Novels have inside stories and outside stories, sometimes more than one. There are stories that reveal themselves all at once, and others that are a puzzle. My new book The Third Angel is filled with secrets. Some characters keep secrets from the people they love best. Some keep them from themselves.
Here is a clue to the identity of the Third Angel. Sign my guestbook and I'll send out other clues.
I heard something at my window. I thought it was snow falling, or birds calling, or branches hitting against the glass. I had been betrayed by someone I loved. Because of that I was sick of human race. All I could think of was how people went behind your back, lied to you, gave you gifts that looked like gold but were made of straw.
I heard it again at my window. I knew someone wanted to come in. I wondered if I had lost my soul, if someone or something had now been sent to collect it. I had most certainly lost something in being betrayed. I couldn't find it again because I didn't know what it was.
I thought I heard someone say my name even though the window was closed. Not the name I went by now, but my childhood nickname, a name I didn't use anymore. I looked out and saw a man. It was cold. The sky was filled with stars. I had one thing left from the person who had betrayed me. A black coat. When I thought of him I thought of that coat and how he looked in it. Now I grabbed it from the closet and brought it outside. The man in the snow was waiting for someone to save him, so I did. I helped him on with the coat.
When he walked away I thanked him for his gift. Now when I thought of that coat I wouldn't remember my betrayer. Instead I'd think of the man in the snow and the way he came to save me.