Afterlife Sample Chapters are posted!!!!!!!!!!!

Below are links to the first ever samples of Afterlife ever posted. Critique if you would like, and better yet, tell your friends LOL

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Afterlife Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The night was clean and crisp, with a full view of the sky - dark black with bits of light sparkling through so clearly that it looked like dust thrown against a velvet curtain. A full moon was out, although it lost its red tint, and it filled the world with dim white light, chasing the darker of the shadows to bay. That and the slight breeze was enough to make for a perfect outing. Oz and Zig had joined Mark for pizza and soda, witnessed the awesomeness that was the first three Friday The 13th movies, and then set up camp outside for ghost stories. Halloween was a ways off yet, but hey, why not start celebrating early?

The tent was a full four person tent, and they used the extra space to hold a large bowl of purchased candy as well as a TV and the Playstation 2. They had all the best candy brands: Nerds, Sweet tarts, Butterfingers, Smartees, and even Twizzlers - though they weren’t quite as good as the old red licorice sticks. It was a dentist’s dream. Zig, being the connoisseur, had chosen the candy, and it was concluded by all that he had done so wisely. They stared into the TV as the video game intro started up, and oohed and awed over the graphics. No sleepover was complete without the electrically charged colors and digital audio tracks of the most recently released ‘Slasher Brothers 4: Grocery Store Massacres’.

Oz played first, as he was the expert with this particular game, while Zig and Mark watched intensely. The game was about an entire town that had been over run by zombies created by some sort of genetically engineered virus. He was in a really intense part, where the whole game was silent, and somewhere, deep in the pixilated shadows of video game cyber space, a monster was lurking, hunting them. They all moved closer to the screen, their eyes wide, waiting, anticipating, knowing that there would be a jump-out-at-ya part soon. Finally it came - a crash of a brick through a virtual game window, and all three jumped, then started laughing, pointing at each other.

"Ah ha ha you jumped!" Zig pointed at Mark laughing.

"So did you! Dude I think you farted too," Mark said, holding his nose. Zig laughed harder, and sure enough, there was another small explosion - not from the game, but from beneath Zig.

"Oh dude! Nasty!" Oz yelled, holding his nose. Zig laughed harder, and fanned the blankets, making the fumes waft up.

"Don't do that! Aw man, that's rank! Seriously man, no more pizza-with-everything-on-it for you," Mark said, moving to unzip one of the tent's 'windows'. The tent had two of them - a hatch that opened up to a white screen mesh that was fine enough to keep bugs out and let air in.

"Oh god, I never wanted air so bad in my life, " Oz said, pausing his game and moving towards the window that Mark crouched at, pulling the air in as fast as he could.

"It wasn't that bad!"

"Of course it's not that bad to you - everyone likes their own brand," Oz said.

"Watch enough Austin Powers lately?" Zig said.

"Yeah I just saw - " Oz started to say but stopped when there was a loud crack out in the woods just a mere twenty feet away from their tent. Oz's eyes grew wide, and he looked at Mark.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I think it came from the woods by the river," Mark said.

"Yeah no kidding- " Oz said, and another snap echoed harshly through the trees. Mark and Oz held each other's gaze, holding their breath, waiting to hear another snap, when something brushed the side wall of the tent that they leaned near. Oz yelped and jumped back away from the wall. No one moved for a moment, and all was still and silent.

"Get off of me or I am going to fart again," Zig said, pushing Oz.

"What the heck was that? I mean, something touched the tent, man. I didn't imagine that," Oz said, looking at Mark for an explanation. Mark shrugged.

"I don't know. It could have been an animal or something. Zig's fart might have been something like the same smell as some mating juices for a squirrel or something," Mark said.

"Watch it, or you will get another chance to smell it," Zig said, smirking.

"I didn't think squirrels could break big sticks like that," Oz said.

"How do you know it was a big stick?" Zig asked.

"Well, it sounded loud, a big snap like that. It sounded like a freaking branch," Oz said.

"We should go check it out," Mark said, moving towards the entrance of the tent and reaching for the zipper.

"Yeah! Only wait, we need some kind of weapon. Zig, head out in front of us, butt first," Oz said, laughing. Zig threw a Smartee at him.

"Hey watch it stink-meister you don’t want me to rip a big ole juicy -" Oz started to say, but stopped when something else brushed the opposite side of the tent wall again. For a moment they all sat in silence, staring at the wall, waiting. Mark swallowed hard and moved away from the entrance of the tent.

Something grabbed the spine that went through the top of the tent and started pulling it up and down quickly, making the walls and the ceiling billow in and out. It was violent and hard - nothing a mere squirrel could do. All three boys screamed, and raced over each other to get to the entrance. Mark was first, bursting out in to the dark, wet, grass, running full speed toward the house. Oz and Zig stumbled out next, also running at full speed, screaming from behind Mark.

The sound of laughter stopped them, and they spun around. Standing there, next to the tent with her hand on the top of it, was Kate, dressed for bed, laughing so hard she that was doubled over. She wore white footed pajamas with small orange rabbits all over it. They all looked at each other, then back at her, not sure what to make of it.

"HEY!" Zig yelled and started to stomp towards her, his fists balled up at his sides, "That wasn’t funny!"

"Are… you... kidding... me?" Kate said, regaining herself slowly, "That was hilarious! I never thought I would ever see three older boys scream like little girls. All that because of little old me."

"You could have given us a heart attack!" Oz yelled.

"Well, just consider that payback," she said and stuck out her hand. "Truce? We’re even now." Oz stared at her incredulously, and turned his head away from her, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Aw come on, at least I rescued you from the smell in there. I heard Zig's fart all the way out here," she said, smiling.

"How did you know it was me?" Zig said. She gave him the do-I-look-like-I’m-stupid look.

"Oh come on Zig, just cuz I am a girl doesn't mean I’m slow," she said.

"Uh huh, well you never told us your name," Zig said, in some kind of strange and weak defense.

"I told Mark. And I remembered all of your names," Kate said. The two boys looked at Mark like he had just given away their position to the enemy and had accepted a bribe of bananas for it.

"Her name is Kate. She shouted it out to me after you guys left," Mark said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Oz asked.

"Aren't you?" Kate responded.

"We are on a camp out," Zig said.

"Well now I am on a camp out with you," Kate said, smiling.

"No way, no girls allowed!" Oz said. Mark turned and looked at him.

“Since when?”

“Since… forever. We’ve never had girls over before,” Oz said.

“That’s because no girl ever wanted to hang out with us,” Mark said. Oz opened his mouth to protest, then closed it abruptly, realizing he was right.

“But, I don’t think my mom would be cool with a chick staying in the tent with us,“ Mark said.

"Come on be fair - she put up with my fart, and she actually scared us enough to make us scream. I'd say she’s passed the tests," Zig said.

“It’s cool with me, as long as my mom doesn’t find out,” Mark said, glancing up at the darkened house.

"Oh, and no girlie crap. That’s just too weird," Oz said.

"Like what?" Kate asked.

"Like... I don't know, anything girlie. You know. Girlie stuff," Oz said.

"Uh… Ok. I guess. So what's with the extension cord?" Kate asked sticking her head inside the tent. She saw the TV and the PS2 and started to laugh.

"Really roughing it out here, aren't you?" she said over her shoulder to them.

"Hey, a man's got to have his video games and candy," Zig said.

"I see. Well, what are you playing?" Kate asked. Mark started to walk towards her, intent on showing her the games they had. No matter what, no girl was cool enough to like video games and scary ones at that. Girls simply weren’t cool enough. Had he ever gotten the chance to say so, he would have learned that he was wrong - Kate loved scary games, and action games, and most games that boys would like. But before he could take more than two steps towards her, a bright square of light lit up the grass at his feet. He stopped and stared at the light on the ground as it flickered and danced before he realized that the source of the light was above him.

He glanced up and saw his Uncle Saul's bedroom beaming so much white light it looked like it was trying to direct ships at sea. The light would flicker, sometimes completely going out, and then coming right back up. There was nothing in Uncle Saul's room that could have made such a bright light, not that Mark knew of. He stared for a few moments, when the terrified face of his Uncle appeared at the window. His Uncle screamed - not a play scream, but a real blood-boiling scream, and then something fast and strong ripped his Uncle away from the window.

"Oh-my-God," Mark said in one fast breath and ran towards the house.

"What the hell?" Zig said

“Something’s happening to my Uncle Saul up there!” Mark screamed as he reached the back door to the house. The others looked up to the window just in time to see Uncle Saul’s hand land on the glass of the window, then get pulled away. Zig shot up like a sprinter, almost slipping in the grass, and reached the patio with Oz and Kate following.

They burst through the door, ignoring its jarring slam into the wall and pounded their way through the kitchen and into the living room. They went up the stairs like a pack of stampeding elephants, causing a lot of noise. Mark couldn't believe that his mom hadn't awoken. The screams were horrible, like the ones in the movies they had watched earlier, but far more real. They made Mark wince each time one came bleating down the hallway. When they reached the landing, they stopped. Down the hall, under the door way of his Uncle's room, Mark saw the flickering light.

"Uncle Saul!" Mark yelled and ran down the hall way.

"Mark! What in God's name – “ Mark’s mom said, bursting from her bedroom, catching him midway to his uncle’s door. She was mad, but sharp as ever for someone who had just awoken from sleep.

"Something’s wrong with Uncle Saul!" he said, cutting her off.

"What do you mean?" she asked, just as one of the screams echoed down the hallway.

"Something crazy is going on in his room Mrs. Stone - There is something in the room struggling with Uncle Saul, and there is a bunch of -" Oz blurted out, but was stopped by Mark saying "I don't have time for this!" and tearing aware from his mom's grasp.

"Mark, come back here!" his mom yelled, running after Mark. Her eyes grew wide when she saw the light and heard the crashing from Uncle Saul's room.

"What in holy heaven is going on here?" she asked, mostly to herself, as the rest of the crew followed Mark to the door. Mark frantically turned the handle and pounded on the door to his uncle’s room, calling his name at the same time. The door was locked from the inside, and the handle wouldn’t budge.

"I'm calling the police Mark, don't worry!" his mom said and scuttled off into her room. Mark didn't even hear her as he continued his regiment of pounding on his Uncle's door.

"Let me in! Uncle Saul, unlock the door!" Mark yelled, then backed up.

"Look out guys, I am going through it," Mark said readying himself.

"Uh no. Let me," Zig said and moved Mark out of the way. Oz flanked the side of the doorframe, ready to pounce in when it was open, while Kate said something about going to check on his mom. Mark’s mother ran back out into the hallway, phone to her ear, just as Zig hit the door. The brittle door frame exploded inwards, showering splinters and sending the door flying into the room. The large kid fell flat on his stomach as Mark and Oz ran in. The sight that greeted them was of complete and total chaos.

The bed was flipped upside down, lamps on the floor were sparking threateningly, and feathers were blowing through the air like a pre-winter snow storm in the unnatural wind that was raging in the room. Uncle Saul's chest of drawers was missing every drawer - their contents strewn about the room like a bomb had gone off. Wooden splinters were everywhere, some impaled into the plaster walls like arrow shafts in a target, but among all of this, it was the full length mirror that had sat opposite of Uncle Saul's bed for ten years that captured Mark’s attention.

It still stood upright, in all of its beautiful and ornate design. Out of the center of the mirror came the body of a woman, half in, and half inside the mirror. She was a living nightmare – something that had crawled out of every one of their horror movies and materialized in real life. She had skin the color of paper. Her long black hair was matted and stringy, covering portions of her face and back. Her ribs showed through her thin body, like a starving dog. But it was her face that was worst of all. Bruised and battered, with deep dark circles around the eyes, she was no beauty queen. Her lips were split and through the deeply sunken cheeks, oozing and dripping black blood. Her tongue was extraordinarily long and stuck out between two sets of rotted pointed teeth. The eyes were the worst, with a solid black iris, and a reddish-orange pupil. The rest of the eye was white and lined with blue veins.

Upon their arrival into the door, the face turned and stared at Mark, hissing. In one outstretched and dangerously talon-tipped hand, she held Uncle Saul by his throat, two feet above the floorboards. He kicked and tried to grab the claws that wrapped around his neck, but it looked like it was useless.

"Let go of him!" Mark blurted out. Oz and Zig looked at Mark, mouths open, frozen to the spot, then back at the mirror.

Mark stomped towards the creature. He had to do something but in his blind fear he didn’t know what. Uncle Saul's face was turning purple and his eyes were rolling into the back of his head – Mark had to act now. He moved forward and grabbed the woman’s arm. It was slick and cold – clammy like a gallon of milk that had just come out of the fridge. He struggled but couldn’t budge her grip on his uncle.

At that moment, Mark's mother stepped into the doorway along with Kate, still holding the phone to her ear. When she saw Uncle Saul, she shrieked and dropped the phone. Kate stood as did Oz and Zig, rooted to the ground staring at the scene before them.

"Help me!" Mark screamed over his shoulder, "Help me get her off of him!" Mark sent a kick towards the creature’s exposed ribs when another talon-tipped claw came out of the mirror. Suddenly Mark was sent flying into the thin doors of Uncle Saul's closet. The two boys moved in, and grabbed Uncle Saul's middle, trying to pull him down. They didn’t seem to see the same thing in the mirror that Mark saw.

"It's not working, something is holding him up!" Oz screamed over the power of the wind that seemed to be everywhere in the room, but no where else. Mark was recovering from the blow and trying to stand when the thing in the mirror slammed its free hand into Uncle Saul's chest. Uncle Saul's eyes closed and his head tilted back as the creature ripped her hand back out. But instead of a bloody heart, like Mark expected to see, out came a bluish white light. It was a sphere, held in the center of the creature’s hand – twirling and twisting. She dropped Uncle Saul's limp body on Oz and Zig, and began to retract into the mirror.

"No!" Mark screamed, and lunged for the mirror. He gripped the creature's hand just as most of the face disappeared, but the eyes stared back, the red pupils moving within their dark irises. There was a moment of surprise on its face when Mark touched it, then with a high pitched laugh, it jerked free and slid beneath the water-like, rippling surface of the mirror.

At once, the wind stopped, the light went away, and all was still. Mark stood, staring at his own reflection in the now-solidified mirror. Somewhere in the distance, as the feathers floated down to the floor, sirens rang out.

Sample Chapters Posted

Ok after much waiting, here are the first two chapters of Afterlife. This novel is meant for Young Adults ages 10 - 18, aimed mostly at 12-14 year olds. Comments and critiques are not only wanted, but loved, even if they are harsh. Show no fear, I love the advice!

I am splitting these into two chapters, and posting links on the sides of the Blog for easy navigation. Have fun!

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Afterlife: Oblivion Awakens

Chapter 1

The hot days of summer kicked off with a bang in the beginning of June for kids all over the Midwest – that being the sound of school doors crashing open, ringing out cries of jubilation from happy children everywhere. It was the start of the two month period where everyday was a sleep-in day and there was no mention of books, homework, or class schedules. Kids rejoiced, parents moaned.

Among the ruckus and chaos of the great escape, three boys walked along the paved roads away from the school and towards their homes, blissfully unaware of the horrid events that lay before them. Mark Stone, one of these three and the oldest (but only by a few months, the others would be quick to point out) kicks a rock down the street as they make their summer plans known.

"I don't care what else we do, but this summer we have to go into that house next door to you. It's been empty ever since the Fergusens died, and we gotta go in there and see if there is any blood or brains left on the walls," Zig said to Mark. Zig’s real name was Chester, but he picked up the nickname in elementary school for his zigzagging means of running the bases in P.E. He was heavier than a lot of kids his age, with short cropped dark hair. Word around town is that Zig would make a great football player one day, but he’s bored by anything played without a bat and pitcher and so sneers at the idea.

"There won't be any blood on the walls, Zig. The police and authorities would have cleaned that up. Besides, I think it’s disrespectful to intrude like that. It's like a gravesite, and God only knows what we would be pissing off by barging in uninvited," Oz said, kicking a rock down the two lane highway that made most of Main street. Oz, whose nickname comes from a love of the Wizard of Oz movie, is the group expert on all things strange and scary. As such, his room is filled with all sorts of horror and sci-fi memorabilia. He stands the tallest, and the thinnest, of the three, with lots of curly hair, and a particularly bright white complexion.

Mark looked at the ground as they walked, his thumbs tucked behind the straps of his backpack. "Plus I think that would be considered breaking and entering, Zig," Mark said. Mark was an average everyday fourteen year old kid, with shoulder length brown hair was well kept, but still ‘cool’. His skin was blessedly clear most of the time and his soft eyes made girls melt, although he didn’t know it. He wore baggy clothes, but not too baggy. He was smart - all A's and B's, but not to the somewhat nerdy level Oz was aspiring to. His only love in sports was Baseball – which had been his father’s favorite.

These three best friends had been inseparable since Mark moved into the town of Asherton as a small child, and this summer would not be any different. Oz looked up at the sky, aware that even though it was three in the afternoon, he could still see the dim outline of the full moon in the sky. He shaded his eyes and looked closer, wondering if the red tint he saw was a trick of the bright sunlight, or the omen of death.

“What’re you looking at?” Mark asked.

“Moon’s out, and it’s red,” Oz answered.

“What’s that mean?”

“Dunno. I think it means something about someone will die tonight.”

“People die everyday, all over the world. It’s not much of a revelation,” Mark said, looking at the moon as well. It did look a little red. Zig turned and walked backwards, facing the other two.

"Look, it’s not breaking and entering if no one knows we're there. Come on guys, we have said we are going to do it for the last three years, and each time someone has chickened out. I am starting to think that you guys are scared of it or something," Zig said.

They turned the corner, into the residential section of town. Mark lived the closest to the river, and the main road. Zig lived two blocks past that, and Oz across the street from Zig. Luckily for them, the blocks were small. As they turned the corner, Mark and Oz stopped, staring straight ahead.

"I don't think we will need to worry about it anymore," Mark said, pointing. "Look." Zig turned around, and saw a large truck in front of the house next door to Mark’s. Bob's Movers and Trucks was written on the side. Two tall and dirty men were pulling furniture and boxes from the trailer. The real estate sign that had stood in the front yard for nearly three years had a sold sign on the top of it. The sign itself was so faded from the sun, that the picture of Mrs. Rice was nearly impossible to see.

"Holy crap dude, someone is moving in!" Zig shouted, stating the obvious. He seemed to have a good knack for that, and called upon this ability often.

"Come on, let's go see what kind of freak would want to live in a house where people were murdered," Zig said and started for the moving truck. Mark and Oz followed, both in quiet awe of the spectacle before them. The movers were attempting to drag a heavy dark green sofa out of the truck and down the ramp, grunting and breathing hard. As one of them stepped into the street, he farted loudly, sending Zig into giggles, and making Oz and Mark smile at each other.

"I can do better than that, kid," the sweaty mover said. Zig waved him away and stared up into the house, whose front door was wide open, like a mouth in the midst of a yawn. It seemed as though it were stretching out the last three years of its slumber.

"Remember what the papers said? Blood all over, two of the bodies were decapitated. I don't think they ever found the murderer, but they also never found that Fergusen girl. What was her name? Nancy?" Oz said. Mark was quietly staring into the windows. He remembered the first time he had heard the stories. It made him close his blinds; his bedroom window looked down upon the bedroom where one of the headless bodies was found, or so he’d been told.

"I mean seriously, that’s some bogus stuff, and you know that the realtor couldn't have just let that slip her mind. I mean dude, the whole town has to know about that. Probably the whole state," Oz said, his eyes not leaving the house.

"What kind of freak would want to live in a house like that?" Zig said, echoing his earlier statement.

"A freak like me," came a girl's voice from around the other side of the truck. She stepped out from behind it, dressed in a black tee shirt, and a black short skirt. She was about their age, Mark guessed, with shoulder length straight brown hair, and pale skin. Her eyes were sad, Mark thought.

"Whoa, a girl!" Zig said, and jumped away from her as though she were on fire.

"You were expecting something else? A vampire perhaps? A serial killer?" she said, her eyebrows coming together with an irritated look.

"Vampires only come out at night-" Oz started, but was hushed when the look was shot his way.

"Excuse him," Mark said stepping over to Zig, "Sometimes he forgets and just says whatever falls out of his little brain. My name is Mark." Mark offered her his hand, and she regarded it as though he were trying to hand her something green and vile. After an awkward few moments, he let his hand fall back to his side. She looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then looked back to Zig.

"Who are these other two stooges?" she asked.

Zig, who wasn't in the least bit offended, stepped forward with a big smile and stuck out his hand saying," I'm Zig. That's not my real name, but everyone calls me that." She stared at Zig like he was some kind of amusing science fair project, and ignored his hand as well. Oz returned her annoyed look and didn't answer.

"What's the matter, smarty, too good to talk to a girl?" she said.

"No," Oz said sneering, "I just resent the comment that I one of the three stooges."

"Well I resent being called a freak," she sneered back.

"Hey, I didn't call you a freak, Zig did. Don't take it out on me!"

"Well you didn't argue with him."

"Well, you are moving into the murder house, after all. The one and only massacre that this little town has ever seen happened in your house. So how were we supposed to know?" Oz shot back at her. She only glared at him. Mark stepped towards her and held up his hands in defeat.

"We didn't mean to offend anyone. It took us by surprise that someone was living here," Mark said.

"What are you, Super Boy? Apology not accepted. Get out of my yard," she said and started to stomp away, her arms crossed over her chest. Mark looked down and shook his head.

"Fiesty one, she is, " Zig said, trying his best Sean Connery accent.

"Hey, anyway, I gotta get home guys. Mom asked me to clean the kitchen. You still comin’ over tonight?" Mark said. The others nodded and muttered their goodbyes. Halfway across the lawn to his house, his mind already starting the night's camp out, the girl called to him again.

"Hey super boy!"

Mark stopped and turned around. She was standing on the front porch, her arms around one of the posts.

"My name is Kate. Don't go away with your tail between your legs – we are going to be seeing a lot of each other. We do live next door, after all," she said smiling, and gave him a wink. With that she turned and walked back into her house. Mark shook his head again. God, what is WRONG with girls?, he thought as he went to his porch.

His mind drifted again - monster movie marathon was on tonight plus they were going to do a spooky camp out afterwards, but only if he got the dishes done and the house picked up before his mom got home. Plus his Uncle Saul wanted him to help with something in his closet. That meant another long, drawn out story of how he saw a ghost one time, or a werewolf down the street, or a vampire in the cemetery. Mark had learned over the years to just nod and smile. It was the easiest way out of the situation - putting up any argument was an invitation for another hour of debate on why things like that can't really be real.

His uncle wasn't old, somewhere in his mid fifties, but after Mark’s aunt died ten years ago, he had come to live with them. It was either that, or he would have been locked in a looney bin. His mind, Mark’s Mom said, had just slipped. Outrageous stories of monsters poured out of Uncle Saul's mouth to anyone who would listen. And each time he swore they were true. He kept all these weird trinkets and charms in his room, and once a week, on Saturday, he went down to the local 'magic' store to buy something else.

Today his uncle was standing on the front porch, regarding the scene of the new neighbors moving in by rubbing on his gray and white beard. He seemed very intrigued by all the excitement, and at the same time, like a peeping tom, watching from behind the visual protection of a front porch column.

"Hey Uncle Saul, " Mark said, walking up the steps to the front porch.

“Girl likes ya,” Saul said. Mark rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I could see that with her warm smile and invitation to tea,” Mark said sarcastically. Uncle Saul frowned.

“You’ll see, maybe, one day. Women are tricky creatures.”

“I think I sort of know all about that,” Mark said, and Uncle Saul laughed.

"They shouldn't be moving into that place. That is one nasty house. Bad blood in that spot, dude," Uncle Saul said. Mark hated it when he talked like this. Not the surfer talk - Uncle Saul had lived most of his life on the California beaches - but the ‘cursed’ and ‘mysterious’ talk.

"It's fine, Uncle Saul. I am sure they have some sort of priest or someone bless it," Mark said, a sigh of long suffering in his voice. Uncle Saul turned around to face him.

"We'll see dude, we'll see. I know what happened there and I don't like it," he said following Mark through the door into the house.

"Did Mom say when she was going to be home tonight?" Mark asked, dropping his back pack on the floor and removing his shoes. His mom insisted that everyone take their shoes off when they entered the house. Of course, Uncle Saul was immune to this rule, and walked around wearing whatever he pleased.

"She left a note on the fridge. Said that she had to go shopping, and not to forget the dishes in the dishwasher that need to be put back. She underlined 'properly'," Uncle Saul said, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"Great," Mark said, then, "I suppose you have made more dishes for me to collect around the house and put in the sink?"

"No way dude, I put them in the dishwasher."

"You mean the dishwasher that had clean dishes in it?"

"Looked dirty to me, dude," Uncle Saul said, picking up the newspaper and rummaging through it. Mark closed his eyes and clenched his fists in an effort to keep himself from saying something that would surely get him grounded later.

"I ran it last night, of course they are clean," Mark said, looking at the back of his Uncle's head as he opened the dishwasher. His Uncle laid down the paper. Without turning to Mark, he spoke.

“Look at them. Don't they still look dirty to you?"

Mark looked at the dishes and was surprised to find that they were indeed all covered with stuck on food particles. Either he really hadn't run it the night before, or something was broken. The tell tale sign of dried soap spilling from the soap holder in the dishwasher door told him that it was busted. This could mean one of two things - either it was awesome and he was off the hook for putting the dishes away, or he would have to wash them all by hand and then put them away.

"You're going to have to wash them by hand dude," Uncle Saul said as if reading Mark's thoughts, "I found it shooting suds out of the vents last night. So see, I already knew it was busted. I’ll help. I need to talk to you about something anyway." Mark rolled his eyes, both for the not-so-surprising news of hand washing the dishes and for the feeling of an oncoming story. Uncle Saul was great around Halloween, but it just kept on going – Halloween or not.

"Ok, I’ll fill the sink," Mark said as Uncle Saul came over and put on a pair of bright pink rubber gloves. Mark stopped and looked at them, his head tilted to the side, and then erupted in laughter. Uncle Saul stopped midways of putting on Mark's Mom's flowery apron, and looked at the boy with steady eyes.

"What?"

"You’re seriously going to wear those gloves and mom’s apron to do dishes with me?"

"Yes. What's wrong with that? I don’t want to get dishwater on my nice clean shirt, or my hands all wrinkly in the dishwater."

"But they're pink, and flowery," Mark said, giggling.

"Dude, pink is cool man. And chicks dig flowers," Uncle Saul said, although he couldn't fully compress the smile spreading across his face. Mark kept laughing. When he was more composed and the sink full of dishes, Uncle Saul spoke.

"Look dude, I know that you think the stories I tell you are all made up, and I know it bugs you. I know that I bug you, and that you put up with it a lot -"

"Uncle Saul you don't have to -"

"No I don't. Just let me say my bit and then you can tell me what you think. I just wanted to say that I tell you the stuff I think you need to know. I don't have any kids, and I think of you as my own. I know I am nothing compared to your dad, and by God I wish he was still here, but I try to be part of your life, " Uncle Saul said, washing a plate and splashing soapy water all over the place, including the floors. Mark was silent, not knowing what to say or do. He always had a hard time knowing how to act in sappy moments.

"You're not a bad guy, Uncle Saul. It's just that... those things you say are true, are like right out of the movies. They are way over the top - I mean, come on, seeing real ghosts in the graveyard? I have walked through there for years with Oz and Zig, and I have never seen anything other than spider webs and cats looking for mice. I don't know. They were cool when I was little, but now they are getting a little bit old, you know?" Mark said, not looking at his uncle, keeping his eyes focused on the soapy sewage he was sticking his hands in.

"You have grown up into a great young man that your mom and I are very proud of. But that doesn't mean that those things aren't real to me. In any case, I am going to stop with the stories. No need for me to torture you or your friends any more, " Uncle Saul said, stopping to examine a big chunk of what used to be spaghetti but was now more like concrete, stuck to a plate.

"Ok, I am cool with that."

"One last thing though, I have a box in the closet I want you to help me get to this weekend. It won’t take much of your time. I think your mom wanted me to throw some of it out but, there is stuff in it for you. Stuff that I have been waiting to give you until you were old enough. I think you are now. It has to do with your dad."

"My dad?” Mark asked. Uncle Saul nodded, and slopped more soapy water all over the place.

“Cool, I can do that. Tonight the guys are coming over and we are doing monster movies, then a camp out in the backyard. Probably pizza and soda for dinner tonight too. So maybe tomorrow I can get that for you?"

"OK. Hey we gotta get these done before your mom comes home. I don't think she is going to be in a great mood when she finds out about the dishwasher being broken. That's like the third time this month, and she doesn't want to buy a new one."

“Tell me about it,” Mark said, sighing. It was him that got to clean the dishes by hand each time it broke. Each time right after spaghetti too – like the spaghetti was cursed to destroy the dishwasher. Cursed spaghetti – he would have to remember to tell that one to Oz.

Mark’s mom hadn't been happy when she got home, but she didn’t go completely ballistic when she saw the dishes were cleaned and put away. With a long suffering sigh that said she knew she would be up all night, Mark was allowed to invite his friends over.

Chapters 1 & 2

I have gone ahead and rewritten the first two chapters of the opening of Afterlife. I let it sit for nearly 2 months while I worked on other projects. Yesterday I went back to it, and re-read those first two chapters. The first thing I asked was "Where am I?". My voice, the one I have been writing with more recently, was missing. It was like I was trying to write a business letter or something, rather than fiction.

So I rewrote it, and am now going through another round of edits on it with my lovely beta reader and the master reader. Once they are through, hopefully this week, I will post them here, and you can get a taste of what this storyline is about.

Marketing

Oh and Karen Syed has a fantastic post about marking on the Life of a Publisher blog that can be found here .

Have fun and learn something.

The Process

Hmm.

It's true what they say - the best thing to do when editing is to sit the manuscript aside for a couple of months then come back to it. I basically did that, although not voluntarily, and wow it was eye opening.

I think I have improved quite a bit since I wrote afterlife book 1. And that means more editing, but my beautiful beta reader is on it. My voice comes out more in the prose, and hell, I think I am just better at painting a decent scene than I was then. It wasn't that long ago.

So I say again, thank GOD for my beta reader. I think I should take her out to dinner (again).

Writing is an ever evolving craft I find. I don't know if that is true for all writers, but it has been for me so far.

Editing is back up!

The edits are moving right along now, with my lovely beta reader knocking out more pages on a daily basis.

Soon, the afterlife series will see the light of day! Muhahahahah

And then the second novel in the series can start up. Stay Tuned!