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Meet the Author's Author
Live for Jesus! That's what matters! That you see the light in me and come along! :)

Sunday, May 29, 2011

No-Win War ~ Jane Johnson

Hey guys, check this cut from my first chapter of a new novel - No-Win War. :D Critique away!

No-Win War
By Jane Johnson

Chapter One

“We’re at war with them, as far as I’m concerned,” I said, my voice flat. “Always have been, and always will be.”

The two of them stared at me. I read faint disgust in their faces as they bowed their heads and backed out of my room.

“Ole Habo. He just doesn’t have an inkling that times CAN change.”

“No; he’s too stuck in that past of his. We’re a new generation, and things can be different. He’ll see, someday.”

“What did you say?” I called after them, but they had moved beyond hearing range.

With a weary sigh, I turned and shuffled back to my cosy leaves. The very fact they called me old signified that this new generation that I didn’t really know had lost respect for me.

Why do they even bother coming to ask advice? All they do is mock at it, even though I know better than they, and then go and pass a contrary decision in that new fangled Parley-ant of theirs.

I’m well aware that my time as Domi-Ant has all but ended, but they seem to like keeping up an illusion.

I snuggled back under my leaves.

Time to drift back off to sleep.

“Domi? Domi Habo?”

Ugh. Why did I need to be woken now?

The voice, thin and tremulous, belonged to a new attendant who’d been assigned by Parley-ant to assist me. I made an annoyed sound and stretched.

“I’m sorry, Domi Habo. They told me to wake you.”

Told me. That says it all.

“Yes, yes, Fisky. What is it?”

“I’m not really sure, Domi. They said you’re needed to attend.”

“Who said?” I queried as he helped me dust off and rise to my shaky legs, knowing what it had to be.

“Parley-ant, Domi.”

I hated that new group almost as much as I hated the lifelong enemies of my blood. Of our blood. Because, in spite of the younger generation’s refusal to believe it, they hated us without end.

“What right has Parley-ant got to get an old chap out of bed?” I grumbled to Fisky as he helped me down the sandy passages. “I need sleep. They make all the rules without listening to what I say most of the time, anyway.”

Fisky made a non-descript noise of agree/disagree. Of course, the poor boy couldn’t do anything else. He was paid by the group he knew I hated, and I was pretty sure half his job was to spy on me.