Five: Episode Twenty-Eight is based off the following book excerpt from my science fiction supernatural thriller, The Contingency Generation.
My eyelids are made of stone.
“SJ, my love, wake up! I’m so worried.”
I recognize Fol’s voice, but I must see his face to believe his expression of endearment. I try to open my eyes again, but nothing changes.
“Please darling. It’s time to wake up.”
At least he no longer sounds angry, but there’s no excuse for drugging me. His temper is unreasonable.
“Open your eyes, dear one.”
Another voice. A woman? Is it Kate? Am I back in the garden?
I will my eyes to see my friend, and after a brief second, a curtain lifts and three figures move in front of a tan oblong outlined by light.
“I give her more antidote now.” An unfamiliar voice speaks, and simultaneously I feel a cool aching pain in my forearm. Then the curtain disappears, and I squint into the brilliance of eight distinct ceiling lights. Two heads loom over me. I see Fol and a face that reminds me of an afghan hound.
Fol bends to brush my cheek with his lips.
Voices morph into indistinct mumbles.
With a great deal of effort, I return my gaze to the tan oblong wall piece framed by light. I’m certain it holds a definitive clue to the surreal event I’m experiencing. My chance for deduction is cut short when Fol sits close to my side and takes my hand, which I feel only as a dull clumsy pressure.
Too exhausted to manage a conclusion, I slowly manage to mouth three words. “Where… am… I?”
“Room 106 in Kerioth Medical. I brought you to SHEOL after the sabotage attempt.”
Fol’s speaks nonsense.
“You…drugged me.” Intent on seeing truth, I search his eyes for a reaction.
“Not so dearest. You’re mistaken.” He does not flinch, but gazes back from inky pools of expressionless sight, all the while caressing my hand. When I manage with great difficulty to pull my hand away, I see his eyes rim red with fire.
He’s still Fol.
“You were found unconscious on the floor beside Kate’s empty cylinder.”
I follow the sound of the female voice and discover Baphomet’s face.
She continues. “A handful of relocation sympathizers from Region 8 gained access to The Abide. Several bodies are missing in spite of a lock down, which triggered over the entry code tampering. Medical Plausibility gave orders to extract all resurrection team members and question them for sabotage connections. Because of your condition, they cleared you for transport to a secure location for treatment. Fol brought you here by undersurface transport.”
Why do I remember it all so differently?
This blog post is an excerpt from my supernatural thriller, Five, presented in rough draft version. The posts will appear weekly as my story development progresses. The story snippets will likely be full of typos, garbage, and confusion. I’m sure to regret allowing readers a sneak peak of the chaos involved in this process of making a finished book.
Someday, if I still have an audience, my book(s) and screenplays will be polished and for sale. Until then, my story snippets are free, but payment by “subscribing” with your email would be a nice gesture. For doing this you might get a discount on my purchasable work should that day ever arrive. All you get now is a notice via email of a new story episode that I have ready to read on my “blog.” I don’t sell my email list or do anything else with it.
Why am I doing this stupid and terrible thing—letting readers see my “off the cuff” story writing?
Book industry experts say that in today’s world of book marketing, an unknown author must build their own sales platform. I’m supposed to advance my platform by collecting readers, and for now, by blogging. Since I can’t imagine blogging about what I had for breakfast or the things my cat does, then instead, I’m blogging fiction excerpts of my work(s) in progress.
Thanks for slogging along. Maybe we’ll meet on a bookshelf someday.