The editing process is coming to a end, so it is time reveal my work!!!! I am having a hard time sitting down, while I write, because I am so excited to share this with everyone. "The Legend of Harper and the Reversing Worlds, Trilogy 1 will be released on May 5, 2011. Which will be down loadable on most electrical devises .
I mailed a virtual book Launch Invites on Facebook and promised my first chapter as a thank you. So below you will find the 1st chapter of "The Reversing Worlds, Series." Happy Reading all, I hope you enjoy. :)
The History of the Lost World of Pasmaqon
Created 1854
Stories created by Caroleen Grogen
A large house sat at the edge of “The Denny’s River”, near where the river met the ocean. The house, called “The Inn” by locals, sheltered many guests throughout the year. Caroleen, a young lady in the midst of her adolescence had a habit of listening in on the town’s people’s tales and beliefs about the “The Reversing Falls”, a deceptively quiet hideaway where the ocean currents formed a phenomenal whirling of the tides which begin and end at the oceans floor. Some say, the great tides hold many secrets of a Lost Worlds, others say it is a place of tragedy and a place where evil hides. All agree “The Falls” is a great mystery.
Caroleen was intrigued with the stories that she had been told over the years. At the end of a long hard working day at the inn, she escaped by settling herself and jotting her thoughts down in an old journal. Every day she looked over the river, and pictured the triumphant lands, which was hidden under the sea. She made up stories about the different characters that she imagined would live in the lost world. She drew maps as she pictured the layout of the lost world. She envisioned a magnificent place, which she called the land of Pasmaqon, which held within its own worst compelling character.
Her imagination stretched across the pages and she filled up many journals, including one particular book that she had found in one of the rooms at the inn, left behind by a guest. The book held a unique clasp and was filled with blank pages. In this particular book she wrote all of her most imaginative secrets of the lost world. She chose to tell no one of her endeavors or of her imagination. She knew her parents would assign more work to her at the inn to keep her from her crazed thoughts. Her imagination was what helped her survive the long hours and the many faces that she came across daily. Sometimes she thought some of the characters she created visited her through her dreams. She began to believe her stories in her journals had begun into a reality. She could even see her characters peeking through the water’s edge, eager to tell her the true mysteries of Pasmaqon.
The afternoon of January 24, 18 54 was cold and reckless. A winter storm claimed the land as its own. Caroleen pulled on her high boots as she wrapped her thick dress around her legs and tucked the bulky edges into her belt. She grabbed her hat and mittens, and a bag of bird seed on her way out the door to feed the birds that chose to fight through the harsh winter. As she made her way through the mountains of snow she could hear voices coming from the river’s edge.
“Miss Caroleen, we need your help…..we are in danger,” the voices whispered through the stormy air.
Caroleen walked closer to the river, to hear better, so she could make sense of the whispers.
“Miss Caroleen, we need you…….There is no time,” breathed the whispers, which seemed to float up from the glassy ice which topped the river.
She placed her hands on the edge of the ice, where the snow protected the ice below from the harsh winter winds. She cleared away the snow and cupped her hands to look inside the glass-like ice covering the water. She almost could see a face. The image seemed to grow closer to the surface. She wiggled her body across the ice to see more of the image. Just then the ice cracked from below her. She had not realized how far out she was, when she tried frantically to maneuver back to the snow banks for safety, it was too late; the ripples beneath the ice claimed her as their own.
In the years following the tragedy, her family and the town wondered where Caroleen Grogen had vanished to. Her disappearance was a true mystery. Her body had never been recovered. The only memories she left behind, was her imaginable stories about Pasmaqon, which lay on the bottom of her hope chest. The journals had been covered up with memorabilia from generation after generation, for no one who had seen the books and journals ever took an interest or wanted to know the secrets who danced along the pages.
Caroleen’s stories remain a mystery, for they have never been read……….
Whispers from the pages
Chapter 1
She could hear whispers coming from her parent's room calling her name. Her curiosity drew her into opening the trunk one more time. She lifted the trunk’s top, as she glanced over her shoulder to be sure no one was watching her thimble through her mother's things. Usually she wouldn't be secretive about such a move, but there is something in her mother's hope chest pulling her in. Her mother didn't allow her to go near the hope chest. She always told her there were too many old valuable family treasures. Harper, the eager girl she is, couldn't help but to take a peek time and time again. There were so many fascinating things in the secret chest, especially a book, a mysterious and mystical book, that stuck out to her. She pulled the old tattered book out and squeezed it under her shirt; she quickly shut the cover on the chest. She hastily moved through the house before anyone had a chance to follow her to her room. She opened her bedroom door and locked it behind her. She pulled herself up on the bed placing the book in front of her. She admired the calligraphy style print on the old leather binding it held an ancient wizardry look about the worn edges. The clasp around the book held a lock, but strangely enough the lock wasn't like any other lock. It was clasped around a small stone wedged into the leather and steel. The stone is reddish color which held strong into the leather trailed clasp. Harper tugged at the stone in hopes to ease the pressure. She continued trying to force the lock open. She tossed the book on her bed in frustration.
She sat on her bed in disgust looking down on the mysterious hardcover. The title stood out to her, but she was never able to pronounce the words. ' Shamans-Hatha Ka- AFI Fayeed Jayeed.' She spoke out loud not, knowing what the meaning was, nor how to pronounce the long winded title. She shook her head in hindrance as she hid the book under her bed.
She could hear footsteps down the hall as she quickly opened up her math book, as though she was studying. Her mother opened the door, and quickly was impressed of her ambition on a Friday night.
'Sweetie. Do you have a test?' Her mother asked.
'Yah, next Friday.' She told her as she disliked the thoughts of lying to her mother.
'Well, your dad needs help in the boat tomorrow. Do you think you would like to go out in the boat with him?' Her mother asked.
'Yeah, I'll go.' Harper looked at her and smiled.
'Well you better get some rest sweetie.' Her mother kissed her on the forehead and closed the door behind her.
She pulled out the book from beneath her bed once again. She pulled the drawer out from her night stand and pulled out a letter opener. She tried to pry open the clasp on the book in desperation of seeing what could be inside. She used all the strength she had and pushing and pushing onto the clasp. She wedged the stone back in forth; it suddenly flew across the room. She smiled at the delight of gaining the ownership of the stone. She picked it up and examined side to side and front to back. The stone began to shine. The streams of light brightened her room as she dropped the stone and watched it fade back to the normal color.
'What just happened?' She asked herself out loud.
She looked down on the book and realized, the stone didn't release the clasp of the book she put the stone in her nightstand drawer. She curled up in her bed knowing, the next day would bring lots of hard work. She closed her eyes and thought about the book and what could possibly be inside. 'Why would her mother have such a treasure?' She asked as she drifted off to sleep. It seemed as though her lids were beaming in light as, she opened her eyes to see the night stand brightened through the room with beams of radiant colors.
She quickly put her feet to the floor and hesitated to pull the drawer out. She tweaked open the drawer, the light blew through her room in vivid rays of color. She grabbed the stone and looked inside to see, the commotion. The colors seemed to dance in the dark, making her room seem like a disco ball.
She had heard her brother in the next room shuffling about; she stuffed the stone under her pillow, as she grabbed her old glow worm and placed it on her pillow to reflect the light. She pretended she was asleep when her brother opened the door to see what was glowing through the hallway...
'Hey! Are you awake?' He asked.
She continued to close her eyes as she heard the door close behind him. She looked under her pillow, to find the stone had gone back to its original color. She tucked it under her pillow and went to sleep.
She awoke to her father banging on her door for the urge of the early morning catch. She hastily dragged herself out of bed. She pulled on her fishing gear. She reached under her pillow and grabbed the stone. She took one last gaze and placed it in her coverall's pocket. She raced to the bathroom before her brother made it there first. She brushed her teeth and washed the night's dew from her face.
After she opened up the bathroom door to realize her brother was jouncing around about for the bathroom, it brought a tantalization relief, enough to hold her though out the day at least. She smiled at her conquer of annoyance and moved on to meet her father at the door with the days gear in his hand. They headed down the snow dusted stairs to the old 1980 Chevrolet. The lengthy day was amongst of the beginning.
They reached the boat ramps on the west side of Edmunds, where the old used boat sat in the rippling waves of the strong currents. She smiled as though she knew, the old boat made their living well. Her dad quickly pulled the dingy up to the landing, while she placed the supplies on the small boats bottom. She looked out amongst the shores which surrounded the tides of the gulf. She was excited to smell the sea salt air and trilled to bring home the days catch. They pulled up to the Marsha Darlene as she pulled the supplies in the lower deck. Her dad climbed in as he set the dingy for their later visit. She smiled as they reached deeper waters, then she remembered the strong wiping winds fringing up against every inch of her body. It burned through her body as though they were hundreds of ice needles poking deep reaching through the bottom of her frost bit toes. She reached for the rope, pulling through the pulley as the water turned to ice with each pace that it took above the sea water. She could smell the strong aroma of salted surface of the ocean's tides. She watched the sea gulls fly above as they tried to claim their catch, as their own. The loud gasp of desperation moved through their beaks as they hollowed across the bay. The sounds shrieked through the winds, the cold sounds reached down through her bones.
She then remembered why she hated going with her father on the cold winter days as she pulled the last trap onto the boat with her father's help. They opened the top to find one crab that was too small to keep and a hermit crab too cold to peek his head out of his shell. She took notice to her father's disappointment of the days' catch.
'Daddy, can I take him home to add him to my collection.' She asked as her cracked lips held her from smiling.
'Yeah, better than nothing at all.' He paused. 'What ya say, you ready to call it a day.' He looked at her with the forceful winds making chilled tracks across his face.
He walked to the bow of the boat and turning the wheel in the direction of home. She watched her dad as his large shoulders held up his red flannel jacket. His mustache wore a coat of sheeted ice his cheeks held a strong color of frost bitten red from the bitter cold, his blistered hands worn through his rubber gloves. His gruff voice held a gentle sound about it only she could understand.
'Come up here. We are going to go through the falls.' He spoke loud above the screaming engines below.
She held onto the front of the boat as tight as her cold hands would allow her to. She worried the falls may swallow them up whole; she frowned in thoughts of her grandfather's boat tales. She remembered the stories he had told her about the reversing falls. His stories always held much meaning and mystery to them in this particular story had always stood out. His words spoke loud in her memory. When her and her cousins were small, they fished with their grandfather's old fishing lines in a small dingy. She remembered her cousins always teased her about believing in all of grandpa's crazy stories. She almost could hear his words though the crashing waves below.
Fishermen were once swallowed by deep waves, held by the fierce gulps of the falls. The boat and the fishermen were never recovered from the brutal storms of the water. She thought of his words 'The Water Tornado, as her grandfather called it.' She began to talk aloud, some people say there is a hidden world under the falls and that's why the boat was never found. Some people say they can hear voices through the ripples of the whirlpools as though someone was always trying to warn them of danger or maybe seeking danger.
She looked over the side of the boat at the splashing waves beneath, had almost looked as though there was a sunshine below the water. It looked peaceful and inviting, but the bitter cold winds reminded her that it was the stilling cold winter. She watched the fierce waves beneath her, flames of fire whirled around and around, tossing the boat side to side. She could hear words of some kind over the loud splashing of the water up against the sides of the fishing vessel.
A ghost shrilling sound stood the hair up on her back. She leaned over the edge just a bit to listen to the estranged sounds that crept over the rolling waves. It seemed to be a picture floating in the water. A portrait of some kind, a portrait almost looked like a damaged piece of art. The closer the image floated to the surface the clearer it became. Not a portrait, but a man's face scarred and damaged, almost aged in the still water surrounding by waves. She couldn’t see a body attached to the face. The image was floating on its own. The water, distorted the image through the thinning of the surface. She continued watching the face image disappear below the surface of the rolling waves of the falls.
She squinted her eyes to see if she was seeing what she had thought she was seeing. When she opened her eyes wider, she found the man's face smiling up her. She jumped back holding her body up with her elbows and hands. She felt as though, she had seen a ghost, her hands clasped the ropes bordering the stern. She sat back onto the floor of the boat. Tears flowed down her face on her cheeks. Her eyes began to burn with the cold November winds. She shook her head hoping to forget the thought of the man in the water. She wiped the tears with her frozen gloves.
She pulled the gloves off for a moment, as she looked down to sea bright light coming from her overalls pockets. She pulled open her jacket to see that the stone was beaming in lights she quickly shut her coat up as she turned to her father.
'Grab the bait bags.' Her father hollowed through the deep whistling winds.
Her father pulled the boat closer to the wharf with his graft. He threw the days catch onto the sea worn wood of the wharf. She climbed over the side of the boat, grabbing the ropes of the wharf the waves splashing onto the sides of the wharf. She carried a heavy bucket towards the wharf walking against the heavy winds. She put the buckets on the back of the truck. She pulled her tired body onto the seat of the old rusted truck. She watched her dad drive the fishing vessel towards the dingy held up from the moorings. Her dad drove towards the wharf, climbing out holding the boats rope.
'Harper, Bring the truck and the trailer down so we can load this boat.' He yelled though the thick winter air.
Harper pushed her body into the driver's seat as she pulled the lever into reverse and backed the trailer down to the dingy. She watched though the back window as her dad drove the boat up onto the trailer. She gleamed as her dad rarely let her drive.
He threw the crate on the back of the truck and jumped into the driver seat.
'Good job on driving, Harper. Well, the days catch isn't what I expected, we will try again tomorrow.' He looked down putting the truck into gear.
They hit the snow dusted roads as they headed for home. She blew her warm breath onto her hands trying to warm her fingertips from the frost bite from her skin. She took her wool hat off and threw it on the old trucks worn seat.
'Dad, do you remember grandpa's stories about the lost fishermen?' Asking him with a small will of hope for some information
'Yeah, I was just a kid, I can barely remember the tragedy, but your grandpa's friends were lost at sea.' He told her as he turned the heat on high.
'He never told me his friends were on the boat.' She looked at him in surprise.
'No, he doesn’t let on.' He stared at the road trying to keep the trucks tires on the snow covered asphalt.
They drove up their driveway, dusk had settled above the tree line. The ice had formed glass among the pines. The banks of snow had puffed around the doorstep to their home. It was almost hard to make out the color of the old farm house as the drifts had concealed the color of the home and several spots of red and white sprinkled through the fluffy snow. Harper and her dad pulled their tired cold bodies out of the truck cab. Harper helped her dad carry the crates buckets to the garage. Her father looked disappointed from the days catch as he threw the seaweed over the crabs. Harper walked next to an old lobster tank and placed the hermit crab into his new home. She smiled at the tiny little crab.
'I will call you Arthur.' She continued to smile.
'I am starving, dad.' She held her stomach holding down the viscous growls.
'Let's go eat. I am sure your mother has something good.' He opened the door for her. They walked into the house smelling fresh biscuits and spaghetti sauce. Her mother smiled at Harper as she handed her a fresh wash cloth to wash off her hard day's work
'How was the water today?' Her mother asked.
She tucked her curly hair behind her ear. She held a special glow to her, sparkling when she smiled as they she had angels floating above her. She had a presence in her personality that cherished throughout her surroundings. Harper watched her as she perfectly placed all the food on the table.
'Supper is on the table.' She smiled.
'Ben, I am starving. Hurry up!' Harper screamed through the hall.
'Ben, come to the table.' Her father hollered across the small house.
'I am coming.' He said gruffly. He sat to the table wiping off the last bits of grease from his hands. He was a tall boy almost man. He held powerful muscles which lay perfectly true on his shoulders and arms. His hair a light brown stained with the latest job of working on the logging equipment just moments before.
'How did you make out in the woods today, Ben?' His father asked as the conversation held amongst the finest of politics.
'A rock got lodged into the chipper blades. I tried to get it out without breaking the whole blade.' He told him in a low toned grubbed voice.
'That's great, really great! We barley caught enough for nothing in the boat and now I got to take a day off to go to Bangor to get a new for saken blade.' He slammed down his fist on the table. The water in their glasses exploded out onto the table as the drops tinkled onto the finished pine.
'Darby, we will take care of it, its okay.' Her mother whispered as she put her hand on his raising her eyebrows.
He scowled at the thoughts of the misfortune.
'I just can't seem to win.' He paused. 'That's all.' He looked down at his plate.
'Do you want me and Harper to take the boat out and bring in the rest of the traps?' Ben spoke above his high words hoping to ease the burden of his father's pain.
'Yeah, that would be good. Ben, do you remember everything I taught you?' Darby grumbled.
'Yeah, I can handle it.' He spoke with a little sarcasm.
'Why don't you take your mother's car and go gets the parts? I will help put them on when I get back from the boat.' He muffled his voice.
They all separated after they ate. Harper followed her mother to help clean up after dinner.
'Mom, I saw something strange on the boat today.' She looked at her mother as she cleaned up the leftovers from the table top.
'What do you mean, Harper?' She looked at her with a curious face.
'We were going through the falls and I swore that I saw a face in the water. It almost looked like a painting that had been floating around forever, but it smiled at me, Mom.' She paused. 'Do you think I was imagining?' She asked.
'You know what your grandpa says, but I think you had a long day, sweetie.' Her mother smiled.
'I have the handle on the dishes, so why don't you get some rest.' Her mother smiled, kissing her good night.
Harper climbed in her bed thinking of the day, wondering what she had seen floating in the water. It almost seemed like someone was calling out to her. 'Why did I see it and my dad didn't?' She asked herself out loud in frustration. She snuggled into the pillow and pulled the homemade quilts around her chin, and then drifted off to sleep. She had thought of the day in her dreams as though someone was whispering to her, almost as if they didn't want anyone to hear them. The whispers grew louder and louder. She opened her eyes to be sure her brother wasn't playing a trick on her. She rolled towards the clock and realized it was 1:00 AM.
'I must have drifted off.' She told herself. She looked at the window where the moonlight had set in among her blinds enough to let a sweep of light gleaming though her room. She realized she was alone and it was just a dream. She snuggled in her blankets to try to fall asleep once again. She closed her eyes. Sounds hazed through the moonlight seeming to dominate the sounds in her room. It seemed someone or something wanted to be heard. Whispers grew stronger and stronger throughout her room boisterously screaming through her mind. She had tried to echo it out of her mind by humming profoundly. She tried to think of peaceful thoughts to echo out the blaring harmony.
The sounds seemed to relinquish through the darkened room. She opened her mouth to enhance the still air. The cold air had taken her breath away enough that she opened her eyes for another look around her room. She could hear her breaths elevate from her dry lips. The whispers seemed so distant, but still there. Her room became cold as, though the winter bitterness had snuck through her window.
She raised her covers up to her face. She peeked through expecting something to face her. The coldness off her breath rose as if it was the cold bitter fog sneaking through her skin and escaping out from her mouth. Her room seemed as though at was getting brighter and more intense as the coldness settled though to her bones. She felt like she was lying on the glaciers of ice in the Arctic. The estrange whispers grew into an extremely loud thumping noise throughout her surroundings. She could barely smother them with a humming sensation. She covered her head hoping to drown out the whispers and the hammering noises. She squeezed her eyes shut. There seemed to be a presence so strong she could feel it shrieked through her body. Frightened, she began to cry.
She closed her eyes as tight as she could, hold out the bright light. She clutched her ears of the loud sounds. She began to hum away nervously. She hummed as loud as she could until the sounds disappeared. She rubbed the tears from her eyes in disbelief.
'I was just imagining.' She told herself in reinsurance. She curled up in the fetal position into the small bed pulling the blankets around her body. She closed her eyes tight and pretended the sounds and the lights were only in her imagination.
She awoke to the morning sun shimmering through her sheer white curtain that was hanging lopsided in her window. She put her feet on the side of her bed hoping that nothing was peaking from underneath. She looked around her room. She worried that there would be a surprise lurking around each corner. She heard the shower running in the next room. She knew that she had to get ready for a long day of work on the boat. She sat on the bed pulling the blankets on her legs for protection from the winter winds that blew through the basement below.
Okay, So do me a favor, let me know you visited and leave a comment. Thank you so very much for being such a huge part of a dream I always wanted to conquer. It has been a rough road, but I am sure I will make the right turn soon. Thanks Again,
Happy Reading,
J.T. Brown
