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About the author
cacopeland
Novel: Shady Rest
Genre: Mainstream Fiction
5,533 words so far  

About cacopeland

Location: Columbia, SC

Home Region:
United States :: South Carolina :: Columbia

Age:41

Website: http://www.cacopeland.com

Favorite novels: HitchHikers Guide to the Galaxy, EarthCore, Infected, Nocturnal, Spherical Tomi, 7th Son, Brave Men Run

Favorite writers: Mur Lafferty, Scott Sigler, JC Hutchins, Matthew Wayne Selznick, Douglas Adams, Dean Koontz

Favorite music: Groove Salad (somafm.com), smooth jazz

Non-noveling interests: computers, blogging, frisbee, RPGs, gaming

Joined: October 26, 2008

This Year: Official Participant

NaNoWriMo History:

NaNoWriMo posts: 0

NaNoWriMo buddies: 0

 

Brief Author Bio:

My day job is a Technical Services Manager for an Architectural Steel manufacturer in Columbia, SC. I have 16 years of experience in Systems/Network Administration, Project Management, Messaging/Groupware Administration, Security Analysis, and IT Business Analysis.

During the Summer of 2007, my family spent 5 months in Nairobi, Kenya while my wife did research for her PhD in Medical and Cultural Anthropology. While we were living in Kenya, I realized an unfulfilled need to write. So, I began one project and planned another: the first is a fantasy/scifi novel I have been tossing around in my mind for some time and the second is a memoir of my grandparents and their farm.

Shady Rest.gif
Synopsis: Shady Rest

The time I spent on my Grandparents' farm when I was young, was peaceful, exciting, adventurous and more free than about any other time since. For my mother, to remember her youth on the farm, and my children, to have a glimpse of my childhood and the simpler time, and for me, to remind me why and how much the farm means to me, I remember and share with others.

Excerpt: Shady Rest

My eyes fly open as I awake with a jerk. On my back, I lay in the bed listening for the cause of my rousing. I hear nothing but my own breathing and the "bom, bom, bom" of my heart.. My eyes adjust to the dim light filtering in through the window next to the bed. As I peer outside, the moon has already set, so the only light is from the myriad of stars glittering in the clear dark sky.
I sit up and scan the room. The double bed is spacious when sleeping only one. Though the night is dark and clear, the air is warm to the point of being close. The window to my left is propped up and open by a two foot long piece of two-by-two. The window screen prevents the insects from entering the room but blocks none of the non-existent breeze. Sitting up in the bed, I let slip the single white sheet speckled in an ornate gold flower print and the air has a pleasant cool touch hinting at a time. It won't be long until dawn brings morning to the sky.The dark paneled walls, white tiled ceiling, and white doors sporting black iron knobs and locks are plain but have a beauty born of utility. The chest and armoire flanking the door in front of the bed, dresser with mirror to my right, and headboard on which I am leaning are painted a pale shade of lime, matching the curtains.
At last, the sound that summoned me out of the land of dreams into the darkness of the bedroom drifts in through the window. The sound confirms my feeling about the time. I now know that it is about half past four in the morning, for that is the time the train comes through. Very faintly, if I concentrate, I can pick out the sounds of the wheels clattering on the tracks. The train's whistle sounds again, its lonely call echos off the mountain behind the house and off the ridge on the other side of the valley, sounding as if the night were answering in return its own lonely call. Feeling that all is right with the world, I slip back under the single sheet and drift back to sleep while the train calls and slips further away on its own journey through the clear dark night.

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