Chronicles of a Planet’s End
Science Fiction Romance
Date Published: 10-19-2022
Publisher: Witness the World Publications
Emily Banister’s first lover died. The love of her life is dead. She wants
nothing to do with people.
Isolation is not an option. Her late boyfriend’s brother wants her
dead.
Trying to survive, she crosses into a different world where a stranger
awaits her. He can’t die. Could he love her?
The choice takes Emily on a journey across galaxies, only to find she
exists for one purpose.
If she accepts her fate…
Then the planet Earth becomes her responsibility.
Follow her journey in this science fiction romance across galaxies.
It is the first book in The Chronicles of a Planet’s End. The
Chronicles of a Planet’s End is a series of journals telling the end
of the planet Earth.
You can begin the journey to the end.
EXCERPT
Chapter 1
Date: January 25, 2024
The dark and endless street stretched out ahead of me. Huddled and starving people lined the streets of downtown. It was unjust and cruel. Everything I despised. How did I end up here? Living in a hole. Trying to forget. Self-loathing filled every inch of my soul. Basically homeless, hiding in plain sight, I worked hard to erase who I had become. A criminal and a murderer.
Los Angeles. The city of dreams. And nightmares. Tom’s old military jacket kept out the chill but could not erase the darkness filling me. I pushed my hand against the brick wall, feeling the skin peeling from my knuckles. I absorbed the pain, and it felt good. The trail of blood left on the wall was like a sacrifice to my guilt. It intermingled the city and my DNA into one. One more stain amid starvation and excess, the two unlikely bedfellows that inhabited the marshlands between the Angeles National Forest and the ocean.
I separated my hand from the wall to avoid another sleeping homeless. Once upon a time, I had loved this city. It was the place where I believed I could become everything I desired. My art had a place amid the movement and excitement. I dreamt of the galleries on Melrose and even worked at a couple. Each day, as I worked, I imagined my art on those walls. Dressed in my perfect dress, with my perfect heels, I stood welcoming the elite, knowing… I laughed, thinking of my innocence. Knowing that one day they would buy my creations. A fantasy.
It was then I met him. Tom. He was handsome, gentle, and kind. Dating was out of the question. I kept my distance from men because tragedy was a part of my story. I had fallen in love once, and death followed. Now, I avoided relationships. It was safer this way. Then he walked into my life. There was no lighting, no love at first sight, no instant passion. If there had been, I would have fled.
This man became my friend. He wanted more, but I kept my boundaries. At least, I tried. I really did. At first. Eventually, he became more. The relationship was so slow, so gradual, it emotionally entangled me before I could run. I wanted him and desperately needed to be normal. Then came the fateful night.
I wore the cutest red dress and looked amazing. We promised to meet at a bar. I didn’t like bars, but they were the place to be. It mattered to me. Silly. The dress cost me half a month’s wages. That mattered too. My shoes were uncomfortable, but my grandmother always said beauty was pain. It was part of being a woman. Fuckable shoes. I was gorgeous, and I knew it.
When I walked in, every face turned in my direction. It made me feel important because I was somebody. Tom sat at the bar, waiting for me. I felt invincible. When he turned, the look he gave me made me want to run. He was in love, and I was too. For years, I replayed that moment in my head. Over and over. I should have run. It was my choice. And I chose wrong.
“Emily,” he said as he stood up.
“Hey,” I replied, feeling suddenly shy.
He led me toward the bar. We talked about everything and nothing: work, art, movies, music. A conversation between two people when the topic no longer mattered.
At some point, he had said, “Please dance with me.”
I thought about stopping him. My brain betrayed me. My body betrayed me. I convinced myself my past was not a curse. I talked myself into believing my normalcy and hated myself for it. Therefore, I danced. I felt him near me, and it was pure joy. My life was perfect. I had great job, boyfriend, apartment, and clothes. As if that even mattered. Maybe the superficiality helped me forget who I was. I was Los Angeles. Beautiful, perfect, shiny, shallow, and hiding a darkness that I denied.
Tom was his name. I felt I should say it aloud several times a day, so I would never forget. Tom Jasper and Emily Banister. Simple names. If I had been twelve, I would have written it a hundred times on a piece of paper, maybe even circled it with a heart. I even let myself dream. Emily Banister could become Emily Jasper. Mrs. Jasper. A house, a family. Babies, anniversaries. Graduations, weddings. Figments of my hyperactive imagination.
When he walked into my apartment several hours later, I did not slam the door in his face. I thought about it, but I believed the fantasy. A conversation, a dance. His gentle touch was all I needed to believe the lie. I only thought of his perfect lips when he kissed me. When he undressed me, I did not think beyond the sensation of his hands against my bare skin. When his hand wandered, I stopped him. I promise I did. The last sensible moment of the night.
He was a gentleman. He stopped.
“We don’t have to do this,” he said.
“What if it happens again?” I asked.
“It was a freak accident,” he answered.
“What if it wasn’t? What if I am cursed?” I asked again.
Tom gently kissed me and held me in his arms. He was the best friend I needed. And at that moment, I stopped trusting myself and handed him my judgment. The action was unforgivable. I wanted the daydream that came with his beautiful blue eyes. I needed to believe his vision. Everything else didn’t matter.
“The past scares you. I promise you it will be fine. Curses don’t exist, and magic doesn’t exist. Science proves this. I promise you will be fine,” he said, with such determination, with such self-assurance, that I believed him.
“I can’t live without you,” I whispered, as I let go of his hand. “I am scared.”
“Trust me,” he said.
The next hour burned into me with the same force as a branded tattoo. I trusted. It was the worst mistake I could have possibly made.
Tom’s screams pushed me into the now. His screams kept me awake at night these three years. I burned, and he burned with me. The skin melted away, the bone burned into ashes, and then he was gone.
The smell of burnt skin filled the air. Only ash remained where he once lay. Tom was gone. I was untouched, undamaged, and perfect. Like a porcelain doll, I stood frozen in time. The violence moved through me. He was gone. I sat a long time on that couch covered in soot. My red dress burned beyond recognition. Eventually, I stood up, stumbling out of the room. I found some of Tom’s clothes. An old pair of sweatpants. A shirt. And the jacket. A military jacket. Why he owned it, I didn’t know. I felt numb. Betrayed by my body, I felt only hatred, loathing, and repulsion at myself. I could smell him on the clothes, and I hated myself even more. I kept the clothing so that his smell would never let me forget what I was. A murderer.
I returned to my apartment that night, grabbed what I could, and disappeared. Everything I was, died that night with Tom.
About the Author
Tatiana Beller is a writer and filmmaker raised in Mexico City. She was
born in Texas and adopted into a wonderfully eccentric and artistic Mexican
family. Her father is German, and her mother is Mexican. As a storyteller,
she uses different media to tell those stories. She has an MFA in film and
an MFA in VFX/3D animation. Tatiana is passionate about cross-cultural
experiences. As part of two cultures, she navigates the complicated dynamics
and brings those experiences into her writing. She loves science fiction and
fantasy. Her passion for writing began as a child in her grandmother’s
study, watching her work. She has been writing for thirty years. Tatiana
lives in Asheville, NC with her partner and two cats. Her son is studying in
Seattle.
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