Here is a piece of poetic fiction within my WIP, my new book- a moment of disaster:
Out back of Back Fork, at the Cogar Cottage, Timmy waited for the plumber. He sat on the front porch, drinking a sweet tea.
As he stepped inside to check the time...he heard a gushing whoosh.
He tried to open the back door, but a chaotic wave crashed through the walls...splintering pine, hemlock, and hardwood-thrown matchsticks...ice chunks, water, debris busting boards...the man with a wad of bills in his pocket thrown up against studs...the white-whirl sweeping him out to the street, chucked like a limp doll against a fence, where he settled, broken and bleeding...
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