The Lunam Ceremony
Publication date: May 20th 2016
Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy
In a broken America, seventeen-year old Iolani Bearse encounters a world full of wonder and danger.
Lani discovers a secret: houseflies have magic.
Stealers have no mercy.
Armed with memory-draining lanterns, the stone-cold hunters relentlessly follow catastrophes, laying traps, preying on the weak.
Together with her father, Eleanor, Sam, and Mango, her beloved pinto mare, Lani rescues victims from the grasp of Memory Stealers. One by one, she saves whomever she can, looking for any path that leads to safety. When her family’s farmhouse is attacked, Lani must act quickly to save those she loves.
Can Lani unmask their powerful, hidden enemies before the flies’ magic fails and everything burns to ashes?
Will the loss of one of her greatest friends become her downfall?
Can Lani overcome the evil that is tearing her world apart, flying blind?
Anton sat still as stone. Jenny Ray nodded at every word I said.
Softly, with a voice no bigger than an ant, the shy girl poured out her sad story. “My little sister Amelia went to school. She’s in the second grade. Storm came. School was too far for us to get to it in time. We heard the sirens. Momma, Timmy, and I hid in the cellar. We figured it was an early twister.
“We looked for the tell-tale signs of the storm’s path. Sky was dark gray and fearsome. Air felt like an explosion was gonna come and take us all. Someone knocked on the door, real polite-like. Momma went to answer it. I stayed, I stayed in the basement for an hour, quiet as a mouse.
“I waited for the winds to die down and then I—I, Momma and Timmy, I found them. At the door, not a mark on them, their souls were just gone. Momma sat there on the floor, empty. And Timmy, he lay, lay on her lap like he was napping, but he, h-he wasn’t. Their eyes, their eyes were white as chalk. So was their skin. At first, I thought the storm had taken them.
“But then, I remembered the knock.” She stopped talking and took a ragged breath as her voice faded off.
We all bowed our heads at that. Loss wasn’t ever pretty.
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Unusual stories attract me, ones in which the reader cannot easily see the ending or most of the journey. Visiting Rome during university studies, I found a simple truth sitting on buses, traveling all over the ancient city: the joy is in the Journey, in the people I meet, not in the destination. So, I write for you. I write for sanity. I write for chocolate and really good pizza.