Aubrea Summer's Blog, page 3
April 21, 2014
I’m Always Taking The Dog
Sixteen Seconds, An Epilogue To Humanity Novel
Available on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JFHKLPS
April 20, 2014
Roland’s World, A Taste Of Sixteen Seconds
Meet Roland, one of the survivors of the man-made apocalypse. Every day is a struggle, without the constant intrusion of the NID. How do you maintain when your thoughts are stolen away from you? What is it worth to get them back? Welcome to Roland’s world, and the end of everything you know.
SIXTEEN SECONDS, Aubrea Summer
Gathering up his dwindling supplies and carefully arranging them in the oversized backpack took less effort than a long piss. It would have been quicker if he didn’t have to stop planning every five seconds or so and look up at the clouds. The sky offered interruption, a separation of consecutive thoughts. The storm seemed to stay above the horizon, not venturing high enough to spill any rain. Roland would need water sooner than the clouds would provide it. Five seconds. The rifle. He finally decided. He could put a few of them out of their misery. Cut that one close. Seven seconds. It took all morning to make that choice. Roland didn’t think it was wrong to shoot them. They weren’t really alive, anyway. Five seconds is good. Back to baseball stats he could never forget and didn’t have to think about. In 1999 Jeter had one hundred and two runs batted in. That little cushion was one of the only reassurances Roland had.
Office buildings. The thought is fast and leaves no other clue. Those giant water bottles. Roland put it together. Memory flitted through time to time, if it was a quick thought. He’d found water that way before. Keep it short and sweet and he would find it that way again. Roland often thought of himself as a rat, a rodent, a terrified, sketched out half crazy beating heart in the dark trying only to find the scraps to stay alive. This whole thought never came as one segment, of course. Roland wouldn’t allow it, and right now, he wasn’t hungry either.
There were offices in this building. He’d seen them. Six seconds. Focusing on furniture and broken glass, he headed out the door towards the ground level lobby. The place smelled like hot fresh death. The carpet still looked brand new. Idle, haphazard notions rattled around for a moment before they were tossed out like grenades with no pins. The inside of Roland’s head could be likened to alternating strands of Christmas lights set on flash mode. One idea is allowed to light up, one thought, but it must burn out fast enough as the next section, or idea, flickers on. The former thought hasn’t fully dissipated, it is merely dormant. It can be relit once another has interrupted the consecutive execution of the thought. There are always new thoughts turning on, turning off, pausing, waiting, developing, reawakening, and sometimes even becoming whole. If he is patient, eventually the lights will have cycled through enough times to leave at least a few bulbs warm.
The ground floor persuaded Roland to send his breakfast hurtling against the bottom of a nearby wall. Beans don’t match the paint. He could have sworn he chewed them. Three seconds. He ignored the desire to contemplate the moment, throwing an arm over his nose and mouth to ease the stench. Why were there so many? Two seconds. Roland scanned the corpse strewn lobby for a water cooler, quickly realizing why they were all in here; what had led to this mess. Sometimes you can’t stop a thought, no matter how you try. Sometimes you get fried for the good ones. They’d ripped each other apart, fighting desperately over the last of something we took for granted. The majority must have died before they ever had a sip, crushed and trampled under the naked bleeding feet of the horde. There were so many of them. The doors were electronic, sealed now that the power was out. Roland cursed, holding his head. Maybe they got in before the electricity failed. Although the lobby resembled the aftermath of the blitzkrieg, the decay wasn’t nearly enough for it to have been that long. How did they get inside if there is no way out? Five seconds. Roland had climbed the fire escape, never leaving the room he happened into through the window he broke. There was no water here now, and no more time to give care to wonder.
Back upstairs, back through the jagged glass under-bite of the remaining window, and back down the fire escape. Roland jogged the familiar streets, ignoring the slap of the pavement through the thinly worn sole of his left boot. It would be without one soon, just like the rest of the world. They seldom even looked his direction, yet somehow still knew when he approached; ducking behind dumpsters like frightened alley cats and scattering into the closest shell of a sanctuary. As if he could really harm them. As if there was anything worse that could be done. He’d heard of them attacking the living, ripping at skin and biting like animals. He’d never seen it. He wasn’t even sure if he believed it. None the less, Roland still found it uncomfortable to walk too close to them, to be among them at all. Everyone stayed out of the cities. That’s why he was here. He wasn’t terrified of them, not like most others were. He could pass by and scavenge where others wouldn’t. The worst part, the eerie overwhelming kicker, the thing that set his teeth on edge and made his skin dance in tiny shudders was always the silence. The only interruption of an occasional bird chirping or the scuttling of windblown paper across a crumbling street merely added to the unnatural looming dread. They did not speak. They never had.
Roland cut through the park, overlooking the putrid smell of yet another drone corpse, laid to rest on a bench. They were all going to die eventually. Four seconds. It still surprised him that any at all remained. Some basic instinct for survival kept them foraging, kept them searching for food and water, kept them in their prolonged state of vacancy. They were here, all right. Roland could reach out and touch them, if he had the nerve, but they were not “here”.
Four million, three hundred thousand babies born that year in the United States… Eight million, six hundred thousand parents not thinking twice. Four million, three hundred thousand children entering a population of prisoners; children born hostages of some internal hell they could not break free from. Maybe they didn’t want to, maybe they didn’t know how, maybe they couldn’t. Hell, for all Roland knew, maybe it wasn’t as bad as where he was now. He didn’t want to think about it, and not solely to avoid being fried. It was still too easy to set off the aching echo where a heart once beat. It hadn’t been long enough to get a college degree, let alone forget completely. Three seconds. Drones or not, they had all been somebody’s children. Six seconds. That would be enough lamenting for the lost. He would join the ranks of the untimely if he didn’t get into gear and salvage some provisions.
Like what you read? Get the novel on Amazon for just 2.99.
Start Reading Sixteen Seconds Now
April 6, 2014
Last Chance!
I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend. Today, Sunday the 6th of April, is the last day you’ll be able to pick up Sixteen Seconds AND Burn This Way for free. Both novels are at the end of their free promotion, and will return to 0.99 tomorrow. While the price will never be daunting, here is a chance for you to grab a copy for absolutely nothing. Of course, I do ask that you leave a review when you’re done. Reviews help authors reach a greater audience, and we love you for it. Below are the blurbs and coinciding links for both novels. Enjoy!
*Sixteen Seconds*
Sixteen Seconds
The world didn’t end the way we thought it would, back when we could think at all. Amidst the ruins of a civilization where anything beyond the boundaries of an eight second thought will be penalized and confiscated by a dangerous neurological implant that has already obliterated compassion and reason, humanity becomes what it fears the most.
The last thing Ridley intended to do was give away the only defense the broken population had left, but that’s exactly what he’d done when he organized and trained the others like him; when he sent his unit into battle against the regime and destroyed their facilities. Their raw talents were manifested by Ridley’s fine tuning into the ultimate weapons; minds capable of utilizing thought more adequately and effectively than any firearm. Repercussions came swiftly. A new form of control, the NID, was to be implanted in every citizen’s brain, a devastating electric pulse triggered at eight seconds of thought preventing anyone from reaching such a level of influence again.
Humanity doesn’t fire in eight second synapses, survival does. Tragedy gave birth to a new generation. Blank canvases, human forms possessing no human emotions took the place of every normal child, empty and satisfied by the most basic of animal needs. The offspring of parents who could no longer think to comprehend were discarded, abandoned along with shame. To a world incapable of thought, they were the absolute embodiment of fear. Mankind didn’t need more than eight seconds to realize the impending doom; to run from what they couldn’t understand. The revolution ended. In the next six years, so did everything else.
Roland spends his days eight seconds at a time, darting from thoughts to avoid the obliterating fry of the NID. Food is scarce. Water is a small miracle. Other survivors are dangerous. Roving bands of marauding cannibals plague the remains of the cities alongside the eerie throngs of the abandoned blanks enduring in the same fashion.
Today might have been his last had C not appeared with her monster of a dog and driven off the pack before he’d been torn to shreds; taken him back to her camp where people are…normal. They’ve organized a community. They’re rebuilding the foundations of society. They’ve found a way to disable the NID, if you’re willing to take the risk. For the first time there is hope; maybe even the chance to set right the most devastating of wrongs and resurrect humanity.
Fearing the ascendancy of the mind initiated the demise of civilization.
Fearing what we’ve become without thought fuels the necessity to reclaim it.
Read Sixteen Seconds Now!
*Burn This Way*
Burn This Way.
Finding yourself wrongfully accused of a crime is a terrible thing, but becoming the prime suspect under the pursuit of a vengeful collaboration of vampires is far worse, especially if you don’t know why they want you dead. Rhiamon is running out of time, something she never considered would conflict with immortality. She must find a way to stop them before everything she loves is gone forever.
Hollowed by a loss still unyielding of a perpetrator, Rhiamon Delaney bends to her curiosity and becomes unwillingly entangled in a bloody web of murder, lies and deceit, where the only ones who know the truth may be dead and the ones who want her dead are not alive.
There is a type of pain, a stagnant, lingering ache that even an eternity cannot persuade a heart to release. There is a type of danger, a blatant, violent desire to take life that even the invincible cannot evade or incapacitate. There is a type of love, a fiery, all-consuming possession of heart and soul that defies the notion of pain or danger; a madness capable of deeds measured only in the moments between two beating hearts.
Las Vegas is a beautiful place to visit, to take in the sights, to let your inner-sinner out; a beautiful place to die. She should have left him there, young Rory, bloodied and broken on that warehouse floor. Rhiamon Delaney paid little attention to worry, before tonight. She’d spent two years patient in solitude, where memories remained silent; haunting the back alleys of Las Vegas and killing only when the need arose. That was, of course, before they showed up, raining discontent on the comfort of boredom and numbness she’d grown accustom to. She had to poke her nose in. She had to save the kid. They weren’t going to give up though. They wanted her dead, these demon strangers with bloodied lips, just as they’d come for Rory. The only way to the truth was through the past, where ghosts carry burning torches and vials of salt for old wounds. With every step backward, Rhiamon stumbles deeper into truths she cannot accept, faced with a sudden love she never believed in. She is forced to confront things about herself she cannot change, and to realize others can change her in ways she’ll never forget. With unknown enemies at the back of her heels and the betrayal of true friends twisted in her back, Rhiamon must quickly take the upper hand and end this hunt. How can she stop an enemy she doesn’t know without losing another friend? This is different. This time it’s Rory. Losing him would mean losing her soul, and she would die first.
Read Burn This Way Now!
April 5, 2014
One Helluva Compliment And Something Free For You
My father calls to tell me about the dream he had.
*He, John Lennon, and I are standing on the bank of a river, he says.
Across from us, a man excitedly begins to wave and shout from the bridge. The man proceeds to leap into the water and swim across the river to us. He climbs out and frantically begins to yell “It’s you! It’s you!”
He gets closer and says “I can’t believe it’s really Aubrea Summer.”*
As I listen to my dad tell me this, I am waiting patiently for this dream man’s adoration of Lennon, as I am already enthralled I’m even allowed to stand beside him in a dream, and he is excited to see me.
I graciously accept the praise of my father’s subconscious.
But Lennon?
Helluva compliment.
By the way, Sunday, 4/6/14 is the last day to get Sixteen Seconds for free. While you’re at it, pick up Burn This Way before it too is no longer on special. Feel free to check out my Facebook page for more information. Sweet dreams. May Lennon or Elvis grace you with their song. ;)
April 4, 2014
Lyrique
If you haven’t read Sixteen Seconds yet, better get your copy while it is still free. Meet Lyrique, one of my favorite parts of the novel. You can pick your copy up now at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/425114
April 3, 2014
New Release, Sixteen Seconds
Have you downloaded the new novel yet? If not, now is the time. It is free only for a limited time. Get your copy today!
Quotes from the new novel.
April 1, 2014
Sixteen Seconds, Released Today!!!
The suspense is over. The wait is through. It’s finished, it’s uploaded, and it is FREE!
If you’ve been waiting on the new novel, Sixteen Seconds, wait no longer. Today is the day.
I am reposting the blurb here, in case you want a taste, as well as the cover. Thank you all for your support.
I hope you love it as much as I do. Now go, download, read and be disturbed.
The last thing Ridley intended to do was give away the only defense the broken population had left, but that’s exactly what he’d done when he organized and trained the others like him; when he sent his unit into battle against the regime and destroyed their facilities. Their raw talents were manifested by Ridley’s fine tuning into the ultimate weapons; minds capable of utilizing thought more adequately and effectively than any firearm. Repercussions came swiftly. A new form of control, the NID, was to be implanted in every citizen’s brain, a devastating electric pulse triggered at eight seconds of thought preventing anyone from reaching such a level of influence again.
Humanity doesn’t fire in eight second synapses, survival does. Tragedy gave birth to a new generation. Blank canvases, human forms possessing no human emotions took the place of every normal child, empty and satisfied by the most basic of animal needs. The offspring of parents who could no longer think to comprehend were discarded, abandoned along with shame. To a world incapable of thought, they were the absolute embodiment of fear. Mankind didn’t need more than eight seconds to realize the impending doom; to run from what they couldn’t understand. The revolution ended. In the next six years, so did everything else.
Roland spends his days eight seconds at a time, darting from thoughts to avoid the obliterating fry of the NID. Food is scarce. Water is a small miracle. Other survivors are dangerous. Roving bands of marauding cannibals plague the remains of the cities alongside the eerie throngs of the abandoned blanks enduring in the same fashion.
Today might have been his last had C not appeared with her monster of a dog and driven off the pack before he’d been torn to shreds; taken him back to her camp where people are…normal. They’ve organized a community. They’re rebuilding the foundations of society. They’ve found a way to disable the NID, if you’re willing to take the risk. For the first time there is hope; maybe even the chance to set right the most devastating of wrongs and resurrect humanity.
Fearing the ascendancy of the mind initiated the demise of civilization.
Fearing what we’ve become without thought fuels the necessity to reclaim it.
Sixteen Seconds
March 31, 2014
Cover Reveal and Blurb, Sixteen Seconds
Here we go my friends. The blurb, the cover, and the midnight release of the novel, coming 4/01/14.
Enjoy.
************
Fearing the ascendancy of the mind initiated the demise of civilization.
Fearing what we’ve become without thought fuels the necessity to reclaim it.
The last thing Ridley intended to do was give away the only defense the broken population had left, but that’s exactly what he’d done when he organized and trained the others like him; when he sent his unit into battle against the regime and destroyed their facilities. Their raw talents were manifested by Ridley’s fine tuning into the ultimate weapons; minds capable of utilizing thought more adequately and effectively than any firearm. Repercussions came swiftly. A new form of control, the NID, was to be implanted in every citizen’s brain, a devastating electric pulse triggered at eight seconds of thought preventing anyone from reaching such a level of influence again.
Humanity doesn’t fire in eight second synapses, survival does. Tragedy gave birth to a new generation. Blank canvases, human forms possessing no human emotions took the place of every normal child, empty and satisfied by the most basic of animal needs. The offspring of parents who could no longer think to comprehend were discarded, abandoned along with shame. To a world incapable of thought, they were the absolute embodiment of fear. Mankind didn’t need more than eight seconds to realize the impending doom; to run from what they couldn’t understand. The revolution ended. In the next six years, so did everything else.
Roland spends his days eight seconds at a time, darting from thoughts to avoid the obliterating fry of the NID. Food is scarce. Water is a small miracle. Other survivors are dangerous. Roving bands of marauding cannibals plague the remains of the cities alongside the eerie throngs of the abandoned blanks enduring in the same fashion.
Today might have been his last had C not appeared with her monster of a dog and driven off the pack before he’d been torn to shreds; taken him back to her camp where people are…normal. They’ve organized a community. They’re rebuilding the foundations of society. They’ve found a way to disable the NID, if you’re willing to take the risk. For the first time there is hope; maybe even the chance to set right the most devastating of wrongs and resurrect humanity.
Sixteen Seconds
March 28, 2014
Freebee Weekend, New Release Date
Happy Friday.
It’s going to be an excellent weekend.
All of my current published work will be free through Sunday night. I am kicking off the weekend big. I have exciting news. Sixteen Seconds will finally be released Monday. In honor of new work, all previous work is free for download! Find the links below, and get your copies now. I’m excited. A lot of hard work is about to come together. I hope you enjoy what you find here today, and what is yet to come…
Have a great weekend, and enjoy.
March 27, 2014
Try Not To Stare
Welcome to my mind.
Pull up a chair.
Don’t mind the bloodstains.
Try not to stare.
I’d like to introduce you to the clutter of my mind. Here is a teaser excerpt from Sixteen Seconds, due for release soon. This, my friends, is why I’m sick, in case you needed further proof. Here you go.
Sixteen Seconds, Aubrea Summer
Lyrique stood quite a bit taller than other dogs her breed, making the bandana around her neck the perfect hold for balance as C tripped through the debris. Lyrique moved with the grace of instinct, and C let her lead. The toe of her worn boot made contact with a solid concrete chunk, sending a surge of pain up through her foot. Lyrique let a soft whine out. C rubbed her head, assuring her she was fine. Lyrique voiced the sound again, stopping and nudging at her owner’s hand.
“Shhh. It’s okay. Let’s go.” C took another step forward, feeling something slide beneath her foot and catching her balance before she lost her stance. Again, the dog whined, lowering her nose to sniff C’s boot.
“Come on.” She urged her forward. Lyrique didn’t budge, standing firm in her refusal.
Something snapped under C’s weight as she repositioned her foot; something hard and thin. Fumbling through her pockets for the old metal lighter, she closed shaky fingers around the cold rectangular shape. The smell of fluid and smoke accompanied the flicker of her tiny fire as she lowered it to the ground. The forceful intake of her breath jolted the lighter from her hand. The flame died as it hit the ground. Now her hand trembled faster as the image burned in her head through the darkness; hair, bloody and clumped, lying beside her boots, beside the piles of bones. Gingerly combing the surface of the wet earth, C picked the lighter from the ground. The metal met her hands with a new coating, something wet and slimy. Closing her eyes, she ignited the mini torch. Slowly, she let nervous lids rise. She stood in the center of a butcher’s shop. Sun bleached, broken and scattered across the garbage, were human bones; legs, arms, rib cages, spinal cords, even the jaw bone and teeth of a small head extended from the dirt. Her stomach knotted, spin cycle kicking on. Lyrique growled, low and quiet. C capped the lighter, quashing the flame at the dog’s warning. She smeared her hand down her pant leg, wiping the thick red pulp from her fingers and her lighter. Willing herself not to think about it, she crouched low beside Lyrique, feeling again what she refused to picture squish beneath her boots.
Flashlight beams pierced the darkness alongside voices, the rear door of the delivery bay swinging wide. Orange bulbs sent a wash of luminosity from inside. Two men appeared in the doorway, each pushing a wheel barrow. The second man secured the door behind him before rejoining his comrade. Muttering inaudible complaints to one another, the men pushed their way to the opposite side of the scrap pile. C watched the dance of the flashlights as they headed her way, keeping her hand on Lyrique’s neck. The men parked their carts, removing the tarps from them. C swallowed her gasp as the first man lifted what must have once been a person from the wheel barrow. Hardly anything remained now, except for bone and hair. Together, the men took opposing ends of the corpse and began swinging it until they had the momentum needed. When they let go, the body flew, landing the length of a parking space away from C’s ducked vantage point. They repeated this until the barrows were empty, mindlessly brushing off their hands and rolling back up to the door. C pushed away the dry heave her stomach so desired. She was standing in the middle of their ghastly scrap pile. Gathering what remained of her composure, she opted to veer left before proceeding through what now lay ahead. This time, Lyrique followed.
Ridley pretended not to see the bones. He trudged through them like they were driftwood, watching the men exit the building, deposit their errands, and return. He wondered briefly how C was holding up; if she was wading through the same horror. His attention returned to the men, waiting for them to reach the door. He watched the last man in turn to close the door. He reached out, letting everything else in his mind slip away, finding the cold feel of the deadbolt in hot mental fingers. He waited, counting, letting the man slide the lock in place; allowing him time to walk away. He pulled, drawing the lock back, holding it in his thoughts until he felt it click open. Ridley let go, a short sigh escaping his lips. Patiently, he listened for their return. Minutes passed with nothing. Maybe that was all for the night.
Roland observed the side wall intently, waiting for Catch to return. He’d watched her scale the concrete like a cat, impressed by the strength the small girl possessed. He doubted the others could see much more than he could. Sam was at the far end, closer to Ridley. Roland waited, minutes feeling like days as he found himself worrying about this person he hardly knew. She was just a young girl, and these men inside were far from little boys. A large part of him was grateful C hadn’t gone in, though he wasn’t sure why. He felt protective towards her, probably because she’d saved his life. Having seen the flashlights come and go, watching them dump the dead like expired restaurant product, Roland silently urged the others to hurry. If you were to judge what was happening inside by how they decorated outside, you might reach the conclusion Roland had. This was a meat plant.
While you’re waiting on Sixteen Seconds, check out my newest short story,
