WIP Gangers


I’ve been working on this Urban Paranormal story for a while, tweaking things here and there. This is just the second drift so be forgiving.  I have a WIP Blurb, and cover for this as well.


Do you know yourself really know who you are? When you look in the mirror do you see the person you believe yourself to be or is it just an illusion you want to show to others?

Harman Campbell believes he’s a good guy who loves his wife Sasha. But like most people, Harman has a side to his nature that he keeps hidden, a darkness that he nurtures in the shadowy recesses of his soul. What’s done in the dark will come to the light.

Short Synopsis

I caught it, the sudden pucker of their brows, which quickly vanished after they gave each other a quick look, before turning to stare back at us.

Now I knew they weren’t my fans. After all, I looked like some thug on the street. I wore my pants low on my hips to expose my underwear, if it hadn’t been for the long white tee that had gangster M&M’s on the front that I had slightly tucked in the front of the pants.

I wasn’t a thug. I was dressed that way so not to stand out in my neighborhood. It was a play on fashion, not my lifestyle. Sure, I had done some dirt in my youth, which got me put away for a year. But since then, I had turned my life around and was walking the straight and narrow.

Although they had given me the look, I extended my hand to Mr. Jones. “Pop!”

His apprehensive expression didn’t sway me. I’ve seen it on the faces of too many prospective managers over the course of several months. Yet they kept seeing me coming.

So, he didn’t care for me. Yea I knew it, probably wondered if I could care for his daughter, but he took my hand anyway smiling.

“Welcome to the family son,” he said.   Mrs. Jones kissed me on the cheek and gave me a not-so false smile.

“Well, it looks like I’m going to have some beautiful grandchildren,” she said patting my cheek, not on my face.

“Mama!” Sasha blushed.

I’m handsome, no doubt; my dark skin complements my broad features perfectly. I’m right at six feet two, with broad shoulders, thick thighs and six-pack ABS. I’m not slim, but I’m not thick either, ‘just somewhere in the middle of fine,’ Sasha liked to say, so had a lot of other women.

“I’m so happy,” Sasha said, after her parents congratulated us.  Despite not seeing their obvious disapproval, she had entwined her arm around mine, beaming.

Shit, I didn’t care what her parents thought of me, at that moment, I was happy too.

Copyright © 2013 Glynis Rankin


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