An Appropriately Untitled Blog Post

Perhaps I’ll Come Up With Better Titles When People Actually Read Them

I hope everyone who celebrates had a great Thanksgiving, or at least not a bad one. Tomorrow we will be in the month of Abaddon’s release! With that, I figured I might as well announce the day I plan for it to be availbable for purchase.

Monday, December 13th

Woohoo! So, hopefully by that day, eBook and paperback will be available on Amazon. I’m still looking into hardback, which seems to be a new offer from KDP.

Anyway, here’s an excerpt from Chapter 1 of Abaddon! See you next time!

I stepped in my room and slammed the door shut as hard as I possibly could. I threw myself on my bed, shoved my face into my pillow, and screamed until my throat was sore. And then the tears came back. It was more than just the tears though; I couldn’t breathe again. I fumbled across my desk for my pills and dry swallowed two, double the dose I knew I was supposed to take. I didn’t care. It would work faster. I would sleep longer. And maybe if I was lucky enough, I wouldn’t wake up here.

Apparently, I was that lucky after all.

I opened my eyes, still reeling from my double dose of my chill pill. I blinked and looked around.

Black trees.

I rubbed my eyes and looked again. They were still there. I was dreaming, sure. But the hard ground felt intensely real this time. And I could feel the cool, musty air on my skin. I looked up and watched those tan clouds move at a turtle pace across the blanketed sky. Hm. Pretty vivid. I’d had lucid dreams before. But none this lucid that I could recall, which meant this was bound to be the effect of taking more of my medicine than I was supposed to. Oh well. Might as well enjoy it.

I touched the tree closest to me. It even felt like charcoal. The trunk twisted up to the top like a rag being wrung out and it curved in strange poses, just like all its brothers. Fascinated, I looked up at the barren branches and ran my fingers up the bark. I lightly gasped and flinched when I felt a small prick of pain. I looked at my finger to find a black splinter. I furrowed my brow at it, momentarily thrown off by the fact I felt sharp pain in a dream—especially in a place that could not have been hurt on my physical body where I slept in my bed. I gripped the end of the splinter with my fingernails and winced as I slowly pulled it out. It stung like a needle until the moment it left my skin. I watched a bead of blood grow in its place. Lifting my other hand, I inspected the awful swelling around my knuckles that had turned the bases of my fingers fat and red. It hurt, too. I looked up and stared at nothing.

This wasn’t a dream.