Could Kaitlyn be the last native Earthling left? #ScienceFiction #YA

Alone I Walk
by Julie Wenzel


I would like to start off by saying that I wore the ugliest shirt I owned that day. And for that, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I'm not a fashionista by any means, but I do like to look at least half ways put together.

It wasn't that I was running late for class and grabbed the wrong shirt. I didn't even show up for class that day.

The problem was the washing machine...again.

I had the quarters. I went to the campus store, bought a notebook and a box of pens, and then asked the cashier to give me five dollars worth of quarters while she was at it.

But, like any other typical day there was an “Out of Order” sign written in faded marker on a notebook piece of paper, across the machine.

So at the end of my washing machine production, wearing my ugly shirt, with a pocket full of quarters, I missed my parents all the more. College wasn't the easiest thing in the world. It wasn't the classes, or making friends. It was the homesickness. I missed the home cooked meals.

As a kid, I took the washing machine in our house for granted. Laundry detergent and fabric softener always magically appeared the next day when we ran out.

I missed how my dad would fill my car up with gas every time I ran low in high school. For a while in my life, I was able to pretend that the world was a happy place. Sure there were bad in the world, but it was comforting to know my parents would be there for me.

Problem was, no one was there to take care of my parents.

The dangers for a teenage werewolf include more than the phases of the moon #YA #Paranormal

Silver (The Silver Series Book 1)


by Cheree Alsop


I turned away, distracted, and a shoulder caught mine and shoved me into the lockers along the wall.
“Watch where you’re going,” a voice growled.
I looked up to see a student my age with jet black hair and dark eyes flanked by two stocky, younger students. The scent of werewolf wafted from all three of them. The student who shoved me took a step closer, then stopped; his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed.
“You better have a good reason to be here.”
I bristled at his tone. “My reasons are none of your business.”
His jaw clenched and he swung at me.
The years of practice with my father paid off; my body flowed through the motions without thought. I ducked under his fist and punched as I came up, catching him in the stomach. He doubled over with a gasp, and I slammed an elbow into his back. He fell to the floor with a grunt of pain.
Arms wrapped around me from behind and squeezed tight to pin my arms to my sides. The other student punched me in the stomach with a left, then a right. I broke the student’s hold and ducked, pulling his right arm over my head and behind his back. I wrapped my left arm around his throat and pulled up on his wrist. He yelped and squirmed. I pulled harder.
“Stop moving if you don’t want a dislocated shoulder,” I said quietly in his ear. He froze and his breath rattled in his constricted throat.
The black-haired boy struggled to his feet, his arms around his stomach. The other student hurried to his side with a hand out to help, but the boy hit it away.

One Lie Can Destroy All Truths #YA #Mystery

Deck of Lies, Book 1: Justice

by Jade Varden


“Oh, Rain,” she squeezed me, and for several minutes we stood there and cried together. Finally she pulled away, wiping tears off her cheeks. “Honey, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. And Aaron. And my…and…everybody.”
“Rain,” her brown eyes, so much like my mother’s, were filled with pain as she reached out to brush a stray curl behind my ear. “You can’t be here.”
“But you haven’t been answering my calls! I had to come here.”
“Oh, Rain,” she turned away, bowing her head to hide behind a black curtain of hair. “I can’t take your calls. I can’t talk to you, and neither can Aaron. Not right now.”
“What? But Aunt Ronnie-”
“It’s not me, Rain, it’s the lawyer.” She held up her hands defensively.
“Rain? Rain!”
My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment I couldn’t catch it to speak. “Aaron!”
He appeared at the top of the stairs. Aunt Ronnie stepped before me, blocking my view of him just as he came into sight. “No. Aaron, back upstairs. Do you want to make things worse than they already are? Rain, you’ve got to go.” She put her hands on my shoulders and bodily turned me toward the door. “Aaron, upstairs!”
I’d heard her use that firm tone only once before, when I was six. I’d found the birth control pills in her purse and thought they were candy. Aaron was no longer rushing down the stairs, and I had no choice but to let her physically push me out the front door.
“Aunt Ronnie,” I turned and seized her hand, my eyes boring into hers. “Just tell me why they did it. Just tell me they aren’t terrible people.”

A heartwarming foray into the world of cats and the humans who love them #YA

The Tribe

By McCarty Griffin


GriffinArching her back and yawning, Tia stretched lazily in the sun-warmed grass.
Her orange, tan and tabby pattern, splotched across snowy white, had lately taken on a scruffy appearance, and her hipbones, never heavily padded, were perhaps a touch more prominent than they had been in past years. Her eyes, however, focused now on the hillside below the cats’ fragrant bed, were as lime-green bright as in her kitten days. Next to her, a silky black cat with a white chest and paws turned her head sharply to peer down the hillside.
“Someone’s coming.” Bella rose to her feet in one quick movement with her ears forward and her gaze intent, but Tia merely waited with her eyes half-closed. “Sounds like a bouncer, by the racket. A bit too far from the litter, if it is.”
An explosion of orange and cream burst through the grass just before them. Whipping a tail fat with excitement, the young tabby skidded sideways to a stop. “Eldest, eldest! A great beast’s coming! Everyone must hide!”

He woke one day with super powers ... but no memory #YA

Dairy of a Teenage Superhero

By Darrell Pitt

My name is -.
Wait.
Scrub that thought. I don’t know my name. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I came to be here.
I don’t know anything.
I’m lying flat on my back looking up at a ceiling coated in peeling mustard yellow paint. Light is streaming in through a window, casting long rectangles across the floor and the bed. A white curtain, fading to brown, covers the window. To its left hangs a small white hand basin. It’s leaning badly, clinging grimly to the wall by only one bracket. A single square mirror sits directly above it. A plain round clock to its left counts the minutes.
3.07pm
This place has all the trappings of a seedy motel room. It even smells like it. Stale. Unkempt. Even the mattress smells bad, covered by a grimy grey sheet.
I stagger to the hand basin. My head feels heavy. Everything seems to be vibrating from side to side. I feel like I’ve been drugged. I look into the mirror.
The face staring back is completely unfamiliar.
But this is me. Male. Seventeen. Maybe eighteen. Short cropped brown hair. Brown eyes. A small scar on the left side of my chin. I’m wearing a blue and white striped t-shirt. Grey jacket. Faded blue jeans. My shoes are clean, though worn.
Then I examine my hands. Not working hands. Not someone who’s used to outdoor labor. I’m probably still at school.
Wherever that is.
But I still have one overriding question.
Who am I?

Do you believe in magic? #YoungAdult #Scifi #Fantasy

Promising Light

by Emily Ann Ward

“Do you believe in magic, m’lady?” the woman asked.

The first page of the book was in a language Grace had never seen before. “I don’t know,” she told the merchant. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Ah, but just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“True. What kind of magic are you talking about?”

The woman waved her hand. “All kinds. Different families are gifted with different magic.” When Grace raised her eyebrows, the woman said, “There are those who can heal the body or break it. There are shape changers from Shyra. There—”

“Shyra?” Grace repeated.

“Yes. They say the shape changers have the power to look like anybody, dead or alive. Some can change into animals. Some can even change into things that aren’t alive. Trees, rocks, water.” She smiled. Her teeth were dirty and cracked. “Perhaps you knew someone from Shyra? Or perhaps you don’t know that you know someone from Shyra because they pretend to be someone else.”

Grace swore she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Shape changers? It couldn’t be real. They were legends, tales from storybooks. They couldn’t have anything to do with the man who warned her about Dar or with Dar’s sudden departure. “Perhaps. Why should I believe the magic is real?”

“You don’t have to.” The woman sat down again. “But my books will convince you.”

Young Adult, Horror on Kindle: "The Other Side of Eden" by Ethan Cobb

Carrie, a lone teenage girl, is confronted by her old boyfriend who is now infected with a sickness that attaches to a single emotion (in this case Anger) and becomes the driving force of everything that person does:

“Hello Carrie,” the muffled voice of Derek penetrated the window.  Carrie snapped her head up.  Narrow slits almost hid the purple of his eyes.  Derek grinned.  She stared at him.  He whistled.  Five runners jumped from surrounding positions.

“You can’t run,” he said and laughed.

Carrie punched the gas.  Tires squealed and smoke shot from behind.   She yanked the wheel to one side and her body slammed against the door.  The car tail whipped as she pulled back down.  Derek stood in front of the exit.  The Cavalier shot forward.  She grimaced, certain she was going to flatten him, but he jumped out of the way at the last second.  A flimsy toll gate exploded and the car barreled onto the empty road.   She kept the pedal pushed to the floor, although she was away from the immediate danger.  Her foot felt like concrete stuck to the pedal.  She shot past several stop lights, before beginning to feel her heart beating.  Buster’s head was low.

“I think we lost them.”

She looked behind her.

“Definitely lost them.”

She turned back.  An abandoned car sat crumpled directly in front of her.  She shrieked and swerved. 

Historical Fiction Kindle: "Race Against Time" by Sydney S. Song

Desegregation caused this historical riot at lunchtime in Florida in the 1970s...

 

What my psyche witnessed from afar included bodies- people- all over the place moving hastily then not at all.  Screaming accompanied this sight.  A riot finally registered in my soul; it clearly blocked the path between the gym and a row of bathrooms falling into the area in front of the main back doors.  Natural, student traffic couldn’t enter our main loggia or hallway to classes due to the violent storm raging in that region.

 

A few grown-ups got hold of students dragging them through the doors to the main building as the bell rang out. “Go to class!”  But, how? The passage remained blocked.

 

 I turned quickly walking between the building and the cows mooing in their pastures.  Were they warning me of trouble ahead or speaking to their owners? Was the noise a signal of a stampede ahead? In spite of these unknowns, it still felt smarter to pass as near as sensible to the herd bellowing as I led the impromptu parade around to the front doors into the high school building.

Young Adult Kindle Books: "Silent Invasion" by Neil D. Ostroff

Something was wrong! Air was still. The house too quiet. Brady the neighbor’s obnoxious collie wasn’t barking outside.

Tim Madison rolled to the side of the bed and flicked on the table light. His desk, cluttered with astronomy magazines, math homework, and his eighth grade history book; the model airplane with the broken landing gear hanging by fishing line above his bed, his laptop computer, all looked normal. It was the walls. Ordinarily light-blue, they were red. He looked to the floor. The blue carpet had become black. Bright brown numbers on his digital clock beamed 6:15 A.M.

Weird, he thought. 

He slipped from the sheets, stepped toward the door, and turned the handle slowly. Bedroom light threw his shadow across the hallway’s previously tan, now lime-green carpet. Formally white hallway walls were yellow. 

“Greetings,” a low voice said.

Tim spun around. Fear soared up his spine. He tried to scream but a lungful of choked air came out. A creature a few feet taller than him, with a human body, beetle-like head, and claws instead of hands, stood wearing an all black jumpsuit. 

“I will take you to our training facility where the Thispan Council arranged accommodations,” the creature said.

Tim’s heart banged against his chest. He backed against the wall and looked from side to side thinking which way to run. To his parent’s room? The bathroom? His muscles tensed. Should he bolt back into his own bedroom and slam the door shut? 

“What?” he gasped. “Who are you?”

“I am Kiz,” the creature said. “The council sent me here because they have knowledge of dangerous events that will occur on your planet. I will teach you skills that most assures your success at preventing these events. This is your assignment.”

Tim gulped, pushing panic down. “I… I don’t understand.” 

“You are the Earth’s galactic warrior. I will explain more once we are onboard the Skyru.”

"Go No Sen" by Jacques Antoine

They rode for a couple of hours through the woods, hardly ever coming out from under the canopy of trees. If anyone was looking from above, they would be practically invisible. They stopped a couple of times to rest, and to give George a break from the jostling of the ride. His wound was starting to bother him. He was losing a lot of blood. Emily began to worry. “Dad, we gotta get you some help,” she pleaded.

“We have to keep going. There is no help around here,” he said

“How far is the nearest town?”

“Chi-chan, it’s another thirty minutes to the car.”

“Dad, you can’t make it that long, can you?”

“I dunno. I think you’ll have to take over from here. You up to it?”

“Trust me, Dad. I can do it. Clutch with my hands, shift with my feet, right?”

“Oh, Lord,” he snorted. Fortunately, Emily turned out to have a better understanding of how motorcycles work than she let on. There were only a few rough bits at the beginning. Her father hugged her from behind, and held on for dear life. He was as happy as he had ever been.

"Fireseed One" by Catherine Stine

Varik has caught a mysterious masked thief in his father's underwater vault and hauls him to the the surface to interrogate:

We enter my place. My father’s meditation room has one tiny porthole only a water rat could squeeze through. It has dense walls, and a two-way video-page. No precious files in there that would be in jeopardy, so it’s the perfect padded cell. The thief suddenly wheels around to land a clumsy punch, but I veer out of harm’s way and push him ahead of me through the den into my dad’s think tank. Once inside, I struggle to triple-tie the cable binding his hands in front of him to one of the solid columns as he again tries to kick me. I yank off the sludge-dump’s mask.

And gasp.

Long, red hair cascades down. Pearly skin, heart-shaped lips pursed. Fry me in the Hotzone if it’s not a live girl close to my age. Her sapphire-blue eyes gleam with hate.

I step forward, but not close enough for her to tackle me. “What were you doing down there?”

Her ensuing hiss sounds like a water snake poised to attack.

I toss her mask on the floor. “I asked you a question.” No answer. “You’ll stay tied up like this for weeks then.”

She laughs. Kicks the mask I dropped.

"Raven" by Nuayma Jeggels

After they had vanished so abruptly, they returned many years later with a reign of violence; of Fire, Wind, Earth, Water and Lightning...

Her eyes were closed, but her cracked lips slowly parted, her fingers twitched, and sounds vibrated from her chest to her throat. Dried and encrusted blood covered her torn flesh and rags barely hid her body from their eyes. They would have described his observation as being-too-hopeful, but it took a mere moment to hear what the man had heard.

“H ...”

They leaned forward.

“Help.”

One jumped back, wide-eyed. The other wiped a hand across his face, but the man who had found the woman looked around and shouted, “Who has the herbs, the bandages?”

While the rest exchanged looks and rushed off to join the group around the woman, two men turned to their bags and pulled out every length of cloth and jar of medicine they could find. They joined the group, which had quickly increased in number, and handed over the supplies. The woman’s body had been covered by someone’s robe, but she still didn’t move or open her eyes to acknowledge them.

“She was dead,” someone said. “I saw her, she was dead.”

“Water!” the young man demanded before turning to his friend. “Well, she was dead, but now she’s breathing and she needs our help.”

"Trouble Aboard the Hawaiian Paradise" by Lisa Hall Deckert

It was nearly midnight when I left the club to head off to bed. I went outside on the deck, and walked over to look at the ocean. The full moon was illuminating the little white caps on the waves as we cut through the water. A gust of wind grabbed at my wrap, and I caught it just in time before it was gone overboard. I wrapped it tighter and walked to the top of the outside stairs to go down to the deck below. When I reached the top of the stairs, though, I was surprised to see a familiar figure walking away on the lower deck. The moon illuminated the silver flattop of the man from the airport. 

He was carrying a briefcase. There was something strange about a man wearing an Aloha shirt on a cruise carrying a briefcase at midnight. Instead of going down the stairs, I decided to skirt around so that I could look over the railing and see him, but he would be unlikely to see me unless he looked straight up. I took off my shoes and carried them in my hand so he wouldn’t hear my heels clicking.

"Last Rites" by Ethan Cobb

Weldon, a young priest, prepares to accompany a vampire killer on a hunting expedition:

Weldon sat in the snow contemplating whether the undead should receive last rites. The seminary lacked the answer. He would have to think more on the subject when he had more time, possible after Father Rupert’s Tuesday flower arranging class. Until then, he had other matters to worry about. He rubbed the cross absentmindedly and tossed another garlic clove into his mouth.

Through a scream of wind, Weldon heard the slow crunch of plodding feet. A man materialized through the clouds at the end of the street. A bent and gnarled walking stick plunged into the snow-covered walkway. An equally twisted and bowed man gripped the old stick. Only the spiked wood plunged through to the muddy base seemed to keep the man from blowing away. His hat brim held fast like it had been nailed to his head like a horseshoe. 

“You him then?” asked the old man.

“I’m Weldon Boniface III,” Weldon said.

“Father?”

“Almost-Father.”

“Almost-Father?”

“Well it’s not official yet, but I have taken oaths. A little more time and I will be sent to watch over a town of my own.” 

“Looks like almost-too-young-to-be–out-without-your-parents’-permission might be a better title,” said the old man.

"Stone Bearers: The Gift" by R. E. Washington

My name is Constance and this story starts the day I was ripped apart...

I pointed to the exit. "We have to go there."

She nodded and then we both were running. Glass crunched under my feet and behind me I could hear a shriek. The light was glowing bright, almost encompassing the entire greenhouse. We were almost at the exit. Danielle was a little ahead of me, when she froze. "No. No!"

That's when I saw it. The black glutinous body that looked like hot bubbling tar and white, white teeth. For a second, I could only stare as my mind denied what was in front of me. The monster didn't have such a problem. It leapt at Danielle. Instantly, I reacted. I shoved her out of the way and slashed with the glass shard I grabbed earlier. 

The monster jumped back and bared its teeth. I watched it. Its fingers twitched, its claws glinting in the light. I only had a second to decide. I pushed Danielle. 

"Run!"

"Wizard's Refrain" by R.L. Austin

Dirah is trying to escape a failed attack against the dark army...

Dirah stumbled out of the thorny brambles, scratched and bleeding, to find a group of dark-robed figures blocking her path. Instead of pulling back, she slammed the heel of Baldric’s staff on the ground and growled a spell with the sound of a curse.

Every wizard facing her lurched as the ground between them buckled. From a large crack burst molten rock that boiled and coagulated into a vaguely animal-like form. Even Dirah took a step back when the fiery orange figure reared onto two stump-like legs, and the faint image of a misshapen face appeared on its bulbous head. This was no fireball, but a monstrous apparition that lumbered forward, spewing hot sulfuric gas as if it had breath.

"Silver Smoke" by Monica Leonelle

Brie heard Pilot calling after her in the distance, most likely swearing at her. But she kept running.

It wasn't like it was Brie’s fault that they'd stolen the car. If Pilot hadn’t run his Camry’s gas tank dry, they could have been on time for school without having to jack their father’s most prized possession. Not that Brie really cared—after everything their father James had done to them, the least he could do was loan them his Aston Martin every once in awhile.

It wasn't Brie's fault that they'd crashed into a palm tree either. Sure, she'd screamed, and grabbed Pilot's shoulders from the backseat. She'd even shaken him as hard as she could to get him to hit the brakes. But the paparazzi had run him off the road in the first place.

Lastly—not that she wasn’t going to get blamed for all this anyway—it wasn’t Brie’s fault that she’d jumped out of the car just a few seconds after it crashed. She had to get answers. And in this case, she had to chase them... 

"Among the Little Fishes" by Ethan Cobb

Easton, a hero looking to become a “Super” Hero enters the classroom of Dr. Winters, suspected Villain “Dr. Disaster”:

Easton knew Dr. Disaster was the only first-rate villain any second-string hero could get to. These days there were too many “Super” Heroes and not enough “Evil” Villains. Where was another sadistic clown or bald maniacal real-estate agent when you needed them? Only last week two heroes sped to the same bank heist, arriving at the same time. The news cameras picked up the action as the two heroes battered each other for the chance to arrest the robbers, while the criminals tiptoed out the back door and escaped.

“Will everyone please take your seats and shut up,” said Dr. Winters. Easton sighed. Dr. Disaster was not considered a true “Evil” Villain and there were plenty of reasons why. He lacked subtlety, poise, and clever monologues.

The classroom dropped silent under the fiery gaze of the professor. His bulbous nose and tight jaw molded nicely with the sharp eyebrows narrowed into a V. His head pulsed red like a teapot left in a furnace all night. Anyone that ferocious looking while teaching High School Chemistry had to be a villain.

"Shadow Sport" by Ethan Cobb

A line of dirt clung to the blood on Ember’s face. Looking up through dense pine branches, the moon was almost overhead, only minutes remained until midnight. The hunters would quit trying to kill him then, but he needed to hide until the final gong from the mansion tower bell. After that, he could find an escape, somehow. One thing at a time, and surviving was first. Sixteen was too young to die. Every ounce of terror drained from his tired muscles over the past two days; now there was only a determination to survive. He knew another of the monsters might appear any minute, but he couldn’t dredge enough feeling to worry about what might happen in several moments. He worried about what was happening now. Any second he was going to pass out and leave himself exposed, with only a mile of forest separating him from the main house. Already, he only had the strength to crawl. His arms shuddered as if each might stop functioning. Ember pressed against the short grass again, avoiding the broken fingers swelling on his right hand.

From "8:The Untold Story of the 8th Dwarf" by Michael Mullin

The stories we pass down from parent to child

Were once filled with darkness, but somehow turned mild.

We tweak and revise, and when all else fails

We choose to omit certain crucial details.

Until they're forgotten, and nobody knows

How a story originally, truthfully goes.

Take Snow White, for example. A popular tale

With plenty of unpleasant truths to unveil.

For instance, I’d wager that you didn’t know

Seven lived in that cottage … while one lived below.

It wasn’t always that way. They once lived as eight.

‘Til he changed into strange: staying up, sleeping late.

He ate less and less, turning skeleton-thin,

And shaved his beard down to a patch on his chin.

He was twisted and moody. A freak to the letter.

Calling him “Creepy” didn’t make things much better.