I’m participating in the Weekend Writing Warrior, a weekly blog event during which writers share 8 sentences of one of their projects. You should check out the others right here: http://www.wewriwa.com/. I share this post with the Snippet Sunday Facebook group, which you can find here.
We’re back with another excerpt of my steampunk novel, Oil and Boiling Water (previous excerpts here, here, here, here, here and here). We’ve skipped a short conversation between Tatiana and the coachman and pick up after she’s decided to hire his services.
I hopped over a dark rivulet flowing down the street. The coachman helped me to my seat, and then returned behind the wheel. As we sped down the pavement, he offered me a handkerchief over the back of his seat. The grease of his last meals marred the fabric and sent a shudder down my spine.
“I doubt a tiny piece of cotton can gobble up the rivers weighing down my skirts.”
My gaze wandered beyond the window clouded by the rain. I had read stories of the years before steam-power grew in popularity, years when London wasn’t coated in coal residue. Apart from a yearly trip to Calais for the regatta, I hadn’t been out of Britannia, and a part of me wished I didn’t have to escape it for a few months.
Comments and critiques are welcomed!