Artwork by Matt Priso - Instagram @ sik_abyss

This is a short sample from my second novel, tentatively titled Valley Ridge Dreamers

With a lonely feeling pulling at his heart, he entered the church again and sat at a pew beneath the cross. The church was empty, but he could smell the scent of recently extinguished candles. He closed and eyes, and said a long prayer for Cinzia. His father, Salvatore, no longer believed in prayer, so Duilio made up for his holy vacancy. He opened his eyes, and dropped the pearls and handful of silver coins into the collection plate and drank another chalice of communion wine while he read from Matthew 27:3–10. The only certainty he knew was that Cinzia would go to heaven, and the rest was up in the air. He took a deep breath, held his khaki duffel bag by his side and pushed the holy doors open. The sun had now risen from the west. The sky was turning blue from grey with each passing second, and sea eagles flew over the port where the navy ships were docked. He did a quick calculation, concluding that he must have nodded off after the prayer. The streets were still busy, revellers draining every moment they could before the realisation that they had 1981 to deal with. At first he didn’t notice the woman before him. Another step and he would have tripped over her. She sat on the mouldy church steps, moss was growing in the cracks. The woman was covering her face with her palms and seemed to be crying. Her blonde hair touched the bottom of her back, and she was dressed in a green coat that stopped at her shins. Below the coat, her legs were brown and trim, and beside her on the step was barbecue chicken on a stick.