It's D-Day for the release of Hart (Confessions of a Watery Tart) Johnson's serialised A Flock of Ill Omens, the first in her A Shot in the Light serial..The book is now UP FOR SALE!
|Deadliest virus in a century, or a social experiment gone awry?|
HERE IS A LITTLE TASTE OF WHAT LIES INSIDE THIS GORGEOUS COVER...
Every year they warned about the flu and more often than not, it amounted to nothing. Sidney Knight, a young freelance reporter had certainly never written on it. But a trip to Lincoln City, Oregon cut short by a beach full of dead seagulls and a panicked warning from her brother, the scientist, catch her attention. This batch is different. Deadlier. And the vaccine doesn't seem to be helping. It almost looks like it's making it worse...
A Flock of Ill Omens: Part I is the first episode of A Shot in the Light, an Apocalypse Conspiracy Tale about what happens when people play God for fun and profit. There will be approximately ten episodes, each the equivalent of about 100 pages.
Good Reads has a sneak peek posted. You can find the purchase link and more information about the book here. And if you want it FOR FREE, I will be offering it free on the release dates of at least the next two in the serial: September 19 and October 10.
And if you want to BUY it, it is HERE. (actually has the whole first chapter, too)
Hart Johnson writes books from here bathtub and can be found at Confessions of a Watery Tart, though be warned. She is likely to lead you into shenanigans.
To celebrate with a bit of hoopla!, Hart is hosting a blogfest which began on September 5. For once, the timezones worked in my favour -- it's already midday September 6 in Australia, but I know Hart won't mind if I'm late to the party.
Hart has asked people to:
Write 50-250 words about how YOU think the world will end (all in fun): is it nuclear war? Aliens? Zombies? Asteroid? [Is it clear yet I think way too much about this?] Giant Spaghetti Monster? Attack of the Interrobang!? Or are you on board with my flu scenario?
To sweeten the deal, Hart is offering a Prize!!
She will randomly choose one entry for:
A SUBSCRIPTION (the full serial, as it comes out) and a $25 Amazon Gift Certificate
How sweet is that.
NOW FOR MY ENTRY--GEEK, I USUALLY LIKE A MONTH TO THINK ABOUT SOMETHING LIKE THIS BUT I HAVE TO DO IT STRAIGHT AWAY. I know Hart said it was all in fun, but heck, this is what came out of my typing fingers. If it upsets you, shut your eyes! It ended up being 500 words, but I chopped it down to 308. Still over the limit, but you can stop reading any time. If I keep chopping it won't make a lot of sense.
THE END OF DAYS
Matilde entered the facility unnoticed, undetected and unwisely. What passed for her heart thumped--I'm in!
The first foot-thick impregnated steel door, no problem--nor the second, the third. She stood in the central hub. How cold and sterile the space appeared--monocrome colours, except for the bright shirts of the staff hunched over their stations. She could reach out and touch the electrical pulse of their tension.
Her plan? She'd stormed the facility thinking she could save the world. Could she?
Matilde stared at the gigantic flickering screen that wrapped around the upper room. The solemn eyes of her beloved President pierced hers. Edward stood staunchly behind his boss, eyes cold, empty. He’d taken her death hard. He would be beating himself up for not saving her from that Middle Eastern bomb blast. It wasn't your fault! she screamed, but her world remained silent.
Getting war stories was her job. She lived for the danger, the excitement...and she'd died for it. The intelligence she’d gathered was now being unleashed to disastrous effect. Ohhh nooooo!
Don't! she silently begged, as the determination on the men’s faces grew. The military commanders moved closer to the President and Edward, solidarity at this dreadful, final hour. She read Edward's lips: “This is for you, Matilde!” Was the End of Days here? Was it all her fault?
She moved to the centre of the room where the codes were being entered. She tugged at fingers busy at the task. The man shivered and shook his head. Matilde felt a frisson of hope! He’d felt her. Get it wrong! She smacked his face, his hands; she poked her fingers into the machine...but nothing, nothing…
She was helpless.
She jittered with horror. The gigantic screen exploded with dreadful images—thick, choking dust, steely clouds and whooshing cities flashed before her, a macabre dance.
- Pop over to Hart's for a list of entries.