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car.cooper.7
Name of fiction
work?
Death Adjacent.
And were there other
names you considered that you would like to share with us? Lots of names! Some of them were: The Night
with No Moon, Their Romeo and Juliet Complex, Saving Shadows from the Night.
There may have been others but these are the ones that are off the top of my
head.
Fiction genre? Ex sciencefiction, short story, novella, romance, drama, plays, crime etc. And how many pages long? Adult Paranormal fiction, around 200 pages
Fiction genre? Ex sciencefiction, short story, novella, romance, drama, plays, crime etc. And how many pages long? Adult Paranormal fiction, around 200 pages
Has this been
published? And it is totally fine if the answer is no. If yes, what
publisher and what publication date? Self-published through Amazon Createspace which is now
called KDP. Published May of 2018 though the official release book
birthday is June 2018.
What is the date you began writing this piece of fiction and the date when you completely finished the piece of fiction? I began writing this in 2008 and completed it in 2017.
Where did you do most of your writing for this fiction work? And please describe in detail. And can you please include a photo? I was in grad school at the time so I did a lot of writing in classrooms and libraries up until graduation in 2011. I kept writing whenever, wherever until early 2017 when I decided to change the storyline completely. I mostly wrote the new story (that I ended up publishing) in cafes with members of my writing group. I don't have a picture. We frequented Khaldi's, Barnes and Noble, and Bread Co. (Above Right: Copyright permission granted by Jessica Mathews for this CRC Blog Post Only)
What is the summary
of your fiction work? When you can't die, what do you live
for?
Right after the goddess of the
moon regains consciousness in the middle of her autopsy, her murderer greets
her in the form of a demon and tries to kill her again. Fighting for her life,
Selene is flooded with memories from a past she would rather forget.
When
Selene remembers she is the daughter of Cleopatra and the twin sister of
Alexander the Great, she also remembers her family secrets and tragedies.
Selene discovers she has been cursed with a second soul. When she realizes that
it’s her brother who cursed her, Selene starts using spells from the Book of
the Dead to set the parts of her past she remembers right. Will her faulty
memories cause more harm than good?
One
thing is certain: If Selene doesn’t set things straight before her mother
unleashes the powers of the Underworld to enslave humanity, Selene may never
die again.
Please include
excerpt and include page numbers as reference. The excerpt can be as
short or as long as you prefer. My excerpt is the first
chapter of the novel:
My story begins and ends in the same place,
though I’m none too happy about it. Just once when I die I’d like to stay dead.
Thoughts of my afterlife left my body making room for the new breaths I needed
to take to kick start my consciousness and vital organs again. My eyes popped
open on the third exhale.
Damn. Where was I this time?
Ice pressed against my spine, a combination of
the stainless steel table I laid on and a sub-zero room temperature suffocating
the paper-thin sheet that pretended to cover me. I drifted in and out of
consciousness only semi-aware of what was happening to my body. I spent my
conscious moments willing my limbs to move rather unsuccessfully. The intermingling
smells of decay and military-grade disinfectant felt like fire being forced
down my throat. My eyes burned from the causticity making them water until they
were wide with horror at the sick realization of what was happening to me.
Tears screamed down my cheeks in two white hot lines marring my complexion. A
figure, still a shadow to my blurry eyes, didn’t notice my tears or my pain at
waking up alive yet again. It moved above me, going about its business, not
caring that I existed below.
Since the first time I died I’ve only existed
in the below, the in between of life and death. These were the kind of shadows
the living stay out of if they want to continue living, the same shadows the
things that hate the light avoid because they know I exist there. And that I am
hunting them.
My body was still paralyzed and my pulse no
longer barely palpable. My heartbeat was getting stronger. Blood rushed to my
ears in an attempt to deafen me. My anxiety rose in my chest to help my
heartbeat undo all of the work I had just done in an effort to leave this
place.
The shadow was so close I heard its heart
pulsating to the rhythms of the job it was rendering. Cologne and sweat were
strong enough to catch in my throat. A familiar faint red tinge slowly creeped
up my neck towards my face.
I was naked. Shit. Took me long enough to
figure that out. This was the slowest I had ever come back from a death.
However I died must have been bad if it was taking this long for me to come
back. A whiff of cologne brought me back to being naked. Why was I naked? Where
was I? What was this guy doing to me?
Being naked is so unmistakable you would know
it even if you were dead. It’s also embarrassing as hell. Especially if you’re
a carb-loving woman of traditional Italian descent like me. It’s the one thing
I don’t do even when I’m alone. When your body is nothing but a freak show of
lumpy body parts and thin white cellulite lines racing thick pink scars all
over the surface of your skin, you don’t jump at the opportunity to show people
what’s under your clothes. There aren’t many people jumping at the chance to
take a peek either. Who was this guy and what did he want from me? When I could
move again there would be hell to pay for sure.
My eyes cleared. I no longer had the cataract of death clouding my sight. Or my
judgment.
A man in scrubs and too many layers of plastic
protective gear lurched over me like Dr. Frankenstein on a good night, knife in
one surgically gloved hand, muttering to himself (probably about which body
part he needed to take from me to complete his arson-phobic monster). A gloved
hand, resolute in its obligation to its master, brushed my right shoulder. I
could feel the warmth emanating from the man’s body through the sheer layer of
latex that kept our skin from touching. Through the warmth, I sensed this man
was cold, calculating even, when it came to performing his duty.
He pinned me down, pressing my back further
against the stainless steel table using little force or effort. He didn’t have
to exert much power or energy in my direction. I wasn’t going anywhere and he
knew it. He expected me to comply because no one had resisted him before. I
didn’t complain. I couldn’t. I couldn’t cry out, scream or run. I didn’t panic
until I felt the blade he held slice open my skin with vigor and precision.
Three swift strokes wielded by a deft hand
This was his job and he was good at it. Judging
by his thinning gray hair and the wrinkles around his dead eyes, this had been
his job for twenty some-odd years before I graced his table. It would probably
be his job for another twenty some-odd years after me if his overweight body
didn’t give out first.
I finally realized what was happening. Give me
a break, people! This was my first autopsy.
The medical examiner had done this so many
times before he didn’t even have to look at me to know where to cut. Or maybe
dead people didn’t normally complain if his lines weren’t exactly even.
Great, more scars to add to my growing
collection.
Usually, when I die, I wake up in whatever dark hole I had just spent the night
sending a demon slinking back to. This was the first time I’d woken up in a
morgue being treated like a proper dead person. This was also the first time I
couldn’t remember how I died.
That old adage about there being a first time
for everything was really sticking in my craw here. For those of you who aren’t
southerners like I am, what I mean to say is that I was getting really pissed
off. Don’t worry, being a little pissed off and a little hungry all the time was
my normal temperature. If you ever meet me in person you’d figure that out
pretty quick.
Now that I was properly motivated by anger, I
had to get up and take care of some business. No longer able to play the part
of the corpse in this sick charade, I willed my limbs to move. My body was
healing rapidly and just returning to normal. The Y incision the doctor had so
carefully made to open my chest became a crude V shape. The medical examiner’s
face switched from bored rote memory to utter shock when he saw my lackluster
performance as a stiff.
He clutched his chest, smearing my blood on his
white lab coat with his right hand. He was sweating so much his light blue
dress shirt was soaked through, which was a feat in and of itself since the
room we were in was only about fifty-five degrees below zero. I guess I was the
freshest corpse he had ever seen. His face turned beet red (which I resented
because I was the one who was naked in front
of a stranger). He licked his lips and gasped for air.
My eyes followed his name tag swinging back and
forth in front of my face, briefly hypnotizing me. Dr. Albert Morton, Southern
Provincial Hospital. I was back in town? I vaguely remembered being in the city
doing… something. Getting into trouble apparently. How did I get here? Why
couldn’t I remember anything from last night? I usually remembered.
Was it even still last night or had I actually
been dead for a lot longer than I thought? How long can someone be dead before
they just couldn’t come back from it at all? Was this an alternate death
reality? This sure as shit wasn’t heaven. It didn’t seem all that hellish
either. I’d been through worse than freezing my tits off during an autopsy. Not
remembering what happened to me was actually worse than surviving my first
autopsy. Maybe I didn’t want my story to end with an autopsy after all.
Especially if there was a chance I might survive it.
I came out of my reverie in time to watch the
good doctor fall to the tiled floor. I heard his body crack as he landed on the
cream-colored tiles. His limp body covered the drain stopping my blood from
being washed away. I felt almost relieved by the fact that I couldn’t be thrown
away so easily.
I have to admit I almost left him on the floor.
I mean here I was struggling to live through my autopsy and
this joker was the one who was havin’ a freakin’ heart attack! Just what I
needed, me naked, bleeding and having to perform CPR on this guy so I wouldn’t
feel like the shittiest person alive for letting him die. I probably shouldn’t
have done CPR on the guy. I wasn’t too sure I was doing it right. I hadn’t been
certified in years. I fell into it pretty easy though. I think it’s just like
what people say about riding a bike. You never forget. I mean I’m pretty sure
what I was doing to the medical examiner was CPR. Like I said though, it had
been a while.
Of course, the medical examiner’s assistant had
to walk in on the most awkward version of the tango known to man. My boobs were
bouncing erratically as I pummeled the heavy-set man’s chest. The medical
examiner’s assistant just stood there mouth gaping like he had never seen a
corpse perform CPR. Well, I guess he hadn’t or I wouldn’t be the only undead
unknown in town.
To my knowledge there was no one else that
existed like me. It was sometimes a lonely feeling. I mean, would I outlive
everyone I knew and loved? Or did I have a certain number of deaths like a cat?
I didn’t know my exact number. I know in the past year I had died more than
nine times so I was guessing I wasn’t infused with feline blood.
“I’m Mitch. I’m your biggest fan. Asylum’s Assassin is
my favorite comic book of all time.” The assistant stepped closer holding out
his hand.
Oh, great, a fanboy. Just what I always wanted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.” I turned away from the assistant
and back to the dying guy I was starting to get tired of trying to save. “Give
me your lab coat.” I turned back to the assistant as an afterthought. Despite
the exercise I was letting my body suffer through at the moment, my core body
temperature was not increasing. I was still freezing and uncomfortable.
The assistant looked about
twelve years old. He had a sweet half-cocked smile that showed off a dimple on
one side. His blond hair was styled in a beach bum wave. There weren’t any
beaches around here for hundreds of miles. The kid was out of place in a big way.
My senses were starting to come back to me. Something wasn’t right here.
Something about Mitch was so very off. I struggled to remember any
of the training I had gone through after my first death.
I stopped doing CPR on the
medical examiner. I hadn’t gotten a pulse yet and it had been too long. Even if
I were able to revive him now he would have significant brain damage. I knew
his death wasn’t entirely my fault. That didn’t change things. I was tired of
losing humans on my watch. Demons I didn’t mind losing so much.
Mitch was no boy scout.
Hell, Mitch wasn’t even human. Just the way I liked my men- evil and about to
die. My training kicked back in. I registered the stench of Sulphur rolling off
Mitch with enough abundance to make me gag. I caught the red glint in his
irises before they went back to brown. I’m sure the real Mitch was a sweet kid.
Now, his body was filled to the brim with demon spawn. Not for long.
“Mitch was it?” I stepped
backward over the medical examiner’s corpse. There was a set of instruments he
had used on me to perform my autopsy that would come in handy when this whole
thing with my ‘biggest fan’ went sour in a big way.
“Don’t worry, Selene, I
won’t tell anyone. No one will even know you were here.” Mitch dropped the cute
act forming a smile on his face I knew contained some version of evil I
couldn’t be bothered with right now.
I really didn’t have time
for this shit. Did I mention I was still naked and still not close enough to
the medical instruments to grab one?
“So you know how I got
here? The last thing I remember, I was in the city dancing.” My eyes darted
from Mitch to the autopsy table and back again. I was crouched low ready to
sprint to the table. There was too much distance between me and the table and
not enough between me and Mitch.
Mitch followed my gaze and
laughed. “My master brought you here. You’ve been known to cheat death. I was
assigned to finish the job.” Mitch didn’t lunge at me like I thought he would.
Instead, he went for the only thing in this room either one of us could use as
a weapon.
He threw a scalpel at me.
I stood to let it hit me in the shoulder. It hurt like a son of a bitch. At
least I had a weapon now. My shoulder only bled a little before the wound
closed up. I had a feeling this was going to be one of those wounds that hurts
more during cold snaps than they do when you first come by them. Oh, well, I’ll
just add it to my growing collection.
I twirled the scalpel in
my right hand and shrugged. It was now or never. I charged demon Mitch dodging
the rest of the medical equipment Mitch decided to throw.
“Jesus, Selene! Why is it
every time I see you you’re either naked or killing someone?”
I was this close to
stabbing Mitch in the eye with my scalpel when a familiar voice interrupted us
causing us to both turn toward the sound. A portly man in a tan sheriff uniform
ran his left hand through his thinning hair unable to smooth out the grimace
that contorted his face. I shrugged in response and used my left hand to push
Mitch’s cheek away from me. I figured Mitch would look fashion forward in a
Columbian necktie. I readied my right hand tightening my grip on the scalpel.
“Give me a minute,
Sheriff. Mitch and I have to conclude our business.” I turned back to Mitch.
He dodged my scalpel to
the throat maneuver.
“Come on, man, my ride
back to Vampireville is here.” I swiped the scalpel in Mitch’s general
direction again. He was too fast for my just-back-from-the-dead reflexes. The
scalpel cut the air in front of me and nothing else.
“Selene, you know how
everyone hates when you call Asylum ‘Vampireville.’” I could hear the sheriff
talking, I wasn’t looking in his direction. He was somewhere behind me probably
fidgeting like a squirrel with a nut.
I was trying to focus on
Mitch. The same Mitch who pretended to be a medical examiner’s assistant just
to make sure I didn’t come back from the dead. The same Mitch that was a demon
disguised as a human. The same Mitch whose disguise wasn’t even that good but I
had let it slide because I had just woken up during my autopsy. I shouldn’t
have let it slide. Now, I was going to slide this blade down Mitch’s throat.
“Come on, Selene, I heard
you were better than this.” Mitch bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet,
taunting me.
I hated it when the demon
I was hunting had worse ADHD than me. I needed this kid to be still for five
seconds so I could kill him. This death had been harder on me than any other I
had experienced since the first time I died. I wasn’t bouncing back like I
normally did. I wanted to know why. The more pressing matter was the demon
blocking my view of Larry by stretching his arms as wide as they would go.
I didn’t need an easier
target than the one in front of me. I vaulted toward Mitch letting the scalpel
move where it willed. Mitch laughed and jumped out of the way. This super-speed
shit was getting old. The scalpel sliced open part of Mitch’s shirt revealing
part of a tattoo. A tattoo I had seen before.
I stopped cold as the
memory of the last time I had seen that tattoo washed panic over my entire
being. I couldn’t see the woman clearly. Her black hair stood out because her
short hair was cut into a bob and was topped with a crown that looked like a
striking snake. The woman’s face was blurry. I felt like I knew she would not
be kind if she caught me staring at her. Like I had met her before and just
couldn’t place her. On her right wrist, under several bangle bracelets, was the
same tattoo Mitch had. I recognized the Eye of Horus from a history class I had
taken once. This eye was not traditionally drawn. This eye was closed in open
defiance of everything Horus stood for.
Somewhere in the distance
I heard shouting and two loud noises that sounded like gunshots. I had pain in
my abdomen that came on too fast to stop. I took a few gulping breaths as I
looked up. Mitch was lying on the floor. Or rather, his clothes were lying on
the floor shrouding a pile of charcoal colored ash. Sheriff Larry Baker was
standing over the clothed ash pile holding his service revolver. Darn. I wanted
to be the one to kill a demon today. The thought that someone should sweep up
what was left of Mitch crossed my mind. I imagined Larry getting a broom and
sweeping Mitch into a dust pan. I may have giggled at that point. I’m not sure.
I was well on my way to dying again.
“Dammit, Selene!” Larry
cursed loud enough to create an echo in the mostly empty room that deafened me.
I winced from the noise.
“What happened?” I was totally yelling. Larry must have fired the gun at close
range to me. I couldn’t tell if one of my eardrums had burst or not. The pain
in my abdomen dictated all thoughts at the moment.
Larry caught me as I fell
to the floor. “I’m sorry I shot you, Selene. One of the bullets that hit that
demon must have been a through and through.”
Larry grabbed the sheet
that had covered me earlier during my autopsy and covered me with it again. I
could hear Larry swear. I smiled. Some of the made up cuss words he was saying
now were things he taught me a few months ago when we were trapped in the back
of a semi-truck headed south to be sold on the black market. We had a lot of
fun killing folk that night.
My head was spinning. I had lost too much blood to keep my eyes
open. Larry must have hit something vital. Some parts of the body take longer
to regenerate than others. “Larry,” I grabbed the collar of his standard issue
sheriff uniform and pulled his ear closer to my mouth. “I remembered,” I
whispered before dying. Again.
Why is this excerpt
so emotional for you? And can you describe your own emotional experience
of writing this specific excerpt? When telling a story, you are supposed to begin at the
beginning. When writing a story, you can start anywhere as long as the story
ends up with a beginning, middle and end when you are finished.
This is an
emotional excerpt for me because this is the first story where I wrote the
beginning scene first. Since inception in 2008, the opening scene has never
changed. It has gone through revisions and multiple drafts for sure, but the
essence of the scene has not changed.
It is my favorite part of the
entire book
and the part I have the most history with. Originally, this book was something
else entirely. I changed scene after scene multiple times. I changed the
storyline multiple times. In every draft through the final draft, Selene (not
her original first name ten years ago) has always woken up in the morgue. Only
what she has done after waking up in the morgue and the story thereafter has
changed.
It is my favorite part of the
www.jessicamathewsbooks.com
INSIDE THE EMOTION OF
FICTION links
001 11 15 2018 Nathaniel Kaine’s
Thriller Novel
John
Hunter – The Veteran
002 11 18 2018 Ed Protzzel’s
Futuristic/Mystery/Thriller
The
Antiquities Dealer
003 11 23 2018 Janice Seagraves’s
Science
Fiction Romance
Exodus
Arcon
004 11 29 2018 Christian Fennell’s
Literary
Fiction Novel
The
Fiddler in the Night
005 12 02 2018 Jessica Mathews’s
Adult Paranormal Romance
Adult Paranormal Romance
Death
Adjacent
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