I’m checking out covers for my upcoming book Willow’s Cry. I’ve found a few base photos for the cover, but I can’t post one of them as I haven’t purchased it yet! Here are a couple I’m looking at. No decision yet, I’m trying to figure out photo shop! The program I use for teasers doesn’t put out good enough graphics to create a cover. So I learn photo shop or I pay someone to do the cover. I have time. Willow’s Cry is out with some of my beta readers, still needs edits and I have to do a blurb. Ack.
So, let me see if I can find a semi decent excerpt…
Alex could see the effects of the storm as he got closer to the river running down the mountain. The older, weaker trees sported downed limbs, cracked where the wind ripped them away. The breeze made its way through the branches above seemed to whisper an apology at their cries.
Alex slowed, looking around. The damage horrific. Trees ripped up and torn out. Many others damaged, missing limbs, leaves and scorched in places. Mother Nature released a hell of a tantrum. The river muddy, rushing away debris swirling in it from higher up the mountain. It looked like a tornado hit. His breath rushed out. He’d never seen this much damage from a storm before. Alex could feel his heart ache as it beat, matching the rhythm of weeping wrapping around him.
Alex stopped, appalled at the sight, saddened at the cruel hand of Gaia. Head bowed, aching along with the trees, Alex swore he heard his name cried. Looking up, a grand old oak cantered over on its side, half of its roots ripped from the ground. Held up by a cracked and damaged willow tree.
Again, he heard his name and the eerie weeping seemed to lodge inside of him. Alex took a step forward, not knowing why, but needing to answer the call. He moved toward the tree and a man stepped toward him materializing from the trunk. Injured and dazed he reached toward Alex. Alex looked him at him and gasped. Stepping forward, he gently pulled him in his arms, careful not to injure him further.
“Alexander.” His name came out on a sigh from his father’s lips. “I need your help.”
“Here. Rest here and let me set up my tent.” Alex helped his father sit, letting him rest against the oak. He could see him change as he touched the tree, his skin changing to match the trunk. Alex pulled off his backpack and quickly set up his tent and sleeping bag.
“Alexander, you have to help Willow.” His father’s voice weak, thready.
“Father, let me help you first, then I will help the willow.” His father bowed his head, pain in his features and nodded. Alex could still hear the weeping echo through the trees, a sound of unutterable sadness. “Come, please. Lay down.”
“Alexander, I need to stay with my tree. If I have any hope of surviving, I have to stay with my tree.” A whisper from the man whose voice always boomed out whenever he spoke.
“I don’t understand.” Dazed, Alex sat next to him. How could this be real? “What are you? Why…how did you do that?”