Posts Tagged ‘The Path’

Here’s the last part of chapter one, of my paranormal teen fiction book, The Path. For the remaining chapters you’ll need to wait until the book is released later this year!

He awoke to the sound of sirens. The emergency vehicles were his alarm clock. He laughed at the thought, but his chest was tight and his breathing shallow. A buzz of pain zapped into his heart region, cutting like a pair of kitchen scissors. A stream of bloody mucus poured from his mouth and he choked.

He prayed for the firemen to hurry. He did not feel ready to leave this world. The dream, if that’s what it was, awakened something inside him. Something which told him his life wasn’t totally fulfilled, like an incomplete History essay, or a half-painted wall. His brain boiled away spitting messages at him, that he must survive this accident. MUST.

Whimpers and moans drowned the minibus, each adding another chord to the melody. The sirens were replaced by voices, fussing and busying themselves. Ty noticed that the minibus was upside-down and he saw smoke bellowing from the rear. He was upside-down also and he winced at the thought. Breathing was becoming a struggle.

A drill whirred uncomfortably close by and a panel of the minibus fell away. The frosty air entered first, then a team of men poured in. Everything appeared to be happening in slow motion, as deformed bodies were heaved out and wounds tended to. The dead were left, like rag dolls at the bottom of a toy box. At some point, when more pressing concerns had been dealt with, they would be cleared away, packed up to go to a new place.

“Over here,” shouted a burly man. A pair of fire-fighters dashed towards Ty, tugging at the debris to free his wounded body. Bolting pain shot through him from the inside out. Never before had he felt such pain, not even when he fell out the oak tree in the garden and fractured his arm as a little boy. That was nothing compared to this pain. It penetrated his ribs and lungs, devouring him from within. Twenty-four carat death-worthy pain; and for a second death seemed the only solution to end the suffering.

He was stabbed in the chest with a syringe, lifted on to a stretcher and hurried towards the hole in the minibus, which had become a makeshift door.

And at that moment, as he struggled to inhale his first breath of frozen mountain air, Ty learnt who the severed head belonged to. Her eyes penetrated deep into his, searching for one last glimpse of love. Her crimson hair was now a shade darker.

The revelation gripped inside his stomach and tugged hard. The scream that escaped his mouth was uncontrollable yet centred. He gave all he had to that scream. Every last ounce of energy.

The severed head was hers. His Amber’s.

Here is chapter one, part three, of my Young Adult, paranormal fiction book, The Path.

His head felt cloudy as he came too, with a sense of great fortune that he was still breathing and hope that there were more survivors.

And his girlfriend.

Oh, please let my Amber be ok. Amber. My precious Amber.

Craning his neck he noticed that Amber had disappeared. She was replaced by shattered glass, a Nike rucksack and a half-eaten bag of cheese and onion crisps. Beyond the pandemonium he could just make out the mangled mess which was his best friend Harvey. Ty assumed he was dead and vomited again, heavier this time. The thought of his best mate leaving him was devastating, but if his girlfriend were dead too, then that would be living hell. Unbearable.

“Amber please be alive. Please God, don’t take my Amber away.”

He repeated the words until mental exhaustion led him to sleep. In his dreams he heard the sound of bell jingling like the shepherd’s herd earlier. Earlier, when everything had been normal.

And then bathing in the depths of his subconscious, he saw it for the first time. The path. It looked lonely and unkempt, with autumnal leaves staining the surface like coffee stains on a tablecloth. It was eerie and still and Ty wondered if anyone had stepped on it before.

Ever.

Ugly trees lined either side, their spindly branches lurching out, as if trying to capture, or strike him. Their trunks were broad and tapered at the base with an infinite number of roots. He stretched his gaze as far as it reached towards the end of the path, but he couldn’t see beyond a certain point. It disappeared from view, like the edge of a cliff. What was peculiar was that he felt like he was really there, as if he had teleported himself off the minibus to stand on this path. A sense of oneness befell him, as if it belonged to him in some way.

His path.

He curled the fingers of his right hand and held them to his mouth.

“Is anybody out there? Someone? Anyone?”

The only words to bounce back were his own.

A wildcat snarled and bounded from a patch of weeds purring. The sudden movement frightened him and he jolted.

The stirring breeze fanned his face and ruffled his hair with an aggressive hand. He heard leaves rustling with the movement of the wind, singing something he couldn’t understand, maybe tribal voices or folk from a different world?

He lifted his right foot, ready to take the first step, but it wouldn’t budge. He strained hard and screamed with all his might, but it remained firmly affixed to the ground.

“What now?” he said, cursing in his mind. “There’s no way back and no way forward. I’m trapped here forever.”

The words etched into his conscious.

Forever. Forever.

Look out for the next installation of chapter one, coming soon!

Here is the second part of the first chapter of my Young Adult book, The Path, which is still in the editing phase.
Look out for the third part of chapter one within the next week.

…Flashbacks shot through his mind and a few settled in his head. Now he remembered. He and his classmates were on a school outing, travelling up the French Alps on an old minibus. Everyone applauded when the engine started. It looked like it should be compressed into a cube and dumped on a scrapheap.

“Come on, everyone aboard,” Miss Spencer said, wrapping a fluorescent pink scarf tighter around her neck. She insisted they see the Alps in preparation for their end-of-term French exam. “And if you’re good, we’ll take out a toboggan later.”

The journey was unforgettable. The road was windy and narrow. When a car appeared in the other direction, the brakes of the minibus shrieked and the drivers exchanged anxious glares as they passed each other.

Ty looked out of the window to see icy mountains towering in the distance. They seemed sad and angry, displaying rugged edges and jagged faces.

The crack on the window pane looked remarkably similar to lightning, zipping into the sky to warn of thunder. There was something sinister about it that he could not place. He tried not to stare too hard, but he couldn’t help it. It was right there in front of his eyes after all, warning of danger. He had heard of storms ripping across the mountain skies out of nowhere, but there were no signs of that today. The sky was an expanse of bright blue. There were only small slivers of cloud, as if someone had shaken a pillow up there.

Sultry shades of white and grey offered the landscape an artistic edge. If he looked hard enough Ty could see the individual strokes of the paintbrush. It was a bland canvas draped with a blanket of uninteresting whiteness. The only signs of colour were the red flags to mark the path for daring skiers. Red for danger. Red for stop. Red for blood.

The coach stopped so a shepherd and his herd could pass. Their footsteps crunched through the snow and echoed across the mountain range. The shepherd’s face reminded Ty of a paper ball ready to be thrown into the yonder and the bells of his goats jingled as they walked.

“What a life,” Ty said, as the minibus accelerated away. “Simplistic yet tedious.”

“A bit like you,” said his girlfriend, slapping his leg in jest.

He had a sudden urge to kiss her. Her candy-pink lips parted as he pressed his mouth to hers. He stroked her thigh with one hand and the base of her neck with the other.

“Ohhh babe I love you,” she groaned, melting her head on to his shoulder.

Her hair smelt of washing blowing on a line.

It was that last kiss which Ty could remember most. But the memory was interrupted with a jolt. All of a sudden.

A medley of voices united to become one.

“HEELLLLLP!”

The minibus veered to the other side of the road with no warning, as if it had decided to quit on life. Its heart had beaten its last. Finally it would give up its place in this world and make way for a newer, shinier minibus.

Ty’s ear drums were bombarded with sounds. Shrieking of brakes. Swerving of tyres. Desperate screams. Pleas for survival. Helps and please God’s. Someone’s voice drowned the rest.

“We’re all going to die. HELP. Please. Someone HELLLLLP.”

Chaos transformed to catastrophe as the minibus rolled over, throwing the passengers to their fate. As the scent of his girlfriend faded, replaced by the smell of petrol and rubber, Ty clutched what he believed to be the back of a seat. He gazed at the crack on the window again, but it was now longer and fatter, with thin cracks spilling out at all angles. He studied them for a fraction of a second.

And then he blacked out.

Having already written one book and had it published, I am now writing my second book, The Path, which I am delighted to say is very nearly complete. So far it has taken around 12 months and like all writers I dream of the day when it is totally finished!

I am now going to share with you the opening scene of The Path. Feel free to post any comments…

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Through the crack between the seats Ty saw an ocean of bodies. But this sea had no tide. It was still and silent, as if someone had pressed the pause button on the remote control of life.

He swallowed and his fingers trembled through an ebony fringe. Where was he? What had happened? It didn’t look pretty. Limbs were tangled with others and pools of blood blinked in the sunlight.

A knot of fear bulged in the pit of his stomach. It was unlikely to be untied soon, but that was the least of his worries. Survival mattered most.

He saw a severed head in the aisle. He gagged and threw up. Who it belonged to, he did not know, nor did he wish to discover the answer in a hurry.

“Thank God I’m in one piece,” he said, finding a strange comfort from the sound of his voice. His mum always told him to look on the bright side of life.

“Count your blessings no matter what the circumstances,” she squeaked regularly.
At least I still have my head.
He moved it slightly to make sure it still functioned.

His legs were twisted above his shoulders and blood cascaded on to his chest. He plunged his hand into the sticky puddle of redness. It felt cold and blood gathered under his fingernails, darkening as it dried. He wondered if he would ever kiss his girlfriend, argue with his little sister, or ride the waves on his surfboard again.

“Things like this only happen in the movies,” he said, as if hearing the words would change reality. He shut his eyes and reopened them. But this was no bad dream.

The atmosphere was tranquil yet traumatic. He felt like one of the last remaining leaves on a tree, ready to drop to the ground.
There one minute, gone the next.

An uncomfortable silence nagged at his ears, like that around a dinner table when something untoward has been said about a guest. Silence, but with the volume cranked right up.

He rubbed his nose to try and rid it of the stench. It was neither pleasant nor familiar, but more than likely the smell of death. His eyes snuck through the gap in the seat again and scanned misshapen bodies. Bodies that needed his help.

He attempted to move, but his legs failed to respond.
Trapped or paralysed?

He released the thought, dissecting the scenario once more, just to be certain. Amongst all the uncertainty he was certain about just one thing. Things like this don’t just happen in the movies.

Next excerpt coming soon!