Hello Everyone! Today I am VERY,VERY excited to participate in the release day celebrations for one of my pals Author C.P. Bialois! His long awaited The Last World releases today!
So make sure to go grab your copy now available on Amazon and also join in the release day fun over at the Official Release Event For Jamie White & CP Bialois! The fun will kick off from 5pm-8pm on Face Book! The event is celebrating the release of C.P. Bialois’s Last World and Jamie White’s Stains On The Soul (Pagan Writers Press). The event is being organized by Publicist Vicki Rose Stewart! Join the fun here: Official Release Event For Jamie White & CP Bialois!
Please check out the deets and excerpt below!
Ed White, AKA CP Bialois, is a former retail manager and jack of all trades turned author. One of the original members of the Writer’s Club, Ed currently has five books published and is part of an anthology under his pen name CP Bialois. His first novel, Call of Poseidon, is available in the Broward County Library system. Always willing to help, Ed offers his time to edit his fellow Writer’s Club members’ books as well as help his fellow authors in their endeavors. When not in the library writing, Ed can be found on twitter @cpbialois, Facebook CP Bialois, and his blog cpbialois.wordpress.com.
THE LAST WORLD
Franklin Bowen was an ordinary man with anger management issues until one day he finds himself drawn into something he never believed possible. Thinking he’s lost his mind, he resists the urging of a mysterious figure named Tanok who only appears to him in visions.
After seeing the desolation brought upon the immense interstellar human empire by a virus from a neighboring galaxy, Franklin is forced to reconsider his belief in what is real in order to help Tanok save mankind from extinction.
Will Franklin find the strength he needs to persevere, or will the Earth and its people follow what’s left of his sanity?
With the field appearing the same no matter where he looked, he was about to call it quits and walk to town when he tripped. Letting out a startled cry, Franklin landed on his hands and knees. The scraping sounds of the grass combined with its semi-smooth texture were the only sensations he noticed. Not a single bird or animal made its presence known.
Of course not, you idiot! He pushed himself onto his knees. There weren’t any birds close to him and he thought it was weird that he focused on such a thing. He remembered reading somewhere that the brain did strange things sometimes. Aside from thinking odd thoughts, he was also curious as to what he tripped over. While his knowledge of farming — and country life in general — was wanting, he did know the feeling of something solid. He was sure it wasn’t a rock of some kind. Whatever tripped him wasn’t too heavy or fixed into the ground. More curious than angry, Franklin worked to regain his footing. The odd angle he landed at was due more to the textile strength of the crops than his own physical design. His struggle reminded him of a waterbed for as much as he tried, he couldn’t separate himself from the crops as they followed his vertical efforts.
“Everything tries to reach the sun.” It was another of his mom’s sayings she was fond of using when starting her yearly work in her garden. Those were some of the few times Franklin remembered her truly happy and at peace. He’d seen her happy many other times, but it was a different level. As good as she was to him, Franklin often wondered why she seemed to always be in a good mood while also in turmoil. His confusion on the topic lasted until his fifteenth birthday when he began to understand about his own devil and peace.
After regaining his footing, Franklin crouched over where he tripped and pushed aside the plants. It took him a few seconds to realize he’d be lucky to fall over the object a second time. No matter how many times he pawed at the grain, he only caught a brief glimpse of the ground. He began to resent throwing his tire iron into the field, but most of all he resented the fact he was there to start with. Just when he was about to lose control of his temper, he pushed aside another patch of the crop and spied what had tripped him.
“Well, I’ll be…” His voice trailed off and his temper dissipated when he saw the object. The single-bar tire iron landed with its wedge end stuck into the ground causing the angled, hexagonal end to form a perfect metallic snare. Reaching with his free hand, he grasped the cool metal and pulled it free. A smile appeared where a grimace was set a few seconds before. He began the trek back to his car whistling a tune he heard in some B-rated 70s horror film. It looked like his luck was beginning to change… now if only he could get that damn lock off his tire.
Behind him, an object streaked through the blue sky. Its grayish-silver skin kept it hidden from skyward turned eyes. Not a single sound marked its approach until it slammed into the field with a deafening thump. The impact sent a tidal wave of earth and plants hurtling from its central point. The force wave preceding the wave of dirt struck Franklin from behind, knocking him the final few feet forward and into the side of his car. The impact knocked the wind from him and a handful of pops were the last thing he heard before blackness took him. His limp form was pelted with dirt, stones, and remnants of the crops.