The launch of Closed Hearts is here!! To celebrate and generate excitement, Susan has organized an awesome festival of flash-fiction bonus content! Enjoy!!
The CONTEST OFFICIALLY BEGINS TONIGHT AT MIDNIGHT, so come back tomorrow for active links. I'm a bit early. Don't worry, though, my post will be up all day Wednesday. :)
by Susan Kaye Quinn
[Ed. Note: In celebration of the release of my novel Closed Hearts, I've created bonus content that relates to the Mindjack Trilogy. This bonus content arises from the story time between Open Minds (Bk#1) and Closed Hearts (Bk#2) - it's not terribly spoiler-ish, but you'll enjoy it more if you've read Open Minds already.]
For those who don't know, flash fiction is just a really
short story - meant to be read in a flash (although it takes considerably
longer to write). Hemingway's famous flash fiction (which may
be an urban myth) tells (or evokes) an entire story in just six
words: Baby Shoes. Never Worn. For Sale.
There are few (if any) rules about flash fiction. Generally, it's supposed to be shorter than a short story, which is usually 2,000-10,000 words, making flash the king of the 6-1,999 word domain. And generally speaking, it should tell a story, rather than be a vignette (a scene or possibly a mood piece where there is much literary feeling but not so much a plot).
This bit of Mindjack Flash Fiction (Leaving Gurnee) is arguably a vignette: it represents a scene that occurs between books in the trilogy. But it's told from a different POV (Xander, the 12-year-old changeling that Kira rescues), and I think it encapsulates the story of his character. Plus it has a beginning, middle, and end. I guess you can judge for yourself ... :)
* Leaving Gurnee weighs in at 1155 words
by Susan Kaye Quinn
Xander didn’t sense the clan of mindjackers until it was too
late.
Their minds plunged into his, making him fall to his knees.
They jacked further into his head, and the soft living room carpet rushed up to
meet his face. Through the ragged strands that tangled with his eyelashes, he
saw Mrs. Moore hovering over her husband, who had slumped on the couch. The
sim-cast Mr. Moore had been watching—Famous American Mindreaders of the
21st Century—still played soundlessly on the
wall screen.
The jackers were in control of Xander’s body, but it still
jerked involuntarily with the crack-slam sound echoing up the stairs from the
first level of the house. Under the circumstances, crashing down the front door
seemed a little dramatic. After all, they could have jacked someone to open the
door for them and saved the Moore’s home from being damaged.
But Xander had a feeling that inflicting damage was why they
were here, just like the haters who had trampled their lawn last week.
From his vantage point on the floor, he couldn’t see the
boots stomping up the stairs, but they must have arrived at the top, judging by
the way that Mrs. Moore jerked up from crying over her husband.
Run! Xander thought, but the jackers who
had disabled his body—he could feel two of them firmly in his head—kept him
from reaching out with his mind to link his thoughts to her. And his mouth was
busy spilling drool on the carpet. He mentally pushed as hard as he could on
the two mindjackers in his head, but they weren’t going anywhere.
Why hadn’t they jacked Mrs. Moore? She was just a
mindreader, which meant she was easier to jack than him—Xander at least had
some ability to push back. Three bulky figures in long, dark trench coats
strode into his field of vision. They didn’t touch her, but Mrs. Moore dropped
to the floor all the same, writhing in some kind of pain. Maybe it was only
mental pain, not physical, but his wimpy twelve-year-old muscles wouldn’t do
much good against them, even if he wasn’t paralyzed on the carpet and mentally
locked inside his own head. Two of the clan members bent over Mr. Moore, and
blue sparks arced from a small metallic device they held against his neck:
tasing him, as if knocking him out wasn’t enough. The third jacker crossed his
arms and watched Mrs. Moore’s dance of pain on the floor. A tear slid down to
the carpet, blurring Xander’s vision.
At least Kira wasn’t home.
One of the jackers in his head seized on that thought,
wrenching it up to the forefront of Xander’s mind.
No, no, no, Xander thought.
Don’t think about her. Don’t think about her. He fought
against the rock-hard presence of the jackers embedded in his brain, but it was
like beating a boulder with a feather. Then Xander realized, with a sick
hollowing out of his stomach, why they hadn’t just knocked him out. They must
be looking for her: Kira, the world famous jacker that had
rescued him and the other changelings from Agent Kestrel’s experimental lab.
She had literally saved his life. She was the big sister he never had, and now
was his chance to repay her. Protect her.
Only he couldn’t keep the jackers out of his head.
Boots stepped in front of his face, just inches from his
nose, the leather tips smelling of spring rain from outside. Xander almost
wished they would kick him in the face, rather than whatever they planned to do
to his mind. Rough hands grasped him by the shoulder, and a thick muscular arm
lurked under the sleeve of the jacker’s trench coat. Xander couldn’t see his
face, not that he wanted to.
Where is she? Where is Kira Moore? The
thoughts rang like commands in his head, but he resisted the compulsion that
rippled through his mind to answer them. Tell
them.
Xander mustered a focused thought and threw it at
them. Why don’t you jack yourself?
Both jackers pressed deeper, and Xander gagged on their
bitter mind-scents—the normal flavor of each jacker’s mind was overwhelmed with
a sour bite of anger. A slithering feeling, like a snake crawling down his
throat, made his insides twist as they probed through his memories. Searching,
searching, replaying his memories like sim-casts on the screen of his mind. He
tried throwing up old memories and deflecting the jackers into thoughts about
Kira in other places. Not where she is now. Not where she is
now.
But it was no use. He knew that. He could try to fight them,
but they would get whatever answers they wanted out of him. There were five of
them, and only two were in his head. The other three were menacing Mrs. Moore,
probably searching for the same information. Being a mindreader, she was even
less able to hold them off than he was. Xander’s body convulsed, and he heard a
pathetic-sounding moan escape from his paralyzed lips as they tunneled deeper.
WHERE IS
SHE?
The command forced an image up from the depths of his
memories. Gurnee’s Warren Township High School. Kira at band practice. The band
room was crisp and clear in his head: Kira had taken him there, after she had
brought him back to live with her family. After she had opened her home to him
when his own mother didn’t want him back, once she found out he was a
mindjacker. Kira’s family had welcomed him like he was their own son, and here
he was, his thoughts betraying Kira with her own kindness.
Xander dry heaved as they pulled back, leaving him panting
on the floor. Feeling slowly seeped back into his limbs. They had what they
needed and quickly stomped down the stairs.
He rolled over on his side, his hands shaking, his fingers
barely under his control. He thrust his hand in his pants pocket, the one now
free from the floor, and painfully curled his fingers around his phone. Pulling
it out, he used both hands to find the power button to switch it on. He didn’t
bother using his hands after that, just jacked into the mindware interface on
the phone and sent a scrit message as fast as the software would take
it.
Jacker clan. Coming for you. Leave school. Don’t
come home.
He dropped the phone on the carpet and rolled back to look
at Kira’s parents. Mr. Moore was still passed out, and Mrs. Moore was crying
over his body, probably wondering if he was dead or not. Xander didn’t
know if his scrit would arrive in time to save Kira. But if nothing else, he
would get her parents out of the house and make sure they were safely hidden
away.
In case the jacker clan decided to come back for
more.
~~*~~
When you control
minds,
only your heart can be used against
you.
Bestselling YA novel Open Minds, Book One of the Mindjack Trilogy,
is available on Amazon, Barnes and
Noble,
and iTunes. The
sequel Closed Hearts has just been released. Susan Kaye Quinn's
business card says "Author and Rocket Scientist," but she mostly
plays on Twitter, Facebook,
and Pinterest.
CLICK
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9 comments:
Thanks so much for hosting, Shannon! :)
Congrats to Susan! It sounds so interesting! =D
Congrats to Susan! So excited for her.
Congratulations to Susan--how exciting!
Yay!
Hi,
I have a quick question about your blog, do you think you could email me?
David
LOVE this flash fiction! And I loved OPEN MINDS! I can hardly wait to read Closed Hearts.
I would rather be able to jack minds, that way I could keep others from jacking mine!
I'm very much looking forward to reading book 2. The first one was a great read :)
Angela
Shoot! Missed the party. Gmail has begun sending Goodreads to my spam folder - grrrrrrr! If I'm going to miss awesome stuff like this may have to switch to yahoo.
See ya next time - hopefully.
Cheers! Trayce
Thanks to everyone who stopped by and made launch day so much fun! :)
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