New novella: The Orphan

I'm about to publish a novella that will form part of the Book of Being. As you may know, I'm writing real world stories A - Z, all with a bit of a magical/supernatural twist. So far there's the Artist, Bartender, Caregiver, Jeweller and the Student, and now Orphan will join in. Once all 26 letters of the alphabet are completed, voila, the Book of Being will be published as a collection.

Here's the cover, blurb and the Prologue for you to have a look meanwhile. After a final proofread, I will publish and share the link :)

An orphaned boy searches for a lost girl.

A woman abandons her new-born at a motel in the back of beyond. Adin grows up unloved, bullied, and no one remembers him. He doesn’t exist.

Until he sees a poster for a missing girl on a lamppost. There is an instant connection to little Sunflower, kidnapped for ransom, only to disappear after the money is paid. He exists because he must find her. Alone, he searches, a journey that takes him into the wild places, meeting along the way some interesting characters.

In dreams he speaks to her, for she is the one who will remember.

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Prologue

 

MY NAME IS ADIN. When you look at me you don’t see me. This state of invisibility isn’t the result of a magical spell. I am invisible to you because there is nothing in my face you will regard as remarkable, and I am therefore overlooked, passed over, even the slightest impression soon forgotten.

Right now, you’re probably thinking I have issues. Maybe you tell yourself I am complaining about being plain and commonplace. Perhaps you entertain the thought that I am so shy I keep to the background and therefore can’t blame others for ignoring me.

You may be right. You may also be wrong. Truth is, you know absolutely nothing about me. You are basing your judgements on a few words only. If you truly want to know the real me, and discover my why, my what, my how, you need to listen first and keep an open mind. Sometimes one learns more in the act of listening than years of turmoil is able to impart.

Ready?

Allow me to say it one more time.

When you look at me you don’t see me. I am unremarkable. Not plain; simply without memorable features, or thus you tell yourself. You may one night walk right by me on an empty street, and you are wary, you are alone, something can go wrong, and therefore you watch me approach, you seek to imprint my face into memory in the event … and then I have passed you by and you have already forgotten me.

I am not complaining. I am not shy. In fact, I celebrate my anonymity. Remember to keep an open mind! I am not criminally minded at all – yes, you did think I probably employ my ordinariness to nefarious ends, didn’t you? On the contrary, friend.

Do you want to know who I am, the real reason I am now telling you about myself? You do. This is why you are still with me and haven’t yet turned away and entered a state of forgetfulness.

My name is Adin. I have had many last names, and none now define me, so let’s put that aside for the present.

How old am I? This is difficult to accurately determine, although I do have a certificate giving a date. There is no true record of my birth, however, and no one has ever stepped up to claim the right of parentage. An unknown woman at one point fell pregnant, carried me, and eventually gave birth to me, and then vanished into the ether of obscurity.

Did she abandon me? Did she push me out in some filthy space and leave me without a name and a history, and move on? Or, and keep that mind open now, was she as forgettable as I am, and that is the real reason there is no record?

Those cogs in your mind are beginning to grind, aren’t they? You begin to suspect something else entirely may be at work here, but don’t judge yet. This is not the time to draw conclusions. First you need to hear my story.

I will now step back and remove myself from the immediacy of the telling. I will reveal to you my truth as if it happened and happens to another. Easier for you, yes, but mostly it simplifies emotional involvement for me. I may not be someone you remember after passing me on an empty street, but know that I do feel. I am emotional, and therefore it is easier to tell you my story as if it is the history of another.

This tale is set in a country you may recognise, but for anonymity’s sake I will not confirm it for you, and you will not find town and city names. Maybe it is set in a fantasy land. Maybe not.

Are you ready?

Turn the page.

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