Sample Chapter of SHADOWS!

Grasshoppers! The rumors are true! I LIIIIIIIIIIIVE!

So it’s been like a million years since I posted. I CAN EXPLAIN. See, we moved, and we’ve had a bit of an issue getting our WiFi set up, as in, WE CANNOT GET OUR WIFI SET UP. Because when we plug everything in, this one light turns red, and apparently it is the Red Light of Death because it is stopping us from attaining the Promised Land, i.e. the internets.

Thank goodness for smartphones, y’all.

So anyway, I would have blogged before now except that A) Baby J keeps me all kinds of busy and B) blogging on my phone is a PAIN IN THE well, you know.

BUT. I am here NOW, and we are here TOGETHER, and lo, there was much rejoicing.

The main thing I want to tell you is that I have edited the SHADOWS page here on the site to include a sample chapter! It is actually Chapter Two, for a multitude of reasons that no one cares about, yada yada. So I thought I would also post it here for your reading pleasure.

Also, ALSO, in April I am going to give away THREE (3) copies of my book, Shadows of the Hidden, to three very lucky people! So tuck that little nugget away in yer brain, eh?

(When did I turn into a Canadian? I need more sleep.)

SO. Okay. Here is CHAPTER TWO of my YA urban fantasy / magical realism novel, Shadows of the Hidden. 

Chapter Two

I’m stretched out on my bed, working on a crimson and gold striped scarf with my favorite knitting needles. They’re metallic blue and have my name etched into the sides. Natalie Watson, the silver cursive reads. My mom gave me these needles six years ago, the summer she taught me how to knit.

I prefer to think of it that way, instead of remembering it as the last summer we spent together.

In the cinderblock dorm room I call home, there are two single beds with crinkly plastic-covered mattresses, two fiberboard nightstands, and two metal desks. A small television, (five channels, all local), perches on top of the microwave, which sits on top of the mini-fridge, which is wedged between the desks. The closets take up the whole wall across from the beds. Michelle’s closet is so full she can barely close the door. Mine is half empty. Sweatshirts and ratty jeans don’t really require hangers, so I store most of my clothes in the laundry basket at the foot of my bed.

I’ve almost finished a row of stitches when the door bursts open and Michelle—my gum-smacking, Gucci-clad roommate—flounces in. An invisible cloud of J.Lo perfume thickens the air.

She stops short when she sees me, her blue eyes wide. “Whoa!”

I frown. “What? Did you forget about me or something?”

“No,” she says, striding across the room. She tosses her bag on the floor—an orange leather satchel that I’m sure cost as much as a small car—and snorts. “You’re just always asleep when I get home. You know, because you don’t have anything else to do.”

I look at the digital clock on my nightstand. It’s ten-thirty. She’s right—I’m normally in bed by nine.

“I’m surprised you’re in for the night,” I say, ignoring the jab about my lack of a social life. At this point—over a month into the school year—I’m pretty much a pro at brushing off Michelle’s constant deluge of snide comments.

“I’m just dropping off my bag. Ethan’s taking me out to the cliffs.” Her eyes linger on my half-finished scarf. “Why does that look familiar?”

“It’s the Gryffindor scarf. You’ve probably seen it in one of the Harry Potter mov—”

“Um, I know you’re not about to imply that I watch Harry Potter. I’m not twelve.”

I sigh. “As I’ve said before, Michelle, it’s not just twelve-year-olds that like—”

She throws up a hand, exasperated. “Please don’t try to defend it. I know you have a wand somewhere in this room, and I can’t even deal with it.”

My eyes flicker instinctively to my nightstand drawer, where I do, in fact, keep the wand I ordered online last year. Fourteen and a half inches, yew with a Phoenix feather core. Surprisingly swishy.

“One of these days,” Michelle says, applying a thick layer of pink lip gloss and puckering her lips at the mirror over her bed, “I’ll have a roommate who’s not a loser.”

Even though she’s said things like this a million times, I still feel a twinge of hurt. I stare at my knitting needles and focus on each stitch: through the loop, around the needle, pull it through. Over and over. Forget what she said. Forget what she said.

If she knew what happened to my family five years ago, she might act differently. But I’ve never told her.

I’ve never told any of them.

She flips her head upside-down and whisks her fingers through the dark roots of her otherwise blond, stick-straight hair. This little ritual of hers always leaves me feeling self-conscious about my dull brown waves, which look like maybe they’re trying to be curly, but lost their motivation somewhere along the way.

“Okay,” she breathes, standing up and fluffing her hair one last time. “See ya later. Have fun with your Grippador thing.”

“It’s Gryffindor!” I call as the door shuts.

Ethan—Michelle’s blond, muscled boyfriend—takes her out to the cliffs at least twice a week. It’s this place on the east side of campus where people go to make out because there are all these boulders you can hide behind. It’s freezing out there this time of year, but apparently the sacrifice in comfort is worth the privacy. And getting caught with a guy at the cliffs gets you in less trouble than getting caught in his room.

These are all things I’ve heard from Michelle, of course. I wouldn’t know firsthand.

The only reason they’re able to get away with sneaking around after curfew is that Ethan’s family paid for the entire science building, including several very expensive labs. Even if he’s caught running around campus tonight, nothing will happen to him. Just like the time he set a mouse loose in the auditorium during the band’s spring concert.

Snow begins to fall outside our window. It’s nothing to write home about, but after growing up in Georgia, I’m still shocked when the Maine drizzle transforms into white flakes. I gaze across the courtyard between the girls’ and boys’ dorms, thinking about my parents and how excited they always got whenever the weatherman mentioned “winter weather advisories.” Even a dusting of snow is enough to cancel classes at the University of Georgia, where they teach. Or rather, where they taught.

My throat tightens as I realize they don’t teach there anymore.

I give my head a little shake and swallow hard, forcing myself to remember that “missing” does not necessarily equal “dead.” Aunt Tessa has spent the past five years hammering this into my brain. I need to start believing it. I need—

Wait…

Who in the world is that?

A shadowy figure slinks out of the woods and heads toward the dorms. It moves quickly, skirting the athletic fields and staying near the tree line before scurrying along the shore of Lake Lion. No matter how much I squint, I can’t see the figure well enough to determine who it is. Maybe it’s Ethan, coming to meet Michelle before they sneak off to the cliffs.

But Ethan is short, and this person is tall. Judging from the loping way it moves, though, it does seem to be a guy.

He passes the lake and creeps around the edge of the boys’ dorm, directly across the small courtyard that separates their building from ours. He avoids pools of light from the wrought iron streetlamps that line the sidewalks and keeps to the shadow of the tall gothic building next to him. Because I need a distraction, I entertain myself with all the dramatic possibilities: Murderer? Thief? Rapist? One of those urban legend guys who wait for a specific night to go on a killing spree?

Not likely. I’m sure it’s just some dude who’s been making out with his girlfriend at the cliffs.

But then, as he slips through the front door of the boys’ dorm, a shaft of moonlight pierces through the clouds. His head catches the light, and the last thing I see before he disappears is the glint of fiercely orange hair.

There’s only one person at Lubec Academy with hair like that, and the very thought of him sends my stomach churning with fear.

Liam Abernathy.

*

So that’s it! I hope you liked it, and if you want more info about the book, just click HERE.

Thanks to all who have spent their hard-earned money on a copy of the book. I love you and it means more than you will ever know!!!

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2 thoughts on “Sample Chapter of SHADOWS!

  1. Kevin Rogers says:

    To be so alive, and yet feel so alone, in a world with broken internets. I ask, “How do you go on?” And I answer, “Because when that Red Light of Death finally does turn green, green like your grasshoppers so eagerly awaiting your return, the Promised Land shall be revealed and we all shall rejoice.”

    (Said with dripping theatrical flair – sorry, it is Friday and I am giddy for the weekend to begin)

    Okay, so onto the book…

    The three folks who will win a copy will be quite lucky indeed. The folks that do not win a copy can feel just as lucky by purchasing Shadows of the Hidden.

    There are a couple reasons that made this book hard to put down and even do some sneak reading while at work. Anne’s writing style made this a pleasure to read. She has a good balance between descriptive telling and descriptive showing that painlessly projects scenes, actions, and feelings.

    Shadows of the Hidden has the right amount of the super natural element that begged me to read more to learn more.

    Oh, and a pleasing blend of suspense, twists, thrills, and romance…just to name a few other good qualities.

  2. Katrina Lantz says:

    Ooh, that’s even awesomer than when I read it as The Clearing, isn’t it? I mean, familiar but a little different. Looks like I’ll have to read it again! Welcome back to the world, Anne! Happy to see you!

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