listened.
Whoever it was, wasn’t making any noise at all. He knew they were there, though. He could feel them. They were – there – at the foot of his bed. Just one of them, watching him. It was – male – and – old – old enough to manifest visually. But it wouldn’t do that. It was being cautious.
Archer opened his eyes. Sure enough, there was no trace of the spirit who had watched him. He didn’t get the impression that this was a spirit which would be easily cowed, or prone to timidity. Was he so strange, even the spirits found him frightening? He got out of bed and began dressing. As he pulled his clothes on, he began talking quietly, almost to himself. He spoke of his first two days in Bisbee – how he had bought a horse that he hadn’t yet ridden, how he had found treasure in the library and a gem in the cafe. As he shaved in the bathroom mirror, he spoke between swipes, about his appreciation of the fine people he had met and the impressive amenities of the hotel. Finally, Archer expressed his gratitude for the hotel’s hospitality. Then he slipped out the door, leaving his room to the spirits.