Matthew Alexander Garrett leans against his car, one foot on the road, one resting on the door frame. He’s trying to decide what to do. More accurately, he’s already decided what to do, and he’s waiting for the rational part of his mind to give in to the idea.
August nights are hot and wet, and what little light spills out from the car interior shines off the fine layer of sweat covering Matthew’s face and neck. Dark eyes gaze out at the trees along the shoulder of the road; lean hands brush absently at damp, dark hair. The air is heavy with honeysuckle, humidity, and dew; the scent is rich if you like honeysuckle, cloying if you don’t. Matthew does.
It’s late, he’s tired, he wants to be home. The moon is hidden, the night is heavy and thick, the only light he sees comes from his headlights. The road stretches on, invisible, coming into view only at the edge of his high beams with a startling suddenness that makes him feel like he’s driving too fast, which is true.
Waaaaay back when I first started posting fiction I used to post podcasts of every episode I published. You can still go through the archives and listen to my original attempts at recording Pay Me, Bug! -- if you insist -- though when I listen to them these days, I die a little inside.
Having all my fiction in audiobook format is something I really want to happen. My preferred solution for this is to get a brilliant narrator to read all my stories, bringing each character to life. Unfortunately, right now my budget for narrators is...