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YA Fantasy
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Date Published: 08-10-2021
Publisher: Cinnabar Moth

Though he doesnât know it, Marcus Talent is special. Unfortunately for Marcus, he discovers this unexpectedly when he wakes up in an unfamiliar forest, has his prosthetic arm eaten by a horrifying monster, and then wakes up in his own bed, terrified and bleeding.
Marcusâs dad, Deacon, has answers. He heals Marcusâs new injuries, promising to answer all of Marcusâs questions about what happened the next day after school. But when Marcus gets home, he finds his dad missing and a ransom note appears out of a screaming hole in the sky. The only demand: travel again to get him back.
Helped by his human friends, Marcus sets out to find his dad in a world filled with creatures he couldnât have imagined. Some of them are friendly. Some of them want to murder him. Or each other. Theyâre not picky. And everyone seems to know of his famous father, who has been hiding a lot more than an entire other world.
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EXCERPT
CHAPTER ONE
Marcus Talent stretched slowly as he woke. He opened his hazel eyes and regarded his outstretched arms. One arm ended in long, narrow fingers and the other in a scarred stump just below his elbow. The scars continued onto his upper arm, easily visible against his light brown skin.
Marcus looked toward the desk near his bed, loose dark curls tumbling into his eyes. Impatiently, he shook the hair away. Why hadnât his phone gone off?Â
He sat up, reached to his left to grab the cane leaning against the wall nearby, and pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. The phoneâs black screen on the desk made it obvious why the alarm hadnât gone off. Heâd tossed it on the desk last night instead of placing it on its charging pad.
What time was it? His mom hadnât come to wake him yet, so hopefully he wasnât too late; getting ready took him longer than most sixteen-year-old boys. No time for a shower this morning.Â
He pulled on a Black Panther t-shirt and grabbed his prosthetic arm. Heâd used one since the accident when he was nine years old.
These days it only took a minute to put on his myoelectric prosthesis. Heâd forgotten to charge his phone, but at least heâd remembered to charge his arm; he had a body-powered version but didnât like wearing its necessary harness, and it didnât mimic his hand and skin very well.Â
Marcus sat to put on the rest of his clothes. Four back surgeries in the years since the accident had restored some of his ability to bend, but the pain from doing so was still severe.
He almost tripped on the way down the hall because he was in such a hurry. Not knowing the time made him anxious. He wanted enough time to enjoy his breakfast.
âOh, by the way, Marcus,â his mom said as he entered the kitchen, âI forgot to grab bacon at the store yesterday, so itâs just pancakes today.â He looked at the clock. He still had twenty minutes before the bus.
âUgh, Mom, bacon is half the reason I look forward to breakfast.â
âI know, Marcus, and Iâm sorry. Youâll have to eat your pancakes without bacon today.â She set his plate on the table, then reached up and tenderly seized his face in her strong hands.
Marcus realized consciously for the first time that he was taller than his mom. He shared her hazel eyes, brown skin, and black hair, but got his curls from his dad, and his scars were on his torso rather than on his face. His mom gave his face another squeeze and kissed him on the cheek before letting him go.Â
The missing bacon was a disappointment, but at least his mom made the best pancakes anywhere. Heâd rather eat her fluffy, buttery pancakes any day than go out to a restaurant. He ate the pancakes slowly, showing her he appreciated them despite complaining about the bacon.
When the time for the bus was close, Marcus couldnât find his science homework. He was positive heâd left it lying on the desk in his room after finishing it the night before, but he had to abandon it and hurry out the door to catch the bus, almost late. The driver would wait for him, but only for so long.
Marcus eased into an open seat halfway back, grimacing in pain. He dug through his backpack. Maybe he had slipped his science homework into the bag and then forgotten. The bag was stuffed full of papers, and he tried pulling them up one at a time to look. When that failed, he set the backpack on the seat next to him to make the search easier. It tipped over before he could catch it. Papers slid out of the open bag, some sliding across the floor to the other side of the bus, some falling to the floor beneath him. Giggles and muffled chuckles erupted around him as other kids noticed his plight.
His face burning with embarrassment, Marcus squatted carefully in front of his seat and picked up all the papers he could reach. His back burned in pain as he reached to grab some from the floor. A couple kids in the seat in front of him passed back the ones that had slid all the way up there, and a new girl in the seat across from him grabbed the papers from the aisle and those that had slid further over her way. She had a pretty, round face with olive skin and long, dark, wavy hair.
âThanks,â he muttered, taking the papers from her with his left hand.Â
âSure,â the girl said. âIt sucks when that happens. You saving all that stuff for something?â
Marcus laughed. âI was just asking myself that question.â
âIâm Sadie,â she said. âI just moved here.â
âMarcus,â he said. âWhat an embarrassing way to meet the new girl.â
âDonât worry about it. What grade are you in?â She flipped her hair over her shoulder and slid into the seat beside him.
âSophomore.â
âOh,â she said. âIâm a freshman.â
âOh. So, where did you move here from?â
âKorea, actually.â
âYouâre not serious.â
âWhy wouldnât I be? Is my English too good?â she laughed, but he sensed he had hurt her feelings.
âNo, not at all. I donât think like that. It just seems like such a long way away and â arenât the schools better there?â
She seemed to relax as she chuckled. âI think they might be, actually, but my dad is American military and was just reassigned to the base here.â
âOh, that makes sense. That has to be kind of difficult â always moving around.â
Sadie smiled. âIt can be. But I find that I meet the most interesting people moving from place to place. Itâs hard to make new friends and then leave them behind all the time.â
âI think it would be hard â at least for me. Iâve gone to school here all my life and the kids are still hard to deal with.â Marcus indicated his cane and his right arm.
âCan I ask â what happened? Or is that terrible of me?â
âItâs fine, donât worry,â he said. âIt was a car accident. My mom was driving me home from a school program when I was nine, and we were hit by a drunk driver. The car hit us on my side in the front. My right forearm was crushed. Iâve had four surgeries on my back, including two fusions. Some of the bones that are fused in place didnât give or grow right. It makes it difficult to walk, and hurts a lot.â
âOh my god, Iâm so sorry!â Sadie exclaimed. âWhat about your mom, was she hurt too?â
âShe was burned on her face and right arm. Sheâs had to have several skin graft surgeries.â
âSo, what happened to the drunk driver?â
Marcus looked down at his hands, squeezing the fingers of his prosthesis with the fingers of his left hand. âHe, um⊠he died. His airbag didnât go off and he wasnât wearing his seatbelt.âÂ
âIâm so sorry, Marcus. It sounds awful. How are you doing now?â
He looked up to see that Sadie was looking him right in the face, not staring at his prosthesis, or the cane leaning against the seat next to him. She made him feel better than anyone had, other than his one best friend, for a long time.
âIâm doing okay. I used a wheelchair for a long time, but I had a lot of physical therapy, and I can walk now with a cane. If I want to go somewhere that I would have to walk really long distances, I still have to use the wheelchair. Iâm so used to my arm now itâs not a big deal â other than phantom pain and itching.â
Sadieâs eyes widened. âWhat is that?âÂ
Marcus laughed. âIt just means that sometimes I still feel pain or itching in the hand and part of my arm that isnât there anymore.â
âWhat can you do when that happens? You canât scratch your parts that arenât there anymore!â
âSometimes it helps if I rub or scratch the same area on the other side. Sometimes I just have to distract myself. My back pain is actually much worse than my arm. Even with all the surgeries, it still hurts all the time. Iâm glad I donât need the wheelchair all the time now, but sometimes my back hurts so much I wish I had the chair when I donât feel like I can walk anymore.â
âYouâve really had a rough time of things, havenât you?â Sadie said.
âPlease donât do that,â Marcus said.
âDo what?â Sadie sounded confused.
âDonât pity me. Everyone who isnât mean to me treats me with pity.â
âIâd never do that,â Sadie said. âIâm just saying that life has been rough for you. It canât be easy to concentrate on homework and teachersâ lectures and other studentsâ babbling when half your mind is feeling pain.â
âI donât think anyone has ever explained it like that,â Marcus replied. âBut itâs dead-on how I feel every day. Oh, man, weâre here.â The bus was pulling up to the two-story brick school building while kids piled out of buses that had already arrived.
âHey, Iâm glad I met you,â Sadie said. âGreat first friend!â
âYeah,â Marcus said as they made their way off the bus. âMaybe Iâll see you at lunch.â Sadie waved as she ran ahead to join the crowds entering the school.
Marcus waited by his locker for Leopold, his best friend. The two boys had been close since kindergarten. After the accident, being best friends with the blond, blue-eyed boy with the easy laugh had definitely made life a little easier for Marcus. Leopold had visited every day while Marcus recuperated, even when Marcus didnât want to see him. During the first difficult days back at school, Leopold had been by his side. Leopold was often the loud center of attention against Marcusâs quieter personality. That didnât matter. They were best friends no matter what their differences were.
When Leopold hadnât shown up after fifteen minutes, Marcus grew impatient. Â Â . He couldnât text Leopold about it. Even if Marcus had charged his phone, Leopoldâs parents wouldnât let him have a phone until he was sixteen, which was still a few months away. Marcus glanced at the clock on the wall every few seconds. Finally, he had to give up and make his way to class.Â
Throughout the morning, Marcus looked for Leopold. Leopold wasnât in third period English, the only class they had together.
Lunch was Italian Dunkers, a fancy name for dry breadsticks and tasteless tomato sauce. It was the lunch Marcus disliked the most. Usually, heâd complain to Leopold about how horrible it was to expect kids to eat unhealthy bread and tomato sauce for lunch, but today he stood silently in line, sliding his tray along to accept his food. Once he was through the line, he turned toward the tables, tucked his cane under his right arm and carried the tray with his left hand. Walking without his cane was difficult and painful, but sometimes necessary.
 Marcus had become used to having Leopold there to carry things for him. He put the tray down and worked his way into the chair. Leaning his cane against the table, he looked around for Sadie but didnât see her. She must have ended up with the second lunch period. Heâd be sitting alone today, which was his usual situation without Leopold since the other kids at school avoided him, if they werenât making fun of him.
The breadsticks were even drier than usual, and the tomato sauce even more bland. After forcing them down with some milk, Marcus got up to leave the cafeteria.Â
As he was heading to drop his tray off, he saw Sadie with some other freshmen walk in the door just ahead of him. At that exact moment Jamie and Thomas, two of the popular kids in his grade, walked past. Marcus was hanging back waiting for Sadie to leave the cafeteria. He was a little embarrassed about the food he hadnât eaten.
One of the boys in his grade knocked the tray from Marcusâs hands, spraying tomato sauce across the floor and Marcusâs jeans and shoes.
Sadie noticed. Marcus was left staring down at the mess in embarrassment, knowing he couldnât even clean it up.
One of the cafeteria workers attempted to wipe as much sauce as she could from his clothes and shoes, and Sadie walked over. She picked up the tray and returned it, then followed him when he left the cafeteria.
âDoes that happen a lot?â she asked.
âNot really. Iâm guessing today just looked like a good opportunity to them because Leopold isnât here, and they felt like they had an audience.â
âLeopold?â
âMy best friend. Usually, we eat together at lunch. Leopoldâs pretty loud, and heâs not afraid of taking on anyone â not that he fights physically, or anything.â
Sadie laughed. Marcus realized he was becoming used to the sound of that laugh, which wasnât a regular thing for him, outside of his friendship with Leopold. He liked it.
âYou should go back and eat, though. Iâm just going to grab my books and head to my next class. Itâll take me a while,â Marcus said.
âAre you sure?â Sadie asked. âI can stay with you.âÂ
âNo, Iâll be fine. You go ahead.â
âOkay, if youâre sure. I am hungry,â she said.
âThanks for your help back there,â Marcus said. âI really appreciate it. Iâm glad youâre here.â
âBack atcha,â she said, pointing at him as she dashed away down the hall.
The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Hunger made it hard to concentrate. His science teacher didnât care that he had really done his homework, and there was a pop quiz in math that Marcus got a D on.Â
At last, it was time to go home. Marcus took a seat on the bus with relief and stared out the window. Someone sat down beside him. He turned to find Sadie there.Â
âHi!â she said. âWhat a day, huh?â
âTell me about it. At least itâs over. Although it wasnât all bad,â he stammered quickly, so she wouldnât think he regretted meeting her.
âDid you ever sort out that mess in your backpack?â
Marcus laughed. âYeah, actually I did. I donât know why I had all that stuff in there, it was almost all garbage. Just a book and some homework in there now,â he said, patting the bag beside him.
They talked. She told him about her friends in Korea and taught him a few words of Korean. He marveled at the sound of her laugh and the way her eyes lit up as she talked. Why had it taken someone coming from all the way across the world for him to finally feel seen?Â
 When the bus slowed at his stop, he felt glum.
âDo you have your phone?â Sadie asked. âI can give you my number.â
âI donât have it today, I forgot to charge it last night.â
âGive me your number, and Iâll just put in my phone.â
Marcus rattled off his number quickly as she stood to let him out. He grabbed his cane, shifted his backpack onto his back, and said, âBye. Iâll see you tomorrow morning.â
âDefinitely.â
Marcus hoped the good end to his school day meant he would find something positive waiting for him inside.
His mom came out of the kitchen to meet him, wearing an apron over a t-shirt and jeans. At first, he was hopeful this meant she was preparing a wonderful dinner to fill up on after his long, hungry day.Â
âHi, son. Get your homework done before supper, because Derek and Gina are coming over.â
Marcus was filled with dread. Derek was his uncle, and Gina was Derekâs new girlfriend. While Marcus was always happy to see his uncle, Derekâs favorite food was liver and onions, and Marcusâs mom often cooked it when he visited.
âPlease tell me we arenât having â â
âSorry Marcus, I love to make my baby brotherâs favorite supper, you know that.â She tried to sound sorry, but it was clear from the slight smile on her face that she didnât really feel that bad.
âProbably should have seen it coming,â Marcus muttered to himself as he walked down the hall to his room. It seemed so much worse since he was hungry from not eating much at lunch.
âHey mom!â Marcus called down the hall. âHow about a snack?â
âNo, I donât want you to ruin your supper!â she called back.
Marcus collapsed onto his bed. If he told her he was hungry because he hadnât eaten lunch, heâd just get a lecture about not eating lunch. This day just wouldnât end. If only he could just go to sleep and be done with it.
He peeled himself off his bed and grabbed his backpack to do his homework. While he was sliding the sheets of math homework out, he gave himself a paper cut.
âArgh!â he yelled. What else could go wrong? The cut wasnât bleeding a lot but hurt as much as a bee sting. While hunting for a pencil in the drawers of his desk, he found his missing science homework. He saw his cell phone, still dead. He set it on the charger, and after a few minutes it vibrated. He checked it â a text from Sadie. Iâm really glad I met you.Â
He texted back. Me too.
See you on the bus!
He sent a smiley emoji, saved her number in his contacts, and turned back to his homework.
His math homework was long but not difficult. He had just finished when his mom called him for supper.
As he made his way down the hall, Marcus heard the happy sound of his fatherâs booming voice. His parents, his uncle Derek, and Gina were sitting at the kitchen table waiting for him. His father, Deacon, was sitting in his usual place at the end of the table saying something to Derek, who was laughing hard. Marcusâs uncle looked just like his mom. His girlfriend, Gina, had wild curly blonde hair, white skin, and startlingly golden eyes. In fact, Marcus noticed as he sat down, those golden eyes were looking at him right now. She winked at him, then looked away. Weird, thought Marcus.Â
Marcusâs father was a big man, taking up most of the end of the table. He was still dressed in his work clothes: a blue dress shirt with blue and silver patterned tie, which had been loosened and his top button undone. His skin was very pale but covered in red freckles. His light blue eyes stood out in his colorful face. Marcus loved his dad but was glad he hadnât gotten the manâs freckles.
His mom stood up and kissed his dad on the cheek, laughing. She wiped a little lipstick off his face where it had smeared. She put the platter of liver on the table and sat down. âDig in, everyone!â she said.Â
âKate, this looks and smells amazing,â Gina said, using her fork to slide a piece of liver onto her plate.
âYes, it does,â added Derek. âMy big sis is the only one who can cook it the same way that Mom did.â
âSo, Gina, what do you do?â Marcusâs mom asked as she held out the plate of liver to him with a pointed look. He groaned and took the smallest piece he could find, avoiding any of the onions.
âI work in fashion photography, but Iâm hoping to become a designer someday,â Gina answered. She was looking at Marcus while she answered the question. What the heck? He looked over at his mom to see if she noticed, but she was grabbing the vegetable bowl and passing it his way.
To his dismay, not only were they having liver and onions, but his mom had cooked green beans, the vegetable he hated the most. He scooped as little as he thought he could get away with onto his plate and passed the bowl to Gina. She took it, grabbing his hand along with the bowl. He pulled his hand away, wondering what she was doing.Â
Once she had served herself, she turned and started chatting with his mom.
âCan I get the ketchup?â Marcus asked.Â
âYes, Marcus, you can make your liver taste terrible by putting ketchup on it,â his dad chuckled. Then he turned to Derek again and asked something about Derekâs job. Derek was a freelance journalist, and Marcus knew his dad was fascinated by the stories Derek got to track down. His uncle had even been embedded with soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Marcus got the ketchup from the refrigerator and squeezed it onto the liver on his plate until all he could see was a ketchup covered lump.Â
Then he ate the green beans first, because as bad as they tasted warm, they tasted far worse cold. He knew his parents would make him eat them before he would be allowed to leave the table. After each mouthful, he quickly took a drink of milk to help swallow it. A couple of times, as he raised his glass to his mouth, he saw Gina looking at him.
Finally, he turned his attention to the dreaded liver. He had put enough ketchup on it that mostly he tasted ketchup with each bite, but it was still hard to chew and swallow. It was challenging for him to cut the meat one-handed, but he had gotten proficient at it with his parentsâ insistence. Still, it slowed him down enough that with the addition of the ketchup, his liver had turned cold before he was done eating it. By the time he was finished, he felt like he had just fought an epic battle like something out of Lord of the Rings.Â
His parents, Derek, and Gina were talking and laughing, but Marcus was so tired after his long day that he didnât even feel like being part of the conversation, which he hadnât heard while focusing on eating. He also wanted to get away from Gina and her weird behavior.
âCan I be excused?â Marcus asked.Â
âOf course,â his father said, but gave Marcus a funny look.
When he was in his room, Marcus changed into his shorts and t-shirt. He lay on his bed on his belly and sighed. He didnât feel like messing around on his computer, playing any video games, or anything.
His dad knocked on the door. âCan I come in, Son?â
âSure, Dad.â His dad came in and sat on the edge of Marcusâs bed. âWhatâs going on? I can tell somethingâs bothering you.â
Marcus turned his head so the upper half of his face was covered by his pillow. âNothingâs really wrong. Iâve just had a long day,â he said, his voice somewhat muffled by the comforter.
He felt his dad put a hand on his back. âLetâs talk about that. What kinds of things have happened to you today?â His fatherâs hand felt warm and heavy, or maybe it was just the weight of the day.
âJust â one of those days where things kept going wrong. Like, my alarm didnât go off this morning, so I was running late. I dumped my backpack all over the floor on the bus, so this new girl ended up helping me pick up papers that scattered everywhere.â
âWhoa, hold up. New girl? That doesnât sound like such bad luck to me,â Marcusâs dad chuckled.
âWell, you know, I guess that wasnât the bad part of it. Sadieâs really nice.â Marcus rolled over and looked up at his dad, the grin on his face making him feel a little foolish.
âOh, Sadie,â Deacon said. âIs that her name?â
Marcus felt his face getting hot. âCâmon, DadâŠâ
âIâm glad your whole day wasnât terrible, Marcus. â
Marcus felt a little better. He was also very tired. He sat up and gave his dad a big hug.
Deacon hugged him back, then held his sonâs chin. âLord, but you look like your mother. Getting so tall, too.â
âThanks, Dad,â Marcus said. âIâm so tired. I know itâs early, but I think Iâm going to get some sleep.âÂ
âThatâs a good idea, but you do still have to brush your teeth first!â His dad laughed as he walked out of Marcusâs bedroom.
By the time Marcus got back from his bathroom, he could hardly keep his eyes open. He slid between his sheets and curled up with his pillow. In seconds, he was asleep.
About the Author
Cynthia McDonald is the author of Life is a Terminal Illness and DrÅmfrangil (Autumn 2021 from Cinnabar Moth Publishing) as well as a childhood memoir, two American history books, and the âI See Your Heartsâ blog.
Cynthia was born in Richmond, Virginia in 1972. She spent her early adulthood raising two sons with her husband and then, after returning to college, enjoyed a fulfilling career as a Respiratory Therapist and a Respiratory Supervisor. This included several years of volunteer work on the Wisconsin state respiratory board, which concluded with a term as the President of the board.
She started writing in her forties, after the diagnosis of a low-grade cancerous brain tumor forced her to stop working outside of her home. Cynthia has also lived with disability throughout her adult life, as advancing degenerative disk disease and multiple surgeries have caused her to live with chronic pain and made it difficult for her to remain involved in activities outside of her home.
She and her husband recently moved to Oregon to be closer to her oldest son and his family, including her beloved grandson, whose toddler years are adding a lot of delight to her life! Her two German Shorthairs are also a big part of her family, as dogs always have been.
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Twitter: @mccindy72
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