Amber
Prelude
Amber
Gifts
Prequel
Kevin
B. Henry
Genre: Fantasy, Time Travel,
Science Fiction, and History
Publisher: Burst/ Champagne
Books
Date of Publication: June 01, 2015
Word Count: 20,000
Formats available: eBook, PDF
Cover Artist: Ellie Smith
Book Description:
Mitchell didn't really believe the
story the Man told him, Just take a sip and speak a year. He whimsically chose
a historic event to witness. Little did he know he would become part of that
history. Faster than you can say Teithwyr Amser our man Mitchell is chasing a
bona fide assassin not only across America but across time.
Amber Prelude will require Mitchell
to travel from the America he knows to France and Africa. He will travel to
decades and centuries he is unfamiliar with. Mitchell will chase authentic
villains and make historic friends, all in an attempt to set history back the
way he remembers.
Excerpt
1963: New Mexico
It had started
simply. I uncapped the vial, drank the liquid, and spoke the year I had chosen
aloud. The room spun. I dissolved.
I anticipated
nothing happening. I began by sitting at the old wooden table feeling numb. My
expectations extended to looking for shelter the following morning. Maybe I
would move under a bridge for a short time; maybe I would do something much
worse to myself.
I’d experienced
severely morbid thoughts for months. Moving often transformed me. A nightmarish combination of a manic and
depressed person was all I had been until the vial. It continued for months,
and I expected it to continue forever. What I didn’t expect was a twisting
feeling in my chest and lower abdomen. It wasn’t painful, just an unusual
feeling. I didn’t expect the room to blur. I blinked several times, but it
wasn’t my eyes; the room was blurry. Soon the room ceased to exist.
I had not spent
long hours considering the year I would move to. I flippantly selected 1963. It
would give me almost ten years before my birth moment and I vanished from the
universe forever. The Man was specific about not existing past my birth moment.
It would give me a chance to see some of the most tumultuous years in America,
civil rights marches, hippies, the moon landing. My choice of year would give
me a chance to stand at Dealey Plaza and personally see if there was a second
shooter. It was a shallow choice, but it was the best I could come up with.
My first thought
as the world congealed around me was that I had said something wrong. Had I
said 1863? It was night. The stars above me were crisp and clear. Sagebrush
surrounded me in all directions. Gone were the smells of the city. My senses
absorbed a clean, fresh smell. This was how I remembered the world use to be. A
scrub oak blended with the evening shadows just a few feet to my right. To my
left was a light in the distance, a campfire. The flames created dancing
shadows on the two trees surrounding the fire. Someone sat next to the fire,
stirring the flames, sparks rising into the starry sky.
I walked toward
the fire. I didn’t see that I had any choice; every other direction was
pitch-black. Halfway there he rose from his place at the fire and raised his
left hand above his head.
He sparkled. It
wasn’t anything residual from the fire. His whole body twinkled and sparkled.
It was disturbing.
“About time,
Mitchell,” he yelled. “I’ve been waiting here for damn near three days.” “Come
on in. I’m sure you have questions, son.”
I got over my
initial anxiety of the twinkle man and sat on the far side of the fire. We had
been sitting before the fire for fewer than five minutes. I was dazed,
confused, and overwhelmed. Less than an hour ago, I was sitting in a dingy,
two-bit hotel room.
Now, here I was,
in some large expanse of desert in the company of someone who looked like Ray
Teal, that quintessential sheriff on so many TV westerns and movies. He wore
standard blue jeans, a simple button-front dress shirt, and a light-gray
jacket. This twinkle man had a slouch hat, not exactly cowboy, but not a fedora
either. He was half a foot shorter than me, stockier, and a minimum of
twenty-five-years older, if I had to guess his age. There was salt and pepper
stubble covering his face. His voice was deeper than mine, but not so deep that
I envied it.
“Okay,” I began.
“Where am I?”
“New Mexico,” he
answered without hesitation. “You’re about three miles east of Tucumcari.”
I considered that
answer. “When am I?”
“It’s November,
1963.”
“What’s the date,
the day?” It concerned me I might miss my reason for picking this year.
“It’s the sixth.”
A wave of relief swept over me. I wasn’t too late.
His answers were
rapid-fire, no pauses or measurable moments that I would have considered
creative thinking. He was either telling the truth or extremely well prepared
for my random questions. I tried to think of the relevant questions I should
ask. The standard ones, who, what, when, where, seemed a good place to start.
“How did I get
here?”
“Well now, that’s
an obvious answer to a poorly considered, ill-thought out question.” He shook
his head. “You took a drink from that vial you have tucked away in your jacket
pocket.”
A sudden gust of
wind caused me to wrap my windbreaker tighter around my body. Maybe it wasn’t
the night air. I was a little hurt. It wasn’t an attempt at sounding stupid;
just understand what had happened to me.
“How did you know
I was coming?” Maybe that question would seem less inept.
“Now that’s
complicated.” He answered this question more slowly. He was thinking more and
not just responding. “My name is Gil, Gil Seward. I got a letter just a few
days ago. It asked me to come here and see if you’d appear. The letter said to
just wait here a while and see if you drank from the vial or not. If you did,
I’m supposed to help you out a little. Get you started and send you on your
way.”
“Asked by whom?
That guy who gave me the vial?”
“Yeah” was his
only response. I hate one-word answers.
“Who was he? Why
did he give me this vial?”
“He was someone I
owed a favor. I haven’t seen him for a long time. He isn’t someone you need to
know. Forget him. I don’t know why he decided to give you his vial. He just
did.”
He paused for a
while, stirring the fire with his stick, a small branch from one of the nearby
trees.
“One last question
for now,” he said. “Make it a good one.”
“Okay, Gil,” I
said, using his name for the first time. “Why the hell do you sparkle? You look
like some creation by Industrial Light, a special effect in a vampire or
science fiction movie.”
“Forgot all about
that,” he laughed. “You sparkle too. You just can’t see it. You started as soon
as you drank from the vial. All Amser will sparkle.”
“What’s an Amser?”
“Sorry, Mitchell,
You’ve reached your limit on questions for now. It’s my turn to ask some.”
I started to say
something, but the look on his face made me stop. I hoped that ‘for now’ meant
there would be more answers in the future.
“What made you
pick this year?”
“It wasn’t a
rational decision. Who would believe this would really work? I figured I’d see
something special, something historic. Dallas and the Kennedy assassination was
a significant event in my life. All the other conspiracy theories I remember
while growing up could never surpass this one event. Standing on the grassy
knoll and knowing beyond a doubt if there was or wasn’t a second shooter seemed
as good an idea as any.”
“With all of
history to choose from, you wanted to watch somebody die?”
“That wasn’t my
motivation.” I said “I thought of it more as watching a documentary on TV.”
“We’ll see what
you think of your documentary as you watch it live. Did you have plans
afterward?”
“I don’t have many
concrete plans. Just live out the next decade before I die.”
“Why would you
want to die?”
“The Man said I
couldn’t live past my birth moment. That was another reason I came here. That
gives me several years to live before that time.”
“He didn’t tell
you?”
“Tell me what?”
“You have it all
wrong, Mitchell. You can use that vial repeatedly. Just refill it. You can
travel to any year, any time, as often as you want, as many times as you want.
You’re not stuck in this year or decade forever.”
I’m not sure my
mouth actually fell open, but that is how I remember it.
Author Bio
From an early age, Kevin B. Henry
was a voracious reader. His collection of science fiction, fantasy and mystery
books bring tears of envy to the eyes of many small community libraries.
Kevin has worked as an educator,
technology specialist and day laborer most of his adult life. During all that
time he lived the life of a frustrated author. That it took 30 years for him to
piece together the series, Amber Gifts is a testament that the best meals need
slow cooking to bring out the flavor.
The Amber Gifts Series begins with
Amber Gifts. The second story, which is really the first, is Amber Prelude, and
is available now. The third story, Amber Legacy continues where Amber Gifts
left off. It will be available in November 2015. All are published by the
wonderful folks at the Champagne Book Group. A fourth story is in the process
of being written.
Kevin is a natural story teller, so
it’s logical that he lectures occasionally. Topics range from the
implementation of cutting edge technology hardware to the creation,
modification and use of e-books within education. He constantly pursues research
to expand his range of possible topics. His most recent research revolved
around the aerodynamic properties of reindeer. He’s also been known to include
little known facts and trivia within his presentations. Did you know just 146
years ago today the Union Army marched into Atlanta. It took longer than
anticipated. They were delayed by a traffic jam on I-75 and the toll booth on
Ga. 400
He continues to live in the
Mid-West without human or domesticated mammal companionship.
Thank you so much for showing my cover here today!
ReplyDelete~Kevin