Website: http://www.timothydavisauthor.com/

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Pacifica, CA, United States
Tim Davis got into trouble at age 12 for reading Treasure Island under his blankets by flashlight when he was supposed to be sleeping. When he grew up, he pursued his love of children’s literature by earning a PhD in English and teaching Children’s Literature at university. He left academia in order to move to the San Francisco Bay Area and teach elementary school under an emergency program that let college graduates teach if they worked in the inner city. Tim Davis still lives in the Bay Area with his family, and recently began writing a series of children’s books that he hopes will get some other kids in trouble for reading under the blankets with a flashlight.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

A Sample of Sea Cutter


I disappeared into my cabin, opened the hatch, and crawled down to Snake.
“Now’s the time,” I whispered, slitting his bonds.
With my dagger at his back, I made him climb topside and drove him to the side of the Sea Cutter.
“Tell me where you hid the letter, then jump off.”
He turned around and folded his arms with a cocky expression. “I’ve changed my mind.”
“You can’t change your mind!”
“I can’t swim. I’d rather face Wayland.”
“You’re not going to see Wayland.”
“I could shout for him.”
“Go over.” I held the dagger to his chest.
“You see, Nat,” he grinned, “we are alike. You’re ready to drown a man. You’re a murderer like me.”
“I’m not at all like you!” I hit him across the jaw with the flat of the dagger.
His head snapped back, his eyes rolled up, and he fell backward into the water. A minute passed. Three. Five. He didn’t rise.
My fury vanished. What had I done? I’d knocked a man out, sending him to die.
A pistol shot rang, an impact hitting my back. Time slowed. My dagger fell, flipping leisurely. Then the green water slowly came to meet me as I tumbled over. The sunlit roof of water closed above me like slow curtains. The bullet in my back throbbed as I sank deeper into the darkness.
Then I remembered what lay at the bottom of that darkness—Snake’s corpse. My foot hit sand and, terrified, I shoved myself upward.
A cold dead hand gripped my ankle.
The last of my air went out in a silent scream.

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