Michele Barrow-Belisle
Apr 27, 2016 | YA, 1st pages
“You look exhausted, Mrs. Johnston.”
I stared into her sunken eyes, rimmed with dark circles. My joints ached for a split second and then subsided. I saw the redness and swelling… the stiffness… They flashed like snapshots in my mind. Instantly I knew her fingers ached when she played the piano, and I knew her stomach ulcer kept her up at night. One touch could take it all away. But Gran had enforced the keep-your-hands-to-yourself rule at an early age.
“Oh, Lorelei, you know… story of my life, hon.” She glanced up at the oversized, walnut-framed blackboard with the specials scrawled in chalk, and handed me her menu. “Bring me the usual, will you? And a slice of that famous lemon pie?”
“You got it.”
The café was swamped tonight, the sudden cold snap meant lots of aches and flu bugs. People flocked to the Lemon Balm Café and Tea House for the ambiance as much as they did for the herbal tea.
I poured steaming water into the clear glass teapot. This wasn’t your typical English breakfast blend. Well, it was… but with a few extras added in. Then again, this wasn’t your typical tea house, and I wasn’t your typical teen. Not even close.
The freak label got smacked on my forehead long before I understood what it meant to be a clairsentient empathic healer. Basically, I can see when people are in pain, and well… heal them. Being gifted might sound great; but it’s meant a lifetime of trying to hide what I can do, and why, just to blend. In a town the size of Drearyton Cove, population sixty-three hundred, blending, was nearly impossible. After the quote-unquote incident, it was safer to leave the healing to Gran’s secret blend of teas.
“Witnessing a child who could heal with the touch of a hand would be too much for people around here,” she’d said. And so I listened — mostly — keeping my hands to myself, and staying far away from sports, parties, and people, which were no more than accidents waiting to happen. Not only for the obvious reasons: accidents meant injuries, injuries meant blood. Nothing made me hit the floor faster than that bitter, metallic stench of blood.
J. L. Hendricks
Apr 27, 2016 | YA, 1st pages
Prologue
I couldn’t believe my eyes; I blinked them twice to make sure it wasn’t the smog messing me up. The group of guys in front of me had to be going to a costume party, or coming from the Comic-Con that was in town this week. Or maybe, they just finished filming a scene for an upcoming Hollywood blockbuster?
I tried to get a little closer to see the make-up they were wearing to go with their incredible clothes. They had to be on a movie shoot, no average joe was going to be wearing those black ops warrior clothes, even on the streets of L.A. I strained to sneak a look around without anyone catching me. I hate the thought of someone thinking I’m a stalker.
Hendricks, J.L. (2016-04-05). Eclipse of the Warrior: The Interdimensional Saga (Book 1) (Kindle Locations 41-48). . Kindle Edition.
Robin Gregory
Apr 22, 2016 | YA, 1st pages
Chapter 1
Saint Moojie
Vi Zetterwall
Apr 22, 2016 | YA, 1st pages
The future is not predestined. The universe is not undisciplined. The events that change history occur because one soul stood up when all others sat down. The seed of greatness is planted in every human being at birth. Many fall on fallow ground and fail to take hold. Some sprout and stand up when happenstance and serendipity find them in the right place at the right time. They seize the moment, but often their deeds are short-lived. Now and then one is nurtured slowly over many years. Through time and hardship, that seed blooms. It grows straight; it grows firm; it grows strong; and a patient universe waits.
A golden hue bathed her in soothing warm light. The light surrounded her, enveloped her, calmed her very soul.
Somehow she knew she had to make an important decision, but she couldn’t quite grasp what was being asked of her. If she could just understand, she could make the right choice…
A sharp pounding tore through her reverie, ripping her away from the balmy golden light and into chilling darkness.
Cassie shot up, her heart pounding. It hadn’t been the scariest dream, yet cold sweat coated her body, trickling down her temples. The thudding in her ears kept her from hearing her grandmother’s voice.
“Ah, who could that be at this time’a night?”
Nana Rose got up from her thin mattress on the low lying cot, her knees cracking, her body wobbling. Cassie was still too disoriented from her dream to be of much help.
Stacy H. Pan
Apr 18, 2016 | YA, 1st pages
I wake. There is pain; so much pain. Intense pain that originates from the base of my neck and spreads through my entire body like a poison. I feel paralyzed by the searing heat on my skin. A scream pierces my ears and the smell of burning flesh assaults my nostrils as the scorching sensation continues. All I see of my surroundings is the white marble floor staring back at me. It doesn’t matter though, as I can’t focus.
I can’t focus on anything except the agony. My stomach feels sick and, involuntarily, I retch, but nothing comes out. I try to move my body, to somehow stop the intensive ache, but I can’t. My body is restrained. Grogginess fills my head and my eyes grow weak. I try hard to keep them open. I want to find out what is causing me to feel such torment. The fatigue comes over me like a wave and although I try to fight it, I can’t. Everything goes black.
I don’t know how much time has passed when I open my eyes again. I am blinded by a bright light. My eyes shut, squinting tightly. Slowly, I open them again and let my eyes adjust. I feel a shiver travel all over my body. I am cold. So very cold. A slick, piece of metal jabs into my body, creating a numbing sensation as though I have been on this table for a very long time. Then I realize I'm naked. Oh my gosh! Why am I naked? I have a sense of urgency to cover myself. I look around to see if there is anything I can use to shelter my nakedness. My mission is quickly forgotten when I see a boy on a table next to me. He is also naked and doesn’t appear to be awake. I try to sit up, but straps around my chest, waist, and legs hold me in place. I look around as much as I am able and in my limited visibility, I see people, male and female alike, lying naked on metal tables.
As I look around, I try to recall where I am and how I got here, but come up with nothing. I try to remember something, anything that can help me discover what happened to me, but my mind is blank. I decide to test my knowledge and start peering at the things I can see in my view. I name off items in my head: computers, tables, people, ceiling, walls, lights, doors. This tells me that I have basic knowledge of my surroundings, so why can I not remember anything about me?
Mike Shelton
Apr 15, 2016 | YA, 1st pages
Chapter One
THE FLAME
Darius San Williams followed his best friend, Kelln El’Han, down the dark stairway in the back of the school library. Black boots clicked on wooden steps, stirring up dust. The stairs curved away from the lighted doorway and darkness met the two young men down below.
Hearing voices from above, Darius pushed himself back against the wall. Muttering, he mentally punched himself for following on another of Kelln’s harebrained adventures. He had known Kelln now for five years, since entering the academy at thirteen years old. Normally one to obey the rules, he hoped beyond reason that he wouldn’t find himself standing in front of his father, trying to explain how the two of them had found trouble once again.
“I thought I closed this door before we left for lunch,” said an older lady with a hoarse voice from the top of the stairs.
“You should’ve slid the shelf back over the opening,” a younger snappy voice answered back. “We’re going to get in big trouble.”
“What? You think someone went down there?” said the first. “No one would be crazy enough to do that. It’s too dark down there.”
“All we were supposed to do was to get one of the history books for King Edward from the private storage and close things back up,” interrupted the second lady. “No one is supposed to know the doorway is even here. You weren’t even supposed to tell me, except you were too afraid to go by yourself.”
Only a few yards away, down the stairway, Darius continued to hold his muscles taut. His dark bangs hung just above his grey eyes. The two young men were just out of sight of the ladies at the top of the stairs and strained to hear their whispered voices.
