Is escape even an option? #SciFi #AlternateReality #Giveaway @bl98

 

Blurb

How did it come to this? My life used to be so simple. Back then, I hated it; I found it boring. Let me tell you: boring’s good. Boring’s great! I should’ve been thankful…

It was supposed to be a date like any other for James Hunter, a simple convenience store clerk. Nothing more than watching a movie in the town of Moncton. A place as unknown and unimportant as he considered his own existence to be. And yet, while walking to a cinema, James teleports to another world. There, a hostile crowd surrounds him, including various mutants with strange deformities.

Before he can even gather his wits or make a dash for it, a lone ally presents herself in the form of a winged woman named Rose. An important cultural figure in the country where James appeared, she offers him both protection and a home.

Soon, James learns that this new world is divided by a cold war. On one side is Nirnivia, home to Rose. The other, Ostark, led by a mysterious cyborg. James is unaware that the cyborg has him in his crosshairs, thinking of him as the Deus Ex Machina that will end the war in his favor.

But, the cyborg is far from the only potential threat to James. Soon after his arrival, BRR, a terrorist organisation, kidnaps him.

What would a rogue group out for revenge seeking to turn the cold war hot want with someone like James? Is there anyone also aware of this other world who will try to find him? Or is he on his own? If so, how is he supposed to escape? If that's even an option...

Excerpt

The world whirled around James. Soon, all distinct shapes vanished, superseded by a haze of colors. Shades of green, red and blue filled his vision. An agonizing pain flared across his body, and James screamed. His stomach floated up to his throat, while his intestines… he preferred not to think about them. Then, at last, the forms returned, though muddled. The sensation lasted only a few seconds, but it brought James to his knees as he gagged and vomited on the pavement. Once done, he wiped his mouth and coughed. Revolted screams erupted around him.

James almost mumbled an apology for the mess, but then he realized: who was yelling? He and Nadia stood alone and yet… wait, those dark figures surrounding him on the ground… shadows? And over there, feet and legs… where had these people come from?

Perplexed, James tried getting up, but he wobbled and fell. His new position gave him a view of the trees he had scrutinized before the incident, except they had morphed into a yellow brick building. James’s heart raced and his body tensed. Trying to relax, he took a few deep breaths through his nose and scowled. That stench, a mix of decayed food, feces, and puke, permeated the air. Of course, his own actions explained the last odor, but still, Moncton never smelled so bad. No wonder, with all the garbage littering the street. However, the road he’d strolled along had been so clean just moments ago.

As he pondered the change in scenery, James’s vision cleared. He took it as a good sign and attempted to stand up again. Though he swayed, he remained on his feet. Perhaps because of his movement, the confused chatter around him intensified. Bronze-skinned people glanced at each other and recoiled, a few pointing at him. James scanned the crowd in search of Nadia. Unable to locate his lover, he found his attention drawn to a stranger in the distance instead. The man held a leash, but without a dog at the end. A pink glob of goo replaced the expected canine. The horror waved its many tentacles, sometimes caressing passersby. James gasped. Covered in perspiration and shaking, he averted his gaze and spotted a young boy with a miniature leg sticking out of his belly through a hole in his shirt.

About the Author

So, my name is Benoit Lanteigne and I’m a French Canadian (outside of Quebec) who’s trying to write in English. That can be tricky. I’m a computer programmer and I enjoy it. I see many inspiring writers who hate their jobs and hope to quit someday, but that’s not my case. Mostly, I’ve worked on websites and web applications.

Back in school, I enjoyed writing and according to my teachers and classmates; I had a talent for it. Well, not so much for grammar and spelling, but they liked my stories. Once I went to university, I dropped writing as a hobby. There were other things I wanted to focus on, such as my career. Then, in the early 2000s, around 2006 I’d say, I had a flash of inspiration. At first, it was a single character: a winged woman with red hair. I didn’t even know who she was, but the image stuck with me. From there, I began figuring out details about her origins and her world, but I only started writing for real in 2009.

It’s been roughly 10 years now, and it’s not yet finished. That’s in part because I write in my spare time, and in part because the scope of the project is huge. Maybe too much so. Still, I’m getting close to the point where I could release something. The question is what’s next? Self-publishing? Attempt traditional publishing? Nothing? I don’t know the answer yet, I’m trying to figure it out. Frankly, sharing my writing is difficult for me, and whatever I end up doing, as long as I make it available to people I consider the experience a victory no matter what comes out of it.

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