Chapter 1 - Umbra

I’m falling into a dark abyss. Below me, I see nothing but space, blank space. Falling, falling further down, further into the unknown. There is nothing around me. I am gliding through an endless pool of darkness. I reach my hand out to make sure that I am still here, and I see it glowing in the darkness. My hand appears to be pale, paler than I have ever seen it. I look like a ghost, one that has been forgotten and left alone, abandoned in an empty hole. I reach out my other hand touching it to my pale fingers. They stand out among the endless nothingness. The glow shows me that I am still here. Despite the nothingness, I am still here, I still exist. I feel each of my fingers, smoother than I remember. Through them, I feel each bone, sticking out, jabbing into my skin. Then, once I am sure that my hands are in front of me, I slowly lift my legs in front of my eyes. I examine the thinness of them, the appearance that perhaps I am a ghost. I don’t remember being this pale or skinny. I don’t remember how I ended up in this black hole, sucking me further down. Where I am, I do not know.

I feel a breeze blow against the back of my neck, lifting up the tiny hairs and sending a rush of chills down my spine. I try to turn around to find the location of the air, but I have nothing to push against, forcing me to remain facing the same direction. I try to move my legs again, but they seem to be stuck in jello as if the endless darkness is hardening around me. I can no longer move any parts of my body. I begin to feel a coldness inside my soul, swelling up, engorging my insides. I no longer feel anything. The darkness creates a numbness inside of me as if I have no emotions. The numbness begins to take over, preventing me from feeling any stress or confusion towards what is happening. It prevents me from thinking, entering my brain and taking over. The darkness moves my legs and arms, pushing me forwards instead of downwards. Now, instead of falling, I am running, running further into the abyss.

Suddenly, the darkness seems to become lighter as the scene starts to change. As I run, objects appear all around me. They glow in the gloom, changing the color of everything around me. These strange objects fly by me nearly hitting me. I try to get a close look as to what they are, but they move so fast that I only see a blur. My legs start to hurt as I continue to be forced forward. Finally, when the pain begins to become unbearable, I am stopped, no longer moving down or forwards. Finally, I can get a good look at the objects surrounding me. I look around, trying to focus on each item, trying to figure out what they are. As I examine each, I start to regain feeling throughout my body. First, my head seems to defrost as I regain control of my arms and legs. I can finally think straight, but as I am able to decipher my thoughts, I start to realize the strange situation I am in. My brain begins to question everything. I start to wonder why there are so many dolls going by me, nearly hitting my face. I begin to question why each of the dolls appears to have some sort of defect indicating that they have been discarded, considered useless. One doll sports a beautiful pink dress, bringing color to this endless darkness. It would seem that the doll is perfect, but upon further inspection, she appears to have a burnt face. The doll's skin seems to be melting off and covered in black soot. Next to her, I spot a similar looking creature that is missing eyes and has yellowing teeth. I turn away from the two defects to find another doll with what appears to be ten fingers on each hand. Behind that doll, I spot another with red marks all over its body, and I think I see blood dripping from the cuts. They continue to fly by me, some appearing to smile at my distress.

The dolls faces seem to change, contorting into irregularities. Instead of avoiding me, they now seem to be trying to hit me. They fly, closer and closer towards me. Some grab my clothes, pulling them and ripping them apart. They seem to grow long nails that they use to scratch me, making my skin bleed. Their teeth grow sharp, pointy edges. They growl at me, making biting motions as they rip me apart. Then, they start muttering things to me, slowly getting louder and louder until all I can hear is a high pitched scream. They surround me, stopping my senses and overriding everything.

“You are so ugly!” The dolls scream.

“You deserve to die!”

“No one cares about you!” The dolls shout, tearing apart my brain, destroying my feelings. First, I lost the ability to move, then I lost my emotions, afterwards I lost parts of my body as the dolls ripped away my skin, and now they are attacking my mind, destroying the last bit of my humanity. It is all too much. It’s as though they want me dead, but not so far gone that I am unable to understand what is happening. I try to distract myself from the horrible words they are uttering, so I reach my hands in front of me to make sure they are still there. Instead of the pale stumps that they once were, they are red. The redness seems to reflect the darkness around me, standing out. Blood drips off of my hands at the same time that skin falls. I start to see bone appear from beneath. Then, I try to move my legs, but I can’t see them. Everything starts to magnify. The darkness seems to get darker, the blood seems to appear faster, and the noise that the dolls are making gets louder. I can no longer try to ignore what is happening. I can’t handle the pain and the terror anymore.

“Leave me alone!” I scream, but no words emerge from my mouth. It’s as if what I am trying to say has become absorbed by the darkness. All I want is for everything to stop. I want to be dead. I want the darkness to be gone. I want the dolls to stop terrorizing me. I try again and again to utter words, but I am unable to say a single thing. Even if I could talk, it wouldn’t matter because there is no one around to see my pain.

All of a sudden, when I have started to give up on everything, the dolls disappear, leaving me in an endless silence. I am thankful for the quiet despite how unsettling it is. Then, before I can enjoy my peace, I begin to fall. Again, I am falling through the endless pit of darkness. As I fall, my wounds begin to heal, returning them to their original paleness. The darkness starts to seep from my soul allowing me to regain full control of my emotions. As I am falling, I start to feel normal again as if I had just imagined everything that had happened to me. I am finally beginning to regain comfort when everything changes. Now, instead of falling through a pit of endless darkness, below me I notice a large wooden door. The door ahead of me is closed and engraved in scarlet letterings. The words drip as the door rotates to face vertically. I stop falling when I reach the area in front of the wooden paneling. I look ahead of me, trying to read the words. Enter here or you shall never feel peace. I look around unsure of whether or not to go through the door. I realize that I could take this chance and possibly survive, or I could stay stuck in this pit for who knows how long. I decide to take the leap of faith, and I move my legs, pushing against the cold air around me.

I shove the wooden door open, and I step through, out into a whole new world. The darkness is replaced by a bright light, the brightest white that I have ever seen. Everything is different past this door. Instead of the terrible pain I had felt in the pit, I now feel joy, a joy so immense, I can’t help but smile. I turn back to inspect the darkness that I came from, but before I can see anything, the door closes leaving me trapped in this new unknown place.

I turn towards this strange new location, uncontrollably full of happiness. The cloud that was once inside me seems to be gone, replaced with a new light. My insides feel as if they are burning up, and all I want to do is scream with excitement, and I do. This time I am able to talk, and I start cheering despite my confusion as to what is happening. Suddenly, I don’t care anymore, and I don’t want to leave this beautiful place. I scream until my throat swells up, and I am no longer able to create any words. Despite my inability to talk, I feel no pain. I somehow feel at peace, perfectly calm and so sure that I am okay. As soon as I am feeling at peace with myself, the light surrounding me subsides enabling me to fully understand where I am.

Wood surrounds me. Wooden walls, a wooden floor and wooden doors. I seem to be in a very old house. My legs move forward of their own volition, and below me the wood creaks and moans. All the odd emotions that I had felt seem to have left my body, and I just now seem to be returning to normal. I urge my legs to stop moving, and they finally listen, leaving me standing in the middle of this never ending hallway.

Now that I have control over myself, I try to remember what happened, but I can’t see past the darkness. The first thing I have any recollection of is falling. I have no idea how I ended up in the dark pit. I have no idea how I ended up in this wooden house. I can’t remember my name. I can’t remember my parents. I know nothing but that I seem to be trapped in this neverending terror. Maybe there is someone here who can tell me what is happening. As if hearing my thoughts, I hear a loud giggle emerge from somewhere further down the hallway. I sprint towards the noise, shouting for help. Then, I see a small child appear from the shadows, laughing and smiling. She looks at me stopping for a second to take in my presence, and then she is gone, running fast down the hallway.

“Wait!” I shout, regaining my voice and picking up my pace. I run after her, faster than I have ever ran before. My legs start to burn until I can no longer feel them, but somehow I can’t catch up to the young child ahead of me. As I finally get closer to her, the walls seem to shift. They curve in on me starting to absorb me as part of them. I am now stuck to the side of the wall unable to move. The wall starts to turn, bringing me upside down until I am above the girl. She looks up at me, laughing and pointing. Then, before I can ask for help, she disappears back into the shadows. Now, I am left completely alone on the ceiling of the building. Unsure of what to do, I stand there looking around, wondering how I ended up in this situation.

Finally, after hanging for what felt like hours, I hear a creak as the wall appears to start moving again. Instead of lowering me to the ground, I am pushed forward. I start moving at a slow pace but that doesn’t last for long. I begin to speed up until everything around me is a blur, and I can no longer determine what my surroundings are like. All of a sudden, I am thrown from the ceiling into a door that has appeared out of nowhere. I am shoved through that door against my will and with no knowledge of what is ahead of me.

Title: The Revolving Door of Trepidation

Genre: Horror

Age Range: Young Adult

Word Count: 50,000 - 70,000

Synopsis: Morrigan, a teenaged girl, is trapped inside an old, rickety mansion. All she wants is to find a way out, so she goes through each door in hopes that one of them will lead her outside. Instead of finding an exit, she is thrown into different versions of her fears where she is forced to live out her worst nightmares.

Why your project is a good fit: This book displays the fears and insecurities of many teens in the 21st century.

I remember these words as vividly as I remember the wrinkles on this mans face. I remember his warm hugs, flirtatious nature and deep respect for me, though I never fully knew why. He was always kind, always eager to listen, and always abrasively positive after a few shots of tequila.

I remember this day, I remember the clouds full of rain and the ever-growing emotional wound I carried. I remember climbing so many hills, I remember falling so many times and I remember carrying on, even if it meant I had to crawl on my knees, over-burdened with self-imposed guilt.

Life goes on and we carry these moments in time, they splinter and burrow into our soft human flesh only to find their way into our veins, roots sprouting among the banks of the fertile rivers that supply us with life. They provide us with a temporary foundation on which to build upon.

It’s the everyday people that bring us the life we’ve forgotten to look for. Sometimes they hand it to us gently like a neatly wrapped gift, and sometimes it’s thrown at us with unexpected force.

We have this day, we have this moment. Make it yours.

-A.e.

[Major Spoiler warning to anyone in the midst or planning to read Tainted Sky; Rei’s Playlist. Free first draft vers. can be found here: https://theprose.com/book/1219/tainted-sky-rei-s-playlist ]

Dear awesome people at Trident Submissions,

Thank you for taking the time to consider my work, if you would like the full vers. of my manuscript please notify me and after I squeal and run around in circles for a while, I will happily send it to you along with my contact info.

Hope you enjoy :)

Optional context: Axel is the first person narrator to the scene below, as well as one of the two main characters of the story. After having fought a group of bad guys, Axel and friends are now running from the promise of reinforcements in a facility of dangerous people. For various reasons Axel is always wearing headphones. Always.

Mentioned characters | Main: Axel, Rei | Side: Sunal, Sheria, Keita, Kaia (Axel’s mom) | Guitars: Adara, Zeya

♩ ♫ ♬ ♫ ♩

Excerpt:

“C’mon there’s the exit!” yelled Sunal.

The short hall funneled out to a main entrance lobby, with a similar open space as the last. We all picked up the pace, running in the open with our weapons still unsheathed and unhidden; there was no point anymore. I pulled to the front in the formation Sunal had instructed despite my exhaustion. That’s when I saw a woman seated casually on a lounge chair right next to the main doors.

She got up, holding under her arm a book the size of a laptop, and stalked over to our exit, short business heels clacking, bob of mahogany hair bobbing, and an apathetic glare, rising where she stopped, to watch us approach.

With the half-rimmed glasses, the short hair curling towards her neck, the tight business suit and skirt combo, she gave the air of a strict elementary school teacher.

I didn’t stop running, nor did anyone behind me. Instead, I readied my blade and charged at her.

She simply stared at us and opened her book, cradling it in a single hand while pages flipped wildly on their own, and like that she waited, until our steps carried us within earshot. Then she uttered four simple words:

“Once upon a time-”

I let out a groan, as did everyone behind me who were likewise smacked by a surge of power. Similar to the photographer’s ability, I was pinned to one spot. Except I wasn’t exactly stuck in place when I fell to my knees. I wasn’t trapped in a stilled frame when the ground met my hands. My mind was flooded and sent elsewhere, warped to another state of existence, and I was thoroughly and utterly convinced that I’d been there all along...

Track 29

Axel woke up on a bright, brittle morning, just like any other day of winter. The outside’s crisp air had oozed into the cozy cool setting of his room, and although this was nothing new, he woke up scared and confused. He’d experienced a fearsome nightmare, one he had to squeeze out of his mind.

So realistic was this dream that he briefly questioned the authenticity of his current bedside reality.

Axel’s eyes made a quick sweep through his room, adrenaline coursing within, but everything was in place; from his favourite band posters, to his piano, to his guitars, Adara through Zeya. All was well. All was okay.

He sighed his relief and felt all his stress fade away.

The day pressed on like all the others. Axel had his breakfast, played some tunes, helped out at the storefront, composed some songs, and then went out to train.

Sheria was already out on the field when Axel arrived. She sat on the hill, absentmindedly poking at Keita’s bird, Rico, with a small branch. Silently, she waited in the chill for the rest of her team, without emotion or complaint. The colour around her seemed to wane.

“Hey,” called Axel, “Where’s Rei? I haven’t seen her all day.”

Sheria opened her mouth, but didn’t respond.

Sunal strode over from behind soon after, his face crestfallen and his spirits looked bleak. The sky looked the same.

“Where’s Rei?” I repeated. Something was wrong.

Nothing was wrong; “Rei,” began Sunal, his fist clenched tight on thin air, “was killed in our last mission, Axel. You know this.” Axel’s face drained, his eyes widened with newfound anger.

“What. Did you. Just. Say?” Axel shoved the words through his teeth, he needed Sunal to look him in the eye and repeat that line, but Sunal wouldn’t meet his gaze when he responded:

“No matter how many times I tell you, you always make yourself forget.”

Sheria stood by his back, backing him up, “It’s true Axel.” Her voice broadcasted through his headphones. “You don’t want to remember it. You’re choosing not t-”

“NO.” Axel yelled. “SAY WHAT YOU JUST SAID.”

This time it was Axel who couldn’t look Sunal in the eye, but Sunal complied. Those accursed words were uttered all over again.

“Rei was killed in our last mission.”

I ripped my sword from my pocket. Multiple shades of red throbbed over the blade at rocket-fast sequence. Its tip pointed to Sunal’s chest.

But Axel didn’t really draw his sword-

I did.

There was no sword to draw. Nothing was in Axel’s grasp. There never was because he had never been a sell-soul to begin with.

I am.

Axel’s hand shook as he felt around for the sword he thought he possessed, but there was nothing there.

“I told you, you don’t want to believe us, but it’s true.” Sunal was saying, but Axel couldn’t hear him. More accurately, he didn’t want to hear him. There was nothing standing between his ears and Sunal’s voice. That couldn’t be right.

It was right.

If he- If I wasn’t a sell-soul then-

Axel looked to his chest. A scraped-out hole replaced the spot his heart should’ve gone, like the silvery markings of a half-scratched lottery ticket.

Sheria joined in again, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder, “It wasn’t just Rei,”

Shut up.

“While we were gone, no one was here to protect the store.”

Stop talking!

“Some radicals broke in and- they-” Sheria choked up and moved away.

I couldn’t breathe.

Fine. Axel couldn’t breathe as Keita pulled up to his side, tugging his wrist warmer, and harnessing the tragic innocence of a confused child. Keita’s questions rang out into dead air, “Axel, Axel. Where’s Rei? Where’s your mommy?”

His words hit in the same way an orchestral hammer, meant for chimes, might beat against a timpani. It was painful to listen to, but felt off.

I froze in place, and then sank with a breath that felt drowned, until I was stooped down at the little boy’s level. I held the back of his head, clenched his hair as one would clench a weed, looked him square in the eye, and said, “You’re a lie.”

A silvery white line cracked through Keita’s face. None of this was real. The sky blistered up and pieces fell. ‘Rei’, my ‘mommy’; maybe they died in this world… but the “Little Rei” or “gif-girl” I knew; the ‘Kaia’ or ‘Aunty Kaia’ I’d grown accustomed to hearing, they were all very much alive and well, and I’d do everything I could to make sure they stayed that way.

I was a sell-soul. I had the power to protect. The path I took was more than just some story. I alone held the reins, my choices were my own, I’d decide where it ends or where it goes, and there was nothing and no one in this world or the next that could write my life away.

I felt my sword whole in my hand once again, and watched the remaining tidbits of a fake world crack to pieces. When I looked to the darkening void that was left of the broken sky, a tingling sensation grabbed hold of my body. Soon, I no longer felt a sword in my hand. It was gone as soon as it came. Instead what I felt was a cold, wet sweat along my temples and a blurring vision that was drawing in focus, clutching at it.

I was on my knees.

The woman with the storybook, now tucked beneath her arm, had tilted up my chin with a single wicked finger, making me face her as she spoke absently into an earpiece.

With shallowed breaths and a struggling gaze, I watched the book with irritation.

It really was just a story.

My gaze rose back to the woman.

But the track I was on now...

was so much more.

♩ ♫ ♬ ♫ ♩

Title: Tainted Sky; Rei’s Playlist

Genre: Cyberpunk, Action

Age range: Suitable for all ages

Word Count: Excerpt – 1280 words | Whole book – approx. 135 231 words

Author: Taija Sensei

Why my project is a good fit: Because no matter what, whether through this submission or the next, one way or another I will turn my stories into bestsellers. I have the devotion and determination to accomplish this and I’d both love and appreciate Trident’s support for my very first novel.

Additionally, I think the power of music and listening to the voices nearby is a theme that is heavily overlooked and I’d like to provide a cool, epic way of delivering this message. Ideally, this project would come with a soundtrack. Every chapter (or Track-ter as I’ve been calling them) would have its own piece of music (which I’ve been gradually composing). However, I’m willing to publish before releasing the soundtrack if necessary.

Hook: A hyperactive girl with a mental illness meets a music-dependent Sell-soul with a heart disease. Discover the power of music through this unique, action-packed, cyberpunk adventure with a chaotic side serving of loveable characters, rom-com, and epic, Scream-Out-Loud moments. Pun intended ;)

Spoilers:

In the cyber city of Ezveria, Reizetta Zykophona, or Rei for short, begins the story in Klover Community Centre where she’s found job-hunting. She finds herself in the midst of an orchestrated Radical hijacking where she is taken as hostage and then saved by a punkish looking boy named Axel.

He fights with headphones that connect to shapeshifting weapons. Rei labels him as a Sell-soul – a media-hidden internet conspiracy pertaining to people who sell half their souls to objects in exchange for inhuman power.

The two are separated after the incident, until Rei haphazardly comes across a music store that she discovers to be Axel’s home.

Through a single musical bonding session, the two quickly get immersed into Axel’s love for music which he shares with Rei, excitedly letting her try his headphones. In doing this, Axel falls unconscious, much to Rei’s distress, and his mother informs Rei that Axel has a heart disease and his sell-soul headphones is the sole item keeping him alive.

The following day Rei encounters ‘the gang’ consisting of three more sell-souls who all initially give Rei a hard time. Rei begins working at the music shop, eager (desperate) for friendship, and becomes better acquainted with the gang over time, until one of the members, Keita, gets targeted and loses his soul-item (equivalent to losing one’s soul).

That same night Rei gets a beat down from her abusive father who she’d been unconsciously erasing from the story. In her state of dejection, she receives a text from a semi-anonymous number who more-or-less tricks her into becoming a sell-soul via her phone. In finding out Rei received powers they all discover the person who tricked her was the friend they’d been searching for: Zedge.

The perspective switches to the past. In an SSRF facility (Sell-Soul Research Foundation) the reader learns how the gang came together and how they had to leave Zedge behind in their escape.

POV switches to Axel as the gang decides to train Rei, bringing her along on their missions to free captive sell-souls and put a stop to the SSRF.

Axel gets a heart attack and accidentally reveals to Rei that he is tired of living. Rei, who’d been viewing Axel as a superhero, gets a painful call to reality. Later Axel chances upon the sight of Rei getting abused by her father. He saves her, and in her fractured state she takes him to her mother’s grave site, where she reveals her true motives for becoming a sell-soul and her dire wish for change. In contrast, Axel gets scared by his own secret motives for fighting.

The team rescues Zedge who reveals how sell-souls came to be while he restores Keita’s soul. With the help of his hacking abilities the restored team infiltrate Stella Nova HQ, home to the founder of the SSRF and the police chief in cahoots with them. A battle between mind-controlled sell-souls and Axel’s gang take place and they scrape by until the police chief makes an entrance, who is revealed to be Axel’s father, the cause of his heart defect, and Axel’s true motive for fighting.

Rei begs him to stop seeking revenge, and in watching her get hurt Axel begins to fight for her sake rather than his own. In winning the battle, his headphones shatter and the gang scrappily rescue him, rushing him back to the shop as Rei sings to keep his heart alive. When it looks like he won’t survive, Rei disassociates, observing the misfortunate Zetta (in Reizetta) through a screen.

However, she’s able to break through her own mental TV and with Zedge’s help she sells the other half of her soul to save Axel’s life. (Rei survives too). Its later shown that their actions cause Ezveria to acknowledge the existence of sell-souls and Axel acknowledges that he loves Rei.

Also, they literally break the sky.

[Find out why in the unwritten ‘Tainted Sky; Axel’s Soundtrack’ coming to theatres near you. *snaps and points]

Target audience: YA

Bio: Taija the almighty awesome-tastic cool superior warrior musician dragon-tamer evil sensei ninja assassin spy in disguise – the first (AKA Taija Sensei), is your average realm jumper from another world. She originally journeyed through a portal to the human realm to track down an escaped dragon but lost her means of return and has been stuck in the human realm ever since. Despite being otherworldly, she’s pretty down to earth though does not comply well to societal norms. If you break her incantation spells of introversion, then she’d probably make you laugh. Often she’s told her imagination is quite impressive, but secretly she’s just telling non-fiction tales from her adventures in various realms. Music, video games, anime, and books have kept her sane in this foreign world where magic is much harder to find.

Platform: N/A

Education: I am currently enrolled in a Creative Writing Certificate program at University of Toronto, Continuing Studies

Experience: I’ve had my short story, ‘Achieving Peace’, featured in Polar Expressions; ‘Let There Be Dragons’ short story collection.

Writing Style: A fine line between child-like and sage-like. Fun, comedic, and informal at times but with powerful transitions to the meaningful and intense moments. “I want to be quoted” - Taija Sensei, so I aim to give those powerful one-liners that leave a mark.

If my writing can evoke the same kind of roller coaster of emotions as Marvel movies then it’s a success to me.

Personality: I’m sure my bio conveyed this >:)

Age: A little over two decades [insert picture of a wobbly old lady here]

Again, thank you for your time and consideration.

I mean it!

Taija Sensei

It’s a cold night, and there is nothing more that I would like to do than to return home and fall asleep with Jasper. Unfortunately, as there must always be, there is something holding me back—my job.

Now, 9 to 5 is sufficient, but this extra volunteeresque bullshit is unnecessary. This company would have us become mercenaries and spies for the “better good” if less of us were obese. In comparison to what is surely the ultimate Orbis Incorporated goal, my task isn’t too tedious, and it’s lucky that I live in the suburbs despite working in the city.

So, as every other day, I’m parked on the side of the middle of the long stretch of road taking me through nowhere (approx. 8 miles of it). The cheap projector I’ve been so generously given by my boss flickers dimly in front of me as I type in a traffic report so Orbis can “better our transportation” by spying on the world. Most of the roads were clear today, so I really had nothing to report except for the asshole who flashed all of Lipton Street around noon, causing police to swarm by and shut down that signal for ten minutes.

Granted, the report usually doesn’t take long. But it’s an obstacle in the travel from work to home and my temperament isn’t nice enough this late to allow for a pause in the drive, be it for a few minutes. I envy those who can be okay with the task, or even enjoy it. Kie Jang from Editing can make her summary an exciting adventure despite being about the perpetual traffic by the shantytowns she passes, and Oregon Sills, the office man-whore from Customer Support, can regale the readers with an erotic drive. Maybe that’s their way with dealing with the monotony of rewriting the same thing day-to-day. For Oregon, though, I suspect it’s the thing lifting him out of the monotony of his life (not including his choice of lifestyle).

When I finish, I click "send" and restart my car. Ahead of me, it seems like there is smoke rising, and I brace myself to stop on the road again to report an accident or an unsupervised campfire.

What I see makes me slam down on the accelerator and suddenly the car lurches

Someone shouts

A bloodied face comes too close to my window

And I’m shooting off with my heart racing more quickly than my driving with those faces rushing inwards and an evil creeping into my mind—

Breathe.

I still can’t believe it, but I have to because a glance at my window shows a bloodied handprint. The car makes a suspicious clunking sound and even though I desperately want to speed into oblivion, I have to slow down.

The city's roadside sign appears blessedly quickly, and I autopilot my way back home. With disgust, I just barely manage to hose off the blood on the glass into the front lawn, and then park in the driveway.

Inside, I want to tell Jasper about what happened, but he’s dead asleep and I should know how much he deserves that.

So I squeeze myself as close to his side as possible and try to forget the skull-wearing people and slow-burning man on the side of the road.

I wake up from a nightmare of iron fumes into a cinnamon-scented reality. Outside, Jasper’s by the waffle maker with an open jar of brown sugar, and I find myself hoping that his expertise in cooking outweighs the terror of last night’s events. I give him a quick kiss before helping myself to breakfast, and taking it outside.

The grass on the front lawn is dewy with the regression of the storm that paralleled my thoughts last night. I can’t see any remnants of what I washed off under the moon. It becomes almost too easy to forget.

“You should have woken me.” Jasper’s arms are wrapped around my waist and he rests his chin on my shoulder.

“I came home really late last night. You were knocked out.”

“Still. We could have finished that movie we started.”

I hum and lean back, trying to find comfort. Jasper’s chuckle loosens my rigid muscles as it passes through my body. “Will you stay at home today?”

“Can I?” I’d need it. “I should call in, then.”

“Was it that easy for you to convince yourself? Orbis is taking a lot out of you.” I can hear the concern in his voice, and I know he wants me to leave. This is far from the first time I’ve seemed tired of my job. But I need it—we have to pay for this house, and although Jasper could pay for the entire community with one signature, we agreed to earn our home. I can deal with boredom, but not with losing the battle to temptation of unearned prosperity.

Besides, the reason to stay home today isn’t because I’m tired; I’m scared of what might still be on that road.

“No, it’s fine.” I turn around and hug him. “I promise.”

“Okay, Atlanta. I’ll believe you.” I look up to brown eyes crinkled at the corners and I meet his smile with my own.

-

My boss picks up on the third call. “Atlanta, you’re coming, right? We need you here.” Joseph sounds harried—as usual. Insofar as I give any thought to him, I wonder how dangerously high his blood pressure must be.

“I’m sorry, but I’m calling in to say I’m sick.” I sound too calm to be sick, but who is he to judge?

“We just got an invitation to a very important meeting, and you especially—”

“My secretary has all my notes, and if you want my presentation I sent it to Kie. She’s probably done editing it.”

“No, Atlanta, this is really, um, a big deal...”

It’s probably nothing more a meeting to reiterate the importance of our jobs and for “all levels of the company, regardless of position, to serve the common good.” We’re overdue for one anyways. Or maybe they’ve decided to start training us as spies to infiltrate China—in the name of patriotism, of course.

“I got herpes from Oregon, sorry.”

There’s a silence, and then, “What? Don’t you have a boy—” Beep. I end the call and accidentally turn off my phone.

I feel bad for cutting him off. Joseph’s a nice guy. But a nice guy won’t make me go out there again. At least not today.

I turn around and almost fall over. Jasper’s right in front of me, and his eyes glint with humor and something a little darker. “Awfully horrible, what Oregon did,” he says.

“Jealous?” I smile. “Everyone knows his reputation. It only makes sense.”

“Not when you, Ms. Lin, already have a boyfriend. One who, yes, is jealous.” His eyes are focused on mine and the corner of his mouth lifts up.

“I really hope he doesn’t mind too much,” I say, and face the other way. I know exactly how to play Jasper, and having him follow my tune will, hopefully, keep him at home.

“And if he does?” I can feel the words against my ear, and I smile, turning to face him again. Just then, the oven beeps ridiculously loudly, as always.

I glare at it. “Dammit. Can’t you be more considerate?”

Jasper laughs. “The oven apologizes. It’s sorry for interrupting your insatiable thirst.”

“It should be.”

Jasper grabs the cake pans from inside and begins to put them in containers. I really don’t want him to leave. “Can’t you stay?”

He looks apologetic. “We have a client who wants a demo of how her cake is going to be.”

“I suppose that’s fine.” I shift on my feet as Jasper collects his things and exits the house. “But be back home quickly. I won’t miss you, but I’m sure Isthmus will.” Isthmus is the chocolate lab that our neighbors own, but who stays in our yard more than theirs.

“Tell Isthmus I’ll miss her, too!” He yells back. I pull a face at him, and stay a while longer to watch him leave, and then to just observe the tranquil community.

Lavish homes peek out from perfectly grown trees, hiding wealth under an illusion of wilderness. A sheer dome collects all of us under it, and allows for the perfect lazy warmth to ruminate in seclusion. I could almost fall asleep standing. It seems crazy to think that there are horrors outside this literal bubble of safety. But tinges of the real world glimmer at the edge of my crafted reality: the lone road is a single line in the distance on the hill it passes over; the air above us shimmers with the arranged gas particles constantly straining against the might of the sun; and my own heart thrumming too loudly to be at peace.

“Get your act together,” I say to myself. I know I’m overreacting. I should have reported the damn incident yesterday as soon as I got home. Just some crazy people on the road, let the police deal with it. But the utter wrongness of that scene, its backwardness, still makes me tremble.

I want to binge something, lose myself in a different world. But just as I turn to go in, I see a sleek black vehicle gliding on the highway in my direction. It’s a beautiful car—a Ski—skimming the air just above the ground. But it’s also a predator, silent and deadly. There are only about a dozen Skis around the world, and only one person owns one in the United States: the CEO of Orbis.

And I happen to be the only employee under his reign in this city.

-- -- -- -- --

Title: Beyond Anarchy

Genre: Adventure, Romance

Age range: 15-50

Author pseudonym: Aora Lin

Why your project is a good fit: I guess it appeals to a variety of readers. Dystopia isn't a new genre, but I'm attempting to focus on the fall into dystopia, the unraveling of a world into anarchy. The book itself will take a first person perspective into the futile attempt to save a world, and while this may seem bleak, I hope to eventually demonstrate that perhaps saving the world isn't what this particular world, bound by laws enacted by a single transnational leader, blatant class discrimination, and skewed morals, needs.

Synopsis: While Orbis Incorporated runs the entire world--and almost every aspect of it--an irreversible change is gaining traction. A movement that yearns for liberation at any cost is about to gain the public's eye, and it is Atlanta's (unwanted) task to infiltrate and disintegrate it. She has no experience with anything so dangerous, but backing out would mean she would be silenced--permanently.

Target audience: Young adults, adults

Platform: Inkitt

Personality / writing style: I publish short prose and poetry on theProse, but there are several files of lengthy, unfinished stories that are demanding to be let out from the confines of my desktop. I'm highly focused on everything I like to do, and I think I get along with people pretty well, although I thrive in my own company. My writing style involves lots of foreshadowing that isn't truly visible until the climax occurs, and impactful descriptions.

Likes/hobbies: Biological sciences, writing, drawing (faces, hands, flowers), binging books

Hometown: Parkland, FL

I was born to a wandering woman, she had left my father a few months before I was born. At least that's what the old woman has always told me. It's not that hard for a four-year-old to comprehend, I was abandoned. Most people think being young means you're clueless. What they don't realize is that we're always listening, always watching. To them, we might be mere innocent children but I'm much more than they will ever know.

My footsteps are steady as I walk over the rubble that litters the street that leads to our shack. Off in the distance, I can hear the gunshots echoing into the sky like a song of death. I recognize the sound instantly as an M16 rifle. It's firing is loud and unsettling to most. But loud noises have never made me jump.

"Hey boy, you looking to make some cash." A man says from across the street, he wears a black bandana over his nose and mouth. He's part of the Black Star gang, they've been terrorizing this town for as long as I can remember. I stare at him blankly like I have no clue what he's referring to. I've realized that remaining clueless is always the best option here. "Or maybe you want some food?"

"I have to get home," I mumble making sure to keep my voice steady, when they hear weakness they exploit it.

"You see maybe I should've reworded it." His words sound hollow almost lifeless. I tilt my head to the side to get a better look at him. Splotches of dirt dot his pants and shoes, his hair is blanketed by dust, and his eyes look just as pale as his skin. He mirrors a corpse almost exactly. I watch as he draws the gun that rests at his hip and points it at me. An old pistol, one that hasn't been very well taken care of. "You're going to do what I say, ok?"

I take off running through the street. Bang! Bang! His shots ring off at me as I jump over rubble and twisted cylinders of metal. I could tell from the way he held his gun he'd have terrible aim. I got lucky, something that I rarely get. He curses aloud as I disappear into an alleyway. He must not be from around this area, which is great for me. I have the advantage. I can't help but let a smirk slide onto my face. If you don't know these crumbled streets then there's no point in trying to chase someone in them, you'll just end up tripping over the debris.

My house is in the center of all the chaos if you can even call it a house. It's more of a shack: two sheets of metal for a roof, four corroded walls made of wood, and a large hole that we've been using as a door. I slip through it easily. The noise of someone clearing their throat fills the dry air as I stand.

"Where have you been?" The old woman asks as I look up to her.

"I was on a walk," I say as I walk to the other side of the room to grab a bowl of rice.

"It's dangerous out there." She says, sounding anxious. "You could die."

"I know," I say letting the smirk fade away from me. "I don't care though."

"That's no way to talk, Holden." She replies as she places her hands on her hips like she's my mother. I roll my eyes at the name Holden. This woman insists on calling me that because she lost her son with that name. To her, I am simply a replacement. Just as I mean nothing to her, she means nothing to me.

"Whatever," I mutter as I find a spot in the dirt to sit.

"For a four-year-old, you sure talk too much." Her words echo in my head. Silence can be a strength but at the same time a weakness.

"Well for an old lady you sure scold too much." I shoot back at her. She tilts her head back and laughs. As the cheerful noise rings through the air I can't help but smile.

"You're going to that school tomorrow." She says her voice suddenly turning serious. We have been over this a bazillion times. She always tells me I'm going to school and I'm always telling her that schools pointless. "There are a few other kids your age, maybe you could make some friends."

"What do I need them for?" I ask as a snort escapes me. Friends, I hate that word.

"For support and guidance. Also to have fun." She says as she brushes some locks of black hair out of my face. Her pale blue eyes match mine almost exactly, to most we probably do look related.

"Fun isn't something I need." I spit back at her. Her face softens and I can see it written all over her, it's pity. I hate pity. "I'm going to bed."

"Ok then." She says gently.

As I close my eyes the sounds of gunshots seem to ring in my head even louder than before. I keep hoping they'll stop so I can rest in peace but I know that's a stupid wish and here stupidity gets you nowhere.

"White birds fly, can you hear them bidding goodbye." The woman sings sweetly as I hear her plop down next to me. "For when the sun rises the air will be new with surprises."

Her voice trails off as her breathing slows down. I wait for her breathes to even out before shifting to my side to face the wall. The air is colder tonight and somehow lonelier. My gaze shifts to the hole I had just slid through moments ago. I watch as rats scurry along the dirt in search of any leftover food that I might've spilled. They won't find any though, I've always been careful about spilling food. We don't get much around here so there's no room to be wasteful. Although sometimes I'll intentionally spill it outside of the house just so they stay out. I don't like hearing their screeching little voices all through the night. They remind me of spirits of the dead screaming for help.

It's annoying.

Title: Distant

Genre: Young adult fiction, Adventure, Action, Drama

Age range: 12-18

Word count: 1,069 (in excerpt)

Author name: Reagan Hancock

Why my project is a good fit: My project is a good fit because it's a captivating read for young adults. It expresses feelings and problems that many of us have or encounter, including personal struggles and struggles with relationships. Also, it's easy to work with because of how it's so flexible and open to change. I recognize that I have plenty of room to grow and with feedback, my book would be a great hit.

The hook: "Most people think being young means you're clueless. What they don't realize is that we're always listening, always watching. To them, we might be mere innocent children but I'm much more than they will ever know."

Synopsis: He is a boy unnamed, abandoned, and broken. From a very young age, he's always been smart, cunning, and strong. Being born to a war zone has only contributed to who he is now. When the only person that's ever cared for him is killed he's forced to move in with a new friend. But once things take a dark turn they're both brought to a "school" run by the notorious terrorist, Dexter Heath. There he is trained to be an assassin and to his advantage, he seems to have a talent for it. This book follows him along with his missions as he progresses through his life trying to figure out who he is and how he's going to break free.

Target Audience: Young Adults, 12-18

Bio: I'm an ongoing student who's in love with writing. Whenever I have free time writing is how I spend it, being able to create my own world to escape to is a blessing. One day I hope to be able to be a professional writer as well as a New York Times Best Seller. So far I've gotten Editors Choice for one of my articles on Teen Ink, but I don't plan on stopping there. Currently, I live in California and enjoy swimming as well as bike rides.

Platform: I don't currently have one

Education: High School Student

Experience: I write on TeenInk and Inkitt fairly regularly. I also got Editor's Choice for an article on TeenInk and I got 3rd place in divisions 7-9 for the Saroyan Writing Contest.

Personality/Writing Style: I'm a very motivated person that always does something once I set my mind to it. Although I do enjoy going after things I'm more of an introvert and prefer to spend a lot of my time alone. I like to express feelings and thoughts through many different words so that it can reach the reader. So I would say my writing style is articulate and declamatory.

Likes/Hobbies: Soccer, Painting, Writing, Running, and Wakeboarding

Hometown: Bakersfield, CA

Age: 14

Cat

Walking

On your face

Waking you up

Kitten

Playfully

Batting at your

Leg

Clawing you

Accidentally

Kitty

Scampering

Around the

House

Drinking from the

Flower vase

Daily

Pringtime ha come

The warmth of the un

The flower bloom

The inect hum

The lover woon

The kid have fun

Life ha begun

For Pringtime ha come

Sleep.

Laying on a bed. Asleep. Covers to my chin. Body turned on my left side. "Moonlight in Atlanta" by Russ plays on my phone while it charges. Helps me sleep at night. Sleeping problems. Colors. Blue, purple, red, orange, dark purple, apricot, blood red, grapefruit color...what the fuck? Static...I think. The actual fuck is that sound? I open my eyes. Cold. No bed anymore. Just dirt. I look up. Rings. Saturn? Is that Saturn's noise? I close my eyes and reopen. Literally in the blink of an eye, everything changed. Burj Khalifa. Stargazing. I feel weird. It's night. Every light, star, phone screen seems to be brighter. My lungs burn. I smell...weed. In between my lips, swisher sweet tropical flavor blunt. I look up and I start floating. I inhale and blow through my nose. Dubai looked amazing at night. I took another hit. I saw a portal to a galaxy through the roof of the Burj Khalifa. Whoa. I gently floated down into it. I took another hit. When I blew out the smoke, I saw headphones. My beats. Cool. I grabbed them. They turned to ash in my hands. I looked down at the portal. Space. Again. Next thing I know, I was sucked inside super fast. I took another hit...black hole. Everything was going toward it. Even me. I was pulled too it. It wasn't a disk, but a ball of darkness and gravity and energy. Nothing could escape. Not even light. I felt no pain. I heard it hurts but I'd die anyway. No death though. Just surprisingly...light? What? For a second I was being sucked inside of something. Now I'm being...pushed out? What? I felt like I was falling. Like, imagine going down a big drop on a roller coaster...now multiply that by 1000. I was going too damn fast. Just falling...then I was finally through. I looked back. Not a disk, but a ball of white. Spitting everything the black hole took. A white hole. I looked in front of me. Bright colors. Like, the Northern Lights had parents. They were everywhere. I wished my friends could be their. A tap on my shoulder. I turn. My best friends. All there. What? I'm so happy. These were my people. Handshakes to all of them. My girlfriend...she's there too. We kiss. Sweet kiss. Thank you. I realize...I'm my own God. My thought from my girlfriend to this realization is bizarre. I run my world. My dream. I can make my own reality. I make the rules. Life has shown me well. This journey has brought me to a new world. Where I realize I am me and I can do everything or nothing. I feel no blood through my veins, no heart pump, just the thoughts of my brain. I am not God...I am my own person. My own God. My own chooser in life. I blink. Nothingness. "Moonlight in Atlanta" continues playing. I sit up in my bed. I open my eyes. I am my own God. I opened up a portal to see who I am. New found inspiration hit me that night. Who dares to step to me and try to stop me from achieving. No, I can't smite anyone, but I can make sure they don't come to make things hard for me. I can only smite myself. That's the worst part about being your own God. No one can stop you but you. Everything else is a speed bump anyone an drive over. I rest my head again.

Sleep.

I write poetry.

I love spending

My time doing this.

To me, it's like

a chess game,

trying to be many

moves ahead of myself

in my mind,

Only with words

Instead of chess pieces.

Which word

will fit perfectly

after the first,

and the second,

all the way to the end?

Sometimes my first thought

Is how the creation will end up.

Loose ends, all tied together

Like elegant knots.

And with prose poetry,

Stories told

One step at a time,

From start to finish.

I write every day

For myself.

But I crave

Connection as well:

To be understood

To get my thoughts

Out into the Universe

Through my work.

To be read,

To share---

Not only heartache,

But laughter,

Joy,

And other everyday things

That interest me.

I want to connect,

To unite.

I recently discovered

A few apps, places

Where I can share my work

With other people

All over the planet,

Including the Prose. app.

When my poetry

Is liked, it makes me ecstatic.

But I also love to see

Someone in front of me, a person

Who has just read my poetry, someone

Who shares his reaction

Of my work with me.

I just gave a poetry reading

At my local library.

I read two of my poems,

Prose poems.

I was nervous but excited.

Afterwards a woman came up

To me to say that she really

Liked my reading, my style of writing.

I smiled.

I had made a connection.

We keep in touch

By email and she has shared

Some of her work with me as well.

It makes me happy.

I am thrilled that there are

Outlets for my poetry:

Publishing, writing apps,

Poetry readings, and mostly

Receptive people.

That's why I love

To write poetry.

Winter now gone

Cotton white cloud floating in the blue

Green field and red poppy

Yellow daffodil and blue bell

Warm night and an even warmer heart

I hear the cricket and frog at night

High in hymn and happy

Time to lie in bed with no blanket

Hearing mother nature perform her lullaby

________________

© M.Withers/M.Strudwick . All rights reserved.

Both the name The EriduSerpent/EriduSerpent

and any written material is owned solely by the above named.

Permission granted for all written material to be shared but not for profit.