This is a FIVE CHAPTER SAMPLE ONLY of Freelander. If you like what you see, you'll have to wait until I publish or give up on making money off it and return the remaining chapters to Wattpad.
These are still not 100% edited, they are as edited as they will get until I finish the full book re-write and do one or two more passes, not to mention any beta readers I line up. By all means, let me know what you think. Especially if you remember what the last draft was like.
The Celestial Children Trilogy Book 1
© 2011-2013, Prisim
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Cover created by Prisim. Stock images copyright their original photographers, original images found on http://www.sxc.hu/
1. Move Along
Many irrational thoughts flowed through the mind of a teenage girl at least once in their life, I was no different. As I focused on the hypnotic twirl of the Icee machine, I found myself hating my parents and plotting ways out of continuing our move. My head drowned in thoughts of how they ruined what little life I had. I left behind my dearest friend Charlie to fend off the turmoil’s of high school life on his own. It brought irrational Abby out in full force.
Multiple scenarios bounced through my head on a never ending trampoline. Accepting my fate with grace and dignity wasn’t among them. Instead, I pictured being picked up by a band of gypsies, claiming I was their long lost queen. Or Charlie flying in on a spaceship, we were aliens from another planet and had to return. I smiled as I pictured myself hopping on the back of a bike with a man dressed in black leather. A skull painted on his vest with “live to die” scrawled in an arch above glowing scarlet eyes.
“Are you alright, Abigail?” my mom asked. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been staring at the dance of shredded flavored ice. I realized my sisters, who’d been haggling mom over make-up they wanted to buy, had returned to the car. Mom waited on me to decide on my snacks while the clerk impatiently snapped on a piece of gum, he regarded me with a slight disdain.
Sure, Mom. I thought. I’m going to die of a cerebral hemorrhage sitting in the back with the damn boxes of clothes just waiting to fall on me. I’m stuck in a cross-country road trip from hell. Starting a new school year, in a new city, two weeks into the year. Otherwise, I’m peachy.
Instead I said, “I’m fine. Just couldn’t decide what flavor I wanted.” Better to lash out in an internal monolog then to the actual parental units. I learned that young in life after many a spanking and grounding. Rational Abby was sometimes very smart. If she’d show up more often perhaps I’d get in less trouble.
After filling my cup of blue Icee wonderment, I grabbed a bag of Red Vines, and followed mom back to the car. I stomped my feet and moved as slow as possible, dragging out the walk like a bratty four-year-old instead of the fifteen-year-old I was. My little brother was busy crawling around the back of our beat up station wagon. I didn’t know how the car was still running—let alone making a trip from Minnesota to California—being a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down. Duct tape might as well have been wrapped around the car, holding parts together, and there wasn’t a panel without a dent somewhere on the surface. The back had a single rear facing seat I’d always get the honor of sitting in, sometimes being the shortest above the age of twelve stunk. It wasn’t safe for my six-year-old sister, still needing a booster seat, and both my little brother and older sister were taller.