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A Sneak Peek Of Ben Greenfield’s Fantasy Fiction Novel: “The Ocean.”

I love to read and write fiction. All the time have. From “Lord Of The Rings” to “The Chronicles Of Narnia” to “Harry Potter” to “A Game Of Thrones” and past, you’ll just about all the time discover a stack of fiction – often fantasy fiction – next to my bedstand at night time.

Last yr, after two years of getting up early in the morning and whipping out my laptop on airplanes to bang out a number of hundred words, I finished my very first work of fantasy fiction. That e-book, referred to as “The Forest” and inspired by my eleven-year-old twin boys, is the first in a five-part fantasy fiction collection referred to as “The World Leapers” collection…

…upon stepping right into a darkish shed in the midst of the forest, twin brothers River and Terran are transported to a remote prisoner island within the magical world of Arbore – a world crawling with robust magic, hidden snares, and rogue creatures. Using their powers to regulate the weather of water and earth, the boys should escape the mysterious island inhabitants and discover their approach to the mainland, solely to come across a whole nation sieged by evil shramana and vile serpents.

Can two human boys save this otherworld? Can the seafarers, elves, warrior princesses, healers and magisters they meet alongside the best way help them within the battle? Will the chaotic struggles they encounter comply with them again into their own world? Discover out in this riveting adventure that includes harsh wilderness, epic battles, tangled romances, elemental sciences, religious encounters, and hardcore survival…

Now, I’m now deep in the throes of writing the sequel and second e-book of the collection, referred to as “The Ocean” – which is an journey in an underwater world that includes sea monsters, spearfishing, breathwork, water survival, a magical ocean, and many extra – and thought it will be enjoyable to offer you a (admittedly unedited!) sneak peek of the primary two chapters. The books are primarily targeted in the direction of young adults, but I’ve woven in loads of thrills for the older reader too. Take pleasure in, and make sure you read to the top of this submit to discover learn how to get the first guide of the collection, and when to anticipate the second!


Chapter 1: The Trip

“I’m bored.”

Holding a gnarled pink frisbee, twelve-year-old River sighed and kicked on the moist sand beneath his bare foot, then managed a mildly entertained half-smile as the ground erupted into tiny bubbles and a small sand flea emerged from beneath his toes. His equivalent twin Terran noticed quietly as a number of extra sand fleas popped up from the damp earth, waving their two pair of miniature antennae while skipping and scrambling across the seashore as if irritated by the enormous ft disrupting their mid-morning slumber.

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After a minute of learning the creatures, Terran also gave a bored sigh, nodded and ran his arms by way of his moist blonde hair, peering up on the mild drizzle falling from the grey clouds overhead. “Yeah, clamming would’ve been fun.”

By this time of the morning, Grandpa Dave would have been almost 5 miles down the Seaside, Oregon seashore, attempting to find razor clams and armed with a slender clam-digging shovel in his sturdy pair of Montana sheep farmer palms. The gradual slope of the broad sandy seashores of Seaside offered marvelous circumstances for the formation of good beds for hundreds of thousands of Pacific razor clams. Wearing rubber boots and outfitted with a shovel and bucket, clammers like Grandpa would venture out close to daybreak and comply with the water’s edge while on the lookout for dimples or holes within the moist sand – a positive signal of coastal razor clams hiding beneath. When a small squirt or dimple appeared, that meant a clam had only moments earlier than being close to the floor however had sensed the vibration of human footsteps stomping above – and was now desperately digging deep into the sand to flee. Racing to catch the clam earlier than it was too buried to succeed in, Grandpa would bury his shovel a couple of inches away from the small dimple, dig the sand aside, then plunge his hand into the opening to really feel for the clam.

The danger of sliced hand flesh from the razor-sharp shell was nicely well worth the delicious steaks he might later prepare: recent buttermilk soaked clam meat dredged in egg and bread crumbs, salted, peppered, and fried in butter until succulent and tender. With a wedge of recent lemon, a aspect of cocktail sauce and a caper-rich tartar cream for dipping, the fried razor clams can be a welcome, tender deal with on a cold, wet Pacific coast evening.

However immediately, River and Terran had slept in far previous Grandpa Dave’s clamming departure and have been as an alternative now relegated to wandering the wet seashore with an previous frisbee. Back house at the beachfront cottage, their nine cousins – Grant, William, Patrick, Daybreak, Aiden, Brooke, Sophie, Mia, and Sam – have been as much as the standard morning occupations that sometimes engaged their consideration through the week-long summer time household reunion foray to the Oregon coast: enjoying cards, watching cartoons, arguing over the tv distant, reading comic books, and eating copious quantities of cold cereal.

In the meantime, despite the rain, River and Terran couldn’t bear staying indoors during a school-free morning on the coast and as an alternative spent nearly all of their free time wandering up and down the seashore exploring rocks and crevices, looking for sand dollars, decorating sand castles with rocks and sticks and tossing the frisbee.

In addition to, they found it claustrophobic to be packed like canned sardines within the cramped three-bedroom, two-bathroom cottage that Grandma rented annually. When the cousins have been all tiny babies, housing three separate families and two grandparents within the cottage appeared a cheap, easy selection. But now, eleven years later, three separate sets of oldsters, two grandparents and eleven gangly, growing youngsters made the annual family reunion at the coast seem more like an overcrowded throng of our bodies, requiring a number of seashore escapes for River and Terran to flee the insanity.

There was a time when Seaside didn’t seem so boring. For the first few years of the annual vacation, the little village offered a stimulating, fascinating scene for the twins. Over 4 hundred miles from their hometown of Spokane in Washington state (4 hundred and thirty one miles to be exact, as River so typically reminded mom and father through the lengthy drive), Seaside was a small tourist-friendly resort town in northwestern Oregon, situated on the sting of the Pacific Ocean, at the southern end of the Clatsop Plains, just some miles south of the place the Columbia River empties into the Pacific Ocean. The Seaside seashore was well known for surf breaks, a 1920s-esque gray concrete promenade, and the well-known Seaside Aquarium with sealife touching tanks, a small seal exhibit, and one thirty 5 foot lengthy grey whale skeleton.

Downtown Seaside boasted an unlimited arcade named “Funland”, full with an indoor miniature golf course (Terran most popular the problem of hitting balls by way of the rotating windmill), a collection of quaint coffee outlets with native candies and scones, an previous, dusty bookstore filled with secondhand paperbacks, a brightly coloured carousel, and the Candyman store: a saltwater taffy store operated by previous Mr. Bonbauer, a jolly, white handlebar-mustached man susceptible to wink at the twins once they wandered into his shop, just before he would sneak a complementary handful of his freshest kiwi, coconut and watermelon flavored saltwater taffy into their open arms.

However after years upon years of visiting Seaside, the town had turn out to be a bit stale and boring.

“After all”, River had talked about as he and Terran walked right down to the seashore that morning, “They haven’t added a new game to the arcade in years, the aquarium fish are all on sedation drugs, and I can only chew on so much of that taffy before it all tastes the same.” However Terran suspected the more and more ho-hum really feel of their once-enchanting trip city was more difficult than that. This yr was a lot, a lot totally different. It wasn’t just that but once more the town hadn’t modified at all, or that the cottage was too cramped, or that daily it had drizzled Pacific coast rain. Sure, this yr one thing had changed.

As he watched River, who was nonetheless clutching the purple frisbee and learning the sand flea, Terran spoke his thoughts. “There just isn’t much adventure here compared to – you know – back there.”

River shifted his gaze from the sand flea, stood upright, spun the frisbee round his index finger, seemed out over the ocean and muttered a single phrase underneath his breath. “Yeah, I know.”

It had been four months because the brothers had emerged from the shed within the forest again house: four months since that they had departed the magical and threatening forested world of Arbore, four months since that they had found their hidden powers over the elements of water and earth, 4 months since that they had battled a sea monster, scithrin and the evil shramana Kull, and four very lengthy months of trekking day by day by way of the muddy, wet forest again out to the shed close to their house to step inside and peek again into Arbore, solely to be greeted by the plain, previous rotting wood interior of a dilapidated shed basis isolated in the midst of a grove of lonely pine timber. River suspected that, based mostly on the conspicuous disappearance of the chickadee portal information – the portan – since that first night time they’d returned back from the otherworld, the absence of the portan had rendered the shed portal quite normal and ineffective.

And so, to the twins’ annoyance, their abnormal world had seemed somewhat uninteresting and colorless the previous four months: faculty without sword-swinging and survival classes, quiet bicycle rides as an alternative of thunderous horseback gallops, and shoving away faculty bullies stuffing snowballs down their backs as an alternative of battling highly effective villains driving upon the backs of evil dragons.

However this afternoon, there was a minimum of one promising adventure that twins had deliberate: a rigorous hike of the Lewis and Clark Path.

The trail was recognized by the more common moniker “Tillamook Head Traverse Hike”, but River and Terran most popular to call it the “Lewis and Clark Trail” after their favourite set of explores: William Clark and Meriwether Lewis, and through the years that they had retraced the steps of the courageous frontiersmen almost a dozen occasions. They appreciated to imagine the American explorers decked out in furs, clutching musket rifles, and battling the steep, muddy slopes as they inched nearer and closer to their destination: a grand and satisfying view of the Pacific ocean. Together with the Native American lady Sacajawea and a small group of courageous souls, Lewis and Clark had first crossed this formidable headland in 1806 to purportedly buy the blubber of a stranded whale from the native populations at Cannon Seashore, just up the street from Seaside.

Up to now, that they had all the time hiked the point-to-point path with their mother and father, grandparents and cousins. But this yr was totally different. Through the automotive journey to Seaside, they’d convinced father and mother to let them hike alone. Once their grandparents dropped them off on the trailhead in Ecola State Park, north of Cannon Seashore, they might head up the steep switchbacks and start the acquainted journey up the seven-mile long trail populated by lush spruce, hemlock, alder, deer fern, sword fern, and salal forest. And not using a contingent of loud family members, they’d have the ability to create their very own journey and spend as a lot time as they needed exploring the aspect trails, hollowed logs, mud bogs, and historic timber. Passing underneath big Sitka spruce, circumventing galleys, high-stepping via mud erosion and crawling via spruce and hemlock blowdown, they might ultimately attain Clark’s Viewpoint, where the path undulated alongside the edge of the cliff and handed an enormous ten foot broad rotted stump that marked the top of a steep uphill and the downhill descent back into Seaside.

However for now, the hike would have to wait. Grandpa wouldn’t return from clamming for at the least two extra hours, and he all the time accompanied Grandma in the automotive to Cannon Seashore in order that the two might cease off and treat themselves at their favourite espresso shop to an “Oregon’s Famous” blueberry-lemon-brie scone, drizzled with maple frosting and dipped in a scorching cup of natural black coffee.

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As they slowly strolled back up the seashore and in the direction of the cottage, River stopped walking and reached his hand into the pocket of his loose-fitting, sand-stained cotton trousers. The orb was still there. He smiled for a quick second, then his face clouded over as he pulled his hand out of his pocket and sighed. “Do you ever wonder what would happen if we could go back?”

Terran closed his eyes as if imagining a far-away dream. He spoke softly again to River. “Just about every day. I wonder about Master, about Wisp…a lot about Tink…”

His voice trailed and his face blushed purple with shade. River finished his ideas. “And Aria and Enya, huh? The girls at school are nothing like real princesses.”

Terran nodded and opened his eyes. It nonetheless felt awkward and unusual to carry the secrets and techniques of their adventures in Arbore between simply the 2 of them. However they didn’t need their mother and father, schoolmates, and pals to assume they have been turning into insane with absurd ideas about being almost roasted for dinner by Bigfoot-like creatures, preventing wingless dragon-worms and wielding powers over earth and water. Conversations on the dinner table seemed to focus on their newest progress in Spanish and mathematics, or the unique method by which mother had spiced the hen, or father’s plans to wash the storage the subsequent day, and never warrior-princesses, sea monsters, and flying machines. Yet the boys nonetheless did get unusual seems from their academics at college once they handily beat all of the upper-schoolers in the fall archery competitors, raised eyebrows from their instructor at wilderness survival camp once they handily ready a whole gourmand meal of pillbugs, blackberries, preying mantis eggs, acorns and cedar beetles, and an particularly long, curious stare from mom when Terran leaned off the edge of his horse on a family horseback journey and effortlessly plucked a flower from the ground to offer to her.

“Where did you learn to do that?” She had exclaimed. He simply smiled mysteriously and shrugged.

The nearest they’d come to revealing their journey into the otherworld occurred on the night of their twelfth birthday and just a month after that they had left Arbore, when father was within the bed room saying goodnight. After he had bent right down to kiss River on the forehead, then walked to the door to depart the room, River mumbled in a drained voice. “Father…do you believe in elves?”

His again nonetheless to them, Father came to a standstill on the door and his hand hesitated for several seconds upon the knob. River felt his abdomen sink, prepared for a lecture concerning the scientific impossibility of a never-before-seen race of quasi-humans with sharp, pointed ears. However after an extended pause, father turned, positioned each palms on his thighs, and bent on the waist to look instantly into River’s eyes. “Well, let me ask you this: have you ever seen one?”

Before River might reply, Terran sat up in his mattress and raised his hand. “Yes!”

Father raised an eyebrow, stood once more, grinned mysteriously and, as he flipped off the lights by the door, brushed his tousled, dark brown hair over his ears and stated with a twinkle in his eye. “Well I can’t say I can quibble with that.” With this, he closed the door, leaving both River and Terran staring confusedly up at the dark ceiling with furrowed eyebrows.

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Now, three months later, they might see the define of father standing on the porch of the Seaside cottage, arms cupped to his mouth. Over the sound of the waves crashing behind them and the breeze whipping throughout the seashore, they might hear the faint sound of his voice calling them.

Terran quickened his tempo and commenced to jog up toward the cottage. “Maybe Grandpa got back early!”

River remained behind, hesitated, and slipped his hand into his pocket once more. This time, he pulled out a big, softball measurement orange sphere. He cradled it in his arms for a moment, staring at the dancing, diamond-like raindrops that drizzled down the sides of the orb, every drop shimmering in a kaleidoscope of sparkles. He concentrated deeply on the floor of the orb, ready for it to grow warm, glow with a deep orange mild, then pulse ever so slightly in his arms.

However nothing occurred. The orb was chilly and lifeless. River frowned, placed Falkum back into his pocket, then referred to as ahead to Terran. “Hey, wait for me!”


Chapter 2: The Otter

With no gaggle of screaming cousins bursting up and down the trail, the hike appeared much more peaceable, and more thrilling without the steerage of father, mom, or Grandpa. They’d trudged for the 2 miles now, quietly listening to the sounds of birds calling out the approaching footsteps of human intruders and stopping occasionally to nibble on fiddlehead fern or to stability with their slippery, muddy footwear on fallen logs alongside the trail.

At an enormous, rotting Sitka spruce tree stump on the proper aspect of the trail, River all of a sudden paused. Terran got here to a standstill behind him. “What?”

River stared off into the salmonberry thicket to the left of the path. He scratched his head. “Do you ever remember passing this trail before?”

Terran crouched down and placed his palms on his knees. He squinted at the slender path that forked from the primary trail and into a cluster of hemlock timber under. “Maybe it’s just a game trail?”

“Dunno – but check that out.” River pointed simply twenty ft down the small trail at a large patch of darkish, green fuzzy-leaved bushes splashed with tiny spheres of a yellow-orange hue. “Salmonberries.”

Terran licked his lips. He savored the almost overpowering bitter flavor of the salmonberry and the robust skin that exploded into gentle, pulpy flesh in his mouth, followed by a light-weight floral-sweet finish that lingered simply lengthy sufficient to maintain his face from puckering up from the bitter. Traditionally in the Pacific Northwest, salmonberries can be served with a savory fish appreciated smoked salmon or salmon roe, however immediately, the berries appeared tempting enough, even in the absence of a protein to eat them with. Terran took a step down the trail. “C’mon, Riv, let’s go pick some!”

He began down the path, noting the cluster of hooved and clawed footprints indicating this was certainly a recreation path used by the native creatures and not a human-made passage. He might hear River scrambling after him. Quickly they have been standing within the patch of huge, reddish-purple flowers and yellow-orange tinted, edible berries.

The dense thicket and the leaves, twigs, and buds of a salmonberry patch normally provided a really perfect spot for nesting birds and for small mammals alike, together with rabbits, beavers, porcupines, deer, and elk. But this patch, extending almost thirty ft again into the darker shadows of dense timber further down the aspect path, appeared desolate and quiet.

Terran popped two salmonberries into his mouth from one bush, then grinned and puckered his mouth as the novel flavor crammed his cheeks. He bent down to a different bush and pulled two more berries. As he stood, he noticed it: a hint of a brown motion within the bushes in the direction of the sting of the patch. He rotated and poked River, then dropped right into a deep squat and pulled his brother down with him. “Did you see that?”

River pursed his lips, swallowed your complete fruity mass of berries lodged within the pouch of his cheek and mumbled. “See what?”

Terran smiled. “One of your favorites brother – I can’t believe it’s all the way up here this far from the beach. A sea otter!”

Ever since he was a toddler, the ocean otter had indeed been River’s best-loved creature. The first time he’d encountered the cute, playful, whisker-faced animal throughout a visit with father to the Seattle Aquarium, he’d been voraciously consuming sea otter books, framing sea otter paintings above his bed, sketching sea otters and naming the sea otter as his “official spirit animal”, and volunteering to review the ocean otter for science tasks at college. Still in a deep squat, River’s breath quickened as sat up on his haunches simply slightly to get a better take a look at the otter, which was darting out and in of view as it shortly moved from bush to bush on flipper-like hind ft.

The otter’s fur was dark, reddish brown, and it possessed two units of very long light-colored whiskers poking out from round cheeks. Because it stood on its hind legs to snag a salmonberry from an overhead bush, it thrust one padded forepaw forward, revealing a set of tiny claws and a wrinkled collection of unfastened folds of skin beneath its armpit.

River grinned, elbowed Terran and whispered excitedly. “See those skin folds? It can store tools, fish, food, whatever it likes up in there. Crazy, huh?”

At the sound of River’s hushed voice, the otter whipped its head in the direction of the twins, thrust its snout into the air and sniffed twice, then ducked and scurried down the path away from the bushes and deeper into the forest.

“Hey, wait!” River stood and commenced to run down the path after the otter. “C’mon, let’s go find it!” Then he abruptly stopped in his tracks.

Terran, operating behind, almost barreled into his brother’s again. “What, brother?

River put his hand into his pocket. “Nothing. I just felt…something.”

Terran shrugged and slipped round River, then down the path after the otter. River stayed behind and pulled Falkum from his pocket. He narrowed his eyes. Perhaps, simply perhaps. He thought he might sense a slight glow emanating from the orb, however couldn’t quite inform. It does feel more heat. He thrust it again into his pocket and ran after Terran.

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River caught up to his brother only a minute later. Terran was standing on the prime of a bald, filth mound together with his palms in his pockets. The path had appeared to disappear, and he was staring disenchanted into the bushes. “Darn, we lost it.”

River and Terran stood each stood on the mound and surveyed the landscape under. The hillside sloped downward from them, opening right into a small cluster of spruce and hemlock circled round a darkish, circular pool of muddy water. Behind the pool, a steep rock face rose almost as tall because the timber, casting a shadow over the water and foliage under. Save for the moist breeze sweeping by means of its branches, the forest had grown eerily quiet.

Then, from somewhere close to the pool, a twig snapped and a blur of brown fur darted across the sting of the water. River smiled. “No we didn’t. Look!” He paused to make use of the edge of a jagged rock jutting from the bottom to scrape the syrupy mud from the bottom of his sneakers, then started scrambling down the slippery slope on his heels and butt. “C’mon!”.

As he slid down by means of over the jutting roots and sharp stones caked in additional mud, he tried to keep his eyes where he last noticed the otter. He heard a grunt behind him, saw a moist rock tumble past and knew Terran was close behind. “Careful, brother. Slick!”

They both arrived on the base of the hill on the similar, their trousers soaked in mud. Terran stood and inspected his bottom. Your complete seat of his pants was torn. He moaned. “Got snagged. Mother’s gonna love this.”

River ignored him. He was already crawling over the sparse vegetation on his palms and knees in the direction of the pool. The ground was coated in thick moss and flakes of algae. He might odor clay and earth and one thing candy like pollen. He almost put his hand on a fat brown spider, then brushed it away shortly together with his sleeve. “Careful! Recluses! Big ones!”

Terran moaned again behind him. “Only thing I hate more than big spiders are poisonous ones.”

River made a hushing sound. He had spotted the otter. It was just on the edge of the pool, sniffing the mud, its front paws already dipped into the water. River lowered his head and body till his abdomen was almost touching the ground, then started to crawl ahead once more. He might hear the ground brush quietly crunching behind him as Terran adopted. As he crept closer to the pool, he felt mushy, slippery moss beneath his palms and smelled the musty, slightly rotten scent of the greenish-black algae that lined the edge of the pool. The earth was very tender now, and his palms and knees started to sink into the mud as he crawled.

Then, ever so slowly, he raised his head and peaked in the direction of the edge where he had final seen the otter.

It was gone. However simply near where it had been was a rippling and cluster of bubbles on the floor of the water. River slowly stood and whispered. “You see it?”

Terran stood, furrowed his brows and studied the pool. Now that they have been almost on the water’s edge, the pool appeared much larger than it had from a distance. From where they stood, there was almost twenty ft of darkish, black water that extended in entrance of them to the wall of the rock face that rose behind the pool, and almost another twenty ft width from one muddy bank to the subsequent. A tiny stream of spring water was dripping down the center of the rock face, making a faint trickling sound they might barely hear over the sound of the swaying spruce and overhead birdsong.

For almost two minutes, they both stood in silence. The bubbles and ripples disappeared, but the otter never surfaced.

Terran broke the silence. “How long can it stay under there?”

“‘’Bout five minutes. It can hold its breath for even more than that. The nostrils and eyes both close when it’s under. And it can swim over sixty miles per-” River stopped and slapped his hand towards his pocket. “Hmmph!”

“What?”

He pulled Falkum from his pocket and introduced it close to his face, peering into the clear orb. A present he had been given in otherworld Arbore from the inventor elf Tink, Falkum was cast from the mineral Razellium by the cave-dwelling Pygian dwarves.

He recalled Tink’s phrases. “Under the mastery of one who can control the element of water, this unbreakable stone becomes a crushing weapon that can be thrown at high speeds over great distances. Like the falcon, the hawk, and the eagle, it is a mighty weapon of the skies, and so I have called it…”

“Falkum. It’s warm. And it’s kind of vibrating in my pocket.” River rotated Falkum in his palm whereas persevering with to observe the water. He seemed up. Via the treetops, he might see dark clouds beginning to type. He sighed and slipped Falkum back into his pocket. “We’ll probably need to go back soon, but…” He appeared at the water once more. “I’m just going to put my face in real quick and see if I can spot that otter. I’ve never seen one in the wild like this.”

River took a number of steps ahead and his footwear sunk even deeper into the soggy ground on the fringe of the pool.

“Your face? That water is muddy and black. No way you can see anything.” Terran impatiently shifted his ft and seemed up on the clouds. “I think I felt a drop of rain. The trail back down to Seaside is going to be a slippery disaster if we don’t get out of here soon.”

River was already on his palms and knees again at the edge of the pool. He slowly lowered his face in the direction of the dark floor of the water. His nose touched first. The water was even warmer than he had anticipated. His cheeks might feel a muggy warmth rising from the floor, and a stagnant stench of one thing like algae and rotting sardines crammed his nostrils. Together with his eyes open, suddenly he plunged his complete face into the pool.

His eyes widened. It was crystal clear beneath the water. He might see dozens and dozens of ft into the depths of the pool, which was a lot deeper than he had anticipated. Certainly, it appeared more just like the reefs of the Atlantic coast he had visited in Florida. There was daylight shimmering and dancing throughout underwater swirls, tiny minnows darting forwards and backwards back and forth of the pool, shiny flecks of vibrant green plankton, and there, slightly below the define of a rock that he might barely see, what seemed to be the tail of the ocean otter. He grinned and instantly tasted salt because the briny water slipped into his mouth by means of his tooth.

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It happened all of sudden. River couldn’t tell if his knees slipped from his mossy perch or if an underwater current unexpectedly tugged him ahead but he was abruptly plunging headfirst into the pool. He flipped his physique round to try to swim to the surface, but as an alternative he felt his legs tugged powerfully downwards by an invisible pressure. His mind began to race.

I didn’t take an enormous breath…

I’m going to drown…

Swim more durable! Get to the floor!

Somewhere deep in his chest, he felt a robust contraction like a gagging reflex as his diaphragm tensed and flexed in an try and trigger a breath. He resisted the urge to open his mouth and tried to kick up however his legs felt weak and limp like a noodle. His fingers began to tingle. Black streaks started to cloud his imaginative and prescient. Eyes large open in fright, he might see the clear blue water surrounding him start to grow foggy and grey as his vision clouded over.

Above, he heard a muffled, high-pitched tone echoing via the water. Behind his dimming mind, he acknowledged Terran’s voice, screaming. He desperately tried to scan the floor but couldn’t see it anymore.

Terran! Put your hand in! Save me!

He couldn’t feel his legs anymore. Together with his remaining shreds of power, he spun and swiveled his hips to stop his sinking momentum. When he did, he felt his proper aspect grow to be lighter and one thing slip from his pocket.

Falkum! No!

His heart pounded with panic. With the final remaining traces of his vision, he might barely see the outline of the orange orb carried away by the present and plunge into the depths under. As his physique tensed like a metal spring and the contractions in his chest started to cause a wretching sensation in his throat, he heard a plunging sound.

There was all of a sudden a burst of shiny mild and a big hand thrust in entrance of his face. He summoned his final fibers of muscle and reached for it…


Sorry to end on a cliffhanger, but in fact, there’s rather more to return! In my writing course of, I stick comparatively near the tried-and-true hero’s journey storyline and in addition rely heavily upon a superb e-book referred to as “The Author’s Journey“, which teaches a systematic strategy to writing superb novels that comply with the basic hero’s journey story.

Within the meantime, I self-published the first e-book of the “World Leapers” collection in a really restricted print final yr (principally to my childrens’ pals, household and faculty library) and am proud to announce that this spring, I’ll be releasing that first e-book, titled “The Forest” en masse.

For those who click on here to go to my fiction collection website, you will get notified as soon as “The Forest” (the first ebook within the collection) is revealed and obtainable later this spring of 2019. The e-book you’ve just previewed, titled “The Ocean”, will probably be out there the next spring.

Lastly, do you’ve gotten questions, thoughts or suggestions for me concerning the writing course of, how I write, fiction books you want or anything? Depart your comments under and I’ll reply!

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