Travel through time with TIME FRAME, my Debut Science Fiction Novel

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time frame cover

If you like time travel stories and exciting science fiction adventures, you might enjoy my novel TIME FRAME.

It’s my debut science fiction novel and it’s still available both as an EBook from NeconEbooks at http://www.neconebooks.com., and as a print paperback edition at https://www.createspace.com/5487293, or at Amazon.com.

I wrote TIME FRAME with the spirit of time travel movies and TV shows in mind, films like THE TIME MACHINE (1960), TIME AFTER TIME (1979), and any number of STAR TREK episodes.  If you enjoy time travel adventures, chance are you’ll enjoy TIME FRAME.

Writing TIME FRAME was a challenge because it’s a story with multiple timelines and I had to make sure that by the story’s end that they all made sense.  I think they do.  I also wanted to take things as far as possible, to write a story where I took those traditional time travel tropes and blew them out of the water.  Not sure if I succeeded, but the story does include a large explosion on the high seas.

I also didn’t want my science fiction tale to be cold and stoic.  I wanted heated and emotional, which is why I wrote as my main characters a close family, with the thought in mind:  how far would you go to protect your family?  Would you break the rules of time travel to save your loved ones?

This one also started with a single idea. I had recently lost my own grandfather, who I was very close to, and I couldn’t get the thought out of my head that I just wanted to see him one more time.  And so I came up with the single scene of a young man opening his front door and finding his grandfather standing there looking perfectly normal, which the man knew had to be impossible because his grandfather was dead.  This scene was the genesis for TIME FRAME, and I built the story around that, as I thought about possible scenarios that could make this scene true.  What could account for a man who had been dead for several years returning to his loved ones looking happy and healthy again?  The answer became the novel TIME FRAME.

TIME FRAME remains available as an Ebook and can be ordered for $2.99 at www.neconebooks.com.

You can also order a print paperback edition for $14.99 at https://www.createspace.com/5487293, or at Amazon.com, or you can order it directly through me by sending me an email at mjarruda33@gmail.com.

Thanks for reading!

—Michael

 

 

 

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SNEAK PREVIEW: TIME FRAME By Michael Arruda – Chapter 5

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My science fiction novel TIME FRAME is now available as an EBook from NECON EBooks at time frame coverhttp://www.neconebooks.com. Previously on this blog I featured Chapters 1-4 of the novel.  Today the sneak preview continues with Chapter 5.

This could very well be the final sneak preview.

And remember, if you like what you read, please spread the word and feel free to post reviews on Amazon as well.

Hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading! —Michael

 

 

CHAPTER 5

“Kathryn, where’s your mother?”  Papa asked.

The question hit Adam in the face like a brick.  He looked across the living room at his mother, and she looked as mortified as he felt.  He wanted to ask his grandfather, you don’t know?

“Ma?”  Kathryn said.

Papa nodded.  His eyes were expectant, but Adam also saw fear in them, as if he knew what Kathryn was going to say.

“Ma died,” Kathryn whispered.  “Three years after you.”

“Died?”  Papa said, his voice barely audible.  He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly together. His bottom lip quivered.  His cheeks flushed red, and as he sat there, with his eyes shut tight, he looked like a child blocking out the world.

“Daddy, are you okay?”  Kathryn asked.

He opened his eyes.  They were puffy and swollen.  He sniffled.

“How?”  He asked.

“Just old age,” Kathryn said.  “She went peacefully, in her sleep.”

“Good,” Papa muttered.  He sighed.  “I really wanted to see your mother.”

“I’m sorry,” Kathryn said.

Adam thought about his grandfather’s words and wondered, “Why didn’t you?”

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Adam said.  “Why didn’t you pick a date when Nana was still alive?  Why come back when she’s— how come you didn’t know?”

“I don’t mind your asking,” Papa said.  “I didn’t pick an exact date because I couldn’t.  The machine I used worked with decades.  I couldn’t pick one date.  I couldn’t even pick an exact year.  I had to pick a decade.  I chose the first decade after I died because I didn’t want to come back while I was still alive.  You’re not supposed to do that.  I don’t really understand the reasons why, but supposedly you’re not supposed to travel to a time in which you exist already because with two of the same people in the same time frame, I think that’s what they called it, a time frame, it would have a dangerous effect.  You’d both be sick, and they say, you’d both die.  I didn’t want that.”

“What kind of a time machine doesn’t let you pick an exact date to travel to?”  Adam asked.  It was a rhetorical question.

“A cheap one,” Papa answered.  “It was the only model I could afford.  Yes, even five hundred years from now, everything still comes down to money.”

“I w-want to go for a ride in one,” Sandy slurred.

“No can do,” Papa said.  “The machine doesn’t exist anymore.  It disintegrated.”

“Did you have an accident?”  Kathryn asked.

“No.  The cheap model also happened to be the one way model,” Papa said.

“What’s the one way model?”  Adam asked.

“It only goes one way, then disintegrates.  It’s like a paper plate.  Use it once, throw it away,” Papa said.

“What’s the point of that?”  Adam asked.  It didn’t seem to make much sense to him.

“It’s just cheaper,” Papa said.  “Most people don’t use them because you can’t get back.  I didn’t want to go back.”

“But why even make them?”  Adam asked.  “If you can’t get back, what’s the point?”

Papa shrugged.  “Why make a Slinky?  Because it’s cheap and someone will buy it.”

“Sounds like they’d be illegal,” Adam said.

“In some places they are,” Papa said.

“So, you’re stuck here, then?”  Kathryn asked.

“I wouldn’t put it that way.  I want to be here.  But no, I won’t be hopping back into my time machine to revisit history, or to see your mother.  I can’t do that.  I’m here to stay.”

—END Chapter 5—

And that also ends today’s sneak preview of my novel TIME FRAME ( available from NECON EBooks at time frame coverhttp://www.neconebooks.com.)

Once again, thanks so much for reading!

-Michael

 

 

 

SNEAK PREVIEW: TIME FRAME By Michael Arruda – Chapter 2

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time frame coverMy science fiction novel TIME FRAME is now available as an EBook from NECON EBooks at http://www.neconebooks.com.

Last month, on January 21, as a sneak preview I featured  Chapter 1 of the novel here on this blog.  Today the sneak preview continues with Chapter 2.  If you’d like to read Chapter 1, feel free to check out the January 21 post.

Hope you enjoy it.  Here’s Chapter 2 of TIME FRAME.

Thanks for reading!

—Michael

CHAPTER 2

“You should have a glass of wine.  It’ll relax you,” Adam said to his wife.

“Wine?”  Sandy said, her wheels spinning, as if she had never heard of the beverage before.  “Yes, wine sounds good.  I will have a glass of wine.”

Suddenly screams erupted from the second floor, followed by the cacophony of shouting boys.  Running feet came next, down the staircase.

“Mommy!  Daddy!  Stephen hit me!”

Adam raised his hand towards his wife in a calming gesture.

“I’ll take care of it,” He said.

His youngest son, Nate, charged towards him and wrapped his arms around his waist.  “Stephen hit me in the head, and it hurts!”

“I did not hit him!”  Stephen shouted.

His oldest son had also joined them in the dining room.

“Yes, you did!”  Nate hollered.

“Alright, alright,” Adam said.  “Everyone just keep calm.”

“He hit me, and I hate him!  I hate him!”

Nate let go of Adam and burst into the living room.

Adam looked at Sandy. Her hands were on her hips.

“Way to handle things, honey,” she said.

Little Nate trotted back into the doorway between the dining room and the living room.  He pointed into the living room.

“Who’s that?”  He asked.

Sandy placed her hands on her little son’s shoulders, and she looked at her husband.  “Yes, Adam, who’s that?”

Stephen was across the floor in a second and joined his mother and younger brother in the doorway.

“Who is that?” Stephen asked.

Adam’s grandfather had been seated in the rocking chair in front of the television set, but he was standing now.  Adam saw a look of joy and astonishment on his face.

“Your children,” Papa said.  “They’re beautiful.  That little one looks just like you. You look just like your father, little one.”

“My name’s Nate.”

“Hello, Nate,” Papa said.

“And this is Stephen, our oldest son,” Adam said, pointing to his light-haired boy, who shared a complexion and facial features with his mother.  Nate had dark hair and resembled Adam more.

“Who are you?”  Nate asked boldly.

“Who am I?  I’m—,” Papa paused and seemed to look to Adam for guidance.

“This is—,” Adam said, but then he paused.  Looking at Sandy, he realized that if he had to choose his words any more carefully, he’d have to hire a publicist.  “Remember I told you about my grandfather, Papa, the one who used to live in this house?”

Sandy cleared her throat, and Adam read her like a book.  Don’t you dare, she was saying.

“This is his brother,” Adam said.

“I thought Uncle Leo was his brother?”  Stephen asked.

“Yes, Uncle Leo is my grandfather’s brother.  This is another brother.  He’s not from around here.”

“I’m from the old country,” Papa said.  “My name is— Bela.  You can call me uncle Bela.”

“Yes, Uncle Bela,” Adam said. He appreciated the help.  He certainly needed it.  “Say hello to your uncle Bela, boys.”

“Hello uncle Bela,” the two boys droned.

“Hello, boys,” said ‘uncle Bela.’  “What fine looking boys you two are!  One that looks like the mother, and the other that looks just like his father!”

“Alright, boys, say bye to uncle Bela,” Sandy said.  “Mom and Dad need to talk to uncle Bela alone, please.  Go back and play.”

“But Stephen hit me!”  little Nate whined.

“I did not hit you!”  Stephen whined back.

Sandy rolled her eyes.  “Go play some video games or something!”

“But you said we couldn’t play until we cleaned our room,” Stephen said.

Well, I changed my mind!”  Sandy said.  “Go play!”

The boys cheered and immediately raced up the staircase, with all talk of who hit who erased from their vocabulary.

“You have beautiful children,” Papa said.

Adam approached him.  “Bela?”

“After Bela Lugosi. You know he was my favorite actor.”

“Yes, I remember,” Adam said.

“I am— Dracula,” the man said, doing his best Lugosi accent and showing his fangs.

“If I shove some garlic in your face, will you go away?”  Sandy said.

The doorbell rang.

“That must be mom,” Adam said.  “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Papa said, his eyes watering, “to see my oldest daughter.”

“Stay here,” Adam said to his grandfather as he walked from the living room to the front door.

Adam opened the door and let his mother inside.

“Hello, mom.”

“So, what’s this about?  You said on the phone there was someone here I needed to see?”  Adam’s mom asked.  “Who?”             “Kathryn!  Good to see you!”

Sandy approached her mother-in-law holding a huge glass of red wine.  “Can I get you a glass of wine?  It’s really good.  This is my second.”

Kathryn smiled at her daughter-in-law.   “No, thank you, dear, it’s too early for me.”

“That’s too bad,” Sandy said.  “You’re going to need it.”

Kathryn leaned into her son’s ear.  “Wine in the morning?  What’s she talking about?”

“Aren’t you going to show your mom who’s in the living room?”  Sandy asked.

“Who is in the living room?”  Kathryn asked.

“I’ll show you,” Adam said.

Sandy raised her free hand.  “No!  You tell her before you bring her in there.  Don’t you dare spring this on her without telling her first!”

“Without telling me what?”  Kathryn asked.

“I’m not sure what to say,” Adam said.  “Just prepare yourself for a shock, but a good shock.  I mean, it’s nothing bad.”

“Tell her,” Sandy urged.

“Papa’s here,” Adam said.

“What?”  Kathryn asked.

Adam ushered his mother into the living room.

A man stood in the center of the room.

“Hello, Kathryn,” he said.  “So, how’s my oldest daughter?”

“Oh my God,” Kathryn gasped.

She slumped into her son’s arms.

—END Chapter 2—

Sneak preview of Chapter 3 coming soon!

Thanks for reading!

—Michael

Sneak Peak from FOR THE LOVE OF HORROR by Michael Arruda

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For The Love Of Horror cover8/21/13

 

It’s time for another sneak preview from my short story collection FOR THE LOVE OF HORROR.

 

This collection of short stories is available as an EBook from NECON EBooks at www.neconebooks.com and as a print edition at https://www.createspace.com/4294076.

FOR THE LOVE OF HORROR contains 15 short stories, 7 reprints and 8 original stories, plus a wraparound story that ties everything together.  I wrote this with the old Amicus anthology horror movies in mind, films like DR. TERRORS HOUSE OF HORRORS (1965) and THE HOUSE THAT DRIPPED BLOOD (1971).

 

Today’s excerpt comes from the story “Reconciliation,” a tale of a vampire seeking religious redemption, or is he?  Incidentally, “Reconciliation” happens to be my very first published short story, published back in 1998 in the vampire anthology THE DARKEST THIRST by The Design Image Group.

For your reading pleasure, here is an excerpt from “Reconciliation”—-

RECONCILIATION

By

Michael Arruda

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned.  It has been 200 years since my confession.”

The priest, 62, thought his ears had betrayed him.  Leaning over, he pressed his left ear and the left corner of his mouth against the screened window which separated him from his visitor in the darkened confessional.

“How long has it been?”

“Two hundred years,” the dry male voice repeated.

“I’m afraid I don’t under—.”

“I am a vampire.”

“A vampire?  You mean one of those things from the movies?”

“Would that I were just a Hollywood creation,” the man said, “then I wouldn’t need to be here.”

“Why are you here?”

“To confess my sins.”

“Then perhaps I should hear your confession.”

“Thank you, Father.”

The vampire took a deep breath and began.

“I am disillusioned with the world, Father.  It used to be, way back when, that the worst crime, the worst sin, was murder.  Then we had Nazi Germany, and the world went crazy.  They paved the way for the madness we have today with their attempts at obliterating an entire race, an innocent race, and nearly succeeding.  The Nazi legacy is all around us.  Look at `ethnic cleansing.’  The Middle East.  Terrorism.  The tribal wars in Africa, where families are slaughtered daily, where babies are beheaded in front of their mothers.   If I were a horror fiction writer I’d be told by my editors that the things I just described were too sick for print, but these are true atrocities, having happened not in the dark ages, but here and now in the 21st century!

“And things are no better in this gun-happy country we call home,” the vampire continued,  “where we lose 16 children a day and 40,000 adults a year to people wielding guns, from disgruntled men who take out their frustrations on the world by shooting into crowds of innocent bystanders, to playing children who accidentally blow their best friends’ brains out!  Children.  I feel for them most of all.  Abused, sexually assaulted, forced to— I won’t even go there!  Damn pornographers!  Sex and violence, Father.  We’re a nation addicted to both. How else can you explain the fact that women here are raped every day?  Every day!  What kind of a world allows these sort of things?  The kind that makes the types of sins I have committed in my lifetime fodder for a Disney movie!”

The priest shifted in his seat.  The vampire noticed.

“But I digress.  You must think me crazy.”

The priest did not comment.

“I did not come here today to ramble about generalized atrocities, but I cannot help myself, I am so sickened by it all.  I ask you, how can I not be horrified by the world in which we live, a world gone mad?”

“Yes,” the priest said.  “The world is a difficult place to live in these days.  But, the world is not in this confessional with me.  You are.  Is there anything that you have done that you would like to be absolved for?”

The vampire hesitated before responding.

“Yes.  There is something.  Some things.  That I need to ask forgiveness for.”

He did not elaborate.

“Go on,” the priest said, “and rest assured, that whatever these things are, if you are truly repentant, the Lord will forgive you your sins.”

“Yes, the Lord will forgive— it makes sinning so much easier, doesn’t it?  When you can say you’re sorry and have your sin washed away as if it never happened.  Very convenient.”

The priest opened his mouth to disagree with this cynical comment, to make the point that reconciliation is not about condoning sin, but getting past it, when the vampire beat him to the punch and spoke first.

“I have never harmed a child, and I’m certainly not a rapist.  But I am a vampire, and as such, I have done things that I am sorry for.  Terrible things.”

The priest rubbed his chin.  He was disturbed.

Disturbed by his visitor’s repeated assertion that he was a vampire.

It was an assertion he did not believe.  However, it was quite possible that this man believed it, and in all sincerity thought himself to be a vampire.  If this were the case, then this man may have committed acts which he might be sorry for, which would explain his need to seek God’s forgiveness.  For this reason, the priest listened.

And waited.

Waited for any indication that this was merely a joke.  And if and when he received such a sign, the confession would be terminated.

The vampire continued, “I have lied to women.  Promised them anything they wanted. From money to marriage to simple companionship.  I even promised one young lady a book contract.”

“Why did you make these promises?”  the priest questioned.

“Why?  So that I could become intimate with them.  So that I could hold them, kiss them, sleep with them.”

“Are you married?”  the priest asked.

“No.  I’m not confessing to adultery, Father.  I’m confessing to the reason I wanted to sleep with them.”

“What was the reason?”

“I needed their blood.”

For a moment, neither the priest nor the vampire said a word.

“Father?  Are you still there?”

The priest answered with a question.  “Are you confessing to having murdered these women?”

The vampire paused.

“I do not like the term, `murder.’  It makes what I have done seem less from necessity and more from passion, and this, Father, is certainly not the case.”

The priest ignored the comment.

“Have you committed murder?”

“I have taken lives, yes,” the vampire admitted.

“How many?”

The vampire hesitated but then responded, his voice deep, dark, and threatening.  “More lives than you have touched with your sermons, Father.  Many more lives!”

The vampire’s voice suddenly choked with emotion, “I have been drinking the blood of innocents for 200 years!”

The priest was unimpressed.

“Let’s call it quits, hmm?”

“Excuse me, Father?”

“With this performance.  I’ll give you two thumbs up, and then we’ll call it a day, hmm?”

What?

“Come on!  I know why you’re here!”

“What do you mean?”  the vampire asked, sounding very uncomfortable.

“I mean, I know Halloween is just two nights away!”  the priest answered, sounding angry for the first time.  “The joke’s over!  Go home!”

“You disappoint me, Father.  I thought you a wiser man.  You do not believe me then when I say that I am a vampire?  That I need to drink human blood to survive?  That I have drunk the blood of women the world over for 200 years?”

“Let me tell you what I believe.  I believe that if you don’t leave this confessional in the next 10 seconds, I’ll sound the silent alarm by my side, and the police’ll be here before you can say Bela Lugosi!”

“A silent alarm?”  the vampire said.  “I had no idea.”

“Obviously,” the priest said.  “Some people may consider the sacrament of penance a matter for the dark ages, but our security advisor isn’t one of them!  Now, will you please leave?  While you still can.”

“I assure you, I am being completely sincere,” the vampire said, his voice indeed resonating with a clear and honest authenticity.  “I was born in the 18th century, and I am a vampire.  Do you have a light in there with you, Father?”

“A what?”

“A light.  I would like you to look at my face.  Please, indulge me, and do not yet sound your alarm.  I need the forgiveness of God.  Please.”

The priest remained silent.

The vampire squirmed, shifting his position for the first time since the conversation had begun.

“I beg of you, Father.  Look at my face before you pass judgment.  Keep your finger on the button if you so desire, but wait until your eyes have seen the likes of which few men have seen and lived before you press it.  If only for a moment, if you dare.”

The vampire heard the rustling of the priest’s frock in the darkness- he was moving his arm, reaching for something.  The silent alarm, the light switch, or both.

Click.

Both rooms of the confessional were suddenly bathed in light.

The priest, seated in a comfortable chair, turned to his left and gazed into the screened window.  He gasped.

The face staring at him was chalky white, and the pale flesh of the man on the opposite side of the partition contrasted drastically with his combed forward dark hair, hair as black as ink.  His eyes were wide and red, as if the whites had been cracked open like egg shells, spilling bloody yolks into the empty sockets.  His nose was long and straight, like a nail, and his lips were coal black.

“Please extinguish the light now,” the vampire said.   “It pains me.  My eyes.  Please.”

The priest’s habit rustled again, and once more the confessional was draped in darkness.

“Do you believe me now, Father, after having seen my face?”

“Nice make-up,” the priest said, “although, frankly, I’ve seen better.  Must have bought your stuff at Wal Mart, huh?”

“Do not joke!” the vampire raised his voice, for the first time losing his composure.  “Please, Father, you must believe me!”

“Why?  Why do I have to believe you?  Is that part of the prank, huh?  Get the old priest to admit he believes in vampires?  So you can broadcast it to all your friends?”

“No.  It’s not that way at all.”

“Well, what way is it, then?”  the priest asked.

I — have sinned!  I— need— true forgiveness from God!

The confessional nearly shook.  The vampire’s body was vibrating with anxiety.

“True forgiveness from God,” the priest repeated.  “That’s a curious statement coming from a vampire.

**********************************************

Indeed.

If you’d like to find out what happens next, feel free to order a copy of FOR THE LOVE OF HORROR, available as an EBook from NECON EBooks at www.neconebooks.com and as a print edition at https://www.createspace.com/4294076.

As always, thanks so much for reading!

—Michael