Gravity Available now on Smashwords

Gravity: A Sanctuary Novel book Two is out on Smashwords, my distributor site!

Free sample of Gravity's first chapter

Gabriel Black maneuvers quickly, keeping to the school walls like a rat trying to escape before he’s cornered. The memorization of the school’s alcoves, the bell timing between periods, avoiding the halls and stairwells that carry the most traffic are more than a way for an introvert to avoid people—they're survival tactics. He perfected the system to protect his personal space from being violated. Bumping into another person is a mistake his mind can’t afford, no matter what his body craves from such a clash. They will obsess over him if they’re too close for too long. They will lust after him if their shoulder grazes his. It doesn’t matter if they’re a boy or a girl—the monster inside has no preference.

Gabriel must take every precaution to keep from being noticed. Yet, his notorious black Ramones hoodie is just about all that people recognize. It helps to cover his black hair and obscure his face. There isn't a day where he's not wearing it. Blending into the background as a dark, blurry nobody in high school is not what a typical teenager wants to be remembered as.

Gabriel isn’t typical.

He has no choice but to bear the labels given to him and try to stay invisible or he’ll ruin someone's life.

He sits in the last row in homeroom just as he does in every class. He’s the first to enter the room and the last to leave when the bell rings. The hallway is a battleground of fleshy mines. Like a soldier, he must try to make it to the safety of the recess beside the water fountain before his body collides with another. Sometimes a quick overlapping of his personal space and another student is realized, but the classmates that feel his aura by accident, don’t see him. He swiftly disappears before an impression is made.

He takes the long route to study hall, making a quick stop at the boy’s bathroom where the last stall’s removable ceiling tiles keep some of his textbooks and supplies. His locker is unfortunately located in one of the main arteries of the school. Stashes like this are a preventative measure—no one's usually around.

The boy washing his hands doesn’t give him a second look and leaves quickly. No boy wants to be in the bathroom alone with the Ramones guy.

Gabriel’s the last to arrive in study hall. With his hands in his pockets and his hood up, he doesn’t look at anyone and sits in the back of class. There’s no one to worry about in back of him. He only has to worry about the other sides and how close they are to his vicinity. His acute awareness of his surroundings is as natural as breathing.

A slightly warming sensation heats his right arm, warning him—the kid next to him is a little too close. Gabriel slowly uses his feet to inconspicuously move the desk a few more inches back until the warmth leaves his skin.

The second bell rings and his hood falls back before Mr. Hopkins mentions it. He can never shake the anxious feeling of being unveiled like a museum exhibit, but he keeps his head low to avoid eye contact.

His textbook and homework are out. First period study hall is the only time to do it. If he doesn’t do it now then it will never get done. He reaches into his backpack for a pen and takes one from his supply of unopened pen boxes. He’s overly prepared because getting caught without a pen or textbook means he will have to borrow from someone else, or worse—he’d have to share. Going over one textbook between two students is like breathing one another’s breath before a kiss. It overwhelms the senses where the lesson doesn’t matter. For the other student, curiosity about Gabriel peaks. He doesn’t need that kind of attention. Being inches away from another is like teasing a starved vampire with a bleeding virgin. Touching will only lead to sinful actions. After class is over, an obscure area of the school would be occupied with perversions, Gabriel himself couldn’t foresee performing, but the monster inside hungers for it when it's prodded. Bodily cravings do not seize until quenched.

Once he didn't have a pen—fingers grazed—never again.

“Hey, Ramones!”

Gabriel’s green eyes lift off his paper and look up to the girl sitting in front of him. Her blue eye stare and she’s actually smiling.

Mr. Hopkins is grading papers and doesn’t pay any mind. Gabriel sets his eyes back down.

“You have a pen I can borrow?”

Without looking at her he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a pen and hands it to her, but he lets the pen drop to the floor before her fingers invade the thin space between them. He doesn’t have to look at her to know what it looks like. Gabriel isn’t trying to be an asshole. He has no choice but to play the part.

Sorry. The simple word would Band-Aid the situation if he can only say it out loud, but that would mean he’ll have to talk to her. He’s not in the mood to start conversations that will draw attention. Making friends is impossible, so why would he even try.

She grabs the pen off the floor. “Um...thanks.” It sounds like her pretty smile is gone, but Gabriel doesn’t lift his eyes to confirm it.

Another glare prods him, taking his attention from the work that will pass the time in this God forsaken school. His eyes lift to see one of the infamous bullying goons that made a name for himself by ritualizing beating up of an individual target for a week. Gabriel has been under the radar for years, but now a drop of a pen has ensured an impending beat-down.

Fuck.

Gabriel mouth dries as Eric Anderson inauspicious smile curls. His followers turn in their seats to witness the stunned face of their next victim. Gabriel doesn’t give them the pleasure and leaves his stoic mask unchanged.

The clock on the wall confirms the elongated torture of the apprehensive atmosphere. Homework will have to wait. Planning to leave this school will prove to be most challenging. He’s witnessed Anderson and his crew parading the halls with their victim, carrying him off to God-knows-where to do God-knows-what. The idea of a group of boys setting him off makes him perspire. Being the center of attention, even for this moment, is causing his heart to race.

He habitually places his hood on his head. He will keep it on as long as Mr. Hopkins doesn’t notice.

The bell finally rings and the plan is in place.

Anderson’s minions rise from their desks slowly waiting for Eric’s signal.

Gabriel shoulders his backpack. The others move into position as he rises from his desk.

“Mr. Hopkins?” Gabriel hates being a pussy, but asking for a teachers help is the only option here. The band of assholes has him cornered.

“What is it Mr. Black?” Gabriel makes his way past the sneering teeth and fuming eyes.

He makes eye contact with Mr. Hopkins. The man just stares, as the gang gets closer.

“You have two minutes Mr. Black. I suggest you speak before you’re late for your next class. I’m not signing a late slip.”

He hears them approaching from behind. If they leave the room and wait for him, he’ll be caught outside.

"Well?" Mr. Hopkins brows lift.

Gabriel darts out the door and into the crowded halls. The clamor of desks and chairs behind him pumps fear into his veins. Grazing shoulders and knocking over students, sets his craving on high.

His hood peels back. Eric and the others are laughing. Everyone in the hall is looking at him.

“Where are you going, Ramones?”

“Do you ever wear anything else?”

“Yo! Get that kid!”

The halls are thinning; a sign that the second bell is about to ring.

He turns a corner and hides in a janitor's closet, he once used for fornicating.

The bell rings and screeching sneakers stop at the door. Gabriel holds the handle. One of the bullies rattles the doorknob, sending their energy trickling up Gabriel's arm like an electrical current.

“Emo boy! I know you’re in there.” One of them kicks the door. “Come out and take it like the faggot you are.”

The handle rattles and his grip tightens. He can’t let them in for their sake.

One of the teachers voices calls out their names. The shadows under the door leave except one.

“I’ll get you asshole. I’ll make you eat every single one of those psycho pills If I see your face again. You hear me?”

Eric’s shadow leaves and another approaches with clacking heels.

“Mr. Anderson, get back here!”

The female knocks.

“Hello? Who’s in there?” Gabriel lets go before he feels her energy. The door opens.

Light blinds him and a female figure stands before him.

Gabriel scurries away from the door, his back knocks into the shelves behind him, sending bathroom paper tumbling beside him. The teacher’s face stares down at him. Gabriel’s hands are shaking and his eyes are watering. What does it look like to her? He places his hood on. Don’t look at me.

“It’s okay. You can come out now, Mr. Black.”

Removed section of Gravity

I had written a prologue to Gravity, but it really didn't need it; it doesn't  better the story in any way that and my mom was into it. Jumping right into what feels like an entirely different story then what I left you with in Pull: Book One. SPOILER ALERT HERE if you didn't read Pull--> Violet was left on her own in the Sanctuary. Red and Grey don't come back. Removing this section all together before Gravity is released would hurt and it doesn't spoil anything.

Removed  prologue to Gravity:

 

I dream of them every night. I know it’s a dream because I wake to find I'm the only one in the cabin. I wake every morning to find the ceiling molding closing in above me. The room is shrinking—I'm sure of it. I used to have a closet. There's no closet. My window was bigger—I think. Five steps to the door—no—it's four today.

The living room is cold. The stone fireplace is colder. I stare at it for a moment. Maybe the black lumps of charred wood will rekindle, but they never do. The kitchen cabinets are always full. At least Red is still taking care of my stomach. I rub my belly. I'm never hungry, but I know I should eat something. I grab an apple off the counter. The bite is crisp, like it was picked off the tree yesterday. But Red didn't actually do that. Things just happen here in the Sanctuary. Apples appear, tomorrow maybe grapes or bananas. He provides too much in food. This assurance is not what I want. What I want is to be in his arms again.

I eat my apple and pretend he's just in his room. The idea of him watching helps. A false sense of him being near helps me get through my day. Pretending is natural when you're by yourself locked in a beautiful paradise with no one to share it with. Imagination is my only friend.

Outside of the cabin is not the same. Every day when the rain stops, I go outside to walk the perimeter of the field before it pours again. The gate is checked and it’s always locked. It’s never long before I'm drenched and I’m forced to run back to the cabin.

I know this means Red is upset. Grey had said the condition of the Sanctuary is a gauge for his mood.

I know he is hurting. I can feel it when I breathe. The air is thin as if Red is having this trouble himself.

I can't eat any more of the apple. I don't even want to swallow what's left in my mouth. Red would not be pleased to know I can't even eat an apple. I close my eyes a try and swallow. The image of Red folding his arms, tilting his head, "You have to eat, Violet."

I'm so weak I can fall asleep. I slump to the floor and drift off to dream the same dream of him. I can feel the beating of our hearts sync. I feel Red is at my side. But when I turn to see him he’s not there and yet, he’s in my peripheral vision. My aura detects he's near. I still feel he is with me when a feathery caress kisses my skin.

“Where are you?" The warm air breathes against my neck.

"Come home,” I ask him. Red never answers when I demand that. He’s just a black obscuration in the corner of my eye. He's a shadow once again.

Grey appears standing too far for me to reach. The distance is constant no matter how much I try to run to him. His black pea coat, pants and gloves appear to cover his entire body like a cocoon. His features are nothing like I remember. He's too dismal in my dreams; a stormy figure that sends a chill down my spine. His face is a splattered distortion with gray eyes. I think he wants his face erased from my memory. I try to retrieve it, but he won’t let me. I know the sweet part of him still exists. My heart is still with him. I know he's there within the dusky silhouette The other Grey is in the way of my Grey.

What have I done to him?

I remember in my dreams I express that I will never stop trying to release him from the burden that I beheld to him.

I know he's always reading me and he knows what I'm feeling even if my words don’t make it out of my mouth.

I miss him.

I love him.

Grey, I love you. I love you.

He communicates, but without a sound; it’s a simple discontenting glare every time. His silver eyes are sharp. Why do my thoughts anger him?

 

Climax

What have I been doing? Writing of course! I've complete book two of the Sanctuary novels. It's taken me a while because I've been looking at houses. My husband and I finally found one we love, so we've moved out of our apartment and are now living with my in-laws. It's been stressful because we can't just buy the house, can you believe it? It's a short sale so the process is longer because there's more stuff than usual to approve. All I know is I want to move in and blast my music up to eleven! <--(This is Spinal Tap reference, just so you know).
I work retail incase you didn't know, so not only were we moving, but I have to prepare for Christmas at work right after Halloween. Just so you know, from Halloween to January... yes January is Christmas time in retail... it doesn't stop on December 24 people. So, I'm tired and I haven't written much.

My sister Jess had been proof reading and found one doosie of an error. I was always unsure about a certain scene near the end of Gravity. As a writer, every page seems to need work so my thoughts on that particular scene didn't seem to stand out. Jess had called me out on it and I had to agree. It was lacking where it was suppose to be most climactic. I failed. I went back to my writing desk and had to fix it. I was moving and it was Christmas time in retail so I was tired. I hadn't even downloaded music in weeks. I was just exhausted. Christmas is now almost over and I finally sorted out that last scene. I'm waiting to hear back from my mom and Jess. I have my fingers crossed. I'm pretty sure they'll like it.

Bulking the book

Life happens while writing book two of my Sanctuary series. Between the gallstones, laziness, being removed from my current position at work to a less pleasing one, and excessive manga reading, I've layed out the order of events I've written for book Two. Like needing dough, I smoothed out the lumps and bumps and cut out unnecessaries but i know I'm not done. I'm far from it, but it doesn't mean I'll be doing it forever. My story is there. It's solid. It just needs filling. The word count is low and my chapters need definition; diving lines from beginning to end. The POV (point of view is scattered. My tense is wrong. I have alot to do. Bulking my book takes layer after layer of reading and re-reading over and over and over.... you get the idea. When the fuels there, it's no problem. When the fuels low, my Nook HD+ comes out for mangahere reading, my bottom hits the sofa and I chow on Goldfish crackers for the evening.  I like to call it studying because when I read or watch movies I try to apply emotions, plots, taboos and other interesting things to my series.
I've written today for eight hours today and I'm going on break to study before I'm to tired for my day job.