GUEST POST:
Hello readers,
I'm Mark Morrison, first time author of a young adult fantasy action adventure. It's titled TwoSpells, a fantastically magical tale involving teenage twins, Sarah and Jon. They find out that they're heirs to an ancient magical realm built around an enchanted library created for their special kind, Irregulars. All the books within its shelves can transport a reader to anywhere or anytime the author has written into that particular story. The children quickly learn that traveling the uncharted inner-sanctums of multidimensional worlds may not be the safest nor wisest of choices.
I've just begun my long journey into the treacherous extortion of ideas from my innermost fantasies. This first story in the TwoSpells series is merely the key to opening a floodgate of bizarre thoughts and twisted characters from unheard of outlandish places and/or maybe right next door. Readers will be entertained and enthralled by their ability to interact with these previously secretive worlds kept hidden under bewitching spells and wicked incantations.
As a gracious guest to this wonderful site I think it only fair that I re-introduce myself in a more informal way. I'm from a small town in Ohio called Salem where not much seems to happen beyond the passage of time. Our family moved to Florida when I was a young boy. We immediately experienced a cultural change that could be best described as; shock and awe!
We noticed that in Florida there's a massive mix of diversity demographically unlike the quiet country atmosphere we had precociously experienced. It hit us like an out of control freight train, derailing our field grown, bumpkin-like personalities. We could either embrace the reality check or retreat to the sanctity of a rural lifestyle wedged between the wind blown corn fields and the red brick auction houses. Thank goodness my parents chose the former because I absolutely love multiculturalism.
On a personal level, how would I classify my own attitude? Am I an optimist or a pessimist? An optimist believes the glass to be half-full. A pessimist believes it to be half-empty. I've decided on a third category, realist. I believe the glass is twice as big as it should be, therefore it's full. There you go. I'm a realist who can twist the finite rules of physics into my own distorted circular logic.
If I may pass on a few powerful words of wisdom to other aspiring writers, or any choice of vocation or hobby for that matter; make a difference. Life's far to short on this particular planet, don't leave any of your wishes or dreams on the table. Regrets have a nasty way of creeping up on a person as they get older. They'll strangle your conscience while you're reminiscing about your life's too few achievements.
I'm so grateful for this opportunity to share my thoughts with you and do appreciate this open format to blather on about myself and my first born novel, TwoSpells.
Warm Regards,
Mark
BLURB:
TwoSpells is a magical tale about teenage twins, Sarah and Jon, who find out that they're heirs to an ancient, magical realm containing an enchanted library that can transport a reader to anywhere or anytime the author has written into a story. They soon realize that moving through the uncharted inner-sanctums of multidimensional worlds isn't the safest nor wisest of choices.
Both are emboldened with a wondrous mystical gift that no being has ever possessed. But fate intervenes pulling them into an evolving inter-dimensional war between their kind, Irregulars, and treacherous evil forces flowing from parallel universes looking to claim the library's unique magical enchantment as their own portal to besieging and conquering all realms outside their own.
The two must rescue their world from a phantom hybrid alien race controlled by a demented dark-wizard, Jeremy Sermack. They'll either assimilate or be exterminated.
Will they embrace their true identities as Irregulars and become the valiant saviours the prophets envisioned, or will they retreat to the perceived safety of their distant homeland populated with the Regulars?
EXCERPT:
THE FRONT DOOR LAY FLATTENED, hinges bent and twisted and the sliding bolt-lock contorted. The door jam was broken and splintered.
“What is this?” Grandpa roared, waving his walking stick at the mountainous intruders. “Which one of ya’ is gonna pay for all this?”
The dust settled and the two ominous figures stood just outside the doorway, the bright moon blazing behind them. Tattooed across their pale blue foreheads were the numbers thirty-seven and thirty-eight. Each was stuffed into a suit two sizes too small and busting at the seams, barely able to contain their hulking, muscular bodies. Black, wraparound sunglasses hid their eyes from view and Sarah could tell that something strange lay behind them. One muttered into a small microphone curled toward his lips and the other stared straight ahead.
Grandpa rolled up behind them. “Collectors!”
“Collectors?” Sarah whispered to Jon. He shrugged.
“You know why here,” Thirty-seven grunted, flipping one side of his jacket open and exposing a peculiar gold badge attached to his belt. It was a cluster of mechanical gears embedded with astrological symbols and a mechanical winged dragon clinging to a peculiar orbs.
“We do not!” Grandma shouted, leaning on her walker.
“Overdue book,” the other one boomed, holding out a six fingered hand.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about ya’ thug,” Grandma said, rolling her walker closer. “Who’s gonna fix me door?”
The Collectors muttered something in another language to one another.
“We haven’t even been ta’ the bloody library in years,” Grandpa argued. “Ya’ have that written in your records?”
Thirty-seven moved closer, his hand out again. “Special text overdue.”
Sarah and Jon eased backward a little. The tone of its voice sounded threatening.
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Come back and visit again.
