The Eternal Masquerade - Softcover

Lehner, R.J.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1546237712 ISBN 13: 9781546237716

Verlag: AuthorHouse, 2018

Inhaltsangabe

She was a normal person until the dreams started. Haunted by the same dream for months, Celia Walters begins to wonder if shes going crazy, but what will happen when her dreams seep into the world of the waking? Perhaps they are not dreams at all, or perhaps shes finally lost her mind. To add to Celias trouble, a masked murder begins to wreak havoc on her city, and a malevolent ghost from a long forgotten past rears his head. Will Celia Walters be able to get to the bottom of the mystery that has become her life and put an end to the sinister force that seeks only universal domination and chaos? Or will she fall to the destruction that hangs over her like a dark, oppressive cloud?

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

I grew up in Onalaska Wisconsin, spending time doing things like playing guitar, reading, writing and playing soccer. I've always had an overactive imagination, so I decided to put it use and write a book. I've always enjoyed reading, finding great comfort and joy in being whisked away into a different world. I wanted to experience that magic firsthand and lose myself inside the worlds that exist within my own mind. Now I would like to share this world, one of many tucked away inside myself, with everyone else. I wish to provide the same sense of wonderment and comfort that so many authors have done for me, and allow others to find themselves lost within my wild imagination. What started off as a way for me pass the time and escape from the world, has now become something I wish to share with you, and hopefully, you will find it as just as much of an adventure as I have.

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The Eternal Masquerade

By R.J. Lehner

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2018 R.J. Lehner
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-5462-3771-6

CHAPTER 1

It's dark, I can't see a thing. My heart races at a million miles per hour, and my breathing is ragged. I'm bleeding, I can feel the warmth oozing through my shirt, causing it to stick to my side. I'm going to die, I think as I stumble through the pitch-black corridor. The stabbing pain in my side is agonizing. It calls my attention away from finding an escape from this black hell, but I keep moving forward.

A freezing wind blows through and I stop, a cold presence sending chills down my spine. I feel as if someone has replaced my blood with ice water. I'm cold to the core.

"You can't run from me, Celia," he says. His voice is oddly soothing but with an undertone of malice. "I will always find you."

I wake up gasping. My sheets lay in a tangled mess at my feet, and the comforter is on the ground in a crumpled pile. I can feel my heart pounding away inside my chest, in time with my quick breathing. Slowly, I take deep breaths, calming my fried nerves. It's the third time this week that I've had this nightmare. It has always included the cold but lovely voice, promising to find me. I can't tell whether it's endearing or creepy, although based on my reaction, I'm leaning more towards the latter.

I roll out of my bed and onto the ground, hitting the carpet hard, momentarily forcing the wind from my lungs. I groan and roll onto my back, slowly regaining my ability to breathe.

"Damn dreams," I growl in frustration, climbing to my feet. I walk to my window and gaze out over the front lawn. The sun is barely rising, just coming over the peaks of the bluffs, bathing the city in a pale orange light. I rest my head against the window, the cold glass feels nice against my burning skin. It helps to soothe the nerves that were sent into overdrive.

"Celia, get your ass up!" There's a pounding on my door, shaking me out of the piece of calm and serenity I had found after my rattling nightmare.

"Step off, Amy. I'm up!" I yell back, irritation heavy in my voice.

"Then get the hell out here, we have to get to school."

"We have forty-five minutes," I say with exasperation as I open the door. My sister stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, a frustrated look adorning her face.

"Yeah but–" I hold up a hand, silencing her.

"Amy, we always get to school on time, there's no need to worry. I will get my little sister to where she needs to be in a timely manner, as I always do, okay?" I say reassuringly.

"Fine," she sighs in resignation, turning away and meandering down the stairs to the kitchen table.

I close my door and get dressed, putting on the outfit I had chosen the previous night, as I've always done. Today is nothing special, I've decided to go with a black miniskirt and a red and black plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I've never thought of myself as the person who walks into school dressed as if I were heading to a job interview, but I've also never thought myself to be the person who comes into school looking like I rolled out of bed only seconds ago. I like to be in between the two extremes, looking nice, but also casual. Well, at least my opinion of casual.

I go through my morning routine. It's the exact same one I go through every morning, following each individual step as if it's the law. The only thing that ever changes is the way I do my hair, and today, I simply comb it and let it fall onto my shoulders as it naturally does.

I jog down the stairs to the kitchen table where my sister sits and grab the same Power Bar I've eaten every morning, quickly unwrapping it before wolfing it down and heading to my car.

Amy follows, quick on my heels, complaining about something which I neglect to pay attention to. Instead of listening to her, I focus on carrying out my morning routine the exact same way I have done every morning.

My sister and I pile into the flaming red Dodge Avenger that sits in the driveway, glistening in the light of the morning sun. I stop for a moment to admire my car before I climb inside and begin to drive away.

"Huh-uh, feet off the dash," I command, chastising my sister. "You know I don't like your dirty shoes on my clean dashboard."

She sighs and pulls her feet down, giving me the annoyed look she always does when I insist she keep my car as clean as it was when she entered it. I'm very affectionate towards my car, treating it better than I treat most people. I always make sure to keep the exterior and interior clean and pristine, careful so that my car is never scratched or damaged.

We pull into the parking lot with 15 minutes until class starts, snatching the same parking spot we do every other day.

"You have OCD," Amy declares as she closes her door and slings her backpack over her shoulder.

"Is that a problem?" I ask, doing the same as she had done. "My OCD and need to follow a routine are what get us to school on time every day."

"I guess you have a point," she says in defeat, wandering off to some place unknown, most likely in search of her friends.

I sigh, mentally preparing myself to deal with the idiots who infest Goodman High School, before locking the doors and heading inside.

If you've ever been in a high school parking lot, you know that it's a crazy mesh of speeding cars, frantic for a parking space, and reckless teenagers who believe they're invincible. Kids rush out in front of the cars, attempting to make it to the building before the warning bell goes off. This one is no exception. Impetuous students still sprint about, narrowly avoiding the speeding cars. Symphonies of honks and hollers can be heard from any and every point in the parking lot. If that isn't enough to wake you up, or drive you crazy, then there's obviously something wrong you.

With another sigh, I begin my journey through the treacherous high school parking lot. I only feel relatively safe once I'm in the building, and it's not because people are that bad at driving, but because I know that there are several people who would just love to run me over, simply for kicks. Because somewhere along the line, I really offended them, which happens a lot more than I'd like to admit.

As I enter the building, I'm immediately pulled into the slow meander of student traffic. It flows through the hallway at a speed that seems to crawl.

I push through the crowds of people. I just want to get to my locker so I can swap out my books and get to class.

Finally, I reach my locker and quickly spin in the combo, switching out my AP French and Culture book along with my AP Psychology book, for my College Calculus and AP Chemistry books. I grab my copy of Paradise Lost, by John Milton, from the top shelf of my locker before heading to class.

Almost instantly, I open the book to the page I had left off on, not that it really mattered. By this point, I've read the book so many times, I can open to a random page and know exactly what is going on.

Suddenly, I come to halt, running head on into someone in front of me.

"Oops, sorry," I say, lifting my gaze to see who it was that I had run into, and upon doing so, I almost drop my book. "You know what? I'm actually not sorry," I scowl, irritated at the sight before me.

"Watch where you're going," he growls. "Maybe if you didn't always have your head in a book you might be able to see where you're going."

"You know, this unfortunate predicament isn't just my fault. You could have used those athletic skills you pride yourself on and...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: AuthorHouse
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2018
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1546237712
• ISBN 13: 9781546237716
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 252
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Friedensallee 273; Hamburg; 22763; Deutschland