Posted in 1950s, Couples, Fourth Russian novel, Historical fiction, Writing

WeWriWa—The joy of handholding

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. This week’s snippet comes a bit after last week’s, from Chapter 55, “The Streets of the Future,” of my WIP A Dream Deferred: Lyuba and Ivan at University. This chapter, which closes Part I (to be published as Volume I), is mostly set over Orthodox Christmas 1950.

Twenty-year-old Bogdana Sheltsova, who survived two horrific, life-altering events six weeks apart, is now living with her aunt Fyodora in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn. She didn’t expect her friend Achilles to visit with roses and a necklace after their awkward last encounter in the underground clinic where Achilles assists.

After a very emotional discussion, Bogdana agreed to be his girlfriend. As they leave the room, Bogdana extends her hand. Hugging is still a bridge too far after what happened to her, but she feels safe with handholding.

Sparks of electricity flow through her when Achilles takes her hand. She used to deride handholding as kid stuff, something real men don’t bother doing, but now it’s the most exciting sensation in the world. She’s not holding just anyone’s hand, but the hand of the man who loves her, cherishes her, treasures her, adores her. Bogdana tries not to think about how she might not’ve met Achilles had it not been for the attack.

“Bogusya’s my girlfriend now,” Achilles announces proudly. “I hope you don’t mind me coming to visit her every day from now on.”

Fyodora smiles at him. “Of course you can do that. Only a man in love would travel to another borough and back every single day. As soon as Bogusya’s mind is recovered enough to go back to her old apartment, you’ll have a shorter commute.”

Posted in 1950s, Couples, Fourth Russian novel, Historical fiction, Writing

WeWriWa—Privacy requested

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. This week’s snippet comes right after last week’s, from Chapter 55, “The Streets of the Future,” of my WIP A Dream Deferred: Lyuba and Ivan at University. This chapter, which closes Part I (to be published as Volume I), is mostly set over Orthodox Christmas 1950.

Twenty-year-old Bogdana Sheltsova, who survived two horrific, life-altering events six weeks apart, is now living with her aunt Fyodora in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn. She didn’t expect her friend Achilles to visit with roses and a gift bag after their awkward last encounter in the underground clinic where Achilles assists.

Bogdana is stunned Achilles got her a necklace after the lecture he gave her about proper doctor-patient relationships yesterday. Fyodora is just as stunned when Bogdana references a request that was purely medical, not sexual.

This has been tweaked to fit ten lines.

“Whatever I asked for didn’t happen, since Mr. Medved refused it like a goody-two-shoes.”

Achilles puts his hand on Bogdana’s shoulder. “About that request. I thought of a way I can fulfill it, but only with certain conditions. I can tell you more about my ideas in private.” He looks meaningfully at Fyodora. “Mrs. Lebedeva-Godimova, may we go to the guesthouse or another room? There are certain things I don’t want an audience privy to.”

“Of course, so long as you stay in the house. As much as I trust you, I don’t want you and Bogusya alone in the guesthouse.”

Posted in 1950s, Couples, Fourth Russian novel, Historical fiction, Writing

WeWriWa—A surprising gift

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. This week’s snippet comes right after last week’s, from Chapter 55, “The Streets of the Future,” of my WIP A Dream Deferred: Lyuba and Ivan at University. This chapter, which closes Part I (to be published as Volume I), is mostly set over Orthodox Christmas 1950.

Twenty-year-old Bogdana Sheltsova, who survived two horrific, life-altering events six weeks apart, is now living with her aunt Fyodora in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn. She didn’t expect her friend Achilles to visit with roses and a gift bag after their last encounter in the underground clinic where Achilles assists.

Achilles insists he sees Bogdana as a beautiful soul who’s just barely begun to breathe, but Bogdana can’t bring herself to share those sentiments. Her aunt just stepped in to invite Achilles to go skating with them at Prospect Park.

This has been tweaked to fit ten lines.

“Sure, that’ll be fun, and perhaps Bogusya would like a skating partner.” Achilles smiles at her again. “Please, Bogusya, open the bag; I want you to see what I got you.”

Bogdana reaches into the bag and pulls out a blue velvet box. When she opens that, she finds a flat, heart-shaped rose quartz on a silver chain.

“You’re getting a patient jewelry? That really violates the doctor-patient relationship! At least I made the request I did in a purely medical context, and didn’t see it as sexual at all!”

Fyodora raises her eyebrows. “What in the world did you ask for yesterday, or don’t I want to know?”

Posted in 1950s, Couples, Fourth Russian novel, Historical fiction, Writing

WeWriWa—A soul who’s just begun breathing

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. This week’s snippet comes right after last week’s, from Chapter 55, “The Streets of the Future,” of my WIP A Dream Deferred: Lyuba and Ivan at University. This chapter, which closes Part I (to be published as Volume I), is mostly set over Orthodox Christmas 1950.

Twenty-year-old Bogdana Sheltsova, who survived two horrific, life-altering events six weeks apart, is now living with her aunt Fyodora in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn. She didn’t expect her friend Achilles to visit with roses and a gift bag after their last encounter in the underground clinic where Achilles assists.

Achilles, so named because his heel was torn up by forceps at birth, has just told Bogdana there’s no such thing as getting a lady too many flowers.

“I’m no lady, and you damn well know it. I’m a cheap slut who disgraced herself, not once, but many times.”

“I’ve never seen you like that at all.” Achilles smiles at her. “I’ve always seen you as a beautiful soul who’s just barely begun to breathe.”

“I’m a damaged slut.” Bogdana takes the flowers into the kitchen and fills a vase with water.

“Mr. Medved, we’re going skating in Prospect Park,” Fyodora says. “Would you like to accompany us? They can rent you skates if you don’t have your own.”

Posted in 1950s, Couples, Fourth Russian novel, Historical fiction, holidays, Writing

WeWriWa—Bogdana’s Christmas surprise

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Welcome back to Weekend Writing Warriors and Snippet Sunday, weekly Sunday hops where writers share 8–10 sentences from a book or WIP. For my Orthodox Christmas-themed snippet this year, I’m sharing something from Chapter 55, “The Streets of the Future,” of my WIP A Dream Deferred: Lyuba and Ivan at University. This chapter, which closes Part I (to be published as Volume I), is mostly set over Orthodox Christmas 1950.

Twenty-year-old Bogdana Sheltsova, who survived two horrific, life-altering events six weeks apart, is now living with her aunt Fyodora in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn. Bogdana mostly lives in the guesthouse, but she’s been prevailed upon to join her aunt’s family in the main estate for Christmas. Her discussion with her aunt about wearing old-fashioned skating boots to Prospect Park was interrupted by the doorbell.

This has been slightly altered to fit ten lines.

Bogdana goes back to the Christmas tree in the sitting room when Fyodora goes to answer the door. She has no intention of trading her ankle-length grey wool dress for a skating outfit she can comfortably move in, and doesn’t care if she’s the most unfashionable person on the rink. Those people ought to be more concerned with their own affairs instead of gossiping about someone else’s.

“Bogusya, Dyed Moroz has a surprise present for you!” Fyodora calls.

Bogdana clenches her fists. “Don’t tell me you paid some old man to dress up like Dyed Moroz and come to deliver a gift. I’m too old for that silliness, and even if I still believed in Dyed Moroz, nothing could change my melancholic mood. The die was cast that disgusting night, and nothing can ever change it.”

“Please, come take a look at your present before you decide it’s worthless; something tells me you’ll really, really like it.”

Bogdana returns to the front entryway, and immediately looks away when she sees Achilles standing there, holding a large bouquet of red roses in his right hand and a small gift bag in his left hand.