I finally have it, what I wanted most in the world. The veiled man ready. Right in front of me, I could grasp it. Imprison his breath. Touch the grey fabric that felt like thick cobwebs, hiding the grey widow within. I didn't get entangled in it, but I was ready to dig my bloody nails into the veil and straight through his face, his skin. He stood there defeated, like a damp lost puppet made of rags. My revenge, the reason I was reborn was to justify this treason. To avenge the lost and innocent, to escape this prison. To lock myself up and throw the key. To mourn the reason I am born, to scorn. I was left alone, facing the ghost of the Christmas past. I reaveal him, the man responsible, on a whim. I finally win. Only the disastrous wonder, that steals my thunder, I get buried 6 feet under. His face betrays the rays of sunshines past, of love to last. He was no other than my only bother in the world. Iolite, my lover, the one I discover was all this years my true enemy, the one that tortured and tormented me, I guess it was never meant to be. I see. How foolish, how blind could I become. It blows my mind, what I just find. The fear in me resides as with disgust I put the veil back on. I am torn. I get back on my feet, I breathe, I meet the gaze of my lover, the piercing blue eyes that tell me that is over. My immortality still. A moment I die in. He seems to regain his composure, his sane smile was a cover. I hear him say. "Onix. I love you. Please... please...kill ...me." I hesitate, I wait, I see his face and seems like fate, I hope I am not too late. He seems so changed. His soul will be avenged. I will have my revenge. It's so strange, how destiny brought my destruction, I take the only action. I draw my blade, I elevate, I slay, I draw blood, I watch the crimson flood. I initiate an inspection, I move in the only direction, I could see his face, I embrace, the shadow of the light I once knew, that was true to me, to us, I must, find the truth, even in death. I can resurrect. I hear his breath as he says thank you. I say I love you too. Still so still, if only I could steal some time, some life. I throw away the knife. A conflict, a strife. I kneel down, I frown, I seem to drown in his pool of blood my clothes of wool turn a dark red. They leave a mark. I embark on a cruise of cruel mission. I leave my submission and all the superstition, behind. He seems so happy so content, I hope it's not pretend. I cannot believe this is the end. If only I could bend, the metal back in shape. His heart may mend. And he may be the boy I once loved. The coy smirk he once wore. It tore me to pieces. I break and need some stitches. The witches come, the darkness rises. The bitterness despises. The stiffness devices. The light disperses. I thought his death meant the end. But apparently the war has just begun. I have to run. To find the true warlock and make him stop. He curses people like livestock. I have someone to mock other than myself. So I have this dilemma. What do I do with Iolite. His light in his eyes, grows colder, I feel so much older. But I grow bolder as my Crim marks do their part. I swore to never use magic but in the face of something this tragic, I trigger this insane emotion, and my only notion was the heart in my chest, beating, with no rest. The art of taking it slower, I put my hand lower and do what I never thought I would. I break his spine, and I incline to dig my nails, it's what I should do when I see no future proceed to steal the past and make it last a century and forevermore, I adore his lovely breath that seems to get normal, it's just a formal ritual, that is so familiar. I distinctly remember, the dawn of ember when it all started. The late departed rose up and moaned. His hair once blue, the one I knew, burning stardust, his eyes flaming, of never returning red. His anger seemed so alive, so real, after he went through this ordeal, I thought it was directed to me. But he beamed when he saw me. He kissed me and said thank you. I kissed him again and again and again. This eternal innuendo, kept us going in crescendo. But the mortal, deadly world,seemed to grow so cold. We couldn't fit into the mould, through our heat we were unstoppable. It was all so improbable. What remained logical, leaved the earth and left the biblical, ever cynical construction, that brings this kingdom's destruction. My only reaction was to hold his hand. To bring him close. But he chose to go after the beast and headed for the east for the darkest day of reckoning has come. I say to mark my way, and things shall stay however I may please. For we burn the brightest, shall everlasting falter. I will forever alter the face of the earth. And into my heart I will proceed to incinerate, the ones who did evil. I will remain civil. As I generate the brightest lightning bolt and commence to hear the loudest thunderstorm. My love is reborn. And together hand in hand, will bring the veild man's end. This is my last amend. And only lament is that I couldn't bring the bastard through hell as he well deserves. But revenge and justice are better served deliciously hot, enough to burn the tongue in what I will concoct. See you in the fire. In this dire time. Its vital that you die. So let me say goodbye!

The title of the book is Champagnoir, the passage is called the unveiling. Is a part of the major plotwist somewhere close to the ending of the book. The villain, called the Veiled Man, because he is dressed in monochrome grey with a veil over his face and a silver cross for a cane is a power-hungry warlock who seeks immortal life in hopes that with time his miserable existence will improve. It's a tale of love and revenge, of faith and mortality. The protagonist, a girl named Onix becomes immortal with the price of her own identity, she is reborn through pain and darkness by the veiled man who steals everything from her except her life and thus transforms her into a "phoenix". She seeks revenge for her imprisonment, torture, permanent scarring and for the loss of her lover, Iolite, who is revealed in this chapter above as being beneath the vile veil. He is actually control by the dark magic of the real Veiled Man who hides in plain sight being in her inner circle of associates. The action takes place in a Kingdom runed by superstition, where a very unusual King rises to power defying all odds and helping Onix in her quest again the darkness that seems to corrupt and poison everything in the land. The genre is fantasy, it a work still in progress. It's an honest and emotional piece of writing that appeals to the primal instincts, full of life, death and rebirth. I don't think it's a good fit, because I have no idea what you are looking for, however if you seek a pure inseneering of your sense this might be your pick. I prefer to go by Scarlet Fox, though this is a pseudonym, I will remain annonimys until further notice. My bio is written in the profile. And as a poet named Nichita Stanescu said " I am just a blood stain that speaks." I am currently a student at the University learning English Literature I have no professional experience but I am looking for opportunities like this to grow and gather finesse. My writing style is purely based on inspiration, moods and emotions and is highly symbolic. It reflects my life and experiences. I have to specify that not all my writing rhymes, only certain bits that flow into the pace of the book and overall action. My hobbies are reading and writing, I revolve my life around books. My hometown is Bucharest.

The big suit leaned against the counter at the far end of the bar like he owned the place. He wore a pair of sunglasses despite the fact that the room was dimmer than the street outside, and he held himself with a practiced nonchalance that seemed stiff in comparison to the other patrons of Blind Willie’s. Right away, Matias knew that he wasn’t hanging around for the booze or the smooth jazz band currently occupying the stage in the corner.

Whether or not this group was better than most of the bands that rolled through the club, Matias honestly could not tell; he wasn’t much of a fan either. He preferred people watching for his entertainment. Which is how he noticing a similar attitude from the suit. Shades seemed to like people watching too. Only, while Matias cleared tables and minded his manners with the occasional glance around the patrons, this phony sat there trying to convince everyone that he was one of the blues brothers, but his attention was on Nina. Even through the shades, Matias could tell the guy was watching her like a hawk.

Nina was probably the best bartender Blind Willie’s had to offer and certainly the most attractive one. She could have been a supermodel for her day job, and she moved with the grace of a dancer—someone who knew that their body was a work of art. That said, Nina was not unused to unwanted attention from men, but it didn’t seem like she had noticed the suit yet. Nevertheless, she was steering clear; Matias just hoped that Mr. Blues would be so considerate as to do likewise.

After having worked at Blind Willie’s for several months now, Matias knew that Nina could handle herself, but he didn’t want to be the one to have to clean up after someone got on her nerves. It wasn’t usually destructive, but it was never pretty. More than likely, there would be blood and bile and a least a little broken glass, and the busboy would get to mop it all up. Matias had already had a long, rough night for three nights running. He was looking forward to ending this one early. He thought longingly of getting back to his apartment in time to read with his baby sister and maybe even have time to catch up on the summer project for his honors English class.

That was when Kate the hostess walked up to him with her puppy dog eyes and said, “Hey Mat? Could you do me a favor?”

Matias shook his head. “Not if you are going to ask me to close again.”

“Oh please! I need this!” She cried shaking interlaced hands at him to emphasize her plea. “This time I really do have to go!”

“Why?”

“It’s a family emergency.”

“Oh, really?” Mat replied blandly as he moved to clear his next table.

Kate followed him. “Really, my grandmother needs me to pick her up from the airport. If I’m not there, the poor thing will be stranded, alone and confused!”

“If she’s that easy to confuse, how did she manage to find her way onto the plane?”

Kate opened her mouth to answer but paused. Her short blond hair fell in front of her face as she hung her head and sighed. “I know this is a big ask, and it isn’t fair to you, always asking you to cover for me. I’m sorry. I just never get to see her, and she won’t be in town for very long, and I promised I would pick her up.”

Mat eyed her with his hands now full of dishes. She looked sincere, and for once she was prioritizing something besides boyfriends and parties. Showing up for family was actually something he respected. He pursed his lips and moaned internally for losing yet another evening to this menial job. Still, he and his mom could always use the money.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

The squeal that came from the tall blond was earsplitting. Kate threw her arms around Mat’s neck, but the motion was made extra treacherous by the multitude of dishes in his arms. He nearly dropped a whole stack of plates.

“Hey, take it easy! You break it, I have to clean it up, remember?” he scolded.

“Right,” she took a step back, “I really appreciate this, Mat. I owe you one!”

And with that, the hostess skipped off to collect her coat and purse. I owe you. How many times had he heard that? Too many to count. And how many times had he collected on it? Not once. I’m a textbook sucker, he thought to himself, but no sooner had the thought entered his mind than it left again, and he got back to work. Over the next few hours, the joint swelled with customers who slowly trickled out until only a handful remained at the bar—a couple of regulars and… the suit.

After wiping off the last table, Mat took a short break to stretch aching muscles that had not rested all day. That’s when he noticed that the culo had started taking notes on a little pad. Mat also noticed that the man had no drink or meal in front of him. This guy was seriously starting to creep him out, yet Nina still didn’t pay him any mind. Mat decided that the time had come to see what the deal was with this well-dressed weirdo. He leaned over the bar, and asked in a low voice, “Hey Nina, do you know that guy at the end of the bar?”

Nina looked up from rinsing a shot glass and surveyed the length of the bar. “All I see are Phil and Ed, bro. You know them as well as I do. They practically live here, man.”

“No, the other guy, over there,” he jerked his head towards the end of the bar, “the one in the suit.”

She narrowed her eyes and looked directly at the stranger, but her gaze passed right through him. “Who are you talking about?”

Mat checked to make sure the creep hadn’t moved. Sure enough, he sat in the same spot, but now his shaded scrutiny seemed to have shifted to Mat. It was hard to tell for sure, but the guy might have been scowling. The busboy quickly looked away. “Are you kidding me? He is right there. He’s been watching you all night!”

Nina’s expression turned from skeptical to concerned. “Mat, there is no one there.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Then Phil and Ed both called for more beer, and Nina reluctantly went to refill their glasses. Matias stood frozen hunched over the counter for a few moments longer as his mind raced. He slowly turned once more to look down the bar, and he saw… nothing. Nothing but a vacant seat. He quickly looked around the rest of the room to see if the man had moved, but there was no trace of him anywhere.

Furrowing his brow, he tried to make sense of the situation. Had the man left? Was he hiding behind the bar? Was this some kind of practical joke, or was he seeing things? Nina had always seemed too mature to be messing with people this way, but he was certain that someone had been there. He remembered the guy in detail—dark hair, broad shoulders, and a fair amount of stubble growing about his prominent jaw.

Before he seriously started questioning his own sanity, Curiosity drove Mat to take a closer look, so he walked to the far end of the bar. The stool was a simple thing, wooden with four long legs supporting it just like every other chair in Blind Willies. If someone had been sitting there for hours… he held his hand a centimeter or two above the seat.

Nina returned and asked if he was feeling okay.

“It’s still warm,” he replied, “Someone was here, I’m telling you, and they haven’t been gone long.”

Nina frowned, “Mat how much sleep have you been getting?”

He paused, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Look, I’m just going to say it. This sounds crazy, and you aren’t the crazy type. But you do work way too hard, you know. Sometimes people have weird delusions and stuff from exhaustion.”

“Maybe.”

“What did he look like?”

“Huh?” Mat tore his eyes away from the empty stool to refocus on Nina.

“The guy you thought you saw. You said he was wearing a suit?”

“Yeah,” Mat snorted, “a black suit, and he was wearing sunglasses too. He was watching you and writing in a little notebook. Weird thing to hallucinate about, right?”

Nina’s eyes widened a bit and she tensed. “Right.”

“Hey, don’t worry. He was probably just a figment of my overworked imagination like you said.” He still wasn’t sure about that, but he didn’t want to make Nina worry about him. Then it occurred to him that Nina might be concerned for an entirely different reason. He coughed, “And I mean, I don’t fantasize about stalking people you know. I’m not… Well, you are… I’m not like secretly obsessed with you or anything, I promise.”

Nina hesitated before smiling, “Of course not! How about you let me drive you home? We don’t want you to sleepwalk off a bridge or something, do we?”

Relieved, Mat smiled back slightly. “Thanks.”

The jazz band packed up about a quarter-hour later, and the two regulars stumbled into an uber together singing a song rendered unrecognizable by their combined lack of sobriety and sense of tone. Nina and Matias finished cleaning up the place and locked up on their way out. Nina’s car—a little red Honda—was parked out back. Mat was very grateful not to have to deal with public transportation at this hour. Once they were on the road he said as much.

“Yeah, the buses are never on time and always filled with sketch ass people.”

Mat laughed, “I guess I wouldn’t feel quite so out of place tonight. Having just realized I am a paranoid schizophrenic.”

“I told you not to worry about that.”

“Wouldn’t you be worried if you started seeing things that weren’t there?”

Silence.

Nina stared forward, and Mat turned to look out the passenger window. It was almost pitch black outside as the passes through tall pine trees and the occasional one-story house, but he could still see about 20 feet into the woods with Nina’s headlights illuminating the road. He could see the thick blanket of pine needles, the tall trees, and the occasional nocturnal rodent. The one advantage to not owning a car was that it gave him an opportunity to really appreciate the scenery such as it was in the dead of night. Suddenly, a man on a motorcycle pulled up close beside them.

“Shit!” Nina yelled as she swerved away from the biker, “Where the hell did he come from?”

Maintaining his position abreast the little red Honda, the motorcyclist turned his head, and though it was difficult to see through the black visor of his helmet, he seemed to be peering directly at Mat as he pulled out a gun.

Time slowed as Matias opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before he had the chance, there was a loud bang! And the car spun off the road and hit something. The impact shattered the passenger window and part of the windshield. Glass went flying, and just as Mat got his hands up to protect his face the airbags deployed. It shoved the back of his left hand into his cheekbone. Pain exploded through Mat’s head, and everything went dark.

Sometime later, he came to with Nina shaking him and screaming. The only other time he had felt this kind of pain was when he took a baseball to the face in the 6th grade. The memory washed over him like wave. His mother had run out on to the field crying and calling his name, and when a medic tried to take him away from her, she had snapped at him in Spanish. Don’t you dare, she cried, don’t you dare come between me and my boy!

Mat tasted copper and spit out blood as reality began to reassert itself. Nina was still screaming at him, but he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. Mat blinked away involuntary tears and tried to look at her, but his vision wouldn’t clear and every second he was becoming aware of more pains in his chest and neck. He tried to speak, tried to ask if she was okay, but a sudden wave of nausea came over him as he choked on more blood. There was so much blood… Where was it coming from? The terrible sound of shrieking metal assaulted his ears. Then he felt someone lift him out of the car, and a few seconds later he was on the ground.

“Mat! Listen to me!” It was Nina. Her face hovered mere inches above his. His arms and legs flailed weakly as he tried to roll over and throw up, but something held him in place. “Mat, you have to kiss me.”

He was momentarily distracted from his misery by this strange proclamation. He coughed and managed to croak out a “Whah?”

“Kiss me.” Nina restated firmly.

Everything was spinning. Kiss her? That couldn’t it. For one thing, he could barely move his lips, for another who would want to kiss someone that was spitting out blood? A little voice in Mat’s head piped up and said, I think I have a concussion, to which another voice replied, No shit, Sherlock! He tried to express these thoughts to Nina, but the nausea finally overcame him and he vomited. Fortunately, whatever had been holding him down allowed him to roll over in time that he didn’t asphyxiate. His mind cleared a little after that. And he got up on his hands and knees.

Nina grabbed his chin and yanked his head up to look into her eyes. Only, they weren’t her eyes anymore. They were a bright red and they almost seemed to glow. She snarled, “I said, kiss me!”

For one brief insane moment, he considered it. She was gorgeous with her high cheekbones, long jet-black hair, and her deliciously curved body. She was a goddess. Who was he to question her? Mat leaned in and closed his eyes. He had always been attracted to her, and wondered what her lips would feel like… thoughts of desire and lust streamed through his mind one after the other in rapid succession. Foreign thoughts… Not his thoughts. With a jolt, Mat’s eyes shot open, and he pulled away from Nina. Only, it wasn’t Nina. The thing that stooped before him was some kind of hellish bastardization of the beautiful woman who had been there moments before.

It wore Nina’s clothes and had all the attractive features as her, but it also had a crown of horns growing from its brow, wicked claws on its hands, and a long snakelike tail swishing around behind its crouched form. Her skin was gray and translucent. Mat could see the veins pulsing blue and black under her skin. He thought he might throw up again. Apparently, surprised by his reaction, and she fixed a questioning crimson gaze upon him.

He tried to scramble to his feet, but his right leg wasn’t working properly, and the world was still spinning. He collapsed only a few feet away. When he looked again, Nina had replaced the nightmare once more. What the hell was going on? “Nina, you were a… some kind of—thing and—” His eyes flitted around wildly, and that’s when he realized that they were in the middle of the woods. The car, the gunman, the road—they were nowhere in sight. He coughed again. “How… Nina, what happened?”

The bartender watched him for a moment and then seemed to come to a decision. “You are dying. If I’m going to heal you,” she said, “I am going to need you to trust me and sit still.”

Exhausted, frightened, and confused, Mat simply stared. His head was pounding, and it was getting difficult to breathe. His thoughts trailed off, becoming sluggish again, but he was able to reason out one thing; trusting Nina was his only option at the moment. He nodded once. Slowly, she walked up to where he sat on the ground and knelt in front of him.

“Now, before you lose consciousness, I need you to kiss me. Don’t ask why. Just do it.”

Now breathing in rasps, Mat wiped his mouth with his sleeve, it came away red. The edges of his vision were fading out. I’m dying anyway, he thought, there are worse ways to go than kissing a beautiful woman, I guess. He would have laughed if he had the energy. Disappearing people, gunmen, crashes, and moonlit kisses. This had to be a dream. Yes, it must be. Already, he felt the pain from his injuries dissipating. He would wake up soon.

“Mat! Kiss me now!” Nina’s voice sounded muffled and far away. Sure, why not. He smiled and kissed her as the dream finally ended.

Title: (Undecided)

Genre: Urban Fantasy, possibly Young Adult

Age range: 16-26

Word count: ~2885

Author name/(Pen name): Josie Lilac

Why your project is a good fit: I think this book will be an interesting reinterpretation of the urban fantasy trope with engaging characters on either side of the Good vs. Evil dynamic that will converge as the plot unfolds.

The hook: An unsettling mixture of mystery and magic in the modern world.

Synopsis: Young Matias Gil discovers that his friend and colleague is a succubus being hunted by a secretive and powerful coalition of mages sworn to protect humanity from ‘dark’ magic and demonic influences. Matias himself draws their attention when it is revealed that he possesses abilities and immunities to magic that have never been seen before in the supernatural world.

Simultaneously, teenage outcast Desdamona LaFey is forced to confront her newly manifested powers as a medium between this world and the next when the hundred-year-old ghost of Josephine Morgana appears as her spiritual guide and introduces her to a local eccentric witch who recruits her to fight evil.

Both Desdamona and Matias are hard-pressed to keep their involvement in the underworld separate from their lives in the non-magical one as they struggle to find their place in the ancient and unrelenting war between Good and Evil.

Target audience: Young Adult

Your bio: In the daytime, I am a student who works at an outdoor rental office for minimum wage, but I’ve always been a reader and a writer at heart.

Platform: NA

Education: Bachelors of Computer Science major, English minor, (In progress)

Experience: Amateur

Personality / writing style: Humorous Sarcastic Dramatic (Like Jane Austin but in English!)

Likes/hobbies: Writing, Rock Climbing, Coding, Teaching

When Zeke’s dad joined him in the principal’s office and asked him why he had started a fist fight for the third time that school year, Zeke told him that he didn’t know.

He did know, of course. He had punched Derek Manning because he had called Zeke a pussy, but Zeke couldn’t tell Dad that because it was an insult that he hurled at Zeke weekly.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dad asked.

When Zeke just shrugged, Dad grabbed his arm so roughly that Zeke cried out. “If you’re going to start fights at school and make me miss work to come get you, you better tell me why.”

“Because someone made fun of me and I got really mad and I just started hitting him without thinking,” Zeke said quickly, squeezing his eyes shut and praying that Dad wasn’t about to berate him in front of the principal.

Dad let go of Zeke’s arm. “Where’d you hit him?”

Zeke glanced at the principal, who quickly averted his eyes. “In the face.”

“And did he get the chance to hit you?”

“Not really, but he kinda kicked me. Before people pulled us apart.”

“Mm. Good.”

The principal cleared his throat. “Now that you’re all caught up, Mr. Hallaway, why don’t we talk about consequences?”

Dad nodded and Zeke shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, trying not to irritate his swollen knuckles.

“Since this is Zeke’s third fight this year, our ‘three strikes and you’re out’ policy kicks in. This means that, right now, I’ll be suspending Zeke for ten days. But our plan is to take the necessary steps to suspend him for the rest of the school year.”

Zeke wanted to protest, but he knew better than to do so around Dad. If he was suspended for the rest of the school year, how was he going to finish eighth grade? It wasn’t like Mom and Dad could homeschool him, because they had to work. Dad was going to blow his top.

Only he didn’t. He just smiled and said, “That won’t be necessary.”

The principal seemed almost as shocked as Zeke. “I assure you that —”

“My wife and I have been exploring other options for Zeke’s education,” Dad interrupted. “We won’t be bothering you anymore after this.”

“Oh, I see. I understand now,” the principal said, shuffling some papers on his desk. “Regardless, I have to explain why we plan to suspend Zeke for the rest of the school year, just in case your other plans fall through and you end up wanting him to finish the semester here.”

Zeke’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what “other options” Dad could be talking about. Was it military school, like on TV? Or was it online homeschool, where Zeke would have to go to Dad’s work with him so that Dad could make sure he was doing his work? Honestly, Zeke wasn’t sure which one was worse.

As the principal listed off everything Zeke had ever gotten detention, in-school suspension, and out-of-school suspension for, guilt washed over Zeke’s entire body. He had never meant to end up like this. He had never wanted to beat anyone up, much less three people in one school year. People had just forced his hand.

“Now that you’ve heard the evidence against you,” the principal continued, “I’d like to discuss options for next year, when Zeke is a freshman. As you know, we have an alternative high school that allows for a more individualized education plan, as well as —”

“If all goes well, Zeke won’t be coming back to the district for high school,” Dad said.

Zeke gaped at his dad, unable to help it. What did he mean that Zeke wouldn’t be coming back to the district? Were they moving?

“Well,” the principal said, “if he does, then we recommend that he attends the alternative high school. If your other option works out, then that’s great as well.”

Dad nodded. “If we’re done here, Zeke and I will get out of your hair.”

“We are. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Zeke before you leave. Just the two of us, if you’ll allow it.”

Dad grunted and got up from his chair. Once he was out of the principal’s office and the door was closed, the principal looked at Zeke. “Is there anything going on at home that I should know about?”

“What? No,” Zeke said, his ears burning with embarrassment. He wasn’t about to tell the principal that Dad was a lunatic with anger issues.

The principal sighed. “Zeke, nearly all of your teachers have nothing but good things to say about you. They say that you’re quiet and respectful and kind to your peers, so I know that something must be going on at home or otherwise that’s making you act out. I’m sorry that I — that we — couldn’t do a better job of helping you through it, and I’m truly sorry to see you leave our school. You do understand why we have to let you go, right?”

Zeke nodded, shame rising in his chest.

“I wish you nothing but the best, Zeke. Truly.”

Zeke thanked the principal before leaving the office, taking one last look down the hall of his school, and heading out to the car with his dad.

“You’re a right piece of work, you know that?” Dad said.

Zeke nodded.

“I don’t know what went wrong with you or when, but your mom and I could not be more ashamed. You know that?”

Zeke nodded again, not daring to look at him.

“You’re getting home on your own two feet, do you understand?”

Zeke bit his tongue to keep from protesting.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Zeke spat.

“I’m going to get in my car to drive back to work so I can make up for all the time I lost pulling your sorry ass out of school. When I get there I’m going to check my phone, and if my Find My Friends app says you’re not at home, you’re going to get the ass whooping of your life tonight, got it?”

“Yes,” Zeke said, his voice wavering.

“Then you better start running.”

He didn’t have to tell Zeke twice.

➖

Zeke just about keeled over when he got home, but he had made it in seven minutes. According to Maps, Dad’s work was eleven minutes away from the school, so unless he had sped the whole way, Zeke had made it home in time. Just to double check, Zeke opened Find My Friends and checked to see where Dad was, but he had his location turned off. Why did he always have to have his location turned off?

Once he caught his breath, Zeke headed upstairs to take a shower. When he got out, he checked his phone to find that he had multiple texts waiting for him in “Troublemakers” — the group chat with his friends.

Jacoryn

Dude Z we heard u punched Derek Manning

Isaiah

Is that y ur not at lunch

????

Leo

Did ur dad kill u

Zeke put his phone down and sighed. His friends had only known that his dad was genuinely crazy for about a month now. They had always known him as the strictest of any of the boys’ parents, but Zeke had never told them just how bad he was until he hadn’t been able to hide it anymore.

The past few months had been the wildest of Zeke’s life. He had lost three friends, and not just because they had argued or moved away. Two of them — Brendan and Kaleb — had died, and the third one — Jed — had run away from home with no intentions to keep in contact with anyone, least of all Zeke and his remaining friends. As if dealing with all of that hadn’t been hard enough, Dad had come up with a theory that Zeke, Jacoryn, Isaiah, and Leo had killed their former friends, and he had presented his theory to all of their parents, putting the full reality of his lunacy on display.

Zeke picked up his phone again, knowing that his friends wouldn’t stop texting until he answered.

Zeke

Ya I punched Derek. And I got suspended 4 the rest of 8th grade but dad sed he already has a new school 4 me

Leo

DUDE I can’t believe they practically expelled u for 4 1 fight!

Zeke

They suspended me bc of all my fights

And all the other stuff I’ve done like the food fight

Jacoryn

Shit

Ig we better be on our toes cuz if any of us get in trouble again we might get expelled too lmao

Zeke dropped his phone onto his bed, hopped up, and grabbed a baseball from the basket on his shelf. There was too much going on in his head, so he needed to do something. Something fun. Especially before Dad got home and made his life hell.

➖

Out in the backyard, Zeke drilled the baseball into his pitch back over and over again until the back door opened. He jumped, letting the baseball bounce off the pitch back and fly past him. Then he realized that it was only his little sister, Teagan, at the door. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

She frowned. “I didn’t sneak up —”

“What do you want?”

Teagan pulled at her dress. “Do you want to play Mario Kart with me until Mom and Dad get home?”

“No,” Zeke said, turning away from her and grabbing his baseball from where it had landed in the grass. “But if Dad gets home, knock on the window so I know he’s here.”

“Why?” Teagan asked, her eyebrows creasing. “Are you in trouble again?”

“Just knock on the window, okay?”

“Okay,” Teagan agreed.

Zeke threw the ball at the pitch back, caught it, and then looked back at Teagan, who hadn’t moved from the door frame. “What?”

“Did you make Dad mad?”

“He’s just mad all the time, it’s not my fault,” Zeke snapped. “Will you leave me alone now?”

Teagan closed the door, and Zeke threw the ball again, just hoping that Teagan actually remembered to warn him when Dad got home.

➖

The next time the back door opened, Zeke’s mom said, “Come inside and talk to me. Please.”

Zeke punched the baseball into his glove and trudged inside.

“Upstairs,” Mom said, her hands on her hips.

Zeke headed up to his room, his mom following close behind. He knew that she’d have a million questions for him, but he couldn’t decide how much to tell her. She’d repeat everything to Dad, and if he heard why he actually punched Derek, then Zeke was dead meat.

“Sit,” Mom said when they got to Zeke’s room.

Zeke sat down on his bed, and Mom sat down next to him.

“Do you want to tell me why you got suspended?”

“Because I got in another fight.”

“Zeke,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What did your dad say when he picked you up?”

Zeke rolled the baseball around in his glove. “He said that I was a real piece of work and that you’re both ashamed of me.”

Mom pulled the glove off of Zeke’s hand and hugged him. “We’re not ashamed of you. You know that, right?”

Zeke squeezed his eyes shut. “Yep.”

Mom let go of him. “Why were you fighting?”

Zeke shrugged.

“Was someone making fun of you again?”

Zeke nodded slightly. “I didn’t want to punch him, it just happened.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Zeke nodded again.

“Dad and I have been talking about putting you in therapy.”

“What?” Zeke sputtered. “Therapy’s for crazy people. If anything, Dad needs therapy.”

“Therapy is for anyone who wants therapy. And —”

“Well, I definitely don’t want it.”

“As I was saying, it’s also for people who have been through some very difficult things.”

Zeke grimaced. Sure, two of his friends had died and Dad was a piece of shit, but that didn’t mean he needed to talk to some shrink.

“I think it could help you. Because whether you want to admit it or not, honey, you haven’t been dealing with things very well recently.”

“I —” Zeke started, before both he and his mom jumped at the sound of the garage door opening.

“Your dad and I will be up to talk to you soon,” Mom said quickly, kissing his forehead before running out of his room.

“Yeah, and you’ll pretend that none of this just happened,” Zeke muttered to himself. He flopped back onto his bed, a wave of fear washing over his body.

➖

A few minutes later, Zeke was sitting up on his bed when Dad barged into his room with Mom a couple feel behind him. He sat down on the end of Zeke’s bed, and Mom sat down next to him, looking down at her hands.

“I told your mother what you did today, and neither of us are happy with you,” Dad said.

Zeke nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You will look at me when I talk to you, Ezekiel.”

Zeke looked up at Dad, whose face was already red.

“Do you know what I did when I got back to work?”

Zeke shook his head, his breath catching in his throat.

“I finalized a contract with your new school.”

Mom looked up, her eyes big, and Zeke gulped. If Mom hadn’t even known about it, it had to be a military school.

“It’s a sort of boot camp mixed with an alternative school,” Dad said proudly. “Like a military school that costs less. They’re very big on discipline and accountability, and if you even toe the line, they’re not afraid to punish you.”

“Which school?” Mom asked in a very small voice.

“East Ridge Academy,” Dad said, smiling maliciously. “If anybody can whip you into shape, Zeke, it’s these people. You’re going to be sorry that you ever got into those fights.”

“This school offers counseling,” Mom said. “They’ll be able to help —”

“It’s a sleep away school,” Dad interrupted, still smiling. “We’ll only have to see you once a month.”

“But it will only be for a year,” Mom added.

“Unless their methods work, and then you’ll be there until you graduate high school.”

Mom looked at Zeke’s dad with her mouth open as if she was going to say something, but as soon as he met her gaze, she just closed her mouth and nodded.

The fear that had built up in Zeke’s chest made it hard to breathe. He had gone to the same school since second grade, and he hadn’t made any new friends since then. How was he going to survive at a new school that was designed to punish him for every little thing if he didn’t even have any friends?

Dad slapped Zeke’s leg, making him jump. “Monday is your first day of boot camp, so enjoy your time at home while it lasts. Has your mom taken your phone and your laptop yet?”

Zeke grabbed his phone and his laptop from the floor and handed it over to Dad, who then got up and left the room. Mom followed him, not even looking back at Zeke.

Once he was sure that they were downstairs, Zeke got up and closed his door. Then he jumped onto his bed and pulled out his messenger — a secret cellphone-like device that all of Zeke’s friends used for texting when they were grounded.

Dad is sending me to some sleep away school called east ridge academy for an entire YEAR or more if I get better or whatever. I’m grounded 2 so I won’t be seeing u guys 4 a long time — Z

Do u know anything about this place?? — Cory

Nope he took my laptop and phone — Z

We can all sneak out tonite and I’ll let u look it up on my phone — Leo

Ya does midnight work? Meet at the regular spot — Iz

I’ll try to b there — Z

TRY???? U will b there — Cory

Or what I’ll b on probation? — Z

Just b there — Iz

Zeke dropped his messenger onto his bed and rubbed his eyes, wondering why he even bothered with his friends anymore. They had been jerks for years, calling themselves “the Troublemakers” and threatening to kick anyone who didn’t do exactly what they wanted out of the friend group. Even now, when Zeke just needed support, all Jacoryn and Isaiah knew how to do was boss him around. It probably wasn’t even worth trying to sneak out.

Maybe going to this new school was going to be a good thing.

➖

When Mom called Zeke down to dinner, he dragged himself out of his bed and trudged downstairs. Teagan beat him to the table, but Dad was nowhere to be seen.

“Is it true that you’re going to a boarding school now?” Teagan asked, tracing a finger on the table.

“I guess,” Zeke mumbled.

“Is it true that you punched someone again today?”

“Why do you care?”

Teagan shrugged. “I was just wondering.”

“Zeke, there’s no need to snap at her for asking a question,” Mom said from the kitchen.

Just as Zeke was about to talk back to her, someone grabbed his hair from behind and touched something cold to his head. Then Zeke heard the buzzing noise and felt the hair fall down his neck.

“What the hell?” He cried, touching the new nearly-bald stripe on his head.

“Language,” Dad growled, slapping Zeke in the back of the head. “Now sit still so I can finish.”

Zeke started getting out of his chair, anger rushing through his entire body, but Dad’s hand clamped onto his shoulder and pushed him back down into his seat. “I said, sit fucking still so I can finish.”

“I never said you could shave my head,” Zeke protested as Dad ran the razor over his head again.

“It’s required for your new school. You’ll have to get used to it.”

Zeke bit the inside of his cheeks, trying to hold back the tears welling up in his eyes. Dad had no right to just sneak up and cut his hair like that. Dad had no right to sign him up for some freak show boarding school, even if Zeke had gotten suspended.

Tears dropped down onto Zeke’s cheeks and he wiped them away quickly before Dad could see them. As he finished shaving Zeke’s head, Zeke curled his fists, wondering why neither Mom nor Teagan had warned him that Dad was sneaking up behind him. Had they been in on the plan? Had Dad asked Teagan to distract Zeke with all of her stupid questions? Probably. After all, both of them always just did what Dad said, and neither of them seemed to care if Zeke suffered as a result.

➖

After barely eating dinner and taking a long, hot shower so that he could cry in private, Zeke examined his new haircut in the mirror. With his blond hair shorter than it had ever been, his head seemed lumpy and much too small for his body. He looked away from the mirror, noting the fact that his blue eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and headed to his bedroom, where he flopped onto his bed and fell asleep. Hours later, he woke up to the buzz of his messenger under his pillow.

Guess u couldn’t get out then — Cory

Nope dad has me very locked in — Z

That sucks man. Maybe we’ll try to come by and see u tomorrow — Iz

Probably won’t work and if u try he might kill u — Z

Hm ok well think about it — Cory

I can still give u the info about east ridge — Leo

Please — Z

Good or medium or bad news first? — Leo

Doesn’t matter. All of it — Z

Leo went on to tell Zeke that East Ridge Academy didn’t allow him to bring much with him, especially not a cell phone or any other electronic devices. Zeke was allowed a toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb, a baseball hat, sunglasses, a pair of tennis shoes, at least a week’s worth of socks and underwear, and two sets of clothing for weekends — one set for cold weather and one for warm weather. During the week, the students were only allowed to wear clothing that was provided by East Ridge Academy. From what Leo could tell from the pictures on the website, there was a school uniform that was very dressy, a different uniform that was more casual, and workout clothes. The only other things that East Ridge provided for the boys were toiletries, food, and school supplies.

The good news was that East Ridge was big on baseball, and anyone who wanted to could try out for a team. Zeke hadn’t played on an actual baseball team for nearly a year now, since the one he had played on with Leo and Brendan had broken up, so he worried that he wouldn’t be good enough anymore to get onto a team at East Ridge. However, he knew that he had to try, because he wasn’t going to miss out on the one potentially fun thing at the entire school.

Once Leo stopped texting him, Zeke put his messenger back under his pillow and tried to go to sleep. Unfortunately, his brain had other ideas. Zeke knew that most of the things that Leo had told him should have made East Ridge seem like a nightmare, but they didn’t. Sure, Zeke would miss playing video games and hanging out with his friends when they were just having fun, but he definitely wouldn’t miss his dad or his annoying sister, or trying to figure out how to get away from his friends when they were making other people’s lives hell.

Zeke squeezed his eyes shut, wondering for the thousandth time why he had gone along with his friends when they were bullying people, stealing things, and destroying other people’s property. He had always told himself that he didn’t have a choice because if he didn’t go along with their plans, they wouldn’t be his friends anymore. And maybe it was stupid to be friends with them since they could be jerks, but they were all Zeke had. They were the only ones who truly understood the grief he was going through from losing Brendan and Kaleb, and they were the only ones who offered to let him sleep over at their houses when Dad was being particularly nasty.

None of that really mattered now, since he was being forced away from them, but every time Zeke thought about losing his friends, fresh tears welled up in his eyes. He didn’t even know how to make new friends anymore, and he had clearly never known how to make good ones.

➖

Zeke spent the rest of his weekend in his bedroom, only leaving to go to the bathroom and to eat. At first, he had expected his dad to come up with a whole list of chores for him to do before he left for his new school, but he soon discovered that Dad had no plans to even talk to him. That suited Zeke just fine, because he didn’t want to talk to him, either.

In his room, Zeke spent his time reading his old graphic novels, laying on his bed and throwing his baseball in the air, and overthinking all the clothes that he planned to bring to East Ridge. He didn’t want to bring anything that would get him laughed at, so his sunglasses were plain black — not too big and not too small. He chose his favorite Adidas tennis shoes, a plain blue t-shirt, and a black jacket for when it was colder, as well as a pair of black athletic shorts, a pair of black sweatpants, and a week’s worth of boxers and black ankle socks. Everything was neutral except his shoes, but he could handle the Nike versus Adidas debate.

For his baseball hat, Zeke had a lot of choices, since he had been obsessed with baseball for his whole life. Ultimately, he decided on the hat that meant the most to him: his Timbers hat. The Timbers were the baseball team that he had played on for years with Brendan and Leo, until the team had broken up in seventh grade. Every time he looked at the hat, fond memories of his friendship with Brendan popped into his head and made Zeke smile, which was a welcome respite from all the crying he had been doing since Brendan’s death.

Brendan had been the closest person that Zeke had ever had to a true best friend. He had been funny, smart, and kind — at least, when he hadn’t been participating in all of the troublemaking that Jacoryn and Isaiah thought up. Zeke had often felt that he and Brendan were the only normal ones in the group, because Brendan had been the only one that Zeke could talk to without feeling like he had to walk on eggshells.

Zeke thought that, if he made it onto a baseball team, he might actually be able to make a few new friends at East Ridge. If he was lucky, they’d all be better friends than his current ones, and maybe one of them would even be a better friend than Brendan had been. It was pretty unlikely, but Zeke could dream.

On Sunday evening, when Mom called Zeke down to dinner, he felt a wave of sadness wash over him. This was his last dinner at home before he left for East Ridge, and maybe his last dinner at home until he graduated from high school. Maybe this time Dad wouldn’t act like he didn’t exist. Maybe this time Mom would talk to him the way she used to, before she started deferring to Dad for everything.

Zeke rolled off his bed and walked downstairs, rubbing his face and hoping that no one would be able to tell how much he had cried today, thinking about how friendless he was going to be at East Ridge. He sat down in his usual spot at the table next to Teagan, keeping his head down.

“Are you all packed up?” She asked.

Zeke glared at her. “Somebody seems excited to send me away.”

Teagan looked down at her empty bowl. “I was just asking, since you leave tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve just been counting down the days.”

Mom brought the food over to the table and, as Zeke ladled some cheeseburger soup into his bowl, the sadness he had been carrying around all day became anger. She hadn’t even fixed his favorite food for his last dinner at home. She knew his favorite meal was chicken parmesan, and she had cooked something totally different. She didn’t even love him, did she? She was just as happy to see him go as Dad was. Probably because he embarrassed her all the time by causing so much trouble.

Zeke ate quickly, finishing his soup before his dad even bothered to come downstairs for dinner. Then he ran back up to his room, unable to stop the tears flooding down his cheeks as he realized that he must’ve been a truly awful person for his own family to hate him this much.

➖

Title: East Ridge Academy

Genre: Realistic fiction, LGBTQ+

Age range: Young adult

Word count: ~80,000

Author name: Katelyn Rusert

Why my project is a good fit: I know that East Ridge Academy is a good fit for Trident Media Group because I read a lot of your literary agents' bios and it fits the type of story that many of them are looking for. It is contemporary and relatable, and there are many stories in this genre that are extremely popular with the young adult market right now.

The hook: For most fourteen year-olds, being shipped off to a reform school for troubled boys would be a nightmare. For Zeke Hallaway, however, the pros — getting away from his abusive father and his troublemaking friends — might just outweigh the cons. At his new school, East Ridge Academy, Zeke experiences grueling workouts, bad food, and uncomfortable therapy sessions, but he also earns a coveted spot on a baseball team and makes friends with a supportive group of boys. Together, baseball and his hilarious new friends make life at East Ridge bearable, if not fun. But when Zeke is blindsided by developing romantic feelings for one of his newfound friends, he has to decide between acting on his feelings and risking upsetting the comfortable balance of his new life at East Ridge, or ignoring his feelings and continuing to live his life as someone he is not.

Synopsis: For most fourteen year-olds, being shipped off to a reform school for troubled boys would be a nightmare. For Zeke Hallaway, however, the pros — getting away from his abusive father and his troublemaking friends — might just outweigh the cons. In his first week at his new school, East Ridge Academy, Zeke experiences grueling workouts, bad food, and uncomfortable therapy sessions. Amid all of that, he also meets Meric, the captain of one of the best baseball teams at the school, and a group of friends that call themselves the Snickerdudels.

After Zeke gets into a fight to defend one of the Snickerdudels, they invite him to bunk with him, thus cementing Zeke's place in their friend group. With one of his new friends' help, Zeke also earns a spot playing for Meric's baseball team, where everyone except two guys named Dom Horn and Daniel Kerr accept Zeke with open arms.

Just as his new life at East Ridge seems to be falling into place, Zeke is blindsided by developing romantic feelings for Israel Benton, the quietest of his newfound friends. Though the Snickerdudels have already shown themselves to be supportive, Zeke is terrified of what his family will make of his budding sexuality and he agonizes over whether or not to act on his feelings. Eventually, he decides that his feelings for Israel are too strong to ignore, and he and Israel begin dating.

Upon hearing the news, Zeke's dad refuses to talk to him and his baseball teammates Dom and Daniel take it upon themselves to bully Zeke whenever they get the chance. When Meric, the captain of their baseball team, finds out about the bullying — which has been getting worse and worse — he kicks Dom and Daniel off the team. However, Dom continues coming after Zeke until the Snickerdudels step in and get their revenge on him, making him leave Zeke alone once and for all.

Unfortunately, Zeke’s problems don’t stop there. For months, he assumed that he hadn't heard from his dad solely because he was homophobic. But then, Zeke’s mom calls to inform him that his dad got into a car wreck and passed away. Because of their rocky relationship, Zeke decides not to go to his funeral, but he continues to struggle with emotions about his dad much more than he lets his mom know, relying solely on support from the Snickerdudels.

Then, when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, baseball season ends, two of Zeke’s friends leave East Ridge, and he and Israel get into their first real argument. Thankfully, after some tears and a tough conversation, he and Israel's relationship perseveres stronger than before, which helps Zeke realize how much he has grown as a person during his time at East Ridge. Just weeks after the argument, Zeke and Israel both leave East Ridge for home, presenting new challenges and joys for their relationship that will be explored in the next book.

Target audience: young adults and any other readers of young adult fiction, specifically LGBTQ+ youth seeking positive representation

Bio: My name is Katelyn Rusert and I am 23 years old. I grew up in Blue Springs, Missouri (though I now live in Topeka, KS) and I base most of my writing in the Midwest. In May of 2021, I graduated from Truman State University with Bachelor's degrees in English and Music. I have been writing stories ever since I learned to hold a pencil, but I didn't start writing novels until I was 12. I have yet to be published, but that's mostly because I only started pursuing that part of my writing journey a little over a year ago. I love reading, writing, watching funny and/or intriguing TV shows and movies, and hiking. As far as social media goes, I have a small bookstagram. Otherwise, I only have personal accounts. I like to write fiction that feels like it is written about real people, real experiences, and real problems, because that sort of relatable-ness is what I enjoy the most when I read books or watch movies.

Chapter 12

Zsuzsanna Fazekas was interrupted from reading a letter delivered that morning by a frantic knock. She was irritated; the letter from her former mentor detailed a promising new method of birthing known as twilight sleep, but the knock was persistent. She stood, grumbling a bit as she straightened her skirt and wiped her hands on a rag. The knock grew louder. She marched over to the door and swung it open harder than she intended.

A short, rounded pregnant woman stumbled back from the door. “Oh!”

Zsuzsanna recognized her from town and tried to school her fierce scowl into a professional smile. “Hello, Ildiko. I apologize for my abruptness; please, come in.”

Zsuzsanna swept the tiny woman inside and guided her deftly over to the chairs arranged in the back parlor Zsuzsanna had converted into an examination room. She was eager to conclude the visit. She had examined Ildiko only a few days prior and found nothing concerning. She would reassure the woman - pregnant women’s nerves often frayed as the time of delivery drew nearer - and then return to her study of the letter.

She sat down across from the woman. “Now, how can I be of assistance,” her voice trailed off as Zsuzsanna finally looked at the woman’s face.

A mottled bruise covered Ildiko's cheekbone and her bottom lip was split and cracked with dried blood. Her eyes were hollow as she clutched at her stomach with shaking hands.

Zsuzsanna drew in a sharp breath. “What is this?” she hissed.

The woman barely reacted to her anger. “It-it was my husband.”

“What did he do?” Zsuzsanna’s fury rose, heating her blood into a boil.

“He became angry during a conversation and struck me. I don’t think he meant to hit so hard, but I was flung back and landed on-,” the woman’s voice broke and Zsuzsanna saw red. “-on my stomach.” Ildiko drew in a shuddering gasp. “I was hoping you could check to see if my baby is still alive.”

The soft ticking from the parlor’s clock and the distant whistle of the wind faded. Zsuzsanna was aware only of the sound of the woman’s sobs and the feel of her own hands, clenching and unclenching into tight fists. She laid them flat on her knees to still them. “Has he hit you before?”

Ildiko hesitated. Zsuzsanna stared at her until the woman relented. “Yes,” she whispered.

Zsuzsanna stood, trying not to let rage puncture through her veneer of control. She could feel the woman’s fear seeping through the house, hiding in the shadows cast in the corners of the room. It heightened Zsuzsanna’s anger until her body shook from trying to shield it from the terrified young woman.

“Get on the table.”

Ildiko stumbled to obey, the skin around her bruise as white as the snow thawing outside in the winter sun. Zsuzsanna examined her gently, but as thoroughly as she dared. Her breath came in short staccatos as she carefully checked for signs of life in the abused woman’s stomach. Ildiko barely moved, keeping her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she waited with bated breath for Zsuzsanna’s verdict.

“I feel a heartbeat,” Zsuzsanna breathed out a sigh of relief, her sharp rage dissipating into a duller anger.

Ildiko let out a harsh sob, a shaky hand reaching up to cover her mouth. “Oh, thank God.” She cradled her stomach with her other arm.

Zsuzsanna frowned. “God had nothing to do with this.”

Ildiko looked up at Zsuzsanna’s words. “What do you mean?”

Zsuzsanna’s fists clenched once again. “Where was God when your husband beat you?” Ildiko’s eyes grew. “He was not there to save you when that man threatened your life and the life of your child!” Zsuzsanna was breathing hard. “He abandoned you when you needed someone to save you most.”

The woman sat up on the table and quickly buttoned her dress. She looked vulnerable. “What you speak of is blasphemy,” she said, her voice barely reaching Zsuzsanna’s ears.

Zsuzsanna bent at the waist to lower her face to the woman’s height. “God will not save you.”

Ildiko wilted under her intense stare. “What are you saying?”

“You must save yourself. All women must.”

Ildiko's face wrinkled with confusion. “Save ourselves?”

“Dismissal, neglect, abuse. Women have been subjected to the worst men have to offer for centuries. Did God save any of them? Did He save you?" Zsuzsanna shook her head. "He has forsaken them in a time of incredible need. I have seen countless bruises like your own that speak of His neglect.”

Ildiko’s eyes sharpened. No more than a fraction, but Zsuzsanna caught the movement. “And how do you propose women save themselves?”

Zsuzsanna tilted her head. “There are ways to end the suffering. I have seen it done before.”

“How? How is such a thing possible?” Ildiko swayed forward towards Zsuzsanna as if reaching for her words.

Zsuzsanna paused. This one had potential but was not ready. Not quite. “There are ways, but none that come easily.” Zsuzsanna herded her towards the front door. “For now, try your best to avoid your husband’s hand and protect your child. It should be only a month or two now before she arrives.”

Ildiko still looked shaken but did not argue. “I will do my best.”

Zsuzsanna gave her a grim nod. “Do your best and more. Be careful.”

Zsuzsanna watched the woman walk away with a light waddle. She was stubborn, but protective. A combination like that could prove useful in such a woman. Zsuzsanna smiled fiercely. She would help the women of Nagyrev save themselves. No matter the cost.

End of Excerpt

"In the Age of Angel Makers"

Word Count: 80,400 words

Genre: Historical Fiction

Age Range: Young Adult, Adult Fiction

Target Audience: This novel is ideal for fans of "Circe" by Madeline Miller, "The Only Woman in the Room" by Heather Terrell, and other stories that highlight female experiences in historical contexts often dominated by men.

Author Bio: My name is Emily and I am a 25 year old UCLA alum who graduated with a degree in Molecular Biology and English Literature. I will be attending medical school in the fall and have been writing short stories and novels since I was young. One of my short stories was selected as a finalist in the Writer's Digest Short Story Contest in 2020. I love reading and writing about strong female characters and have always been fascinated by the untold stories of historical women from around the world.

Synopsis:

Evelina Toth rises with the dawning sun full of dread and spotted with bruises. Her mornings have repeated themselves in this manner since the start of her childless marriage five years prior. Until the day the able-bodied men of Nagyrev, Hungary are drafted into the war efforts and Evelina, along with her childhood friend Ildiko and hundreds of other Hungarian women, is left alone.

Her newfound freedom is sweetened by the stationing of Western European prisoners of war in Nagyrev, one of whom opens her eyes to the world beyond the small village in which she has spent her entire life. But the tentative joy that begins to rise within her is shattered when her husband returns, furious to discover his wife's budding independence. Evelina finds herself desperate to seek relief - even if it comes in the form of unforgivable evil.

Based on real events from the World War I era, "In the Age of Angel Makers" is a story of the overwhelmingly powerful influence of a desperate desire for freedom and love.

[Chapter 1]

The 7-11 was desolate from the outside.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," Dave said, circling the scene. The four of them were on a backroad, somewhere remote enough that no one bothered to re-blacktop the roads, rendering it something of a "dustbowl". Nine out of twelve pumps were restrained with yellow tape. "It feels criminal to pump gas here."

"Where?" Dania demanded. "The next one isn't for, like, another 30 minutes."

"Better than being skimmed." Kennedy hugged her purse as though someone was going to jump her from within the Honda civic. "I mean, we have enough gas to get there."

"Yeah, well, I still have to pee."

"Yeah, okay," Kennedy conceded, as her brother Lucas parked right in front. Upon pulling around, it was apparent someone was indeed in the vicinity—a lone rust-colored pickup truck with peeling paint sat around the side. Dania immediately began rattling the door handle. "Hold on," Lucas said.

Dania's eyes rose to the heavens. "What do you have to child-lock the doors for?"

"As long as I decide to keep my kidnapper side-gig. College ain't cheap, you know."

Dania laughed, popping the door open. "It is if you're smart enough to get Bright Futures." The door slammed.

"We could drive away without her," Lucas observed.

"When can we get back on 95?" Dave asked. "I'm tired of looking at cows and falling in potholes."

"You'd rather be sitting in traffic?" The highway had been jammed, likely with another one of those spectacular four-car pile-ups. Better yet, Lucas mused, one of those sedans pulling a speed-up-and-cut-in-front-of-a-semi maneuvers Floridians enjoyed toying with, to their own fatal expense.

"Yeah, maybe."

Kennedy opened the rear door. "You know what, I'm gonna go too. Who knows when we'll get another chance."

"Knock yourself out," Lucas muttered, knocking back a box of tic-tacs.

"Wha'ddya in such a hurry for, anyway?"

"I dunno. I just don't like gas stations."

Dave snorted. "Uh-huh. You mean abandoned ones with trucks tucked away like you're about to be robbed blind..."

A tapping at the window makes Lucas start. Dave laughed. "You chicken."

A woman's flat face, medium-long black strands crowding her face, peered into the window. She appeared to be older, in her late 30s or early 40s. Her fretful expression reminded Lucas of his mother.

Lucas swore under his breath and rolled the window down a notch.

"Excuse me," she said, pushing her face even further into the space. Noticing Lucas draw his own backward, she pulled back, slightly. "I'm in a bit of a situation and I could use some help."

"Yeah, yeah, of course. What can we do?" Dave said, his voice raising slightly. Lucas shoots him a glance, then defaults back to the woman.

"My name is Sylvia Richardson." She pauses, as though this was important. "I need help...with my kids. My husband is abusive. I need help getting away from him."

"Um..."

"I know this is weird to ask, but could you call him? Pretend your my lawyer. I don't have enough money to pay for one, but I think he'll back off if he thinks I have representation."

Lucas hears a slight rumbling behind them, but Dave is fixated on Sylvia. A roughed up black SUV makes its way toward the back of the store.

"Yeah, yeah, y'know it's funny, I'm actually training to be a lawyer. I mean, I'm in undergraduate still, but that's my major."

Lucas smirks. "You don't know anything about law. You're a sophomore."

"I've taken a few courses."

"Like what, Intro to Law, 101B?"

"No..."

Lucas turns to Sylvia. "All he knows how to do is con his way through courses with chat GPT and Chegg."

Sylvia's stressed face becomes even more distressed. "That's okay..."

"It's a simple request, Lucas."

"Yes," Sylvia agrees, "It will only take a moment. I'll pay you for the time."

"How much?" Dave asked.

"Fifty bucks."

Dave's hand shoots across Lucas. "Give me the phone. I'll do it."

"We have to use your phone. It's more realistic," Sylvia insisted.

Lucas attempted to swat away his hand, but Dave was already passing off the phone. She passed it back to him after a moment.

For all his bravato, Dave hesitated. "So, I'm your lawyer...this is your husband...soon to be ex-husband. Anything else I should know?

"Two kids, Donald and Rhonda. And I'm suing for custody."

"Okay, okay." He looked a bit more worried now. Lucas shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The sound of ringing was amplified by the silence.

"Hello?" A gruff voice asked. "Sylvia?"

Dave glanced at Sylvia's eager face and she waved him on. "Um, yeah, hey there."

"Who is this?"

"Hey, yeah, this is Sylvia's lawyer. She's suing you for kid custody. I mean, the custody of her kids."

"What the..." Some incoherent mumbling ensued. Then, "What is this, a kid?"

"Yeah, um no, I'm an adult. I'm your wife's lawyer. She wants the kids. And a divorce. She wants—" Dave looks at Sylvia, who looked more concerned than ever, "Donald and Rhonda."

The voice muffled a curse like a badly stifled sneeze. "Yeah, okay. Can you put Sylvia on the phone?"

"No, she's not speaking with you right now. She has representation and she's going to use it. Against you."

There was silence on the end of the line.

"Yeah. So you better leave her alone, buddy, or the law is going to come onto you big time."

Some less concealed swearing penetrated the line.

"You better be scared. You're not going to get away with this. You're done for—"

"Is Sylvia with you?"

Dave looked over to Sylvia again, who nodded slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, she's with me."

"Give her the phone. I need to speak with her. Privately."

"Nah, buddy, you're done playing these—"

"HAND OVER THE PHONE, DAMMIT."

Dave quickly passed off the phone. Sylvia took it off speaker and pressed it to her ear.

"Hi...Frank. I—" A flash of irritation swept across her face. "Yeah, I did the best I could. Given the circumstances."

Lucas and Dave strained their ears to make words out of the yelling, unsuccessfully. "I think I made it worse," Dave whispered.

"You think?" Lucas shot back.

Sylvia's gaze turned back in their direction, suddenly remembering their presence. "Yeah, I'm sorry Frank, but I can't go on like this. Donnie and Ronnie deserve better. And so do I." She hung up before Frank could ramp up again. "Thanks, guys, you were wonderful. I really appreciate it."

Dave beamed. "Yeah, well, it was nothing. Absolutely nothing at all."

"No shit," Lucas muttered.

Dave glared at him.

Sylvia waved dismissively. "No, really, you don't even know how helpful that was. I have to get going, pick up Rhonda and Donald, but thank you. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"Nope, don't worry about it."

Suddenly, a noise reminiscent of a shot firing sounded.

"What was that?!" Lucas cried.

Sylvia frowned and looked pointedly to her car. "I think that was my car."

Dave nodded, but Lucas looked dubious. "That didn't sound like a car."

"No, no," Sylvia said dismissively, "My car's been making some strange noises. I've got to get it checked out."

"Yeah, um, okay," Lucas said, still frowning.

"Thank you again, boys," Sylvia said. She gave a tight wave and a tighter wave as she backed away, and then disappeared. As she gassed up in a red Chevy Lucas rolled the window up, as Dave was uncharacteristically contemplative.

After a moment, Lucas said, "Is it just me or are those some old ass names for some kids?"

"Yeah," Dave agreed, "Maybe that's why she wants a divorce."

Lucas and Dave turned to see a red Chevy pull away with Sylvia at the wheel.

"I didn't notice her pull in. Did you?"

Dave ignored the question, swearing under his breath.

"That old bat never gave me my fifty bucks," he said.

————————————————————————

For a car full of undergraduates, the ride became strangely quiet after leaving the 7-11. Kennedy and Dania rotated between glancing at each other, the boys, and then back out the grubby windows. Lucas stared ahead, while Dave tapped vigorously at his phone, prompting it to chirp incessantly.

"What's your score?" Kennedy asked.

"Almost 700."

"Almost beating my low," she remarked.

"Yeah, well, you started playing before me. I'll catch up."

"By like a week," Lucas said, putting his two cents in.

"Shut up," Dave muttered. "At least I help people."

"What?" Dania said, her head snapping toward them.

"We saw someone at the car, talking to you guys,"Kennedy said slowly. "What was that about?"

Lucas and Dave swapped a look. Before Dave could concoct some cockamamie story, Lucas said, "She had a favor to ask."

"A favor?"

"Directions. She wanted directions."

Kennedy raised an eyebrow, but didn't question this. "Well, you could've just said that."

A short sad "womp, womp" sounded. "Shit," Dave muttered, putting his phone away.

Kennedy blurted out. "You aren't going to ask what took us so long?" Dania scowled in her direction.

Lucas frowned thoughtfully. "Yeah it was kind of long. Really long. Was there a line or something?"

"N—"

"Probably saw some hottie," Dave smirked.

"There was a line," Dania said.

Lucas thought for a moment. "But nobody was in the parking lot."

"It was the guy behind the desk," Dania explained. "One bathroom. Sounded like he was vomiting or something."

"Wow," Dave said, scrunching up his face in disgust. "That's gross." Neither Dave or Lucas asked for further details.

————————————————————————

"What they don't know won't kill them," Dania assures me, inspecting a freshly manicured fingernail. "Guys don't overthink like we do."

"That's so sexist," I complain. "Guys think all the time."

Dania drags her eyeballs up dramatically, like they're weighted. Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I "don't think". "Yeah, right. Name one instance."

I did struggle a bit with that one. The only guys I really know are Dave and Lucas.

"I thought so," she says, reverting her attention back to painting. "Anyways, I said overthink, not think."

"OK," I concede, still thinking her unfair.

In truth, I hadn't felt the same since that morning at the 7-11. But Dania didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want to pry. It had freaked both of us, but I suspect it bothered Dania even more than me.

"To be fair," I venture, unable to completely abandon ship, "Lucas did deduce that our story was implausible. That takes some thought."

Dania drops her hand, purses her lips. "That's called paying attention, Kennedy, not 'thinking'. It's a basic human function. Anyways, my point was that Lucas, nevermind Dave, aren't going to ask us about what happened. So why would we mention it to them?"

"I dunno," I say, feeling dumber than usual.

"Exactly."

"But don't you think it's weird that they haven't brought it up?"

Dania's lips became even tighter, her eyes rolling upwards again.

"What about that woman? Don't you think that was strange?"

"I didn't see any woman, so no."

"I did," I insist. "And don't say I imagined it because I absolutely did not. You can't argue that it's strange that Dave and Lucas didn't want to tell us what they were talking about."

Dania looks a little worried by that. I can tell because she tried to look concentrated on her nails, but they were in the dry stage, not the paint stage. "The woman wanted directions. There's nothing odd about that."

"Dave wanted to say something else before Lucas cut him off. You know Dave can't keep a secret. He is such a blabbermouth They're hiding something, Dania. They did something and I don't know what, but whatever it is, they don't want to tell us."

Dania continues inspecting her nails, her brows pinched.

"Dania. We can't hide from this. We should confront them," I persist.

She looks up shyly, her hard mask falling away. "Yeah, okay," she said. "But not now."

"Okay, fine." I sigh. "Let's wait a bit."

————————————————————————

As Dania shut herself in the restroom, Kennedy pushed through the door. It was one of those resistant ones you had to bulldoze, full weight into, to open.

Gas stations aren't known for being hubs of activity, especially not at six-going-on-seven in the morning, but there was a certain stillness that was unsettling. After a moment, Kennedy realized why that was.

There didn't seem to be a cashier anywhere in the store.

A tour around the shelves proved this to be true. Kennedy wondered if they were in the back somewhere taking a smoke. They didn't plan on making any purchases, yet it made her feel like she was trespassing. What if someone came in later, destroyed the cameras, stole a bunch of stuff, then pinned it on them? Kennedy stopped herself before her thoughts barrelled down that dark alley.

This was the kind of thinking her therapist always deemed "excessive and unnecessary". But if it was up to her therapist, she would spend the bulk of her day meditating, journaling, going on walks, and spending "quality time" with family, despite the fact that her family was even more anxious than she herself was. Her therapist severely underestimated her ability to infuse stress into every situation.

Instead of perusing the shelves as she wanted to, Kennedy positioned herself against the wall by the bathroom door. You couldn't be accused of shoplifting if you didn't go near the merchandise, could you?

Dania came out a moment later, saying, "I don't think they've cleaned that toilet since 1982."

Kennedy grabbed her arm. "Wait for me, will you? This place gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Dania shrugged. "Yeah, alright. You or the boys want anything?"

"No!"

Dania raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay. I might get some m&m's." She looked around, a confused look dawning on her face. "If I can find the cashier that is."

"It's 6am, you don't need m&m's," Kennedy snapped. "Just wait for me right there."

Dania snorted. Once Kennedy had disappeared into the closet-like bathroom, Dania began wandering around the store. She found some peanut butter m&m's, and a granola bar to balance it out. There was still plenty of time in the day to fit in some protein, fruits and veggies. As an athlete, Dania sometimes felt overwhelmed by the need for good nutrition, but right now she just wanted some chocolatey goodness.

She threw her goodies onto the counter, tapped her seasonally winter-blue nails against the peeling countertop. She pulled her phone out to text Lucas if they wanted any snacks, or more specifically, to ask Dave if he wanted snacks. Dave lived on snacks.

Just as she hit send and began stuffing it back into her pocket, something closed around her wrist. Dania let out a little shriek.

"What the—"

Something cold pressed against her temple. Instinctively, Dania attempted to jump sideways, but the hand around her wrist jerked her back into place. "Don't move and don't raise your voice or I shoot" the unknown but felt presence rumbled.

"Where's the cashier 'round here?!" the man—Dania had a hard time imagining the rumbler as a woman, with the voice and large hand—bellowed, presumably to a comrade. Dania suddenly wondered if Kennedy was still in the bathroom. She hoped the sound of voices would keep her from reappearing. Then, another part of her wished she would appear and provide some kind of distraction.

"I think he's 'round back," another masculine voice replied.

As if summoned from the dead, a bedraggled cashier emerged from a rusting and squeaking door from behind the counter. Instead of ditching the cigarette out back, he twiddled it around his fingers and permitted the smoke to trail behind him like a cape. "Wha's the meanin' of this?"

The robber knocked on Dania's head a few times. "All the money or I shoot."

The cashier nodded, unwilling to commit to a dramatic performance.

"Hurry on, now, what're you waitin' for?"

He knocked on Dania's head again. "If you're checking for brains, I've got plenty," Dania snapped.

"Next word oughta your mouth and—"

"Yeah, alright. I'll be quiet."

The cashier pushed a few dollars and coins towards the robber with the gun. "Sonny, you'll grab that?"

'Sonny' sauntered over into Dania's frame of vision. Short and stocky, she noted. Probably only a few inches over her, and Dania was not a tall woman. Everything else from head to toe was wrapped in black.

"What's this, a joke?" Sonny asked, slamming his fist onto the countertop, causing the plywood to splinter a little.

"What," the cashier growled. "You wanted cash, her's yer cash."

"He asked for all of it," Sonny sneared. "Not a donation to charity, dammit."

The cashier leaned his elbow on the counter and sneared back. "What and you think we got business goin' 'ere? I rarely show up 'xcept for some of the better parts of the week."

"You can't tell me that's all you've got!" The gun-wielding robber yelled, gesturing angrily towards the sad lump of cash. "That's pathetic!"

The cashier laughed. "Y'er tellin' me!"

The gun-wielder gripped Dania harder. "Whadd'ya think, Sonny? Maybe we should take a different approach."

Sonny frowned. "Yeah?"

"Whadd'ya bet," he drawled, "This chick's got some rich parents?"

Suddenly, a young female voice piped up from near the doorway, shouting, "I've got 911! You guys better leave!"

"Fucking Kennedy," Dania muttered.

The gun-wielder whips around, pointing the gun towards Kennedy. He takes a shot, but it hits the snack wall instead.

The phone says, "Is everything alright there? What's going on?"

Dania swore again. Trust Kennedy to have the wits to call 911, but not enough to actually give them essential information before thrusting herself into danger.

The gun-wielder returns the gun to Dania's head instead. "End the call and toss the phone or I shoot."

Kennedy tossed the phone.

"END the call," he demanded. Kennedy scrambled to hit the red button. It took a few attempts.

"Alright," the gun-wielder exhaled. "Here's what we're going to do here."

Everyone watched him silently, as he composed himself.

"I'm letting your friend and you go. We're taking the, almost worthless frankly, bit of cash here—Sonny grab the cash, will you?—and no one is going to speak a word of this or I will kill everyone you know. Sonny, grab the phone, please?"

"No problem," Sonny replied graciously. He sauntered around Dania and snatched Kennedy's phone from the floor.

He pushed Dania roughly towards the door, causing her to stumble forward. "Now leave and don't come back here," he growled.

Dania and Kennedy grabbed each other and hurried out the heavy door.

————————————————————————

TITLE: "We don't have money"

GENRE: mystery/thriller/drama/humor

AGE RANGE: Young Adult or Adult

WORD COUNT: (86,270 words, 2,946 of those in this excerpt)

I will be adding more in another writing space and will send these additions/updates if you are interested. My goal is about 80,000+ words (completed) by mid to early July. I aim to finish (80-90,000 goal) sometime by early-mid July.

AUTHOR NAME: Alexandra "Lexi" Kearns (would use pseudonym)

EDUCATION: Graduated with bachelors in psychology Spring, 2024; beginning Master's in Clinical MH Counseling in Fall 2024

INTERESTS/HOBBIES: Reading and writing, figure skating, baking

ABOUT ME: I am 22 years old and an athlete, having figure skated competitively for a little over a decade now. Because I aspire to be a therapist, I also plan to attend graduate school at next year (master's).

As for writing, I have always been a writer, since I can remember. I have been writing stories of one kind or another (mostly some kind of "mystery") since I realized you could make stories with just a pen and paper (or keyboard). I enjoy trying different characters and writing styles, although I always like to inject a little bit of wry humor and I prefer to write characters I can identify with in some way. I am one of those writers who is strongly influenced by the people I know and the random events around me (though I believe this is a universal writing "thing"?).

WRITING STYLE: usually comedic and dramatic. Things tend to make more sense as I go along, so some things (e.g., either adding other "suspects" to divert suspicion and muddle things OR focusing more on the "thriller" aspect than a bona fide mystery) will be sorted out as I get further in and see what direction makes most sense.

PITCH: I think this could be a good fit because Trident has a wide range of books and genres (including thrillers), but also because the idea is a bit unique in a few ways. As a college student, I don't find a lot of books featuring college students, even if the main character is "college age". I.e., I don't find many books that use college as a prominent background/setting, despite this being an interesting moment in many people's lives. This plot is something of a mix between a traditional thriller-mystery style book (one of the "crazier ones", perhaps, in terms of "Would this actually happen in real life?") and a bizarre episode of true crime stories. E.g., I remember seeing one (true crime story) recently about a gang of women who drugged and blackmailed men in bars, making them think they were cheating on their girlfriends (they were actually being drugged, raped, and then blackmailed—it was a crime ring). So, there is comfortable familiarity along with some satisfying originality (I hope!).

PROJECT SYNOPSIS (No Spoilers, "back-of-the-book" summary): Four college students are headed back to their university after winter break when a pit-stop at an abandoned gas station sets forth a chain of strange, unexplained events.

It all starts with a foiled robbery and the badly-done impersonation of a lawyer. Soon, alarming texts and threats plague the four students as they struggle to blend back into campus life. Is Sylvia and her abusive husband at the heart of it all, as Lucas and Dave suspect? Or is it an aftereffect of the failed robbery that traumatized Kennedy and Dania? Lucas, Dave, Kennedy, and Dania can't help but wonder if the only way this ends is in tragedy, possibly even for one of them.

PROJECT SUMMARY (including spoilers): Four college students are headed back to their university after winter break when a pit-stop at an abandoned gas station sets forth a chain of strange, unexplained events.

Dave and Lucas are approached by a middle-aged woman requesting aid in finalizing a divorce. At the same time, Kennedy and Dania experience their own drama inside the store while waiting for the bathroom (a mostly-failed robbery). Both set of friends are reluctant to discuss what happened to the other two, for different reasons. Dave and Lucas are embarrassed and uneasy. Kennedy and Dania are scared for their life, after they are threatened and Kennedy's phone is stolen.

Mysteriously, Kennedy's phone is returned after having gone missing in the robbery attempt. Over the course of the next few days, Kennedy and Dania suspect they are being stalked. They do not reveal their suspicions to their friends Dave and Lucas, until the guys inform them about texts they are receiving claiming that Sylvia, the woman whom they "helped", is in danger. Texts from Sylvia plead for help, while texts from another number (presumably the abuser/kidnapper) demand money for Sylvia's safety and use threats to discourage them from contacting the police. When Dave and Lucas decide to notify the authorities of the exchanges, pictures from Dania's and Kennedy's stalker change their minds.

The name of the book "We don't have money" is because, contrary to the perpetrators' imaginations, the four students fit more into the "broke college students" trope (they work minimum wage jobs, mostly cut off from family finances, etc.). After obtaining some of their information at the gas station (Dave's phone number, Kennedy's phone), they find Dave has very well-off relatives (generations of doctors) whom they confuse for his parents (it is actually his aunt and uncle). So, they assume Dave can easily convince his relatives to pay off their demands with the right pressure. However, Dave's parents, while comfortably middle-class, do not have excess money, are stingy, and cut him off from financial support after he started working part-time at a law firm.

Kennedy also has wealthy connections, but these are even further down the pipeline. Kennedy's grandmother was a famous billionaire novelist who hated her children so much that she cut them off from her will before her recent death, donating all of her money to charity. Her only reconciliation was to give each of her family members one of her many cats. Therefore, Kennedy's family is also unwilling to give into their demands.

However, the perpetrators do not know this and firmly believe they will obtain the money if they push hard enough.

***as mentioned, plot needs more development, of course, but this is just what I have come up with so far.

Why does the valley fear the mountain?

The shadow it casts for miles?

The fate it decides

For all below it

The title of this project is The Valley. It is aimed at adults. This is only the first little bit of the song/poem so it is only about 20 words long. My name is Mollie Osinga, but I prefer Mino. My project is a good fit because it is gonna make people think and want to analyze it. The hook is written up top: Why does the valley fear the mountain? The synopsis is something I want the reader to figure out. I'm 21 years old and I am trying to become a writer. I am currently in college. My writing is often reflections on things that I have viewed or have had happen to me. Writing is one of my hobbies. I'd rather not talk about where I am from; too personal.

On a late Saturday afternoon, it was in the middle of spring and it was a very sunny warm day. There was a young woman named, Mira Stones, she had long light brown wavy hair tied back into a pony tail with a small plait in it and she had deep blue eyes. She wore a dark green unzipped hooded jacket, a teal gemstone necklace, a light brown long – sleeved shirt, grey trousers and black shoes. She was twenty – one years old and she had a large dog by her side, the dog was male and his name is Gray. Gray was 60 centimetres tall; he had a thick coat with a mix of black, white and grey coloured fur. His eyes were a light blue colour and his tail was thick and fluffy with a bit of black at the end of the tail, the rest of the tail were a mix of white and grey. Mira had always been loved by all animals she came across and loved them back, she had always loved all animals it’s in her blood, her entire family loved animals. She could also understand animals not by speech, but resonating to their hearts. There was one animal she could hear their voice and that is Gray, her best friend who happens to be a Siberian Husky. Mira and Gray were walking through the forest, the forest looked like one of those forests where a serial killer would hunt down their victims in a horror movie, but Mira wasn’t the type of person who would watch them. There was no reason for either Mira or Gray to be in that forest and it just happened that Mira got lost again, which happened quite frequently. Mira is actually scared of all that horror supernatural stuff like Ghosts, Vampires and Zombies.

“Um… Gray, do you know where we are?” Mira asked him unsure.

“Mira, we are in a forest just have a look around, but I have no idea how you got us here,” Gray said to her calmly.

Mira then had a good look around, but she suddenly got scared holding tightly on to Gray.

“Gray, this forest, it’s like those forests in those horror movies where the serial killer killed their victims in,” Mira said terrified.

“Mira… we’re not in a horror movie and besides I can’t breathe,” Gray said having trouble breathing.

Mira then released Gray from her tight hold and Gray took a breath.

“I’m sorry Gray,” Mira said to him sadly.

“Calm down Mira, it’s okay, I forgive you,” Gray said to her kindly.

Mira gets up from holding on to Gray and calms down.

They walked through the forest, they were in pretty deep and then they had come across a house with a beautiful garden, the most beautiful garden they had ever seen. They could see a small pond with gold fish in it, many roses surrounded the pond, there was even rows of veggies of vivid colours, there were no scarecrows to scare all the crows away, but the garden was even more beautiful than that. Mira could only see a little bit of the garden, she entered the garden though Gray seemed to be on alert, but Mira could sense all the warmth coming from it. They both had gotten deeper into the garden and could see all its beauty.

“Hello is there anyone there? I’m sorry for trespassing,” Mira apologised.

“Mira, we should get out of here, there’s something about this place that makes me feel so uneasy,” Gray said to her uneasy.

“It will be fine Gray and besides this garden is beautiful,” Mira replied.

“That shouldn’t matter Mira,” Gray replied worriedly.

Soon Mira would meet a young man who seemed to be the same age as her, but he had a strange feeling to him. He had smooth silky jet – black hair and very beautiful vivid green eyes. He wore a black soldier’s cap with an insignia of white wings on it, the insignia represents freedom, he wore a formal black uniform with a white dress shirt and the white wings of freedom insignia on the right chest of the black formal jacket. Mira had met the young man in the garden just outside a small house, but the young man had a secret.

“It looks so pretty,” Mira said in awe of the garden’s beauty.

“Mira, don’t you find it strange that no animals are here at all?” Gray questioned her.

“Yeah, a bit, but you’re still here, that’s what matters,” Mira replied happily.

“I’m only here for you Mira,” Gray replied.

“What do you mean, Gray?” She asked him confused.

“This place smells of death,” Gray said to her terrified.

Gray looked like he was shaking right in front of Mira, she had never seen him like that before, seen him shake in fear.

“Death! Gray, I have never seen you shake in fear like this”. “Gray, calm down, you don’t need to be afraid not when I’m by your side,” Mira said to him kindly.

“Thanks Mira, I appreciate it,” Gray replied.

Then Gray calms down as Mira comforts him with a hug and she gets back up a minute later.

Then a young man appeared before both Mira and Gray in a mysterious way. He had smooth silky jet – black hair and very beautiful vivid green eyes. He wore a black soldier’s cap with an insignia of white wings on it, the insignia represents freedom, he wore a formal black uniform with a white dress shirt and the white wings of freedom insignia on the right chest of the black formal jacket.

“Hello Miss, can I help you or your Wolf?” He asked her a bit surprised.

“Who are you?” Mira asked.

“Get away from him Mira, he’s dangerous,” Gray warned her.

“Calm down Gray,” Mira said to him calmly.

“I am Raymond, you may call me Ray for short, but who are you Miss?” He asked her.

“My name is Mira and this is Gray, he’s a Siberian Husky,” Mira replied.

“Gray seems to dislike me, but all animals do. Most animals won’t even come near this place, so I just wonder how Gray got here,” Ray said out loud.

“Gray always stays with me no matter where I go,” Mira replied.

“That’s quite interesting Miss Mira, but why are you here?” He asked her curiously.

“Well actually I was on my way home and got myself lost, it happens a lot,” Mira replied embarrassed.

“You got lost, where do you live, I could take you there?” He asked her.

“Well I don’t want to bother you, but I live in the Azure District,” Mira replied.

“But that’s an hour away, how could you get lost so badly,” Ray said surprised.

“Yeah, I get lost easily, but the animals usually help me,” Mira replied a bit embarrassed.

“The animals help you,” Ray questioned her.

“It’s a bit strange, but for some reason I can attract any animal. They also help me, I have some connection to them, I don’t understand it myself,” Mira replied.

“If that’s true that would make sense, that explains why Gray is here and why there are a few birds in the tree up there, there are usually no animals here not even ants,” Ray explained.

“Miss Mira, I will take you home if you like,” Ray said to Mira kindly.

“I can’t burden you like that and besides it seems like it’s too far away,” Mira said to him.

“Then how will you get home? You don’t seem the best with directions,” Ray stated to her.

“You’re right I’m not great with directions, but if Gray’s here I will be fine, Gray has always shown me the right way home,” Mira said to him happily.

“Really, he shows you the way Miss Mira, he’s a smart dog,” Ray said to her.

“Is he patronising me?” Gray asked.

To Ray it seemed like Gray was barking at him and he was growling at him too.

“Gray calm down, he didn’t mean it that way,” Mira said to him kindly.

“It almost seems like you understand him,” Ray said to her.

“That’s not far off from the truth,” Mira replied.

Though Ray looked confused at her response.

“What do you mean?” He asked confused.

“I may be able to understand their hearts by resonating with them, but Gray is different I can actually hear his voice, to me it’s just like he’s talking as if he was a person,” Mira explained.

“That’s amazing Miss Mira it’s just like out of a fantasy novel,” Ray replied.

“Thanks Ray, but you don’t need to call me Miss, just Mira is fine,” Mira replied.

“Thank you, Mira,” Ray said to her.

“Ray, why do you live so far out in the forest?” Mira asked him curiously.

“I was very weak and frail as a child. I couldn’t handle the life in the City or Towns. This was the place I stayed as a child, it has many memories of my past, so I decided to come back here to be with those memories,” Ray replied hiding his sadness.

Though Ray hid his sadness from her, Mira could sense a sadness from him, but she didn’t understand at the time.

“I’m sorry, but are you still weak and frail as you were as a child?” Mira asked sadly.

“There’s no need to apologise, I am healthy as you can see, I got better,” Ray replied.

“That’s a relief, but those clothes you’re wearing,” Mira questioned.

“Is there something wrong with them?” Ray asked her wondering.

“No not at all, I was just curious about them,” Mira replied unsure.

Ray saw Mira’s unsure expression and thought of an idea.

“You know Mira, this place is known as the Ghost Graveyard, this is where they pass on after coming to peace with their deaths and that many travel down here to see the lights that are seen as the ghosts passing on,” Ray explained happily.

“Ah!” Mira screamed frightened.

“Um… Mira,” Ray said to her confused while shocked at the same time.

Then at that moment there was a rustle in the bush, but it was just a rabbit.

“Ah!” Mira screamed still frightened.

What was worse was that it was starting to get dark and Ray was so confused by Mira’s scream. Gray was growling at Ray and he was also glaring at him for terrifying Mira, even though Ray didn’t know about her fear. Mira had tears going down her face, she collapsed to the ground holding on to Gray again, but this time not so tightly that Gray couldn’t breathe.

“Mira, what’s wrong? Whatever I did I’m sorry,” Ray apologised.

“Are you an idiot? She’s afraid of Ghosts,” Gray questioned Ray, but it wasn’t like Ray could hear his voice.

“Mira, by any chance are you afraid of Ghosts?” Ray asked her concerned.

Mira nodded her head in response with tears still in her eyes, but Gray guards her fiercely.

“I won’t let you near Mira,” Gray said to him.

Ray goes over to Mira and he hugs her softly with kindness, Mira starts to calm down.

“His body it feels so cold, but yet I feel so warm inside,” Mira said inside her head happily.

“I’m sorry Mira, I did not mean to frighten you, I hope you can forgive me,” Ray replied to her.

“It’s okay Ray, I have calmed down now thank you, you couldn’t have known that about me, we just met, I forgive you, but I should be thanking you for calming me down, I’m sorry if I surprised you,” Mira said to him kindly.

Ray then released Mira from his hug once he noticed that she had calmed down and he backed away.

Genre: Supernatural, Fiction & Mystery

Age Range: 14+

Word count: 2,217

The three of them Raymond, Mira and Gray solve crimes together and eventually solve the gratest mystery of them all involving one of them.

Target Audience: Don't really have one, they just have to be fourteen & older.

About the story:

One day a girl gets ridculously lost with her best friend a husky named Gray, but he often gets mistaken as a wolf. When they get lost, they meet a mysterious guy, who is a bit strange, but the strange man helps them though Gray doesn't trust him. The girl is a Detective, the man helps out a little, but in their first case together. The girl and Gray discover a sad truth about the man.

Why this story:

I may have only shown you their meeting, but it's impactful. Also who wouldn't want a talking dog especially if it solves crimes with a Detective and mysterious man who was once a weak child and now strong. There will be sad, happy and frustrating moments. The story is basically solving crimes together and their friendship towards each other.

Synopsis: A young girl and a ghost fall in love with each other, but because of their different states of life and death they can't. It's basically two beings falling in love, learning about each other and solving crimes together, there's also a dog.

Likes: Mystery shows, writing, anime & drawing.

Age: 23

“STARLESS and Bible Black” is a collection of interrelated short stories in which I use science as a backdrop to put humanism in the foreground. This succeeds in rendering a fascinating juxtaposition of cosmic effect and psychological affect.

GENRE: SciFi/humanism

AGE: 14+

WORD COUNT 45,000

AUTHOR: Gerard DiLeo

A GOOD FIT: it appeals to those looking for a theme not explored previously.

HOOK: Our world thrown a cosmic screwball.

TARGET AUDIENCE: SciFi fans, intellectuals, curious, offbeat/quirky, esoteric, philosophers.

SYNOPSIS: STARLESS and Bible Black centers on a common premise that we are suddenly alone in the universe: on a crisp, clear night the stars and other planets vanish from our night sky. Suddenly, mysteriously, and totally. Would you really miss them? As science scrambles to explain it scientifically, scholars wax philosophical on existentialism, religions fall victim to irrelevance, and the rest of the world scrambles to try to make sense of what has happened. Individuals--each visited via a short story--must deal with the effect the phenomenon has on him or her. Why should this change anything? The stars had no tangible effect before they left. Why should their absence even matter?

The stories center on religion, fanaticism, financial markets and capitalism, coming of age, sexual encounters, the common man, and other motifs. It interweaves humor, pathos, and several other facets of the human condition. STARLESS and Bible Black explores our perspective of place in the universe, whether we notice or not.

BIO: I am a retired MD writing full time now, with an interest in introducing themes based on science into stories that center on humanism.

HOMETOWN: Boston, from New Orleans.

This book is completed. Please request a PDF if interested. Thanks.

Oh, this little life.

This little life that I have cherished,

much to the amazement of spectators and strangers,

it brims

with more love

and more strength

and more fight

than one little soul should be able to contain.

And I find myself awed by the ferocity of such living.

Because I see the courage in her fearless leaps,

How she scales the giants who populate her world,

hand over hand

climbing

pulling

grabbing

until at last she has perched herself

heaving

upon a shoulder.

Such triump in her stance there.

But then comes the surprise

as she stumbles

then the faith

as she caught

in my arms before

She falls.

She will fall,

She always

but she will not be tempered.

She exists so brilliantly

and she burns so brightly

and it warms this heart I thought

once cold.

They say though she be little, she is fierce

and my God, isn’t she just?

Fierce in all things, in all aspects

of her fragile being,

she hums with exuberance

and thrums with such joy

and she is little

but she is my

amazement.

But she is fading, my sweet girl.

She is growing dimmer by the day,

with every labored breath that she

sips from the air

because it is the ocean for her,

her fire fades,

her flame gutters.

Her little life stifled

a little more.

She seeks me out now,

perfect hands grasping at my own,

and nestles her face

into the crook of my arm

and she struggles to breathe.

So little time left to this little life

and she would have these

moments with me.

Of all the places in her world,

she searches for this one.

She reaches for me

and I hold her.

I will hold her until she lets go,

until she can stay no longer

because there is someplace else she has to be.

I will hold her,

lost in the amazement that

such a little thing

could love so loud.

And I hope I was worthy of this little gift,

of our short days and the years that were

anything but enough,

of the little life

in a little soul

that was

anything

but little.