Back to writing my new dystopian novel. Just finished chapter 15 (of something like 50 chapters). I’ve already got the cover photo but am still toying around with possible titles. Here’s a short fragment from the draft of chapter 15. Don’t worry, it is not all like this!
A shout went up nearby and they could hear the pounding of running boots. “Get in!” Nan order. “Feet first.” He did as he was told, letting go of the rim of the shoot with some trepidation. The passage was pitch black and an ugly smell rose from within. The shoot angled away steeply, turning as it did, till he flew out the end and landed with a sickening thud atop a slimy heap. The shock of the landing was lessened by the stinking mess he fell on. When he put out his hand to push himself up it sank uselessly into the rotting food. Hearing Nan sliding down above him he rolled to the side, just in time to avoid a collision. Her arrival sent a shower of gunge spraying all over him.
As he finally managed to escape the decaying heap and clambered to his feet, he had only one wish: to be rid of the sticky muck that clung to him and his clothes. His hands were plastered with the stuff. He couldn’t even wipe his face clean.