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Awakening: Hope Trilogy (Volume 1)
By Lauren AshleyPublisher CreateSpace Independent Publishing PlatformISBN 9781478350071
Published in Science Fiction & Fantasy/Fantasy, Literature & Fiction/General, Literature & Fiction/Genre Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Literature & Fiction
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Book Description
Sample Chapter
Vampires and werewolves. Angels and Demons. Gods and Goddesses. From ancient times to the present, man has always spoken of legends—fables and myths passed down through generations. In every culture these stories exist, in some way, shape, or form. But despite their differences in language and theme, they all share one thing in common, fallacy—they are but distortions of reality—embellishments of the truth. I had never put stock in believing in such things, knowing well that they were just that, stories. Never in my wildest imagination could I have dreamt that I would become what I had always known to be untrue, a legend. And so my story begins.
***
Not more than a few minutes had gone by that my mind began to drift, along with my gaze as I found myself staring out the window. Across the field stood a barren tree, its lifeless limbs struggling to reach toward the sky. Something about it seemed to always capture my attention. Perhaps, its futile struggle to stay alive, a pathetic attempt at best. Or staring at the decrepit bark flaking from its trunk like rotting flesh peeling away from a decaying corpse. In some strange, morbid way it seemed…familiar. And despite its obviously creepy appearance, I somehow found it....beautiful.
"Ms. Hope, would you like to share what you wrote?" Mrs. Pearson called on me, aware my mind had been aimlessly wandering. Frazzled, I quickly focused my attention back to class, leaving the tree to its certain demise. Mrs. Pearson stood over me, glaring at me through her narrow thin-framed glasses perched near the tip of her slender nose. It was obvious she was a little annoyed.
"Not really." I replied, soberly. I didn’t have to look around the room to know that everyone else was staring at me, their nearly hundred pairs of eyes glued to me, making me uncontrollably blush. I hated that I blushed when I was embarrassed since my skin turned to the color of a lightly bruised peach, which made me stand out even more than I preferred.
Not satisfied with my response, Mrs. Pearson still hovered over me—her beady eyes could have shot lightning bolts down at me. By the way her arms were folded across her chest, I knew she must have been really annoyed with me.
"Maybe next time." My small gesture of a peace offering. Slowly, I reached over my shoulder, pulled a handful of hair across my cheek, then slid my hand to the side of my head trying to shield my face from my fellow classmates. It was useless. I could still feel everyone's eyes piercing through my veil of hair and screen made of my fingers. Stupid of me to think that would make me less noticeable. Fraught with embarrassment, I slouched further in my chair wishing I could disappear.
"Emma, part of your grade depends on class participation," Mrs. Pearson threatened, politely. Her head was tilted downward slightly as she spoke, which caused her glasses to nearly slip off her nose. She was actually quite pretty without her glasses since they made her look much older. Without them, I would have guessed she was in her early thirties. I figured she presented herself that way in order to gain respect from her students, being that she was one of the younger teachers in school.
"I know," I acknowledged courteously, after adjusting myself in my chair. I opened my book, pretending to be engaged, hoping that would appease her. "Definitely next time." I nodded. I wanted nothing more than to have the class’s attention directed elsewhere since I fervidly hated being in the spotlight. Between the center of attention and a root canal, I would have chosen the latter any day of the week.
After what felt like an eternity, Mrs. Pearson finally cleared her throat, pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, and then continued with the lesson of the day. Once the coast was clear, I began scribbling in my notebook, my pencil heavy with frustration, lead nearly pressing into my desk. But I had the feeling that I was still being watched since it felt like I was covered with boils.
As inconspicuously as humanly possible despite the awkwardness of the movement, I tucked my chin down and casually peeked over my right shoulder.
Natalie, the overzealous, studious, wannabe-class-president was staring at me. She had a nasty look on her face: nose crinkled and upturned, corner of her mouth downturned, eyes unleveled. I could pretty much hear what she was thinking. It wasn’t pleasant at all.
'What!' I scoffed inside, sneering back and shaking my head at her, doing my best to mimic the exact expression on her face. She easily took offense, then immediately shot me a look of disgust before turning away. I sighed and rolled my eyes at the way I acted, then focused my attention back to my scribbling.
The bell ringing in the background couldn't have come soon enough.
Quickly, I gathered up my things and bolted for the door. "That was so embarrassing," I uttered to myself as I passed through the hallway, barely dodging other students as they exited their classes. I flew open my locker door and began methodically putting some of my books away. I couldn’t wait for the day to be over.
"So, are you going to the game this Friday?" Sarah asked as she approached. I glanced over just in time to see her flirting and smiling at a guy across the hall. He cocked his head back slightly and returned a confident smile.
"You're incorrigible." I teased, smiling and shaking my head at her. I leaned up against the lockers and stood beside her, the crowd of students passing in front of me seemed to blend into an indistinct herd. I was still hung up on what happened in class.
Sarah eventually turned her attention to me after waving goodbye to the guy across the hall. Her wave was technically not a wave since there was no side-to-side motion of her hand. Instead, it was one of those cute girly waves, where she just flexed her fingers in unison a few times. It was flirty and effective.
"The game?" she asked again.
"Yeah, hmmm..." I paused, my head down, pretending to give serious thought to my decision. However, I already knew what my answer was going to be. It was almost always the same. I was sure she also knew it as well. Funny how we still went through that routine. After a few seconds, I turned to her, "Planning on staying in this weekend," I replied, raising one of my books, "gotta get some reading done."
"Let me guess, maybe next time," she smirked playfully at me, eyes squinted and nose crinkled—her cute little bunny look with upper lip slightly raised making her front teeth appear a little bucked— one of her many looks. I didn’t respond, at least not verbally. Instead, I stared at the ground, tuning out everything around me, my usual way of avoiding things, so I had been told by her.
"Don't forget, tomorrow after school," she said, quickly changing the subject after acknowledging my body language—she knew me well enough to pick up on my cues. We had been friends since I moved to town before starting high school several years ago. Somehow she was able to draw me out of my reclusive, hardened shell, getting me to open up and break free from my then hermit-like ways. Though I always had a lot of friends in the past, I never really had a friend so close like her, someone that I considered a sister. But Sarah was different. She felt like blood to me. It didn’t hurt that she could read me better than anyone I had ever known. For those reasons and others I just couldn't explain, we just clicked despite being opposites.
"You promised me," she continued, smiling and pointing her finger at me while backing away, like somehow that was going to make me keep my word. I didn’t know why I had agreed to help out, but Sarah had the ability to get me to do things I ordinarily wouldn't. Maybe it was because she always asked me with her sad puppy dog look: head tilted downward, eyes wide and looking upward, lips pouted slightly—the look that I couldn’t seem to say no to. Or, maybe because I knew she wouldn’t stop pestering me until I gave in. Regardless, she always seemed to get her way with me, at least most of the time.
"Sure." I nodded and somehow managed to refrain from rolling my eyes. She winked at me, then twirled around and skipped away. She could somehow always bring a smile to my face even when I was less than enthused. After she was out of sight, I plodded down the hallway in the other direction.
By habit, I focused on the ground just a few steps ahead, trying my best to avoid eye contact with anyone crossing my path. Only occasionally did I glance slightly upward to avoid bumping into people. When I did look into the crowded hallway, nearly everyone seemed faceless and indistinct from one another, like a colony of drones in our hive of a school. But then, like clockwork, the exception appeared out of the bunch—Griffin. He approached, staring straight ahead as usual, gazing at something far off in the distance—at what, I had no clue. He was different than everyone, rather....interesting, the best word that I could come up with to describe him. He was quiet, silent really, and always kept to himself. Much like me, only exponentially to a greater extreme. But unlike me, he always appeared angry, like he was pissed about something or at someone, which was why people, myself included, feared him a little. It didn't help that he was also pretty tall and broad. Coupled with his demeanor, he was intimidating, intense and menacing. Maybe I had more words to describe him than I thought.
As he drew nearer, my body tensed up, a shiver ran down my spine. Despite the hundreds of times we had walked by one another, he still had that same strange effect on me. It wasn’t because I was afraid he would do something to me. I didn’t get the sense that he would ever hurt me. But I didn’t get a good vibe from him either. Maybe if I had the chance to get to know him I would have felt differently. However, that was impossible since we never interacted with one another. In fact, I couldn’t recall him ever uttering a single word to me, and for all I knew, he could have been mute since I had never heard him speak. Like an uncontrollable reflex, I clutched my books closely to my chest and cautiously followed him with my eyes as he passed by.
The first bell rang, so I picked up my pace and continued on to class.
"OK, everyone. Please sit down," Mr. Jameson called out in his stern tone. Immediately, everyone scurried and quickly settled into their seats. He stood head and shoulders above everyone, built more like a construction worker rather than a high school teacher. He was also pretty buff—his long sleeve buttoned up shirt looked too tight against his chest and arms. I remembered how the girls in class swooned over him on his first day when he substituted for Mrs. Reiner, and how thrilled they were when he became our permanent history teacher last fall. The guys on the other hand weren't as enthused with him, his brawny frame and authoritarian style was very effective in controlling the rowdier boys in class.
"Before we get started, I'd like to introduce a new classmate of yours, Connor Vincent."
I glanced over my shoulder toward the back of the class to where Mr. Jameson had directed everyone's attention. In the back corner of the room, I could only see a gentle hand being raised, tentatively.
"How hot is he?" one of the girls around me whispered. I casually leaned in my chair to get a glimpse of him. Even though he was sitting, he appeared tall and slender. And like the girl next to me said, I also thought he was....attractive.
Interesting. The muscles in my forehead twitched as I thought about my first impression of him—it wasn't like me to dote on one's looks. I’d like to think that I wasn’t superficial, so it was weird for me to have focused on his nice smile, the softness in his eyes, cheekbones that could appear on the cover of a magazine. His gentle wavy light brown hair, perfectly styled….
Quickly, I turned away once I realized I had been staring at him. I brushed the back of my fingers against the corner of my mouth to make sure I wasn't drooling. Thankfully, I wasn't. Luckily, no one noticed me either. After a few moments, I shook my head and focused on my doodling.
It wasn't more than a few minutes into class that some of the guys began to haze Connor, mostly because they were jealous by the attention he had received from the girls, including myself. To his credit, he just smiled through it all and effortlessly shrugged it off. I empathized, knowing the feeling all too well. It was barely three years ago that I was in the same situation.
"Guys, please make him feel at home," Mr. Jameson chided, an impish grin appeared across his rugged jaw. Wistfully, I smiled upon hearing the request, to make Connor feel at home. Three years here, sixteen going on seventeen in this skin and I still felt awkward—a fish out of water. Even amongst my close circle of friends, I didn’t feel like I fit in.
Over the next several minutes, I continued observing Connor, casually stealing furtive glances at him over my shoulder, pretending to look at the clock at the back of the class. As I watched him interact with the others, I couldn't help but grow envious of him as he seemed likable and charismatic. The girls were immediately fond of him, they had no problem making that obvious to everyone. I hoped I wasn't that obvious. Surprisingly, most of the guys befriended him, even those that had teased him earlier. As class dragged on, my eyes eventually wandered and floated out the window to the cars zipping by the front of the school. One by one, I watched as they sped by, the cars almost melding into a blurry caravan of colored metal boxes. Then suddenly, I caught a glimpse of something. At first it was just a flickering image that appeared and disappeared between the passing cars. Eventually, as the pace of the cars slowed, I realized what it was—someone was standing on the other side of the street. It was rather odd for someone to be there especially at that time of day—there was no bus stop, stores, or anything. I sat up and raised my head to get a better look, squinting and focusing on the person who was still just a faceless blur. Then slowly, as my eyes focused, I realized who it was. To my surprise, it was Griffin, standing there motionless, eerily staring back at me.
What the hell was he doing out there? I shook my head and blinked a few times, making sure I wasn’t seeing things. Then slowly, the cars seemed to fade and disappear. It was then I noticed he was carrying something. But the reflection from the glass obscured my vision. I couldn’t quite make out what it was.
Dragged from my seat by curiosity, I slowly made my way toward the window. As I got closer, my eyes grew wide, horrified by what I saw—my limp body draped across his arms.
Continues...
Excerpted
from "Awakening: Hope Trilogy (Volume 1)" by Lauren Ashley. Copyright ©
2013 by Lauren Ashley. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No
part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission
in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc.
solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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