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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Print Edition of My Novel TIME FRAME Now Available!

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time frame coverTIME FRAME – My Debut Novel Now Available!

By

Michael Arruda

It’s time for some happy news.

My debut novel, TIME FRAME, previously only available as an EBook from Necon Ebooks at www.neconebooks.com, is now available as a print on demand paperback edition.

There are several ways you can get a print edition of TIME FRAME.  You can order it at https://www.createspace.com/5487293, you can order it at Amazon.com, or you can order it directly through me.  Just send me an email at mjarruda33@gmail.com with your request and we’ll take it from there.  The print edition is on sale for $14.99.

The Ebook remains available for $2.99 and can be ordered at www.neconebooks.com.

TIME FRAME is a story about time travel.  I love time travel stories, and I set out to write one that played with multiple timelines and had some fun taking traditional time travel tropes to the extreme.

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.  I hope you decide to check it out.

Thanks for reading!

—Michael

TIME FRAME – Sneak Preview: Chapter 4

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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.

Previously on this blog I featured Chapters 1-3 of the novel.  Today the sneak preview continues with Chapter 4.

Hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading!

—Michael

 

CHAPTER 4

The bald-headed bartender, with a white towel slung over his shoulder, turned from the cash register by the whiskey bottles and approached the two strangers sitting at his bar.

“Would you like another?”  He asked.

The two strangers each had been nursing their drinks for the past half hour.  The one who did most of the talking was a heavy set stocky fellow with dark curly hair and a chubby face that looked friendly.  He had a soft somewhat high voice and nodded a lot when he spoke.  He sipped a Guinness.

His friend was the one who made Duncan uneasy.  A big man, close to 6’ 6”, an imposing figure who looked incredibly fit and strong for someone who appeared to be past his prime, perhaps in his early 40s, as his hair sported spots of gray and his face weathered lines.  It was his face that disturbed Duncan the most, and more specifically, his eyes.

The eyes were cold, a killer’s eyes.  Duncan knew the type because he’d worked at the prison once, a long time ago, and he’d seen his share of murderers.  Not all of them had this particular look, but the ones that did, he’d always kept clear of.  It was the look of a predator, a wolf, eyes that spoke out loud, that said no one they encountered could best them.  I’m the top of the food chain.  The tall man sitting at his bar had these eyes.

The man made Duncan uncomfortable, and Duncan was not spooked easily.  After all, he was the champion arm wrestler of Kilgarvan, and at six foot one inch, he was an imposing figure himself who not only owned Duncan’s Pub and tended bar but also served as resident bouncer.  Still, it was one thing to throw out a drunken lug from your establishment, and quite another to tangle with a killer.  After all, Duncan used his muscles to prevent bloodshed, not inflict it.

The man sipped his whiskey, straight, no ice.  He licked his lips, all the while keeping his eyes on Duncan.  He didn’t blink.

“No, thank you.  We’ll keep to these,” the man said.  His voice was emotionless, yet penetrating, like a gun with a silencer.

Duncan swallowed.  “Just let me know if I can get you anything.”

“Certainly.  Thank you so much,” the chubby man smiled. “You’re very thoughtful.”

“And you two are the oddest couple I’ve ever seen,” Duncan thought.

He turned away from the two men, and his eyes fell upon the welcome sight of O’Leary, one of his regulars, the regular in his opinion.  Duncan’s Pub had been open for 11 years, and Duncan remembered clearly opening for business that first day and within the first five minutes of unlocking the front door, seeing O’Leary saunter in with a big smile and saying, “Pour me a stout, why don’t ya?”  That’s how it had begun, and now 11 years later, that’s how it continued.

“Pour me a stout, why don’t ya?” O’Leary said.  He looked over at the two strangers sitting at the bar to his right.

Duncan opened the tap and poured a frothy dark one into a tall mug.  He slapped it in front O’Leary.

“Ah, I thank you,” O’Leary said, lifting the mug to his lips and drawing in a long sip of the hearty brew.

“No. Thank you,” Duncan said.

“Me?  What for?  You’re the one who’s working,” O’Leary said.

“You keep me sane.  It’s good to see you every day,” Duncan said.  His eyes roved back towards the two strangers, and O’Leary followed them.

O’Leary nodded.  “I know what you mean.”

Duncan was able to have this conversation with O’Leary, in such close proximity to the two strangers, because as usual on a weekday afternoon after work, Duncan’s Pub was packed, packed and loud.

Funny about noise, Duncan thought.  It starts off low, then grows louder as the next guy raises his voice so his friend can hear, and then the next guy does the same, and so on and so on.  You’d think it would reach the point where it would burst the eardrums, but it doesn’t.  Day after day the same thing happens.  Suddenly, it gets quiet, all by itself, and inevitably someone makes a loud off color joke, breaking the silence, allowing the cycle to begin again.

It was loud now, and though the two strangers sat close to O’Leary, separated only by Tim and Tina, two other regulars who Duncan didn’t know as well as O’Leary since they only came in once a month or so, it was easy to hold a conversation without worry that they’d be heard.

Duncan didn’t know how old O’Leary was.  He had looked to be in his 60s on that day 11 years ago when he had first come into the pub, and he still looked like he was in his 60s now.  He was thin but had a round frame, and Duncan imagined he must have been a chubby young man.  He had very fine hair and very coarse skin, no doubt from his career as a fisherman.  He was retired now.  His face could be harsh with all its weathered lines, but as soon as he smiled, all the harshness disappeared and he became as warm as everyone’s favorite grandfather.

Duncan didn’t know if 11 years ago O’Leary simply looked older than he was, or if nowadays he simply looked great for his age.  Duncan just hoped the man remained healthy and kept coming in.  Sickness in old age came on fast.  He had seen it with his dad, and now with his mother.  They go on and on in apparent good health claiming they’re going to live to 90, but when sickness comes to a 70 year-old, serious sickness, the body just doesn’t recover.  Duncan didn’t want to see O’Leary sick.

“Just how old are you, O’Leary?”  Duncan asked.

O’Leary sipped his stout and placed the mug on the bar.  “Old enough to drink as many of these as I want.”

“You watching your health?”  Duncan asked.

“Take my medicine every day,” O’Leary said, raising his glass.

Duncan laughed.  He happened to notice the clock on the wall opposite the bar.

“You’re here early today,” Duncan said.  “What’s the occasion?”

“The wife’s out shopping,” O’Leary said.

“You rascal,” Duncan said.

He noticed the two strangers looking around the bar, as if they were looking for someone.  He told himself to leave well enough alone, to attend to the customers at the other end of the bar, but the man with the cold eyes suddenly looked perplexed.  The expression caught Duncan’s curiosity.  Still, he wanted nothing more to do with these two men, at least not until he had finished with the customers at the other end of the bar.  Duncan was about to turn to those customers when he realized the man had caught him staring.

“Oops,” Duncan thought, and he grinned.  How to get out of this one? He decided to simply do his job, and that would take care of it.  He stepped towards the two strangers.

“You look like your wheels are turning,” Duncan said.  “Something on your mind I can help you with?”

“No one’s smoking.  A pub without cigarette smoke.  Why is that?”  The tall stranger asked.

“Welcome to the 21st century,” said Tim, who sat just to the men’s left.

The stranger turned towards Tim and glared at him with wide opened eyes.        “It’s a new law,” Duncan said.  “No more smoking in the workplace, which includes the 10,000 pubs here in Ireland.  If you want to smoke, you’ll have to go outside.”

“Ireland, the world’s healthiest place to live,” O’Leary said, lifting his beer mug.  “Damned health minister!” Tim said.

The tall man turned to his chubby friend.  “Why didn’t you know about this?”

The chubby man shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I didn’t see anything in the literature about it.”

“Don’t come down on your buddy too hard,” Duncan said.  “It’s a brand new law. I’m sure it’s not in any of the travel guides yet.  I hope you weren’t looking forward to that smoke too badly.  You gentlemen on vacation?”

“No.  Business,” said the tall man.

“I see.  What do you do?”  Duncan asked.

The man made direct eye contact with Duncan but didn’t offer an answer, at least not by speaking.  His eyes, they did the talking, and Duncan knew what they were saying, “Stop asking me questions.”

“We’re in the travel business,” said the chubby man.  “That’s why we’re a bit put out that we didn’t know about the ‘no smoking’ law.  It’s our job to know these things.”

“Travel business,” Duncan repeated.  “Are you going to write up a report on my pub?  Should I be on my best behavior?”

The chubby man chuckled.  “No, it’s not like that.  We’re more interested in the people doing the traveling than the places they travel to.  We’re sort of like the People’s Choice awards.  We don’t rate the places we visit ourselves, but we talk to the real life travelers and see what they have to say.  Do you get many travelers here, or do you serve mostly locals?”

“Locals, for sure.  Very few travelers,” Duncan answered.  “On any given month you’d be the only ones, but it must be the week for visitors.”

“You’ve had some tourists in this week?” the chubby man asked.

“One.  A man.  Pretty sure he’s an American. He talks like an American.”

“He sounds like the kind of man we’d like to talk to,” the chubby man said.

“Really?  Too bad, because you’d learn much more if you talked to one of the regulars,” Duncan said.

The chubby man smiled.  “Don’t worry.  We don’t publish negative reviews.  That’s not what we’re about.  We’re interested only in people’s experiences in foreign lands.  We’re not critics.  We’re about human interest stories.  It’s too bad we missed this guy.”

“He’s been in more than once.  Maybe he’ll come in again today,” Duncan said.  He looked at his watch.  “Around this time, too.  Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“Maybe,” the chubby man said.

Duncan noticed the chubby man’s beer mug was nearly empty.

“Are you sure I can’t get you another?  Duncan asked.

“You know, I think I will have another, thank you very much.”

“Another Guinness?”  Duncan asked, just to make sure.

“Yes.”

Duncan looked at the tall man, still nursing his whiskey.  The tall man shook his head.

“No thank you,” the man said.

Duncan moved to the tap.  “You are one creepy looking guy,” he thought.  “The sooner you’re out of here, the better!”

As he poured the beer, he thought about what the chubby man had just said, and he didn’t buy it.  Travel business.  He didn’t think so.  They didn’t look the part.  At least the tall guy didn’t.  He had killer written all over him.  Maybe to other people he didn’t look so obvious, but it was Duncan’s job to know people inside and out, and the vibes he got from this guy weren’t good.  Whether he was some sort of international agent, CIA perhaps, or hired gun or even terrorist, it didn’t matter.  Duncan wanted him out of his bar.

“Your kind is the last thing we need,” Duncan thought.  “Ireland has enough of its own problems.  We don’t need violence from the outside.”

Duncan filled the mug with a fresh Guinness.  He turned and gave the chubby man his drink.

The front door opened, and Duncan saw the American visitor.  His gut told him to keep his mouth shut, but the chubby guy had said the American was the type of person they wanted to talk to, as part of their travel business.  Maybe he’d call their bluff and see what happened.

“You gentlemen are in luck,” Duncan said.  “Our American tourist just came in for his afternoon brew.”

The two men looked over their shoulders.

The tall American, about 6’2”, and lanky, had the slim yet fit look of a runner.  He wore dark clothing, blue jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt with a hood which bunched up behind his neck.  His white running shoes helped him bounce when he walked.  His hair was jet black, wavy, and it possessed a gel shine.  He had handsome blue eyes that put people at ease.  He appeared a friendly chap.

He approached his usual table, a small circular job meant for two.  Though the pub was packed, the small table was still available.  Most of the patrons of Duncan’s Pub preferred to either stand or hang out by the bar.

Duncan and the two strangers weren’t the only ones who noticed the American come through the door.

Brenda, Duncan’s best waitress, was already moving his way.  He had just sat down, when she leaned her attractive body against him so that her hips touched his shoulder.   She made it a point to touch all the male customers.  Duncan let her do it because it was good for business.  She had a way of doing it without coming across trashy.  She came off like a kid sister who hadn’t seen her “brothers” in months.  The men loved it, and they loved her.  They rewarded her by giving her the best tips in the house.  Duncan didn’t mind because they also stayed longer and bought more beer.

She and the American struck up a conversation, and Duncan knew Brenda would soon be approaching the bar with the man’s order, a mug of frothy ale.

“Does he always come in alone?” the tall man asked.

“Yeah,” Duncan answered.  “Always picks the same table, right there, gets himself a beer and some dinner, and has a good time.”

“You’ve never seen him with anyone else?”  The tall man asked.

“No,” Duncan said.  “Why do you ask?”

Again, the man answered with his eyes, and they were none too happy.

“We ask different questions of solo travelers compared to couples or groups,” the chubby man said.  “Just doing our homework before we go over there and talk to him.”

“I see,” Duncan said.

The tall man reached into his pocket and tossed some money onto the bar.

“Thank you for the drinks,” he said.  He stood from his seat, and his chubby friend followed.  Together they approached the American.

Duncan took the money, nodded in approval at the size of the tip, and turned to deposit the cash in the cash register.

“Is it a full moon tonight, you think?” O’Leary asked.

“Why do you ask?”  Duncan said, looking over his shoulder.

“Those two.”

“You noticed?”

Duncan closed the cash drawer and approached his friend.

“Noticed?  I felt it!”

“The only thing you feel is a hangover in the morning!” Brenda said, coming up behind O’Leary and planting a friendly kiss on the back of his ear.

O’Leary smiled upon seeing Brenda.  “I can still feel more than that, just ask my wife!  Or perhaps you’d like a demonstration?”

“I have asked your wife, and I don’t have the two hours it’ll take to get you started!”  Brenda shot back, bringing howls from the patrons on both sides of O’Leary.  “Our American friend will have his usual,” she said to Duncan.

“Thank you, Brenda,” Duncan said.  He looked into the crowd to see the two strangers approaching the American’s table.

“Travel business,” Duncan muttered, shaking his head.  His stomach suddenly felt sour.

O’Leary made another off color joke causing more hearty laughter from the crowd around the bar.  Duncan smiled and poured the ale for the American.

“Good old O’Leary,” Duncan thought.  “How can anything bad happen with him around?”

 

And that ends Chapter 4.  Once again, thanks for reading!

—Michael

TIME FRAME by Michael Arruda – Sneak Preview- Chapter 3

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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.

On January 21 I featured  Chapter 1 of the novel here on this blog, and on February 13 I unleashed Chapter 2.  Today the sneak preview continues with Chapter 3.  Hope you enjoy it.

Thanks for reading!

—Michael

CHAPTER 3

“How is it possible?” Kathryn asked.

“It’s not,” Sandy said.

“If you don’t mind, could I — hug you?” Papa asked his daughter.

Kathryn paused to consider the request, and then she nodded and stepped towards the man who looked exactly like her deceased father.

Papa opened his arms, and gently, very gently, Kathryn allowed herself to enter the man’s grasp. Papa closed his arms around her back, drawing her close, and Adam watched as the man’s face burst into tears.

“Excuse me,” Sandy said loudly, “but am I the only one here who remembers that this man friggin died seven years ago!”

Kathryn gently broke away from her father.

“No, you’re not the only one,” Kathryn said, sobbing.

Adam grabbed a tissue from the dispenser on the end table by the couch and handed it to his mother. Kathryn thanked her son and used the tissue to wipe her eyes and nose.

“He has an explanation,” Adam said.

Papa looked directly at Kathryn. “I am your father, Kathryn, and I am your grandfather, Adam, but — I’m also not him.”

“Damn it, old man, make some sense!” Sandy said.

“I’m not trying to speak in riddles,” Papa said. “Let me tell you the whole story. Then, you’ll understand.”

When they had settled into the comfortable seats in the living room, Papa began.

“We have to go back some years, to when I used to work for the gas company, to get to the beginning of how this happened. They were always shoving different forms in front of our faces. From ‘do you want to give to this charity’ to ‘do you want to be an organ donor?” That sort of thing. I remember distinctly this one time, there was a form from a private research company. They wanted permission to take blood samples from us. I remember it because it was the only time anyone ever asked us for blood, other than the blood bank, of course. I didn’t know what they wanted it for, but I believed in the principle of helping scientists, so a few of my buddies and me filled out the forms and gave these people some of our blood. Years went by, and we never saw or heard from these people again, and I never thought about them again. I went on with my uneventful life, and as you know, eventually had that stroke, and nothing was ever the same again.”

“You got that right,” Adam thought.

The stroke had knocked his grandfather out of the real world. His heart had taken such a hit his doctors had pretty much told him his career at the gas company was over.

He had to quit smoking, which to his credit, he did, cold turkey, and he had to be on medication for the rest of his life. He wasn’t allowed to exert himself in any way, which meant little or no exercise, activity, or travel. What he could do was eat and sleep and sit and watch television all day. In short, he was through being a whole person. He was only 62.

Still, it could have been much worse. He didn’t lose any of his mental faculties. He remained sharp and alert until the end. Of course, the end was a long time coming. Because of the advances of modern medicine, Papa lived on for 18 years this way.

The way Adam remembered it, the bulk of those years weren’t so bad for Papa, but the last couple had been brutal for the man. In the end, he was doing nothing for himself. Adam’s grandmother Nana could no longer take care of him. Nurses came to the house to bathe him and dress him. He even needed help going to the bathroom and cleaning up afterwards, it was horrible. As many family members remarked at the time, it was no way to live.

Eventually Papa succumbed to pneumonia and died at the age of 80.

In spite of his illness, he had always made Adam feel special, and Adam had always loved to visit him. He missed him dearly after he passed on.

“Do you know that my last memory was seeing your mother,” Papa said, looking directly at Kathryn, “in the hospital room. I was in bed. She stood over me. I told her I loved her, and we kissed each other, and she left for the night.

“Later I felt myself slipping away. It was like hanging onto a ladder and then letting go. I was so content with the knowledge that I was going to die. You can’t imagine the pain I’d been feeling for so long. I couldn’t take it anymore. It was so peaceful, drifting off, thinking of your mother, of all of you, of happy times gone by. No regrets, just peace and contentment that I had been blessed with a wonderful life. And that was it, that was the last thing I remembered, that was the end, until — .

“Until I woke up again in a different time in a different place, five hundred years from now, five hundred years in the future, give or take a few. That research company that had taken my blood all those years ago, they had frozen my DNA. Four hundred years from now another company buys my DNA. Five hundred years from now, they take my DNA, and they bring me back to life.”

Kathryn grimaced. “Why?”

“Simply put, my dear daughter, because they can,” Papa answered. “Science in that day and age has progressed so far, it’s unbelievable. Cloning there is like sex. Everyone does it. Parents sometimes even create their own children from a catalogue, like the way we pick out patterns for a room. DNA research is that advanced. Time travel is possible, which of course, is how I got here.”

“You came here in a time machine?” Sandy asked.

“Yes.”

Sandy burst out laughing.

Adam gently removed the wine glass from his wife’s hand.

“Sorry,” Adam said. “She’s had more than she’s used to.”

“It’s okay,” Papa said. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true, and the fact that I’m sitting here in this room with you now is proof that it’s true.”

“Are you a clone?” Kathryn asked.

Papa chewed over the question for a moment before answering. Adam wondered what he was thinking about. “I guess it’s cloning since this isn’t my original body, but it is exactly the same. I can’t tell any difference. Can you? And all my memories are intact, my whole life, from childhood to that last day in the hospital.” He pointed to his head. “It’s all in here. I don’t think of myself as a clone.”

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” Adam observed. “Can you see without them?”

“Yes, they made improvements,” Papa answered. “I’ve got perfect vision, even better than I had when I was a young man.”

“You look better too,” Sandy said with a hiccup. “He looks better.”

“I don’t know what to believe,” Kathryn said. “Daddy, let’s just say for the sake of the argument that everything you said is true, that you were brought back to life five hundred years from now using your frozen DNA. What are you doing here?”

“I missed my family,” Papa answered. “Who do I know five hundred years in the future? Nobody. I was homesick, and I’m not afraid to admit it.”

“Were you brought back to life as an adult or as a child?” Adam asked. “Did you have to relive your childhood all over again?”

“No, I came back as an adult,” Papa answered. “Both ways are possible. The company that resurrected me wanted me as an adult. They wanted me to tell them about my experiences in World War II. They still study history in the future. They’re fanatics about it.”

“Excuse me,” Adam said, “but it’s my understanding that clones don’t come with memories. If I were to be cloned today, my clone wouldn’t be born with my memories.”

Papa nodded. “You’re right, and that’s true of the clones today, but five hundred years from now, it’s quite the different story.”

“You’re asking me to believe that they harvested your memories from just a sample of your blood?” Adam asked. “I find that impossible to believe.”

“Not from my blood,” Papa answered. “From my atoms.”

Adam didn’t understand.

“It goes something like this,” Papa said, “and don’t expect a scientist’s explanation, because as you know, I’m not a scientist. The scientists from five hundred years in our future were able to break down my blood to an atomic level, atom by atom, and supposedly, what they’ve discovered, is at that level, memories are stored, and it’s possible to bring them back. That’s what they told me. All I know is, I have my memories.”

How could Adam argue with a science not yet invented?

“So, the people of the future. They wanted you to teach them about the past?” Adam asked.

“Yes, that was my job, to relay firsthand accounts of the war, and when I wasn’t working they went out of their way to make me feel comfortable and be a part of the culture of the day. Life in the 2500s is pretty good, let me tell you, but I missed my family. You know how much I love my family.”

Kathryn nodded. “Yes, I know.”

“Anyway, I soon learned that time travel was possible, and in my spare time, I read all about it, how it was done, how much it cost, and I started to save up for it, because I asked myself, what am I doing here? The ability to go back to my family, in the past, exists. Why not take it?”

“And that’s allowed?” Adam asked. “I mean, I would think there’d be problems with it. Interfering with history, for example?”

“It’s legal. Up to a point.” Papa didn’t elaborate.

“Up to what point?” Adam asked.

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Papa said.

“Daddy, what did you do?” Kathryn said.

“Well, I — I’m not supposed to make contact with any of you.”

“Ooops!” Sandy giggled.

Thank God for wine, Adam thought. He turned to his grandfather.

“What happens if you do?” Adam asked.

Papa shrugged.

“I don’t know. But listen, I didn’t return to change history,” Papa said. “I returned to see my family. That’s it. In the big scheme of life, I’m just a little man, and we’re just a little family in little old New Bedford, Massachusetts. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

—-END Chapter 3—-

Okay, that’s Chapter 3.  Again, if you’d like to read the entire novel it’s now available as an EBook from NECON EBooks at http://www.neconebooks.com.

Thanks!

—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

TIME FRAME – My Debut Novel- Now Available!

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time frame coverTIME FRAME – My Debut Novel Now Available!

By

Michael Arruda

 

Nothing like writing your own press release!

 

Seriously, though, self-promotion goes hand in hand with being an author.  You’ve got to get the word out about your work.  Books don’t sell themselves.

 

Self-promotion is, after all, one of the main reasons I write this blog.  Sure, I have fun writing it, and I enjoy writing about movies and the horror genre, but the goal really of the whole thing is to get my name out there so that if people like what they read here, they’ll take a chance and buy some of my books that are on sale.  That’s the theory anyway.  I don’t think about it too much since I have so much fun writing the blog.

 

Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.  If you write, you have to spend as much time and effort marketing your work as you do writing it, or else you’ll be writing for you and you alone, and that simply isn’t much fun!

 

So, that’s what I’m doing here today, promoting my new novel.

 

My debut novel, TIME FRAME, is now available as an EBook from NeconEbooks at www.neconebooks.com.  And right now it’s on sale for the very low price of $2.99.  What a bargain!

 

TIME FRAME is a story about time travel.  I love time travel stories, and I set out to write one that played with multiple timelines and had some fun taking traditional time travel tropes to the extreme.

 

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.

 

Here’s what others are saying about TIME FRAME:

 

TIME FRAME is one of those books that had me from the first scene. It begins when Papa, who has been dead for several years, knocks on the door of his adult grandson’s house. Why he’s there (and more importantly, how) opens up a whole plethora of questions and answers involving the future, time travel, and deadly conspiracies to keep certain mouths shut. Somehow, Arruda is able to put a fresh spin on the concept of time travel, and deliver a gripping book that will have you eagerly turning pages to see what happens next. There’s also something about his style and characters that has a quality similar to comfort food. You’re in for a treat with this one. TIME FRAME delivers.”

 

–L.L. Soares, Bram Stoker Award-winning author of the novels LIFE RAGE, ROCK ‘N’ ROLL and HARD

 

 

TIME FRAME, by Michael Arruda, serves up both a tender family drama and mind-bending time travel story. An earnest debut novel with a lot of heart and plenty of twists and turns.

–Daniel G Keohane, author of SOLOMON’S GRAVE

 

 

“Michael Arruda’s TIME FRAME is the kind of science fiction novel I love – full of great characters and ideas.  It speeds along at a frightening pace with complications and time conundrums hurled incessantly at our heroes.  In this way, it hearkens back to those great tales from the golden age of science fiction, but with all the time travel, explosions, fires, and heady concepts, it is ultimately the story of the importance of family in our lives.  What a great ride!”

 

–William D. Carl, author of THE SCHOOL THAT SCREAMED and BESTIAL

 

 

“Arruda works the time lines, like a weaver on a loom.  TIME FRAME is a fun, quirky and entertaining read.  Time travel, clones, the occasional temporal paradox and a pinch of violence thrown in for good measure.  A very enjoyable ride.”

 

–Scott T. Goudsward, Co-author of HORROR GUIDE TO MASSACHUSETTS, Co-editor of ONCE UPON AN APOCALYPSE

 

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.  I hope you decide to check it out.

 

And if EBooks aren’t your thing, the print edition will be arriving soon, a little bit later on in 2015.

 

Thanks for reading!

 

—Michael