Kim Cormack's Blog, page 25
March 6, 2014
Sweet Sleep teaser part one
The humming of Kayn’s blood as it coursed through her veins seemed to sing along to the steady, almost tribal, beat of her feet as they pounded rhythmically into the dirt. A veil of earth flowed behind her; she resembled a flaxen haired angel attempting to outrun a cloud. The cloud of dust seemed to follow her for a moment or two longer than it should, with not one whisper of wind in the afternoon air. The smile that spread over Kayn’s lips while she trained showed that her heart was overflowing with so much joy that it could not be contained beneath a serious competitive demeanor. Watching Kayn run was a beautiful thing to behold and people would stop by the track after school simply to watch her before beginning their long walk home.
Kayn noticed in the moment of clarity that Kevin was not yet sitting in the grass to watch her run. She could picture Kevin as he rushed to his locker, and fumbled with the lock in an attempt to keep the facade going. She wasn't stupid. She didn't actually believe that he enjoyed watching her run in circles around a track. She knew here was a method to his madness. Her best friend was madly in love with her twin sister. He had been addicted to the mere sight of her since kindergarten. To anyone else this would make no sense, but Kayn understood. She was Kevins friend, and Chloe was his fantasy.
She could picture him shoving his way past a herd of students and prying his body through the single doorway that lead the gym. In her vision of why he was late for their daily routine. He was shoved up against the wall and his books fell out of his backpack. She found herself laughing aloud as she ran for thoughts of him always brought a smile to her face. His organizational skills had always left something to be desired. After taking a moment to collect his papers, he would zip up his bag and continue on his quest for his moment in the presence of her twin sister. The unattainable Chloe Brighton.
She noticed him out of the corner of her eye. He ran up the hill and unceremoniously plopped himself down in the grass beside her school bag and things were as they should be. She rounded the corner and kicked up dust like a champ. She saw him fiddling with his cell phone. He was going to time her next lap. She flashed by her best friend in a cloud of dust. Kevin smiled at her through the haze.
Her body, lean and freckled from exposure to the sun, glinted with sparkles in the sun’s rays. Kayn loved coconut sparkle tanning spray. She could see it on her clenched fists each time they flashed by her line of sight. She was a girl with a list of strange little rituals on her daily to do list. At the beginning of her run, she imagined that she did look magical, glittering in the sun, but not by the end of her run. By the end of her training, the glitter tanning spray would cause the track’s dust to stick to her whole body in a comical way. She would end up looking as though she had spent her whole afternoon rolling in it, not running on it.
As Kayn took off her blinders, allowing herself to appreciate the sun’s rays gently whispering across her skin. She experienced a feeling of pure joy that was transcendent. Kayn kicked up another cloud to outrun as she rounded the corner. Then came that pleasurable jolt of electricity that surged through her brain, ignited her soul, and set her afire with insurmountable joy. This moment in her run had always left Kayn with the sense that she had been given a gift or anointment of physical power. Her adrenaline rippled a winding path of pleasure underneath her skin.
Kayn hit the straight stretch feeling such unimaginable, euphoric, physical ecstasy that she felt baptized by the sweat trickling down her forehead to the sides of her face. Kayn Brighton was alive in that moment in a way only a runner could comprehend. Kayn was thankful for that moment, and every single time the experience had overwhelmed her as it had today; her soul felt stronger.
Every nerve ending was humming, “Faster, Kayn, go faster.” Kayn was an athlete born to push the limits of her body, programmed to be a powerhouse. Runners were a breed of their own; they had their incredible days and their horrible days in competition. Every day on the track, trail, or wherever a runner chose to run. The act itself was always a followed by a feeling of spiritual completion.
“Don’t Call Me Baby,” by Madison Avenue was cranked in Kayn’s ears. She kept pace to the beat, feeling powerful and strong. Kayn grinned and made eye contact as she ran past her best friend Kevin, signaling her acknowledgement of his presence.
Kevin sat listening to his music, plucking the long, green strands of grass out of the ground by their roots. Kevin glanced up from his grass picking duties the next time he saw Kayn approach and waved at her. He displayed a giant charming toothy grin. It was a funny thing that he had done since kindergarten. It never failed to induce laughter. She acknowledged that she had seen him sitting there being a goof by shaking her head and smiling with her eyes.
Kayn started walking to cool down her overheated body. Her heart began to thump and pound in her chest like an act of defiance to her now walking feet. Kayn licked the sweat from her upper lip, tasting its salty, pleasurable reward. She took her track dust covered hand and wiped her forehead to keep the stinging sweat from her eyes. Kayn wiped the sweat on her shorts noticing the streaks of dirt mixed with sweat and wondered if she had a streak of dust across her forehead.
Kayn turned in one fluid movement to greet Kevin, whose grassy scent signaled his arrival by her side. His giant grin told her that her face was most certainly covered in dirt, but he didn’t mention it to her. He always cheered for her as if she had just won the Olympics or something equally spectacular. Kayn yanked the earbud from one of her ears.
“Holy crap,” Kevin yelled. “That’s your best time this year. You are going to kick serious butt at the finals next month.”
“You know my earbuds are out, Kevin; I can hear you.” Kayn spoke quietly.
“Oh, you think you’re pretty cool because you’re fast. Well, young lady, plenty of people are fast, but how many people can do this?” Kevin retorted. He did a peculiar dance that involved a twirl and some kind of running man move as he laughed at her mortification.
“Please, stop,” Kayn said as she surveyed the track and surrounding area for witnesses.
Kayn Brighton was a pretty girl, but she really had no clue how beautiful she could be. Her naturally curly, wheat colored hair was damp with perspiration and always in a messy ponytail. Kevin often had told her with her face speckled with freckles and her cute nose streaked with mud, that she resembled an Amazonian sized forest nymph.
Kevin jogged beside Kayn now in order to keep up with her and was struggling because she walked with long, model length strides. He used to be the most adorable little boy on the planet, but there was a point where he stopped feeling adorable. That was when she had surpassed him in height. It was around the end of seventh grade. As a joke, their mothers had been plotting their nuptials since the second grade, so that was a complication that they had not anticipated.
Kevin had been in a painfully awkward, acne covered stage for at least three years now. He was still adorable, although possibly only to Kayn. However, she did notice that Kevin’s skin was looking pretty clear today. Kayn smiled at him as he valiantly attempted to run as fast as she was walking. Kayn affliction was very different. Kayn was invisible. To her this was a good thing. It was her preference to blend into the crowd.
“You are awesome. I mean that, and I’m totally not saying that to butter you up so you’ll put a good word in with your sister,” Kevin said with a grin that spread from ear to ear.
She loved him to death, but she had been letting him down easy for ten years now. She gave him a pat on the shoulder and then flung her arm around him.
She slowed down to a casual stroll and sweetly said, “There’s just this one problem, muffin. My sister is way too advanced for you.”
“Right… That’s what you say to all the guys stalking your twin sister,” he countered with a grin at the cleverly creative way of calling her sister slutty.
Kayn choked on a laugh and said, “Yes, as a matter of fact it is exactly what I say to every single one of them. I was forced to come up with one token line that I use with everyone. It just saves time, darling.”
Kevin’s face crinkled into a dimpled grin and he shook his head feigning his distaste. He responded in a flirtatious voice, “I can’t believe that after all these years, I am merely a number to you.”
She displayed a giant smile at his attempt at innuendo. Maybe she would have even been a little flattered if the conversation had been directed towards her.
Kayn gave Kevin a friendly pat on the shoulder and said, “Just do yourself a favor; take a hint. She is not the right girl for you.” Kayn slapped him on the butt. She teased, “At least have the decency to warn me if you ever find yourself wanting to wear my sister as a skin coat. I can try to get you some help.” Kevin let out a small yelp, and he jumped from the sting of her hand. He shot a dirty look back in her direction.
Kayn took on a fake serious tone and said, “How hard can it be to arrange an intervention or a creepy exorcism or something in your honor. I would hate to have to visit my best friend in a padded cell somewhere.” She sent him a sweet, innocent look and waited for his inevitable comeback.
“You’re really very clever, Candy Kayn. You should have a comedy show or something,” he shot back at her.
“It would be hilarious if it wasn't the truth,” Kayn challenged.
Kayn’s twin sister, Chloe Brighton, was the perfected version of her. She was stylish and always the picture of popularity and perfection. Her twin was described with words like captivating, stunning, and provocative. Kayn, on the other hand, was blandly described as cute, funny, and a good runner. It didn’t seem very fair; however, she loved her sister with blind acceptance. They had always been extremely close but definitely did not hang out in the same crowd. To be honest, Kayn had no crowd at all; it was really just her and Kevin.
The only boys who ever had shown an interest in Kayn were usually after her sister Chloe. Kayn, being less sophisticated, would always fall for their games. She would think, maybe this time the guy liked her. She would talk to them on the phone for a while, and then inevitably they would ask to come over to hang out or maybe do some homework together. Kayn would invite them over and right when her heart would begin to flutter with the romantic possibilities of a goodnight kiss or how incredible it would be to have an actual boyfriend, it would happen. They would make their intentions obvious by saying something like, “Because we are such good friends could you introduce me to your sister Chloe?”
Friends… an uncomplicated word, it was also a word that Kayn had begun to hate at a very young age because of her sister Chloe. That one single word had felt like the wind from a breath that would blow out every single candle she had kept lit inside of her heart her whole young life to date.
Kayn would be blatantly lying if she said that the constantly repeating scenario didn’t breed some resentment toward her sister. Still, she would never let it show. Not once had she ever freaked out at her sister for stealing her imaginary boyfriends or simply for being completely morally bankrupt.
Kayn had learned at a very young age that Chloe didn’t follow the same ethical or moral codes that most people followed. Kayn had this thing called a conscience which included guilt and a little voice in her ear that repeated until she chose to listen to it, “Don’t do it, Kayn.” She was pretty sure the voice talking to Chloe said, “Do it,” every single time and there was really no need for sentiment or morality in Chloe’s universe.
The giant self-contained universe that seemed to revolve completely around Chloe was simply amazing. One could stand with mouth agape for hours listening to the stories of horrific events that Chloe had caused during a 24-hour period of time. It was as though her sister were protected in her own little snow globe completely by herself and life surrounded her. Once in a while someone stirred up her water, but it simply revolved around her like everything else did, never really touching her or swirling her around to lose a second of her control. Chloe was completely unaffected by the world around her and stood unwavering through life’s currents.
Kayn couldn’t get really get mad at the boys who fell for Chloe because she truly believed her sister had the mythical powers of a siren. Chloe was alluring, enticing, and seemed to have catnip for men on her somewhere. Kayn often had felt like patting her down and checking her pockets. She wondered how all of this game had ended up in one of the babies and not the other. They were in the same womb after all, and it didn’t really seem fair.
Kevin was one person whose opinion she valued. She could vent to him, and he understood. He understood the power that her sister held. They would joke about it on a regular basis, but as soon as Chloe was in a ten-foot radius of him, he wasn't able to tell you his own name. It infuriated her to no end.
She stopped walking, and she looked behind her. The track was empty, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She shivered as a gust of wind seemed to run a trail down the track behind her stirring the dust up into the air. I need a rest. I overworked myself today, she thought. She shook her head as she looked up at the trees that surrounded the span of the track. They were completely still. It was smoking hot outside. She knew a random cold spot in the middle of a sweltering hot track was more than a little bit strange. Kayn turned her attention back to her friend in an attempt to hush the nagging voice in the back of her mind that was repeating the words Something’s wrong.
“Did someone walk over your grave?” Kevin whispered in Kayn’s ear, breaking the silence between them. She smiled at his quote from Grandma Winnie. One of the token things Kevin’s grandmother always said if someone shivered in her presence. Kevin’s granny always said a sneeze was a ghost walking through you. If you shivered, she would say that someone had walked over your grave. The retort was always, “But I’m not dead, Granny.” Granny would answer with, “If only you knew how irrelevant the word dead actually is in the grande scheme of things.”
Kevin’s grandmother seemed to have a direct line to the spirit world. Nearly All of her random thoughts were more than a wee bit creepy. Sometimes his grandmother would spend hours just chatting with Kayn about her dreams. Granny Winnie was a quirky, warm, witty woman that had treasured her from day one. Kayn was a faithful member of Team Granny because she unlike the rest of the planet seemed to despise her sister Chloe. Granny Winnie couldn’t even breathe when Chloe was in the same room. Granny would pretend to gasp for oxygen or make some kind of foul stench related declaration referring to Chloe. She was believable enough to cause a “perfect in her own mind” Chloe to smell her own armpits. Chloe, being completely void of respect for her elders or pretty much anybody else, would refer to her as a crazy old bat or a witch. Often Granny Winnie would call Chloe out on an evil deed or two as if she could read her mind.
Strange weather we’ve been having lately, Kayn thought as she watched the clear blue sky change in a matter of moments from completely cloudless to a powder of fluffy white clouds. She could smell the scent of the fresh cut grass; it was almost overpowering to her senses. It was so potent that it was a little strange that she hadn’t noticed it until right this second.
The pair walked quietly for a second more when Kayn looked down at her feet; as she shuffled through the grass the sounds seemed to amplify. She could hear the grass rustling under her feet; it crackled loudly and whispered softly in her steps. Something feels off today. Kevin’s feet came into her line of sight. She raised her eyebrows at him and pointed to his untied shoelaces. Kevin bent over in front of her to tie up his shoes.
Kayn began to speak as if she were reading his obituary. “I can see the paper now; it would read something like this: Kevin Smith was a wonderful boy, so smart and good looking but a little clumsy. Had he only tied his shoes he wouldn't have fallen down the stairs and found himself impaled on a janitor’s broom. Remember kids—tie your shoes—safety first.”
“Have I told you that you’re an asshole yet today?” Kevin stated when she finished her latest version of his obituary. Kayn didn’t have a comeback. She glanced behind her and then from side to side. She couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that something was coming. There was a hollow ache in her chest. A strange feeling that lingered each time she swallowed.
Kevin leaned in to Kayn’s ear and whispered, “You sure you’re okay because you’re starting to creep me out a bit with this cagey behavior.”
Kevin’s warm breath in her ear made Kayn shiver again. Everything seemed heightened. She had the strangest urge to lean over and kiss him square on the lips. She was obviously going a little bit crazy today. Low blood sugar or something.
She replied, “No... just over tired I guess.”
“The way you’re swinging your head around, young lady, is frankly a little creepy,” Kevin said, raising his eyebrows in her direction in a moderately concerned fashion.
He twirled around in a circle and added, “Nobody is coming, I swear.”
“I know,” Kayn answered, “I’m feeling a little off. Maybe I’m coming down with something?”
“We should be more worried about your cagey behavior today causing a nasty case of whiplash.”
Kevin flung his arm around her shoulder and gave her a buddy-like squeeze. “You go have a shower, muffin; you’re kind of sweaty and nasty. What do you do? Do you cover yourself in bloody honey before you go for a run?”
Kevin chuckled as he smelled his hands and groaned, “Ewww, that’s not honey.”
Kayn sparred, “There you go talking all dirty again, literally; it’s kind of hot, all this talk of toxins and waste.”
“What was your boyfriends’ name again, Kayn?” Kevin asked innocently.
They were walking together, and she gave him a solid shove in jest.
“You should call up your invisible girlfriend and ask her what her name is love monkey,” she said and winked.
“I have a girlfriend. Her name is Chloe. She just doesn’t know it yet,” he teased.
He couldn’t help himself. She knew this. He was well aware that constant talk of her sister irritated her to no end. It was his easy smack down in a comedy standoff.
“Do you know what the difference between you and a stalker is?” she responded sweetly.
“Do tell, oh wise and mighty stalking connoisseur,” he sighed.
“It's whether or not you’re wearing my sister’s stolen thong underwear right now,” she said.
She attempted to wrestle with Kevin a bit in order to catch a stealth look down the back of his shorts.
“Hey, hey, simmer down. I swear I will yell rape. I'm going commando. Pulling my shorts off is not a great idea,” he laughed as he fended her off.
“Like you could handle me,” She chuckled.
She cringed with pain as she shifted her bag to her other shoulder. It always had twenty pounds of books in it. She could never memorize her locker combination. She was utterly horrible with numbers. That was her excuse. The real reason probably being that she would be obliged to speak to the vapid girls that hung out around her locker. She liked to be left alone in her own little world. Kevin grabbed her heavy bag off of her without saying a word.
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I have been going commando since my first wedgie in fifth grade. Once they grab for underwear and don’t find any, they get very afraid and back right off,”He chuckled.
Kayn doubled over into a fit of giggles. She chuckled, “I honestly don't doubt that for a second.”
“You learn lots of little things that help you maneuver through geekdom unscathed if you’re crafty, you know,” he said as they started walking again.
Kevin was carrying both of their bags. She knew he was being tough, but she knew how heavy her bag was. She smiled and took her bag back. It was in these sweet little moments that she wondered, Could they be something more? Would he ever make a move on her? She wasn't sure if her friend Kevin knew any moves. If he ever had a second where he had allowed the thought to cross his mind, she had probably reacted as she had a bit earlier. She would have assumed it was some kind of joke. He caught her staring and knit his brow. This was stupid. What was she even thinking? She was hormonal or something today. He was her friend.
Kayn was beginning to grow tired of the fact that more and more of their conversations had become centered around her sister.
She shot a somewhat disapproving glance at Kevin and said pleasantly, “Let’s stop talking about Chloe all of the time. Frankly, I’m sick of it.”
“Shush,” he said as he put one finger directly over her pursed lips. “You know not to speak of her voodoo powers.”
The phrase “Chloe has a boyfriend” was easily compared to cursing out loud in the Brighton household. Her sister would find herself running like she was on fire from every boy she had ever attempted to date. Seemingly normal boys would gradually lose their marbles. It was as if the pressure of being close to her would make their sanity unfold like a reversal of an origami swan. It would start with a vehicle outside of the house in the middle of the night, and rapidly escalate. Once Chloe grew bored or annoyed by their obsessive behavior. She inevitably dumped them cold.
On occasion, random guys would break into their house and steal objects that belonged to her. In the beginning, the police thought Chloe must be doing something to bring this on herself, but after she went in for a couple interviews at the police station and full grown men couldn’t help but fawn all over her sister. They all understood what Kayn had always known.
“We shouldn't even be joking about this stuff. The breakups with the last three or four of her boyfriends turned out to be pretty damn scary situations,” she said in a hushed tone. The last thing Kayn needed was to be caught talking about it by one of her sisters minions.
Kevin turned and gave her a strange look that said, think about what you just said for a second, and they both broke into a fit of giggles.
A giant stinging slap followed on her spandex running short covered butt. There stood Chloe. Kayns infamous, and moderately evil twin. A living breathing cover girl commercial gracing us with her badass presence. Chloe smiled at her, and gave a slight glance acknowledging Kevins presence. He turned ten shades of red as though she had whispered something dirty in his ear. He’s completely pathetic, Kayn thought, shaking her head.
Chloe threw an arm around her, then jumped away saying, “Ewww, yuck, gross, you’re all sweaty and nasty. Listen, you backstabbing witch with a B, I’m not feeling that hot today. I’m on my way home. Do you need a ride?” She said.
Chloe always donned a giant, gorgeous, show stopping smile. It was like every moment of her life was one strange, endless, beauty pageant.
She had a sarcastic sense of humor that Kayn never took seriously. “I’m not going home. I'm going to go have a shower, and then go to Kevin’s house for dinner,” Kayn replied.
Chloe leaned over and kissed her sister’s sweaty cheek, quietly whispering, “Yes, go have that shower.”
Chloe sighed, “I’m grounded again for no good reason. I will see you later Sis.”
“Shocking,” Kevin murmured as they walked away.
Kayn suspected that her sister Chloe got herself grounded on purpose. Just to have a forced break from her social responsibilities. If there were medals in the Olympic games doled out for groundings achieved in a three-year period of time. Her sister Chloe had the equivalent of a gold medal.
“Bye, Kevy.” Chloe yelled behind her as she flounced off.
“Yup, voodoo powers,” Kevin whispered to Kayn.
“I heard that Kevin. You're a little stinker,” she yelled back.
Kayn smiled at Kevin, casually adding, “I bet when you thought of sexy nicknames she would call you in your fantasies, little stinker wasn’t one of them.”
She couldn’t help herself; he’d left it wide open, and she was on a roll. Kevin turned around and socked her in the arm.
She stopped, turned around, and said, “Seriously, you hit me. I can’t believe you would do that.” She glared at him and feigning pain rubbed her arm looking genuinely upset.
“I was just kidding. I didn’t actually hurt you, did I?” Kevin whispered.
He knew he had been had when Kayn’s serious look crumbled into a grin, and she said, “Woman abuse,” she smoked him on the arm twice as hard.
“What woman? I don’t see a woman anywhere around here. Oh, you mean you?” he countered as he rubbed his still throbbing arm. Kevin pretended to be looking around for a moment.
“I will butt you out like a cigarette, little man!” She made a fist for a joke duel.
Kevin glared at her. Oh, no—the expression. Game over. Whoops...She had gone too far. It was all fun and games until she made one too many short jokes with Kevin.
“I am not little,” he said. Kevin stomped towards the covered entrance to the facility.
“Okay, how about vertically challenged,” Kayn said innocently.
She was digging her own grave, and she knew it. Kevin could argue for hours. He could debate something forever and wear anyone out.
“I might look short to an Amazonian like you,” he countered.
“Touché,” she said smiling. She did know better than to push it anymore because if he kept it up, the laughter she had been trying to suppress would escape.
“I am still growing,” he said as his voice cracked a little. Kayn doubled over laughing. She couldn’t help it with the well-timed voice crack.
“Can you please be done laughing now,” Kevin said as they walked into the fitness center.
“I’ll see you outside in fifteen minutes, you sexy stud,” she whispered, sultry as a porn star. Kayn was still grinning as she pushed through the door to the girls’ changing room.
“Quit mocking me, Amazonian woman,” he yelled dramatically from behind her.
As she entered the changing room, Kevin’s last joking retort bounced off the marvelous acoustics of the concrete and tile room. Her feet were still throbbing from her well worn shoes. The tiles on the floor were icy and soothed her aching feet. In a matter of months, she had already worn her shoes out from running. She knew they didn't have the money to replace her running shoes every five minutes. Both of her parents had jobs, but she knew that they were barely making ends meet. She decided she would wait awhile before telling her mom. She dropped her shoes. The sound as they landed on the tiles echoed. It repeated a few times as if someone had dropped more than one pair of shoes.
Kayn was just dying to sing in the shower but was afraid that someone would walk in on her. She pulled her tank top and bra off and looked into the mirror. With a clear view of the room around her, she could see that nobody else was there. She was alone. She thought of Kevin waiting. Then she remembered that there was a coffee machine in the lobby by the pool. Kevin was probably having a coffee and ogling the girls swim team; he was fine.
Kayn stripped down and stood naked in front of the mirror for a second. She pulled her hair out of her ponytail, and it fell in damp loose ringlets across her bare shoulders. She tilted her head to one side and posed seductively with a smile as she surveyed her reflection.
Kayn Brighton was not hard to look at, and she knew that she was a pretty girl. Maybe I should start wearing makeup to school, she thought. It frustrated her a little, being the funny kind of dorky twin. Her face was freckled and tanned from hours upon hours of training in the hot sun. In the winter time, all of her freckles went away, and her skin was porcelain white. I could look just like Chloe if I wanted to, Kayn thought, sucking in her cheeks and then plastering a giant pageant style smile across her face.
Kayn walked toward the shower stalls. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. The conversation with her sister flashed through her memory. Chloe was feeling sick today; that’s what was going on then. Kayn quite often had sympathy illness whenever her twin wasn’t feeling one hundred percent.
Kayn turned around, pulled the plastic curtain to the shower, and leaned in to turn on the water. It began to tap dance against the bottom of the stall, and when it was just the right temperature she stepped inside. She smiled as the water beat against her weary muscles. She began to lather herself up with the nice scented pump soap. Today was her lucky day; a fresh full dispenser of soap, shampoo, and conditioner. She didn’t even have to reach down and find her own in the bottom of her gym bag.
With her favorite running song still going through her mind, she started humming a few bars and then began to sing the words. Just then she heard the door open, and she became silent. She hurried through, rinsing herself off, and towel dried her hair. She ran her brush through her hair and put it back in a ponytail. As she passed by the mirror again, she wondered if Chloe ever wanted to be more like her. She quickly blew off that completely nutty idea.
Kayn was five minutes younger than her sister Chloe, but her twin acted five years older. Kayn had no voodoo powers with men; she was awkward and definitely possessed no game at all. She wondered if she asked Chloe how she did it if she would she teach her something…anything. It would be nice to have someone ask her on a date before she was eighty years old.
Kayn had to admit it bugged her that Kevin obsessed about Chloe, not that she seriously liked him or anything because that was most definitely not a good move friendship-wise; there was that ominous word again…friends.
Kayn towel dried her back again, feeling trickles of water from her still damp hair trail down her back. She stepped into her underwear and wondered why her mind kept travelling the road back to questioning her feelings for Kevin today. Kayn shook the thought out of her head and whipped her clothes back on. She grabbed her bag and hurried out the door, hoping he wasn’t too frustrated waiting for her. She forced open the door with an over-exaggerated grunting sound.
Kevin was sitting on the railing waiting patiently and looking up at the sky with his mouth agape in a totally comical way.
Kayn walked up beside him and teased, “Trying to catch flies?”
“Always,” Kevin sparred with a dimpled grin and quick wit.
“What are we looking at?” Kayn said as she stared up toward the heavens and made the same open-mouth face of awe.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you,” Kevin laughed. He grabbed her hand, and they started to walk toward the field.
Kayn had lived this moment a thousand times. Kevin lay down in the grass, and she lay beside him.
“Oh, wow I get it; look at how fast the clouds are moving. I noticed that earlier; it’s almost creepy. I wonder if there’s a storm coming or something?” Kayn whispered.
Kayn noticed in the moment of clarity that Kevin was not yet sitting in the grass to watch her run. She could picture Kevin as he rushed to his locker, and fumbled with the lock in an attempt to keep the facade going. She wasn't stupid. She didn't actually believe that he enjoyed watching her run in circles around a track. She knew here was a method to his madness. Her best friend was madly in love with her twin sister. He had been addicted to the mere sight of her since kindergarten. To anyone else this would make no sense, but Kayn understood. She was Kevins friend, and Chloe was his fantasy.
She could picture him shoving his way past a herd of students and prying his body through the single doorway that lead the gym. In her vision of why he was late for their daily routine. He was shoved up against the wall and his books fell out of his backpack. She found herself laughing aloud as she ran for thoughts of him always brought a smile to her face. His organizational skills had always left something to be desired. After taking a moment to collect his papers, he would zip up his bag and continue on his quest for his moment in the presence of her twin sister. The unattainable Chloe Brighton.
She noticed him out of the corner of her eye. He ran up the hill and unceremoniously plopped himself down in the grass beside her school bag and things were as they should be. She rounded the corner and kicked up dust like a champ. She saw him fiddling with his cell phone. He was going to time her next lap. She flashed by her best friend in a cloud of dust. Kevin smiled at her through the haze.
Her body, lean and freckled from exposure to the sun, glinted with sparkles in the sun’s rays. Kayn loved coconut sparkle tanning spray. She could see it on her clenched fists each time they flashed by her line of sight. She was a girl with a list of strange little rituals on her daily to do list. At the beginning of her run, she imagined that she did look magical, glittering in the sun, but not by the end of her run. By the end of her training, the glitter tanning spray would cause the track’s dust to stick to her whole body in a comical way. She would end up looking as though she had spent her whole afternoon rolling in it, not running on it.
As Kayn took off her blinders, allowing herself to appreciate the sun’s rays gently whispering across her skin. She experienced a feeling of pure joy that was transcendent. Kayn kicked up another cloud to outrun as she rounded the corner. Then came that pleasurable jolt of electricity that surged through her brain, ignited her soul, and set her afire with insurmountable joy. This moment in her run had always left Kayn with the sense that she had been given a gift or anointment of physical power. Her adrenaline rippled a winding path of pleasure underneath her skin.
Kayn hit the straight stretch feeling such unimaginable, euphoric, physical ecstasy that she felt baptized by the sweat trickling down her forehead to the sides of her face. Kayn Brighton was alive in that moment in a way only a runner could comprehend. Kayn was thankful for that moment, and every single time the experience had overwhelmed her as it had today; her soul felt stronger.
Every nerve ending was humming, “Faster, Kayn, go faster.” Kayn was an athlete born to push the limits of her body, programmed to be a powerhouse. Runners were a breed of their own; they had their incredible days and their horrible days in competition. Every day on the track, trail, or wherever a runner chose to run. The act itself was always a followed by a feeling of spiritual completion.
“Don’t Call Me Baby,” by Madison Avenue was cranked in Kayn’s ears. She kept pace to the beat, feeling powerful and strong. Kayn grinned and made eye contact as she ran past her best friend Kevin, signaling her acknowledgement of his presence.
Kevin sat listening to his music, plucking the long, green strands of grass out of the ground by their roots. Kevin glanced up from his grass picking duties the next time he saw Kayn approach and waved at her. He displayed a giant charming toothy grin. It was a funny thing that he had done since kindergarten. It never failed to induce laughter. She acknowledged that she had seen him sitting there being a goof by shaking her head and smiling with her eyes.
Kayn started walking to cool down her overheated body. Her heart began to thump and pound in her chest like an act of defiance to her now walking feet. Kayn licked the sweat from her upper lip, tasting its salty, pleasurable reward. She took her track dust covered hand and wiped her forehead to keep the stinging sweat from her eyes. Kayn wiped the sweat on her shorts noticing the streaks of dirt mixed with sweat and wondered if she had a streak of dust across her forehead.
Kayn turned in one fluid movement to greet Kevin, whose grassy scent signaled his arrival by her side. His giant grin told her that her face was most certainly covered in dirt, but he didn’t mention it to her. He always cheered for her as if she had just won the Olympics or something equally spectacular. Kayn yanked the earbud from one of her ears.
“Holy crap,” Kevin yelled. “That’s your best time this year. You are going to kick serious butt at the finals next month.”
“You know my earbuds are out, Kevin; I can hear you.” Kayn spoke quietly.
“Oh, you think you’re pretty cool because you’re fast. Well, young lady, plenty of people are fast, but how many people can do this?” Kevin retorted. He did a peculiar dance that involved a twirl and some kind of running man move as he laughed at her mortification.
“Please, stop,” Kayn said as she surveyed the track and surrounding area for witnesses.
Kayn Brighton was a pretty girl, but she really had no clue how beautiful she could be. Her naturally curly, wheat colored hair was damp with perspiration and always in a messy ponytail. Kevin often had told her with her face speckled with freckles and her cute nose streaked with mud, that she resembled an Amazonian sized forest nymph.
Kevin jogged beside Kayn now in order to keep up with her and was struggling because she walked with long, model length strides. He used to be the most adorable little boy on the planet, but there was a point where he stopped feeling adorable. That was when she had surpassed him in height. It was around the end of seventh grade. As a joke, their mothers had been plotting their nuptials since the second grade, so that was a complication that they had not anticipated.
Kevin had been in a painfully awkward, acne covered stage for at least three years now. He was still adorable, although possibly only to Kayn. However, she did notice that Kevin’s skin was looking pretty clear today. Kayn smiled at him as he valiantly attempted to run as fast as she was walking. Kayn affliction was very different. Kayn was invisible. To her this was a good thing. It was her preference to blend into the crowd.
“You are awesome. I mean that, and I’m totally not saying that to butter you up so you’ll put a good word in with your sister,” Kevin said with a grin that spread from ear to ear.
She loved him to death, but she had been letting him down easy for ten years now. She gave him a pat on the shoulder and then flung her arm around him.
She slowed down to a casual stroll and sweetly said, “There’s just this one problem, muffin. My sister is way too advanced for you.”
“Right… That’s what you say to all the guys stalking your twin sister,” he countered with a grin at the cleverly creative way of calling her sister slutty.
Kayn choked on a laugh and said, “Yes, as a matter of fact it is exactly what I say to every single one of them. I was forced to come up with one token line that I use with everyone. It just saves time, darling.”
Kevin’s face crinkled into a dimpled grin and he shook his head feigning his distaste. He responded in a flirtatious voice, “I can’t believe that after all these years, I am merely a number to you.”
She displayed a giant smile at his attempt at innuendo. Maybe she would have even been a little flattered if the conversation had been directed towards her.
Kayn gave Kevin a friendly pat on the shoulder and said, “Just do yourself a favor; take a hint. She is not the right girl for you.” Kayn slapped him on the butt. She teased, “At least have the decency to warn me if you ever find yourself wanting to wear my sister as a skin coat. I can try to get you some help.” Kevin let out a small yelp, and he jumped from the sting of her hand. He shot a dirty look back in her direction.
Kayn took on a fake serious tone and said, “How hard can it be to arrange an intervention or a creepy exorcism or something in your honor. I would hate to have to visit my best friend in a padded cell somewhere.” She sent him a sweet, innocent look and waited for his inevitable comeback.
“You’re really very clever, Candy Kayn. You should have a comedy show or something,” he shot back at her.
“It would be hilarious if it wasn't the truth,” Kayn challenged.
Kayn’s twin sister, Chloe Brighton, was the perfected version of her. She was stylish and always the picture of popularity and perfection. Her twin was described with words like captivating, stunning, and provocative. Kayn, on the other hand, was blandly described as cute, funny, and a good runner. It didn’t seem very fair; however, she loved her sister with blind acceptance. They had always been extremely close but definitely did not hang out in the same crowd. To be honest, Kayn had no crowd at all; it was really just her and Kevin.
The only boys who ever had shown an interest in Kayn were usually after her sister Chloe. Kayn, being less sophisticated, would always fall for their games. She would think, maybe this time the guy liked her. She would talk to them on the phone for a while, and then inevitably they would ask to come over to hang out or maybe do some homework together. Kayn would invite them over and right when her heart would begin to flutter with the romantic possibilities of a goodnight kiss or how incredible it would be to have an actual boyfriend, it would happen. They would make their intentions obvious by saying something like, “Because we are such good friends could you introduce me to your sister Chloe?”
Friends… an uncomplicated word, it was also a word that Kayn had begun to hate at a very young age because of her sister Chloe. That one single word had felt like the wind from a breath that would blow out every single candle she had kept lit inside of her heart her whole young life to date.
Kayn would be blatantly lying if she said that the constantly repeating scenario didn’t breed some resentment toward her sister. Still, she would never let it show. Not once had she ever freaked out at her sister for stealing her imaginary boyfriends or simply for being completely morally bankrupt.
Kayn had learned at a very young age that Chloe didn’t follow the same ethical or moral codes that most people followed. Kayn had this thing called a conscience which included guilt and a little voice in her ear that repeated until she chose to listen to it, “Don’t do it, Kayn.” She was pretty sure the voice talking to Chloe said, “Do it,” every single time and there was really no need for sentiment or morality in Chloe’s universe.
The giant self-contained universe that seemed to revolve completely around Chloe was simply amazing. One could stand with mouth agape for hours listening to the stories of horrific events that Chloe had caused during a 24-hour period of time. It was as though her sister were protected in her own little snow globe completely by herself and life surrounded her. Once in a while someone stirred up her water, but it simply revolved around her like everything else did, never really touching her or swirling her around to lose a second of her control. Chloe was completely unaffected by the world around her and stood unwavering through life’s currents.
Kayn couldn’t get really get mad at the boys who fell for Chloe because she truly believed her sister had the mythical powers of a siren. Chloe was alluring, enticing, and seemed to have catnip for men on her somewhere. Kayn often had felt like patting her down and checking her pockets. She wondered how all of this game had ended up in one of the babies and not the other. They were in the same womb after all, and it didn’t really seem fair.
Kevin was one person whose opinion she valued. She could vent to him, and he understood. He understood the power that her sister held. They would joke about it on a regular basis, but as soon as Chloe was in a ten-foot radius of him, he wasn't able to tell you his own name. It infuriated her to no end.
She stopped walking, and she looked behind her. The track was empty, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She shivered as a gust of wind seemed to run a trail down the track behind her stirring the dust up into the air. I need a rest. I overworked myself today, she thought. She shook her head as she looked up at the trees that surrounded the span of the track. They were completely still. It was smoking hot outside. She knew a random cold spot in the middle of a sweltering hot track was more than a little bit strange. Kayn turned her attention back to her friend in an attempt to hush the nagging voice in the back of her mind that was repeating the words Something’s wrong.
“Did someone walk over your grave?” Kevin whispered in Kayn’s ear, breaking the silence between them. She smiled at his quote from Grandma Winnie. One of the token things Kevin’s grandmother always said if someone shivered in her presence. Kevin’s granny always said a sneeze was a ghost walking through you. If you shivered, she would say that someone had walked over your grave. The retort was always, “But I’m not dead, Granny.” Granny would answer with, “If only you knew how irrelevant the word dead actually is in the grande scheme of things.”
Kevin’s grandmother seemed to have a direct line to the spirit world. Nearly All of her random thoughts were more than a wee bit creepy. Sometimes his grandmother would spend hours just chatting with Kayn about her dreams. Granny Winnie was a quirky, warm, witty woman that had treasured her from day one. Kayn was a faithful member of Team Granny because she unlike the rest of the planet seemed to despise her sister Chloe. Granny Winnie couldn’t even breathe when Chloe was in the same room. Granny would pretend to gasp for oxygen or make some kind of foul stench related declaration referring to Chloe. She was believable enough to cause a “perfect in her own mind” Chloe to smell her own armpits. Chloe, being completely void of respect for her elders or pretty much anybody else, would refer to her as a crazy old bat or a witch. Often Granny Winnie would call Chloe out on an evil deed or two as if she could read her mind.
Strange weather we’ve been having lately, Kayn thought as she watched the clear blue sky change in a matter of moments from completely cloudless to a powder of fluffy white clouds. She could smell the scent of the fresh cut grass; it was almost overpowering to her senses. It was so potent that it was a little strange that she hadn’t noticed it until right this second.
The pair walked quietly for a second more when Kayn looked down at her feet; as she shuffled through the grass the sounds seemed to amplify. She could hear the grass rustling under her feet; it crackled loudly and whispered softly in her steps. Something feels off today. Kevin’s feet came into her line of sight. She raised her eyebrows at him and pointed to his untied shoelaces. Kevin bent over in front of her to tie up his shoes.
Kayn began to speak as if she were reading his obituary. “I can see the paper now; it would read something like this: Kevin Smith was a wonderful boy, so smart and good looking but a little clumsy. Had he only tied his shoes he wouldn't have fallen down the stairs and found himself impaled on a janitor’s broom. Remember kids—tie your shoes—safety first.”
“Have I told you that you’re an asshole yet today?” Kevin stated when she finished her latest version of his obituary. Kayn didn’t have a comeback. She glanced behind her and then from side to side. She couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that something was coming. There was a hollow ache in her chest. A strange feeling that lingered each time she swallowed.
Kevin leaned in to Kayn’s ear and whispered, “You sure you’re okay because you’re starting to creep me out a bit with this cagey behavior.”
Kevin’s warm breath in her ear made Kayn shiver again. Everything seemed heightened. She had the strangest urge to lean over and kiss him square on the lips. She was obviously going a little bit crazy today. Low blood sugar or something.
She replied, “No... just over tired I guess.”
“The way you’re swinging your head around, young lady, is frankly a little creepy,” Kevin said, raising his eyebrows in her direction in a moderately concerned fashion.
He twirled around in a circle and added, “Nobody is coming, I swear.”
“I know,” Kayn answered, “I’m feeling a little off. Maybe I’m coming down with something?”
“We should be more worried about your cagey behavior today causing a nasty case of whiplash.”
Kevin flung his arm around her shoulder and gave her a buddy-like squeeze. “You go have a shower, muffin; you’re kind of sweaty and nasty. What do you do? Do you cover yourself in bloody honey before you go for a run?”
Kevin chuckled as he smelled his hands and groaned, “Ewww, that’s not honey.”
Kayn sparred, “There you go talking all dirty again, literally; it’s kind of hot, all this talk of toxins and waste.”
“What was your boyfriends’ name again, Kayn?” Kevin asked innocently.
They were walking together, and she gave him a solid shove in jest.
“You should call up your invisible girlfriend and ask her what her name is love monkey,” she said and winked.
“I have a girlfriend. Her name is Chloe. She just doesn’t know it yet,” he teased.
He couldn’t help himself. She knew this. He was well aware that constant talk of her sister irritated her to no end. It was his easy smack down in a comedy standoff.
“Do you know what the difference between you and a stalker is?” she responded sweetly.
“Do tell, oh wise and mighty stalking connoisseur,” he sighed.
“It's whether or not you’re wearing my sister’s stolen thong underwear right now,” she said.
She attempted to wrestle with Kevin a bit in order to catch a stealth look down the back of his shorts.
“Hey, hey, simmer down. I swear I will yell rape. I'm going commando. Pulling my shorts off is not a great idea,” he laughed as he fended her off.
“Like you could handle me,” She chuckled.
She cringed with pain as she shifted her bag to her other shoulder. It always had twenty pounds of books in it. She could never memorize her locker combination. She was utterly horrible with numbers. That was her excuse. The real reason probably being that she would be obliged to speak to the vapid girls that hung out around her locker. She liked to be left alone in her own little world. Kevin grabbed her heavy bag off of her without saying a word.
“Hey, I’ll have you know that I have been going commando since my first wedgie in fifth grade. Once they grab for underwear and don’t find any, they get very afraid and back right off,”He chuckled.
Kayn doubled over into a fit of giggles. She chuckled, “I honestly don't doubt that for a second.”
“You learn lots of little things that help you maneuver through geekdom unscathed if you’re crafty, you know,” he said as they started walking again.
Kevin was carrying both of their bags. She knew he was being tough, but she knew how heavy her bag was. She smiled and took her bag back. It was in these sweet little moments that she wondered, Could they be something more? Would he ever make a move on her? She wasn't sure if her friend Kevin knew any moves. If he ever had a second where he had allowed the thought to cross his mind, she had probably reacted as she had a bit earlier. She would have assumed it was some kind of joke. He caught her staring and knit his brow. This was stupid. What was she even thinking? She was hormonal or something today. He was her friend.
Kayn was beginning to grow tired of the fact that more and more of their conversations had become centered around her sister.
She shot a somewhat disapproving glance at Kevin and said pleasantly, “Let’s stop talking about Chloe all of the time. Frankly, I’m sick of it.”
“Shush,” he said as he put one finger directly over her pursed lips. “You know not to speak of her voodoo powers.”
The phrase “Chloe has a boyfriend” was easily compared to cursing out loud in the Brighton household. Her sister would find herself running like she was on fire from every boy she had ever attempted to date. Seemingly normal boys would gradually lose their marbles. It was as if the pressure of being close to her would make their sanity unfold like a reversal of an origami swan. It would start with a vehicle outside of the house in the middle of the night, and rapidly escalate. Once Chloe grew bored or annoyed by their obsessive behavior. She inevitably dumped them cold.
On occasion, random guys would break into their house and steal objects that belonged to her. In the beginning, the police thought Chloe must be doing something to bring this on herself, but after she went in for a couple interviews at the police station and full grown men couldn’t help but fawn all over her sister. They all understood what Kayn had always known.
“We shouldn't even be joking about this stuff. The breakups with the last three or four of her boyfriends turned out to be pretty damn scary situations,” she said in a hushed tone. The last thing Kayn needed was to be caught talking about it by one of her sisters minions.
Kevin turned and gave her a strange look that said, think about what you just said for a second, and they both broke into a fit of giggles.
A giant stinging slap followed on her spandex running short covered butt. There stood Chloe. Kayns infamous, and moderately evil twin. A living breathing cover girl commercial gracing us with her badass presence. Chloe smiled at her, and gave a slight glance acknowledging Kevins presence. He turned ten shades of red as though she had whispered something dirty in his ear. He’s completely pathetic, Kayn thought, shaking her head.
Chloe threw an arm around her, then jumped away saying, “Ewww, yuck, gross, you’re all sweaty and nasty. Listen, you backstabbing witch with a B, I’m not feeling that hot today. I’m on my way home. Do you need a ride?” She said.
Chloe always donned a giant, gorgeous, show stopping smile. It was like every moment of her life was one strange, endless, beauty pageant.
She had a sarcastic sense of humor that Kayn never took seriously. “I’m not going home. I'm going to go have a shower, and then go to Kevin’s house for dinner,” Kayn replied.
Chloe leaned over and kissed her sister’s sweaty cheek, quietly whispering, “Yes, go have that shower.”
Chloe sighed, “I’m grounded again for no good reason. I will see you later Sis.”
“Shocking,” Kevin murmured as they walked away.
Kayn suspected that her sister Chloe got herself grounded on purpose. Just to have a forced break from her social responsibilities. If there were medals in the Olympic games doled out for groundings achieved in a three-year period of time. Her sister Chloe had the equivalent of a gold medal.
“Bye, Kevy.” Chloe yelled behind her as she flounced off.
“Yup, voodoo powers,” Kevin whispered to Kayn.
“I heard that Kevin. You're a little stinker,” she yelled back.
Kayn smiled at Kevin, casually adding, “I bet when you thought of sexy nicknames she would call you in your fantasies, little stinker wasn’t one of them.”
She couldn’t help herself; he’d left it wide open, and she was on a roll. Kevin turned around and socked her in the arm.
She stopped, turned around, and said, “Seriously, you hit me. I can’t believe you would do that.” She glared at him and feigning pain rubbed her arm looking genuinely upset.
“I was just kidding. I didn’t actually hurt you, did I?” Kevin whispered.
He knew he had been had when Kayn’s serious look crumbled into a grin, and she said, “Woman abuse,” she smoked him on the arm twice as hard.
“What woman? I don’t see a woman anywhere around here. Oh, you mean you?” he countered as he rubbed his still throbbing arm. Kevin pretended to be looking around for a moment.
“I will butt you out like a cigarette, little man!” She made a fist for a joke duel.
Kevin glared at her. Oh, no—the expression. Game over. Whoops...She had gone too far. It was all fun and games until she made one too many short jokes with Kevin.
“I am not little,” he said. Kevin stomped towards the covered entrance to the facility.
“Okay, how about vertically challenged,” Kayn said innocently.
She was digging her own grave, and she knew it. Kevin could argue for hours. He could debate something forever and wear anyone out.
“I might look short to an Amazonian like you,” he countered.
“Touché,” she said smiling. She did know better than to push it anymore because if he kept it up, the laughter she had been trying to suppress would escape.
“I am still growing,” he said as his voice cracked a little. Kayn doubled over laughing. She couldn’t help it with the well-timed voice crack.
“Can you please be done laughing now,” Kevin said as they walked into the fitness center.
“I’ll see you outside in fifteen minutes, you sexy stud,” she whispered, sultry as a porn star. Kayn was still grinning as she pushed through the door to the girls’ changing room.
“Quit mocking me, Amazonian woman,” he yelled dramatically from behind her.
As she entered the changing room, Kevin’s last joking retort bounced off the marvelous acoustics of the concrete and tile room. Her feet were still throbbing from her well worn shoes. The tiles on the floor were icy and soothed her aching feet. In a matter of months, she had already worn her shoes out from running. She knew they didn't have the money to replace her running shoes every five minutes. Both of her parents had jobs, but she knew that they were barely making ends meet. She decided she would wait awhile before telling her mom. She dropped her shoes. The sound as they landed on the tiles echoed. It repeated a few times as if someone had dropped more than one pair of shoes.
Kayn was just dying to sing in the shower but was afraid that someone would walk in on her. She pulled her tank top and bra off and looked into the mirror. With a clear view of the room around her, she could see that nobody else was there. She was alone. She thought of Kevin waiting. Then she remembered that there was a coffee machine in the lobby by the pool. Kevin was probably having a coffee and ogling the girls swim team; he was fine.
Kayn stripped down and stood naked in front of the mirror for a second. She pulled her hair out of her ponytail, and it fell in damp loose ringlets across her bare shoulders. She tilted her head to one side and posed seductively with a smile as she surveyed her reflection.
Kayn Brighton was not hard to look at, and she knew that she was a pretty girl. Maybe I should start wearing makeup to school, she thought. It frustrated her a little, being the funny kind of dorky twin. Her face was freckled and tanned from hours upon hours of training in the hot sun. In the winter time, all of her freckles went away, and her skin was porcelain white. I could look just like Chloe if I wanted to, Kayn thought, sucking in her cheeks and then plastering a giant pageant style smile across her face.
Kayn walked toward the shower stalls. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. The conversation with her sister flashed through her memory. Chloe was feeling sick today; that’s what was going on then. Kayn quite often had sympathy illness whenever her twin wasn’t feeling one hundred percent.
Kayn turned around, pulled the plastic curtain to the shower, and leaned in to turn on the water. It began to tap dance against the bottom of the stall, and when it was just the right temperature she stepped inside. She smiled as the water beat against her weary muscles. She began to lather herself up with the nice scented pump soap. Today was her lucky day; a fresh full dispenser of soap, shampoo, and conditioner. She didn’t even have to reach down and find her own in the bottom of her gym bag.
With her favorite running song still going through her mind, she started humming a few bars and then began to sing the words. Just then she heard the door open, and she became silent. She hurried through, rinsing herself off, and towel dried her hair. She ran her brush through her hair and put it back in a ponytail. As she passed by the mirror again, she wondered if Chloe ever wanted to be more like her. She quickly blew off that completely nutty idea.
Kayn was five minutes younger than her sister Chloe, but her twin acted five years older. Kayn had no voodoo powers with men; she was awkward and definitely possessed no game at all. She wondered if she asked Chloe how she did it if she would she teach her something…anything. It would be nice to have someone ask her on a date before she was eighty years old.
Kayn had to admit it bugged her that Kevin obsessed about Chloe, not that she seriously liked him or anything because that was most definitely not a good move friendship-wise; there was that ominous word again…friends.
Kayn towel dried her back again, feeling trickles of water from her still damp hair trail down her back. She stepped into her underwear and wondered why her mind kept travelling the road back to questioning her feelings for Kevin today. Kayn shook the thought out of her head and whipped her clothes back on. She grabbed her bag and hurried out the door, hoping he wasn’t too frustrated waiting for her. She forced open the door with an over-exaggerated grunting sound.
Kevin was sitting on the railing waiting patiently and looking up at the sky with his mouth agape in a totally comical way.
Kayn walked up beside him and teased, “Trying to catch flies?”
“Always,” Kevin sparred with a dimpled grin and quick wit.
“What are we looking at?” Kayn said as she stared up toward the heavens and made the same open-mouth face of awe.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you,” Kevin laughed. He grabbed her hand, and they started to walk toward the field.
Kayn had lived this moment a thousand times. Kevin lay down in the grass, and she lay beside him.
“Oh, wow I get it; look at how fast the clouds are moving. I noticed that earlier; it’s almost creepy. I wonder if there’s a storm coming or something?” Kayn whispered.
September 17, 2013
September 13, 2013
In the moments before her death
“In the woods lay a bleeding angel in all her glory. Her arms posed gracefully above her head and her hair soaked in the mud, the blood and feces in which she lay. Dying, fading into the other realm, her form christened by the rain as though the trees had begun to weep upon her in sadness for the brutality she had endured. The Children of Ankh series
September 10, 2013
September 9, 2013
The Repopulation Project
The Repopulation Project
I am used to the sounds of my solitude. These noises are as dear to me as the air that I breathe. The rhythmic crackle and crunch of the ice beneath my feet is a song that only someone submerged in the silence of this place could hear. The wind whistling through the trees is the pipe section. The branches as they whip against each other a slow steady rattle and hiss. This is the orchestra of my life. This is all I have to smile about but sadly not all I can remember. Sometimes I wish I had no recollection of what remains lacking. I glance down at the contrast between the red of my boots and the plethora of white. These boots will be the end of me. The sun begins its ominous descent behind the mountains in the distance. Soon the isolation of the night would be upon me. I start to run towards my shelter. The brilliant colors fluid in their movement as they blend to surround the descending light. This always makes me feel a sense of urgency. I need to be safe in my shelter, deep beneath the powdery white. My breath a moist morse code signal into the icy sky above me as my mind repeats the words Do not see me...Do not see me. The open space before my refuge is where I feel most vulnerable. I fight the urge to fall to my knees and say a prayer as I come closer to my solitude. The last moments of fresh air and space are bitter sweet. My snowsuit is white. I blend with the surroundings, except for me feet. My boots they are blood red in an ocean of white. I can’t help but wonder what moron outfitted the crew with them. My boots were so small back then. I am wearing now what my mother had been wearing when we came to this place. Go back to earth they said. Earth is now habitable they said. A foolish few of us dared to believe and came home. Most of what was left of the human race had been evacuated from the planet earth in the year 7511. Prior to the comets, complete cleansing of the planet. This did not finish the human race for we had already found a way to safety...Sort of. The earth’s inhabitants left in massive cargo ships like the Noah’s ark of old. The rich were kings and queens. The poor well... We became breeding stock. There would be no difference between us and the other animals saved from extinction. Well little to no difference. The animals of old were stored as embryos, cryogenically frozen. The real animals were left to perish in the blast or in the cold that was sure to follow. Humans were the only things grown to adulthood. We were cultivated as a crop. The poor were grateful to be taken along. They did not dare complain about the reason why. My ancestors became breeders created to repopulate a planet we had never laid foot on. An orb of white that one day we would return to. A symbol of our future freedom that was visible from the viewing area. I was born on a cargo ship as was my mother and her mother before her. The smiles of the female members of my family were the only visions of grandeur I had ever seen. I had no toys. We had no possessions. We floated in a metal room with nothing but each other. Our numbers grew as each of my female family members had their eggs harvested. They would be used to create a life with an unknown males essence. Most of the embryos were stored for the repopulation project. My siblings remain even now in a cryogenically frozen embryonic state...somewhere. Every once in a while they would develop a few to term. They grew a perfected form of humanity. We were now free of every genetic defect. A woman who had ceased her ability to procreate was left to raise the children. The men were put to proper use in other areas of the cargo ship. There were no standard families anymore. All male children were put to work at the age of ten. They were separated from the female community before they had a chance to achieve puberty. Heaven forbid a child was made the old fashioned way. I was only five when they offered up freedom to a chosen few family units. It is strange that I remember that place as clearly as I do. My mother, two of my aunts, and I were in one of the first settlement groups. A group of five men were sent with us. We took shuttles to earth. The ships would double as our dwellings upon arrival. The shuttles contained small groups. No more than ten passengers were allowed onboard. We would establish settlements on the finally habitable planet of our ancestors. I remember the light exploding around us. A beacon of faith as we descended into the earths atmosphere. There had not even been the briefest moment of panic as we landed on the white planet. We were sent well equipped for the arctic weather of the North. In the South, we were told that we were destined to find a warmer climate. They suggested we stay in the frozen safety of the North. Anything that would have survived would have attempted the pilgrimage south long ago. We would be safe here in the North. They had been wrong about so many things. I spend a large portion of my time talking to myself. I am an ageless girl all alone in a vessel hidden deep beneath a snow drift on a frozen planet. How did that happen? Well...I’m not entirely alone. I have the bodies of my family and crew quite frozen solid in a safe place, as twisted as that sounds. Had I not been smart enough to keep them as a child, I would have nothing to wear right now. I would have frozen to death a long time ago. That is how I ended up with these hideous boots. I think they made them red so we could find each other in the vast expanse of white. Instead, they helped everything unsavory find us. Now I am not complaining. I have survived another day. That is always something to be thankful for. I say the little prayer that my mother taught me shortly before she came to live in my freezer.
The sounds they cannot hurt you Lay safe and still my sweet. No noise you make Shallow breaths you must take Until you fall asleep. Dream of nothing sad, good times not bad. Until once again we meet. I was warned against making a fire. I have never had the urge to make one because I never get cold. The others were always cold when they were alive. It is ironic that even in death they are freezing. The vessel is covered in snow giving an igloo like effect. It is possible that is what makes the temperature tolerable for me. Each and every morning as part of my routine I go outside and pack more snow around the craft. It must be five feet of solid ice by now. The last thing that crosses my mind every single night as I close my eyes is... Did I remember to lock the door? I know that it has to be opened by human D.N.A., but that doesn’t matter. I not only push on it, I shove things through it and in front of it. That cold ridged metal door is the only proof that I am in here. This place deep in the side of a mountain is both my solace and my prison. I whisper the prayer my mother taught me one more time for luck. I lie on my bunk and shut my eyes tightly as the shrieking sounds of the night begin. At first it’s far off in the distance, and then it’s close. Until they begin to pant, and scratch on the door. I like to pretend that I’m invisible that even if they found a way inside they would not see me. I imagine I blend right into the metal bunk. I fantasise I am a part of it. I am one with the ship that protects me. I start my deep calming breathing. I was to take forty deep slow cleansing breaths. I inhale the first one and count to ten then slowly exhale. I count to ten again. By the time, I get halfway done I am almost there, melting into my bunk. I am the liquid form of my being. I slip inside of myself until I am adrift on the endless stream of my subconscious. I wake up every morning and brush my teeth. I open the door and spit the foam from the tube into the snow outside. I count the prints in the snow. I comb my hair with my fingers. I put the flash drive of whatever knowledge I seek into the main frame. I do my schooling by hologram. There are so many lessons. I have listened to them all so many times. I repeat them aloud and mimic the hologram when I’m bored. I watch movies so I can learn to interact with other people. The radio on this ship had never worked when it had counted. I hear some random voices from time to time. They say things like, “Please help us.” I answer them in my head Sorry it is just me. You will have to help yourself. I know the voices cannot be trusted. I think this was part of the plan. They would send us here, cut us off, and watch to see if we survive. Sometimes I wonder if someone somewhere is watching me. I hope they are thoroughly entertained by my misery. The scratching on the door used to scare me to death as a child. Now it just feels like a timer, it means it’s my bedtime. The nails will click away until they finally find a way to get inside. One day they will add me to the bodies in the freezer. I understand this. I cannot keep them out forever. What am I thinking? There is nobody left to put my body in the freezer. I will be gone. Another day is done. I say my prayer. The sounds they cannot hurt you Lay safe and still my sweet. No noise you make Shallow breaths you must take Until you fall asleep. Dream of nothing sad, good times not bad. Until once again we meet. Thuds, bangs, scratches, and a continuous clicking sound lull me to sleep. I start my breathing and slip into nothing. I was far too young when the adults died to keep track of time. I haven’t the foggiest idea how old I am. I have a chest and hips now. I am not quite as shapely as my mother. I try to see myself in the reflective surfaces, but the image is all wavy and distorted. At some point every single day I try and have a visit with my mother. I pretend that she is sleeping. It actually isn’t nearly as creepy as it sounds. I spend time with her by having one sided conversations. When I need to hear her voice, I watch her hologram diaries. When I hear her voice speaking, I pretend it’s only to me. My Mother’s hologram diaries Week one: My name is Nylan 110. I am with one of the first crews on the mission to repopulate the planet earth. I am here with my sisters, one of my daughters, and some men from aboard The Cargo ship Savior. I have faith in this new life. Earth is healing, and I feel honored to be a part of this mission. We have been going out only in the sunlight for we have heard the sounds of wild animals at night. We have set up some traps to catch one so we can see what we are dealing with. The snow is an endless supply of fresh water. We have begun to eat it finding it is filling as well and a pleasant change to the tube food we were sent with. We have yet to find any edible wildlife in the daylight hours. Once we have discovered what kind of predators we are dealing with, then we will know if it is safe to hunt at night. Week two: My name is Nylan 110. I am with one of the first crews on the mission to repopulate the planet earth. I am here with my sisters, one of my daughters, and some men from aboard The Cargo ship Savior. We have discovered that there are other intelligent life forms that have survived in the northern regions where we had assumed that we would be alone. We were wrong of course. We caught one of the creatures and took it aboard to study. It seems almost human. They haven’t let me near it. Everything inside of me is screaming that we need to get this being off of the ship. I wish to god I had not brought Nylan 112 with me. I fear for her safety now. I just could not bare to leave her behind. There are many of these creatures outside. How can we possibly coexist in this place? Week three: My name is Nylan 110. I am with one of the first crews on the mission to repopulate the planet earth. I am here with my sisters, one of my daughters, and some men from aboard The Cargo ship Savior. I suspect the team travelling with us was not picked at random. I have overheard some distressing conversations. This being aboard the ship has characteristics from several ancient arctic species mixed with human D.N.A. Could they have been bred aboard the Savior, placed here with us on purpose? Could this be a test? The team sent with us says this creature could not have occurred through natural evolution. I am beginning to suspect someone is playing god. We were forced to set him free in the daylight for at night it seemed there were dozens of them who had found our ship they were pounding on it and tipping in at making the most terrifying sounds. He ran about fifty feet or so and then died. When he died he liquefied before we could hide the body. We attempted to cover up the evidence. Nothing could cover that smell it was as though his essence stained the planet. Marking the scene of his death and pointing the guilty finger directly at us. It will look to his kind like we killed him on purpose. One can only imagine what they will do come nightfall. We covered the ship in snow, layer upon layer until the sun set. My daughter told me someone was coming. She can sense the danger we are in for accidentally killing one of their own. I made up a little prayer with my daughter in hopes that god may be listening. I hope he doesn’t find us at fault for what our people have created. I pray for nothing myself but her safety and her ability to survive without me if something should happen. Week four: My name is Nylan 110. I am with one of the first crews on the mission to repopulate the planet earth. I was here with my sisters, one of my daughters, and some men from aboard The Cargo ship Savior. The creatures came at us with a vengeance taking us in broad daylight from underneath the snow as we attempted to search for sustenance. My sisters are dead and almost all of the crew. Their bodies were left in a line in front of the door. We have stored the bodies in the freezer. On each corpse, nothing but a tiny mark, all but invisible to the naked eye. On each victim, it seemed to go directly into the spinal column. Captain Dillon says he’s just a grunt. He can operate the ship and fight. He knows nothing of science. He says he has called for help. I have a feeling that nobody is coming. Three of us remain. Captain Dillon, my brave little girl, and I. Thank goodness there is a staggering amount of tube nourishment in the cargo hold. We cannot leave the ship. We are trapped...There is no freedom for any of us here on earth. My mother would leave no more entries after that one. One night she heard the voice of a child. It was crying and pleading with her to open the door. She couldn’t help herself, and in the time it took to exhale she was gone. Captain Dillon shut the door quickly and held me down until morning when he opened the door, and her body had been left in front of it. We took her inside and placed her in the freezer with the rest of the crew. He then began teaching me how to survive and what the rules would be if anything were to happen to him. He stayed with me for quite a while. I was alone with him for a year or two. I have no concept of time. We assumed other ships had landed because the creatures had left us alone. We hadn’t heard a scratch or squeal in months. That morning we had the first contact on the radio. The voice said they were our evacuation crew. They had landed less than a mile from our vessel. Captain Dillon told me he would be right back with some help. I knew he was gone forever as the door slid shut behind him. He was not left outside of the ship as the others were. Captain Dillon is not the freezer. No more voices came on the radio. I was alone with nothing but holograms and lessons. I had nothing but the bodies in the freezer to talk to. One day I just knew that I was safe. Perhaps I had just ceased to care. I felt safety in the daylight hours. I ate snow every day and went for a walk. I always sensed that something was nearby, but nothing had ever made its presence known. One day I began to bleed. I thought I was dying. It was that night that the sounds came back. I found information and supplies for my condition onboard. I stay indoors for a week every month. After my issue is gone, the sounds disappear again. I venture out once again to eat some snow and get some fresh air. I have never seen another living creature during the daylight hours. I suspect the small animals that live here are nocturnal. I can faintly hear the pitter patter of their tiny hearts through the veil of silence that encompasses me. I rest my hand against a tree for a moment. I always end up filling my grumbling stomach with snow. There is still food on board the ship, but on some days, I would rather starve than eat veggie paste. I have even eaten bark over veggie paste. I struggle to screw the cap off and begin to squeeze the thick vile fluid between my lips. A voice... I can hear a voice. I put it down and listen. The radio squeals. A male voice says, “Is anybody out there?” I never answer only privately in my mind. It has been so long since I have talked to another person. I pick up the radio and touch the red button. It makes a screeching sound. The voice on the other end says,” I hear you... I heard that. Please try again.” I press it again, and it screeches. I laugh aloud at the sound it makes. The voice says,” There is someone out there. I can hear you.” The man begins to cry. I drop the radio in a panic. I promised to follow the rules. I promised I would never let anyone else onboard. Even if they said they were friendly. That is how my mother was fooled into going outside. I promised Captain Dillon. I promised I would survive. I could not let anyone in because it may be a trick. They will take my food. They will take my shelter. They will hurt me. I remember his final warning as clear as day. I can’t help myself. I press the button, and it screeches again. I need to hear the voice now. I need to know if it will still cry. I don’t cry anymore even when I watch people cry on movies. The act of crying intrigues me. I hear laughter. I hear joy. I want to let him know someone is out there. What will it hurt to say one word? I pick up the radio press the button, and I say, “Hello.” I am greeted with laughter, a crazy amount of laughter. The voice says, “Oh thank god.” I press it and smile. I remember the person on the other end can’t see my smile. So I press it again and say, “I am here.” My soul began to cheer. I have finally spoken to someone, and they have answered me back. I hear the shrieking begin outside. I whisper,” Be quiet now, no fire, no lights, block the door. Don’t let anyone in. No matter what they say even if it’s a child.” “Until we speak again,” the voice whispers to me. My stomach feels funny. I smile so wide my cheeks begin to hurt. I convince myself to start my deep breathing. I pretend this night is the same as any other. I succumb to the nothing. I dream for the first time in a long time. I can’t think of a man as anything but protection or danger because the last time I saw my reflection I was a child. I jump off of the bunk in the morning and kneel in front of the radio. I wonder, Will I will ever hear his voice again? Did he survive the night? Will he speak again? Will he cry? Will he laugh? I hear his voice say, “Are you there?” I press the button and answer,” Yes... I am still here.” The voice responds, “My name his Michael.” I reply my name is Nylan. I give him my family name, and leave my crop number off. “How old are you Nylan?” Michael asks. I tell the truth,” I don’t know.” He says, “I have been here maybe a month. I came with a supply ship. Have you had some kind of head trauma?” I press the button and answer,” I am healthy.” There is a long drawn out moment of silence. He says, “I suspect you have been alone for a long time.” I’m not supposed to say that I’m alone. I realise this person has no way to find me. He would be dead once darkness came if he made an attempt to. I reply, “Yes.” “We should try to find each other, “The voice states. “We will die, “I state as a fact. I realize I am being blunt,but there is no point in sugar coating the situation for this human. He replies, “We have to at least try...Don’t we? Do you want to be alone forever?” His words struck a chord in my soul. The creatures haven’t killed me. They let me out in the day. What is the difference between tempting fate for no reason and tempting fate with purpose? I say, “Okay...I will come to you,” and the story begins.
August 15, 2013
A Moment with Author Luke Murphy.
What do you do when you are not writing?
I always say I write because I can’t sing or dance (LOL). Writing isn’t my full time job, I would have starved long ago if it was.
I’m an elementary school teacher, I tutor Math and English part time and I’m a husband and father. So as you can see, I only write when I find time.
When did you first start writing and when did you finish your first book?
Actually it happened by accident. Growing up I never thought much about writing, but I was an avid reader. The only time I ever wrote was when my teachers at school made me. I wanted to be an NHL superstar…period.
It was the winter of 2000, my second year of professional hockey, and I was playing in Oklahoma City. After sustaining a season ending eye injury (one of the scariest moments of my life), I found myself with time on his hands.
My girlfriend at the time, who is now my wife, was attending a French college in Montreal. She received an English assignment to write a short story, and asked me for some help.
I loved the experience—creating vivid characters and generating a wire-taut plot. I sat down at my roommate’s computer and began typing. I wrote a little every day, around my intense rehabilitation schedule and before I knew it I had completed my first manuscript.
I didn’t write with the intention of being published. I wrote for the love of writing.
Thirteen years later, I still write for pleasure—and I still love it! The fact that I am being published is a bonus.
I made the decision to write a book with the intention of publication in 2005. I enjoyed writing so much as a hobby, I decided I wanted to take my interest one step further – write a story with the intention of being published and making it available for friends, family, and readers around the world to enjoy.
I`m not one to take things lightly or jump in half way. I took a full year off from writing to study the craft. I constantly read, from novels in my favorite genres to books written by experts in the writing field. I continually researched on the internet, reading up on the industry and process. I made friends (published and unpublished authors), bombarding them with questions, learning what it took to become successful.
Feeling that I was finally prepared, in the winter of 2006, with an idea in mind and an outline on paper, I started to write DEAD MAN`S HAND. It took me two years (working around full time jobs) to complete the first draft of the novel.
I then worked with editors and joined a critique group, doing anything I could to learn, to improve my writing and my novel to point where I could create the best possible work.
My years of hard work finally paid off. With my dream still in mind and my manuscript ready, I hired the Jennifer Lyons Literary Agency to represent DEAD MAN`S HAND.
I signed a publishing deal with Imajin Books in May, 2012.
How did you choose the genre you write in?
I was always an avid reader. My first books were the Hardy Boys titles, so they are the reason I love mysteries. As an adult, some of my favorite authors are Harlan Coben, Michael Connelly and Greg Iles, so naturally I write what I love to read – mystery/suspense/thriller novels. “Kiss the Girls” by James Patterson was the first adult crime-book I ever read, and I fell in love with the genres. DEAD MAN`S HAND has been compared to Patterson books, which to me is an honour. Maybe in style (short chapters, a quick read), as I have read many of his books.
Where do you get your ideas?
Plot: I get my ideas from stories I hear about, whether through reading (newspapers, magazines, etc.), what I hear (radio) or what I see (TV, movies, internet, etc.). The plot is completely fictional. I wouldn`t say that one thing or person influences my writing, but a variety of my life experiences all have led to my passion in the written word. There is not a single moment in time when this idea came to be, but circumstances over the years that led to this story: my hockey injuries, frequent visits to Las Vegas, my love of football, crime books and movies. Dead Man’s Hand became real from mixing these events, taking advantage of experts in their field, and adding my wild imagination. The internet also provides a wealth of information, available at our fingertips with a click of the mouse.
Setting: I usually set my stories in cities I`ve visited and fell in love with. Las Vegas was the perfect backdrop for this story, glitz and glamour as well as an untapped underground.
Characters: I have never been involved in a homicide investigation, LOL. Although I am not a 6’5”, 220 pound African-American, I’ve used much of my athletic background when creating my protagonist Calvin Watters. Watters past as an athlete, and his emotional rollercoaster brought on by injuries were drawn from my experiences. His mother died of cancer when he was young, as mine was. There are certainly elements of myself in Calvin, but overall, this is a work of fiction. I did not base the characters or plot on any real people or events. Any familiarities are strictly coincidence.
Do you ever experience writer’s block?
I have never suffered from writers block, or I should say that I have never been affected by it. Since writing is not my full time job (I’m a teacher, tutor, husband and father), it’s more of a hobby for me. If I’m ever sitting at the computer and drawing a blank, I just get up, shut off the computer, and walk away…live to fight another day. If the next day the same thing happens, then I walk away again. For this reason, I never give myself deadlines or WIP challenges.
Can you tell us about your challenges in getting your first book published?
For me, the most difficult thing about writing has nothing to do with actual writing (ideas, flow, writer`s block, etc.), but it`s finding the time.
Between teaching and tutoring, with three small children and a wife at home, finding the time to sit down at a computer and have serious, quality writing time is almost impossible.
Have you written a book you love that you have not been able to get published?
DEAD MAN’S HAND is my only published work to date, and I have been getting exceptional reviews. It took me over six years from writing the first word to seeing it in print, so I spent a lot of time with it.
But my first manuscript is my baby. It was what drew me to writing, what ignited the passionate fire in me to write. It also brought my wife and I closer together (we were just dating at the time and she helped me a little).
I never intended to publish my first manuscript, it was part of practicing to hone my craft. But since my first novel has been getting such good reviews, for book #2, I’ve pulled my first manuscript out of the drawer and am currently revising it for possible publication.
Are there certain characters you would like to go back to, or is there a theme or idea you’d love to work with?
Definitely the protagonist from DEAD MAN’S HAND, Calvin Watters.
Many people have asked if I can make any real connections to the main character in my novel. The answer, as for my connection…no, I have never been involved in a homicide investigation, LOL. The plot is completely fictional. Although I am not a 6’5”, 220 pound African-American, I’ve used much of my athletic background when creating my protagonist Calvin Watters. Watters past as an athlete, and his emotional rollercoaster brought on by injuries were drawn from my experiences. His mother died of cancer when he was young, as mine was. There are certainly elements of myself in Calvin, but overall, this is a work of fiction. I did not base the characters or plot on any real people or events. Any familiarities are strictly coincidence.
Calvin Watters faces racial prejudice with calmness similar to that of Walter Mosley’s character Easy Rawlins. But Watters’ past as an athlete and enforcer will remind other readers of (Jack) Reacher of the Lee Childs series. The Stuart Woods novel Choke, about a tennis player who, like Watters, suffered greatly from a dramatic loss that was a failure of his psyche, is also an inspiration for Dead Man’s Hand.
When thinking about creating the main character for my story, I wanted someone “REAL”. Someone readers could relate to. Although it is a work of fiction, my goal was to create a character who readers could make a real connection with.
Physically, keeping in mind Watters’ past as an NCAA football standout and his current occupation as a Vegas debt-collector, I thought “intimidating”, and put together a mix of characteristics that make Watters appear scary (dreadlocks and patchy facial hair), but also able to blend in with those of the social elite. Although he is in astounding physical condition, handsome and well-toned, he does have a physical disability that limits his capabilities.
He’s proud, confident bordering on cocky, mean and tough, but I also gave him a softer side that readers, especially women, will be more comfortable rooting for. After his humiliating downfall he is stuck at the bottom for a while, but trying hard to work his way back up.
He has weaknesses and he has made poor choices. He has regrets, but Watters has the opportunity to redeem himself. Not everyone gets a second chance in life, and he realizes how fortunate he is.
Calvin Watters is definitely worth rooting for.
What has been the toughest criticism given to you as an author? What has been the best compliment?
I’ve been very fortunate so far to have mainly only positive reviews of DEAD MAN’S HAND. There have only been a handful of 2 or 3 star reviews, and even those were more positive than negative.
As for “best compliment”, the review blurbs I’ve received from other authors, especially bestselling authors, has been thrilling. My favorites, because of who they are from, were the reviews I received from NY Times Bestselling authors Thomas Perry and William Martin:
"Luke Murphy's Dead Man's Hand is a pleasure, a debut novel that doesn't read like one, but still presents original characters and a fresh new voice." —Thomas Perry, New York Times bestselling author of Poison Flower
"It's always a pleasure to welcome a new voice to the ranks of mystery-thriller authors. So welcome Luke Murphy, who delivers plenty of both in his debut novel, Dead Man's Hand. Give it an evening and you may want to give it the whole night, just to see how it turns out." —William Martin, New York Times bestselling author of The Lincoln Letter
Do you have any advice to give to aspiring writers?
Get a part-time job to pay the bills (haha). Just kidding. Honestly, for anyone who wants to be a writer, you need to have three things: patience, determination and thick skin. You can`t let anyone or anything get in the way of your ultimate goal. You will hear a lot of “no`s”, but it only takes one “yes”. The writing industry is a slow-moving machine, and you need to wait it out. Never quit or give up on your dreams.
What happens when the deck is stacked against you…
From NFL rising-star prospect to wanted fugitive, Calvin Watters is a sadistic African-American Las Vegasdebt-collector framed by a murderer who, like the Vegas Police, finds him to be the perfect fall-guy.
…and the cards don't fall your way?
When the brutal slaying of a prominent casino owner is followed by the murder of a well-known bookie, Detective Dale Dayton is thrown into the middle of a highly political case and leads the largest homicide investigation in Vegas in the last twelve years.
What if you're dealt a Dead Man's Hand?
Against his superiors and better judgment, Dayton is willing to give Calvin one last chance. To redeem himself, Calvin must prove his innocence by finding the real killer, while avoiding the LVMPD, as well as protect the woman he loves from a professional assassin hired to silence them.
Luke Murphy lives in Shawville, Quebec with his wife, three daughters and pug.
He played six years of professional hockey before retiring in 2006. Since then, he’s held a number of jobs, from sports columnist to radio journalist, before earning his Bachelor of Education degree (Magna Cum Laude).
Murphy`s debut novel, Dead Man`s Hand, was released by Imajin Books on October 20, 2012.
For more information on Luke and his books, visit: www.authorlukemurphy.com, ‘like’ his Facebook page www.facebook.com/#!/AuthorLukeMurphyand follow him on Twitter www.twitter.com/#!/AuthorLMurphyReview Blurbs:
"You may want to give it the whole night, just to see how it turns out."—William Martin, New York Times bestselling author of Back Bay and The Lincoln Letter
"Dead Man's Hand is a pleasure, a debut novel that doesn't read like one, but still presents original characters and a fresh new voice."—Thomas Perry, New York Times bestselling author of Poison Flower
"Part police procedural, part crime fiction, Dead Man's Hand is a fast, gritty ride."—Anne Frasier, USA Today bestselling author of Hush
