I did it again. I entered a rafflecopter drawing for a spot in Brenda Drake’s new event The Writer’s Voice. I was randomly selected, of course, because my life isn’t crazy enough already, right? Omg.
They had nineteen minutes.
Nineteen minutes until the geomagnetic wave washed over the Earth, frying every electrical device created by humans, blacking out entire continents, every satellite in their sky.
Nineteen minutes to say goodbye to the world they knew forever, to prepare for a new Earth, a new Sun.
In this new world, all knowledge of the remaining technology is kept hidden by a privileged few – the Reticents. Alana, a disfigured slave girl, and Recks, a simple thief, find themselves in a struggle against this secret society to bring learning and books back to the human race. VESSEL is a 57,000 word, young adult dystopian novel.
I am a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and a graduate of the Institute of Children’s Literature. My publishing credits include a young adult contemporary novel due to be released in Summer 2013 by Featherweight Press. I can be reached at lcresswe at juno dot com . Thank you for the opportunity to share my work with you.
Lisa T. Cresswell
Master Dine’s kick sent me sprawling into the wall. There was a bloom of pain in my shoulder. That was nothing new, but my billa slipped, dangerously close to falling off. I grasped at the awkward headgear; a giant tent Master required me to wear over my head to hide my ugliness.
No one must see, was all I could think.
“It’s too hot, you stupid chit,” Master Dine yelled.
At seventeen, I was officially a woman and had been for awhile, but no one gave a slave girl that recognition.
“Now look what you’ve done,” he said. The clay teapot I had been pouring water over Master’s feet with lay shattered on the floor. “Clean it up, chit.”
I silently seethed at him as I collected the pieces. I wasn’t chit. I was Alana, name no one called me. Name I’d given myself. I cursed him under my billa, something he would never see behind the dark, black drapes that shrouded me from everyone. I prayed Mother Sun would do terrible things to him, something that didn’t make me feel any better.
“When you’re done with that, go help Master Tow. He’s expecting you.”
“But your bath?”
“I’ll do it myself,” Master Dine spat at me, as if he didn’t trust me, as if I hadn’t been washing his feet every morning since I was two.
Master Dine was old, nearly forty, one of the oldest men in our village, too mean to just die of flew fever like most old men.