Congratulations are in order for C. S. Donnell! Not only did she win first place in this year’s novel opening contest with her Deeper Colors entry, she also won second place. By the opening of her second entry, Blood Will Tell, have made her one of the few writers to be able to win two prizes within a single contest.
Though the first place winner is usually the one getting published on the blog and shared across our social media profiles, in honor of her achievement, we’re sharing both of the openings of her novels and hope you will support her with a purchase. Enjoy!
About C. S. Donnell
Carolyn Donnell resumed writing again in 2003 when she joined California Writers Club -South Bay Branch. They honored her in 2018 with the Matthews-Baldwin Award and CWC’s Jack London Award in 2019. She currently has two novels – Deeper Colors and Blood Will Tell (under C. S. Donnell), short stories and poems in various anthologies, and paintings on Fineartamerica. https://www.amazon.com/C-S-Donnell/e/B017GGDZTI https://carolyndonnell.wordpress.com
Deeper Colors by C. S. Donnell (first 1,000 words)
I’m French
Not the most appropriate setting for a funeral, Gina thought. She leaned back in her chair and gazed past the easel by the French doors to a garden overflowing with purple dwarf irises. The mild iris scent mixed with the delicate flowers of the crabapple trees blooming at the rear of the garden to proclaim the arrival of Vermont spring.
She unfastened the clip that held her hair away from her face. Honey-colored tresses cascaded halfway down her back. She ran her fingers through her hair before turning back to the priority mail package that contained several items: an unopened envelope stamped Return to Sender, a letter from the diocese, and a manila folder. The letter read:
Dear Miss Martin,
We are sorry to inform you that Father Bernard is no longer with us. His heart gave out last month. Your letter arrived after he went into hospice. The other materials were found in his belongings with your name on them. We have enclosed everything and offer you our condolences.
May God, the Father of all consolation, be with you in your sorrow and give you His light and His peace. Amen.
“Ohh.” A rough sigh escaped Gina’s lips. Father Bernard dead. Just like that. She crumpled the letter. Consolation? Light? Peace? One of the few people she had ever known who had any of those qualities was Father Bernard. And now he was gone.
She pitched the letter on the table and opened the folder. A child’s drawing fell out—the one she gave to Father Bernard the first time he had peeked in on her at the orphanage in Vermont where she grew up.
That day the social worker had pulled him aside and pointed to the corner table. “That’s Ginette. I can’t get through to her. Doesn’t talk much. Just draws all day long.”
They walked over to the little girl who sat hunched over a sheet of paper. Father Bernard reached for the drawing. “What do we have here?” Ginette jerked the paper away from his hand.
“She’s not very cooperative,” the worker complained.
“That’s OK,” the priest said in a quiet voice. “She doesn’t have to show me if she doesn’t want to.” He perched on one of the child-sized chairs and smiled.
Ginette stared at the man for a long time. “Who are you?” she finally asked. He offered her his hand. “I’m Father Bernard.”
She pointed to his hand and wrinkled her nose. “You have red paint on your finger.”
“You’re right. I was painting this morning and I didn’t get all the paint off. Thank you for telling me.”
Ginette tilted her head to one side. “Are you an artist?” He nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Me too.” She handed him her drawing.
He looked at the paper. “This is very good, Ginette.” “My name is Gina.”
“Of course, Gina. May I have this?” “Why?”
“I like it. I want to frame it and hang it in my office.” “You want to put my picture on your wall?”
“Yes, I do.” He looked at her over the top of his glasses. “If I may.” “You may.”
That day Father Bernard became her first art teacher, her mentor, and her solitary friend for many years. Gina felt a sudden chill. Her hand trembled
Blood Will Tell by C. S. Donnell (first 1,000 words)
Prologue
“You’ve found her? Where?” Ralph Cummings snatched a pen from the desk and scribbled on a notepad. “Got it. Stay put till I get there.” He slammed the phone down, stuffed the address into his pocket, and punched the intercom. “Bring the car around. Immediately!” He retrieved his revolver from the desk drawer.
Downstairs, Ralph handed the address to the chauffeur. “This is urgent,” Ralph said. “Step on it.” He slid into the back seat of the Mercedes. A little less than an hour later they pulled up to an apartment brownstone at the end of a private road.
“Wait here,” Ralph said to the driver. He waved to the private detective waiting on the steps. “Hey, Pete.”
Pete nodded and pointed to a second-floor window. “Is she alone?” Ralph asked.
“As far as I know. Haven’t seen anyone else.”
“Good.” Ralph fingered the gun in his coat pocket. “Let’s go!”
They entered the building and ran up the stairs to 2B. Ralph stepped behind Pete, who rang the doorbell.
“Who is it?” A woman’s voice answered.
“A messenger from your accountant’s office,” Pete replied. “Oh. Just a minute.”
The two men heard the sliding of a chain and saw the knob turn. A slender woman with long chestnut hair and hazel eyes opened the door. “Yes?”
Ralph stepped out from behind Pete.
“You! Get out!” she screamed and tried to slam the door, but Pete forced it open. Ralph entered and shouted, “You goddammed whore!”
The woman whimpered and backed away.
“Thought you could get away, did you? You and your lover.” Ralph sneered as he looked into her eyes. He paused. Those eyes always reminded him of a doe in the forest, beautiful, radiant.
He inhaled sharply and shook his head. “No!” He grabbed her arm. “You’re not getting away this time, Julianna. You’re mine and you’re coming home with me.”
“Let go!”
“You even left your daughter.” “Amy? What have you done to her?”
“Don’t worry, she’s off to boarding school. They’ll take good care of her there.” And she’ll be out of my hair, he thought.
“Boarding school? No! You can’t.” Julianna swung her fist at Ralph. “You bastard.” Ralph twisted her arm behind her back and slammed her into the wall. “Can and have.”
“Ohh!” Julianna moaned and tried to pull away. “You can’t stop me, Ralph.” “Oh yes I can,” he whispered in her ear. Ralph shouted at Pete. “Now!”
Pete pulled a syringe out of his pocket. Julianna screamed.
Ralph pulled out his gun. “Don’t make me use this.”
Pete stepped forward. It only took seconds for the drug to take effect. “Do you want me to get her things now?” Pete asked.
“No. just find her apartment key. You can come back later for the rest.” “Here.” Pete held up a keychain. He tried the keys in the front door. One fit.
“Good. Help me.” Ralph pulled Julianna’s arm around his shoulder and motioned to Pete to do the same on the other side. They guided her limp body back to the limo.
“In the back,” Ralph nodded toward the passenger door. They deposited Julianna in the back seat and joined her. The Mercedes returned to the estate.
“Pull around to the back,” Ralph ordered the chauffeur. “Stop by the cellar door.”
Pete helped Ralph get the still unconscious Julianna out of the car. He held her while Ralph opened the door to the basement. They descended to the cellar.
“Over there.” Ralph motioned to a Victorian wardrobe that sat in the shadows against the far wall. He grabbed a flashlight off a shelf and opened the creaky doors. He pointed a beam of light up the twisting staircase.
“How far up does it go?” Pete craned his neck to look up into the darkness. “Looks like forever from here.”
“All the way to the top of the tower—three-and-a-half stories.”
They lugged Julianna to the top of the staircase and followed a faded orange carpet to a door at the end of the dim hall.
Juliana whimpered as they threw her on the bed. “I’ll stay here,” Ralph said. “You go down and get the housekeeper. Bring her up the front stairs. And hurry. Only the housekeeper. Don’t mention this to anyone else.” Ralph looked at Pete. “Got that?”
Pete nodded.
Ralph pointed to the table by the bed. “And leave the syringe
Download your copies of Deeper Colors or Blood Will Tell now.
