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by Heather Horst
Genre: YA Sci-fi
Release Date: March 10th 2018
Summary:
It’s been 12 years since Ella has buried her brother Weston, today she buries her Father. Tomorrow she begins her life as an average University student. Unfortunately, much like Ella’s childhood, things do not go as expected. Before the semester can even begin Ella finds herself intertwined with eccentric peers, family ties, and an alternate universe.
Now Ella is thrust into the responsibility of keeping her personal life in order while saving another Earth from their impending doom, and potentially her own.
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Excerpt:
The creature is pinned to the ground. The seven harpoons are
plunged into its body, but I can still see it squirming.
“Is
it dead?” I whimper.
The
boy approaches it, his blade pointed forward. I stay behind, I don’t want to
get anywhere near that thing. The creature flails trying to free itself. The
boy stands over top of it and slashes his sword right into the mid-section of
the creature. It lets out one final cry and stops moving. The boy pulls out a
harpoon, it’s made of the same material as his sword, and he plunges it into
the creature's skull.
“What
the hell was that?” I see the same black liquid I saw before leaking from its
limp body. I realize its blood. Black blood is dripping from the creature and
onto the ground. A team of people in biohazard suits crash through the door and
push toward the creature. Before I can see what they are doing the boy gently
places his hands on my shoulders and turns me around.
“You
won’t want to see this.” He says.
“Tell
me what’s going on.” I demand.
“I wish
I could but I’m really not the right person for that.”
“Who
the hell are you anyways? What is this place? What was-”
I gasp
for air and my eyes begin to grow blurry. There’s the same feeling in my chest
and stomach as before when I left the lecture hall. My legs crumple like tissue
paper beneath me. I tumble to the ground. I see the boy crouch down and he’s
saying something, but my ears fail to work. I can see that the he is trying to
hold me up but I can’t feel him. My ears start to pick up some noise.
“It’s
going to be okay. I’m sorry that you had to do this.” He tries to comfort me,
but he sounds like he’s so far away.
“Was
this real?” My breath is faint.
“Yes.”
I look into his sea blue eyes and try to focus. They look so familiar to
me.
“My
name is Weston by the way, Weston Brandt.”
CLAP
I
feel like I am being pushed to the point of breaking. My stomach is being
stretched out like elastic, letting go and snapping back into place, over and
over. But then it stops.
I
swallow the air like I might never be able to do it again and my eyes snap
open. I paw around my surroundings. The sheets of the nurses bed soothe my
fear. The stupid cat poster is a welcomed sight. I am back.
Was that a
dream? Did I die and come back to life? Weston… my brother was there. That’s
impossible. He’s dead.
I sit
up on the bed, my head is pounding. That must have been a dream. I haven’t gone
anywhere. I’ve been in this room the whole time… I think. My black dress is
still covered in dirt.
“No,
no, no.” This must just be from today. There’s dirt everywhere but
it could’ve gotten on me from walking or taking the bus or something. This
doesn’t mean anything. I try wiping off the dirt stuck to my dress and I notice
my hand. I turn it over and see the black smudges on my fingers. I smell my
hands hoping that it’s not what I think it is.
It’s
spray paint. The same spray paint from the message that was sprawled on the
ground from wherever I was. That means that whole thing was real. That means my
brother is alive.
plunged into its body, but I can still see it squirming.
“Is
it dead?” I whimper.
The
boy approaches it, his blade pointed forward. I stay behind, I don’t want to
get anywhere near that thing. The creature flails trying to free itself. The
boy stands over top of it and slashes his sword right into the mid-section of
the creature. It lets out one final cry and stops moving. The boy pulls out a
harpoon, it’s made of the same material as his sword, and he plunges it into
the creature's skull.
“What
the hell was that?” I see the same black liquid I saw before leaking from its
limp body. I realize its blood. Black blood is dripping from the creature and
onto the ground. A team of people in biohazard suits crash through the door and
push toward the creature. Before I can see what they are doing the boy gently
places his hands on my shoulders and turns me around.
“You
won’t want to see this.” He says.
“Tell
me what’s going on.” I demand.
“I wish
I could but I’m really not the right person for that.”
“Who
the hell are you anyways? What is this place? What was-”
I gasp
for air and my eyes begin to grow blurry. There’s the same feeling in my chest
and stomach as before when I left the lecture hall. My legs crumple like tissue
paper beneath me. I tumble to the ground. I see the boy crouch down and he’s
saying something, but my ears fail to work. I can see that the he is trying to
hold me up but I can’t feel him. My ears start to pick up some noise.
“It’s
going to be okay. I’m sorry that you had to do this.” He tries to comfort me,
but he sounds like he’s so far away.
“Was
this real?” My breath is faint.
“Yes.”
I look into his sea blue eyes and try to focus. They look so familiar to
me.
“My
name is Weston by the way, Weston Brandt.”
CLAP
I
feel like I am being pushed to the point of breaking. My stomach is being
stretched out like elastic, letting go and snapping back into place, over and
over. But then it stops.
I
swallow the air like I might never be able to do it again and my eyes snap
open. I paw around my surroundings. The sheets of the nurses bed soothe my
fear. The stupid cat poster is a welcomed sight. I am back.
Was that a
dream? Did I die and come back to life? Weston… my brother was there. That’s
impossible. He’s dead.
I sit
up on the bed, my head is pounding. That must have been a dream. I haven’t gone
anywhere. I’ve been in this room the whole time… I think. My black dress is
still covered in dirt.
“No,
no, no.” This must just be from today. There’s dirt everywhere but
it could’ve gotten on me from walking or taking the bus or something. This
doesn’t mean anything. I try wiping off the dirt stuck to my dress and I notice
my hand. I turn it over and see the black smudges on my fingers. I smell my
hands hoping that it’s not what I think it is.
It’s
spray paint. The same spray paint from the message that was sprawled on the
ground from wherever I was. That means that whole thing was real. That means my
brother is alive.
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