The Shulim Cycle: Book of Dahlia

The Shulim Cycle: Book of Dahlia ... Chapters 1 & 2

The Shulim Cycle  

Book of Dahlia 

A novel by Lynn Perretta 

© Copyright 2012 Lynn Perretta

Cover Art by: Catherine Nodet (http://catherine-nodet.fr)

Editor: Nick Perretta

Publisher: Streetwraith Press. Clearwater, FL

ISBN-13: 978-1480246348

ISBN-10: 1480246344  

 for more information please visit: www.theshulimcycle.com/bookofdahlia

Excerpt Contents 

Chapter 1 

Chapter 2 

Chapter 1

Devon tossed in his sleep and moaned. His room was silent, though his mind was not. He was coming out of strange dreams and hearing a song. It was a lilting tune sung slightly off key. The voice and the melody were both familiar to him, though in the confused state of post-dreaming, he couldn't focus enough to identify either. He wanted to follow the sound, and felt a sensation, like his soul was stretching out towards its source. 

Devon snapped awake and popped up in bed. The knowledge of the dream was gone, but the song was still in his head. His heart was beating fast, his muscles hurt, and he was sweating.  

As Devon caught his breath he could just make out singing in the house. He listened. It was his dad. Devon swung his feet out of bed and looked around his room. It was a spartan room, containing his bed, a desk and lamp for homework, a side table with his alarm, an alarm he wasn't going to need this morning, and his dresser with a dock for his smart phone. A pile of clothes by the door betrayed the rigid discipline and simplicity of the room. He walked over to the pile and reached down for a pair of shorts and t-shirt. He held them up briefly to his nose, did not flinch, and put both on. The shirt was a little tighter than normal. He shrugged it off and turned to look at his reflection in the mirror over his dresser. 

He blinked as the disorientation of waking from strange dreams took over his senses once again. Gray eyes blinked back at him. They're brown, not gray. He stared at himself in the mirror, trying to see into those alien eyes. After a few moments he closed them and shook his head. When he opened his eyes again the gray had settled into flecks of gray highlights across his brown irises.  

His eyes were set into a tanned face and framed in black curly hair that was a little too long to be trim and a little too trim to be long. He opened and closed his mouth, as though trying to become accustomed to how it worked again. He shook his head and smiled at himself in the mirror as his senses began to clear. He was going to have to get used to waking early in the morning again. 

The singing was still going on downstairs. Devon realized that his dad's voice was off key in a similar way to the singing in his dream. Devon paused at the top landing and listened a moment. His dad had reached the chorus. "Uptown Girl" really? Can't he manage anything more modern? Devon walked down the stairs to the origin of the singing, the kitchen, and sat down on one of the stools at the island counter. His father stood in front of the stove, cooking. Devon could smell the bacon, a sweet, salty, smoky smell that made his stomach rumble.  

His dad turned around from cooking on the stove and stopped signing. Andrew James was a good-looking man, the kind who went from youth to middle age smoothly. The slight graying of his hair seemed to draw attention to his brown eyes and his square cheeks resisted the temptation of wrinkles. He was not as muscular as Devon, nor was his hair as dark, but otherwise the resemblance was there.