15 chapter openings from my manuscript-in-progress without any further context
As golden hour ebbed, two figures occupied opposite ends of a screened-in porch like they had been sentenced to it: a woman settling into middle-age, and her grandmother.
The interstate stretched out like the wide gray sky was pressing it into submission.
Cash feared that his idyllic dream had been an anomaly but the following night, he returned to the island landscape.
Grieving families in Ink Hollow assembled at a local mortuary operating out of a white, two-story house.
John Naiwi’s first and only visit to the mainland nearly burned him down.
“Well, did you see her?” Mama asked.
When Cash awoke, a feeble dawn was seeping in around the curtains in the living room.
Mr. Engler opened the door, squinting at Cash standing on his doorstep in the weak, wintery light, carrying his daughter’s backpack.
Hundreds of churches dotted the Ozarks, from Baptist and Catholic to Church of Christ and Missouri Synod Lutheran, outnumbering grocery stores, bars, and schools.
The bus that night was modern and, apart from Cash and the driver, empty.
Violet Kerr traveled to the Missouri Territory to settle land advertised as unclaimed.
As the countryside slept, Cash sped towards Ink Hollow, his headlights the only bright spot in the landscape.
Cash had never noticed the Springs Bridge Housing Center before: a squat, hostile box of a cinder block building with no windows.
The labyrinth of roots was backlit by a soft glow, as if Cash was burrowing through embers.
Fifth-born and named for her auntie, Hali‘a was the six-great-granddaughter of Kamakali‘ihonua.
