Speculative Literary Fiction
Date Published: May 19, 2014
Children of the Republic, Helena and Jason were
inseparable in their youth, until fate sent them down different paths. Grief
and duty sidetracked Helena's plans, and Jason came to detest the hollowness of
his ambitions.
These two damaged souls are reunited when a tiny
boat from the Blessed Lands crashes onto the rocks near Helena's home after an
impossible journey across the forbidden ocean. On board is a single passenger,
a nine-year-old girl named Kailani, who calls herself The Daughter of the Sea and
the Sky. A new and perilous purpose binds Jason and Helena together again, as
they vow to protect the lost innocent from the wrath of the authorities, no
matter the risk to their future and freedom.
But is the mysterious child simply a troubled little
girl longing to return home? Or is she a powerful prophet sent to unravel the
fabric of a godless Republic, as the outlaw leader of an illegal religious sect
would have them believe? Whatever the answer, it will change them all
forever... and perhaps their world as well.
BUY LINKS
Amazon: http://amzn.to/1m1PpPJ
Barnes &
Noble: http://bit.ly/1pb2AyB
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/430267
EXCERPT: A BOAT WHERE NONE SHOULD BE
The ripple at the edge of the fog again drew
Helena’s gaze. For an instant, it took shape, but quickly vanished, a reverse
mirage, something solid where only water should be. She squinted, trying to
penetrate the haze, and turned away to find something more substantial.
She traced the coastline instead. The land rose
southward in a gentle curve toward the tip of Albion Point, and ended at the
Knob, which stood like a clenched fist challenging those who sailed the
Forbidden Sea. The northern firs that capped the rocky coast were broken here
and there by a handful of dwellings. From this distance, they looked like great
seabirds nesting.
The fog had shifted with the tide, enough for her to
pick out her parents’ home, the white one in the center, overlooking them all
from the highest cliff. It was where she slept for the time being, where she
stayed alone and apart. Only the second floor of the house and the garret above
it showed. With the rest blended into fog, the house looked like a phantom
rising from nothing. It had felt that way since her father died.
She glanced back out to sea and caught the beacon of
the Light of Reason. The ancient tower stood on a craggy rock in the middle of
the bay, ten stories high and always first to peek through the fog. She
balanced the book on one knee and scanned lower, down along the horizon.
The mirage burst out and became solid—a boat where
none should be.
The sail luffing in the breeze was a clumsy triangle
with no arc, holding little air. The front was awkwardly shaped, more tub than
prow, and it sailed where boats were banned—a ripe target for the shore patrol.
If it had been launched by zealots overcome with missionary zeal, it was too
small and ill-fitted, not salvation vessel, but death trap.
And it was drifting toward the rocky coast.
Now, Jason saw it as well. The sun glinted off
something on its bow as it dipped into a trough. When it rose again, someone
clutched the mast—a girl with golden hair.
Jason vaulted back to the beach and beckoned for
Helena to follow. She moved to the edge, squatted, and jumped. He caught her by
the waist and swung her to the sand.
In those few seconds, the boat crashed against the
rocks. The crack of wood splintering rose above the sound of the waves.
The two of them raced into the surf as the girl with
the golden hair thrashed about in the water, struggling to avoid jagged debris
from the shattered boat. They waded in a few steps, braced against the
undertow, and pressed forward again. Three more waves and they reached her.
Jason grabbed the girl just as she began to sink.
Despite the buffeting sea, he carried her back to the shore without straining
and lay her fragile form on a swath of grass beyond the rocks—a slip of a child
no more than nine or ten years old.
Plain cotton pants clung to the girl’s legs, and an
elaborately embroidered tunic covered her slender frame—the typical garb of the
zealots, but other than her clothing, she looked nothing like a zealot. Her
skin was light and perfect, unblemished but for a trickle of blood on her arm.
Her golden hair hung down to the middle of her back, and her round eyes held
the color of the ocean.
Were Helena a believer, she’d have considered this
the face of an angel.
About the author:
The urge to write first struck when working on a
newsletter at a youth encampment in the woods of northern Maine. It may have
been the night when lightning flashed at sunset followed by northern lights
rippling after dark. Or maybe it was the newsletter's editor, a girl with eyes
the color of the ocean. But he was inspired to write about the blurry line
between reality and the fantastic .
Using two fingers and lots of white-out, he religiously
typed five pages a day throughout college and well into his twenties. Then life
intervened. He paused to raise two sons and pursue a career, in the process
becoming a well-known entrepreneur in the software industry, founding several
successful companies. When he found time again to daydream, the urge to write
returned.
He's published three novels so far in this new stage
of his life: There Comes a Prophet, Along the Watchtower, and the recently
released The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky.
David and his wife split their time between Cape
Cod, Florida and anywhere else that catches their fancy. He no longer limits
himself to five pages a day and is thankful every keystroke for the invention
of the word processor.
Website: http://www.davidlitwack.com
Twitter:@DavidLitwack
No comments:
Post a Comment