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The Awakening [MultiFormat]
eBook by Eugen M. Bacon
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$0.95 |
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$0.81 |
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$0.52 |
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eBook Category: Erotica/Erotic Science Fiction/Science Fiction
eBook Description:  She swoops him, knees him, throws him, chokes him ... Leaves purple bruises bigger than grapefruit on his skin. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu has plenty in it, especially when linked to therapy: adults only. Caution, the heart. It takes radical measures to heal drastic pain--Liam Keen knows.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Darling Press, 2005
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2006
18 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [40 KB]
, ePub (EPUB) [42 KB]
, Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [26 KB]
, Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [251 KB]
, Palm Doc (PDB) [28 KB]
, Microsoft Reader (LIT) [84 KB]
, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [100 KB]
, hiebook (KML) [117 KB]
, Sony Reader (LRF) [58 KB]
, iSilo (PDB) [23 KB]
, Mobipocket (PRC) [29 KB]
, Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [57 KB]
, OEBFF Format (IMP) [41 KB]
Words: 7731
Reading time: 22-30 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
"Human emotions pour out ... the almost lyrical prose made it flow and pop with a rhythm that kept you reading. I recommend this to those who like a good, fast paced, mystical read. 3 Coffee Cups!"--Jenn, Coffee Time
SUMMER SOUNDS OF SINGING CICADAS filled the air. A red box chocolate selection (bite size) lay scattered on the road. Heart-shapes soaked and melted in warm crimson. Liam Keen lifted off the ground. He looked from a distance at mangled remains of him--meat, blood and bone--wedged around tyre, glass and metal. He felt no emotion seeing himself like that. But he knew at once that he was dead.
A blonde woman with a bleeding face, driver of the Roaditor Turbo, a four-wheel jumbo, was dead too. Tossed through the windshield, impaled on a stump growing by the wayside. Her powdered cheek was gashed to white bone. Bits of bloodied wood protruded through a jagged gap in her back. Torn flesh and blood hung from the stub's spear. Sticky puddles spread from purple grass and crept along the road, as the malevolent spike of wood faced a lime sky overhead. Streaks of cloud waded towards a golden sun in the horizon.
The world around and beyond Liam moved at normal pace. No crowd gathered, three-people thick to amaze at death. Two streets away, Hoochi Mama was baking fresh cinnamon bread. Cabbies leaned lazily by their yellow cars chewing gum as if it were cud. Forlorn cigarette butts stuck out of green, silver-capped rubbish bins. A curly-haired male carried shopping bags marked 'Neutral Planet' in both hands. He gave the accident scene a passing glance and crossed the road. Cyclists and cars diverted to unaffected streets. A woman with bouncy hair walked her dog, as skimpy clad joggers ran this way and that past a revolving fountain sprinkling crystal water. Only naked mannequins stared in shocked silence from the perspective of a shop window.
Well, thought Liam with wry humour. Not like I woke up in a morgue smelling of formaldehyde. He grinned to himself, amused at the magical indifference of the Metropolis. And he contemplated how it all began...
* * * *
Might have been easier if they'd fought. If Audrey were tight-faced and screaming, shrew-like and hurtling abuse that not only goaded but stuck. Abuse that returned to haunt in little bursts: in the stillness of foam in a bathtub, between pages of a novel, inside a moving train, in the heart of a dream.
He might have understood if, as he held her head down by the hair to subdue her and she punched girly fists into his ribs, she said it. Or if she threw something at his face and it bounced off his cheek, cracked on the floor and, as he touched his flaming skin, she said it.
Perhaps if her face had been tight as an arsehole, lips pouted like the mouth of a fish, bold hurt expanding in her eyes ... Or if he beat her so bad that she was rainbow and tender all over, her upper lip big as a plum, rounder and redder even, violet rings swelling around her slit eye where his fist had quietened her ... Or if she was beat up so bad and, as cops pressed him into the back of a car, she said it with bloodshot eyes and teary words--it might have made more sense.
But there was no fight. No precedent.
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