So…this is kind of how I’ve felt for the past two weeks. Not that I’m ready for the semester to be over or anything, but slowing down would be nice. Have a little time to breathe. Oh well. You can breathe when you’re dead. Or…not….
Enough of that silliness, on to today’s post! I’m happy to be featuring N.D. Richman, author of MG action/adventure book “Brothers, Bullies, and Bad Guys”!
One troubled, the other trouble
One regrets, the other hates
One builds, the other destroys
Their parents are kidnapped in a home invasion and Christopher and Michael must unite or die in their quest to find them. Adventure turns to mystery when the brothers follow a hunch leading them over the Pacific Coast Mountains, across the ocean, and to a fortified island where they fight for their lives with tragic results.
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Chris gripped the grass under him, unsure whether to cower all night or dash for home, for his home scared him as much as the man in the tunnel. He peered over the hedge, across the street and into a playground. The castle beams were splintered, the bridge chains rusty, and the pea gravel overwhelmed with weeds. Inside a storm pipe set on its side to form a tunnel, a cigarette tip glowed, vanished, and glowed.
The man was driving a different car. Parked by the curb, a Cadillac CTS, it was black, or dark blue. As usual, he wore sunglasses, in spite of the dark. They reflected the orange glow of the cigarette, making a bug face when he took a drag. He would be wearing a hoodie. He always did.
Chris shuddered, swept his hair from his eyes, and mumbled, “Crawl or run?” He rose to a sprint position and watched. The orange tip glowed, swung down, and vanished.
“Two blocks,” Chris said. He sprang onto the road, blew by the park, and careened onto his street. Within seconds he leaped to the sidewalk, ran over his driveway and, skidding across the step, slammed into his front door. He punched in the five-digit code as fast as his heartbeat and vanished inside.
A floorboard creaked upstairs. Chris swallowed and looked up the stairwell. “Michael?”
Camping, hiking, fishing, hunting, and getting into trouble. What a great way to grow up. One of my favorite memories is sitting on the handlebars of my brother’s bike, my dog on my lap, as he careened down the steep mountain trails above our home in Kamloops, BC. My brother and I had caves, tree forts, frog filled ponds, and cactus patches to play in, and sling shots for protection. Somehow I survived my childhood and proudly moved on to fatherhood. My children, Christopher, Michael, Thomas, and Katherine, kindly donated their names, characters, and ideas to this series of books.
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