Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 81,000
Phineas enslaves teens in his crazy-twisted Phreak Show by wielding their warped self-images against them. Tera joins to free them, but struggles with the truth: she’s more like the wicked Phineas than his innocent phreaks.
Word Count: 81,000
Phineas enslaves teens in his crazy-twisted Phreak Show by wielding their warped self-images against them. Tera joins to free them, but struggles with the truth: she’s more like the wicked Phineas than his innocent phreaks.
The neon-red TATTOO sign buzzed with the only spark of
excitement in Podunk. Or whatever clone of a town I rolled into that day. Slow
and gray like all the rest. Railroad tracks stretched down one side of the
street while a storefront church and a sorry excuse for a coffee shop sat on
the other. A mom wrangled her toddler into a rusty pickup parked against the
curb. Old men perched on a bench outside a hardware store, ogling me, some
strange teenage girl, invading their land.
At least this Podunk had a tattoo shop. The first I’d seen in two days. Enough stalling. I needed to get it done while I had the chance, before I lost the nerve again, before my money ran out.
A bell jangled as I pushed my way into the antiseptic air. Drawings of hearts and butterflies, daggers and skulls, covered the walls. I slid my fingers into my back pocket and fished out my last eighty-three bucks. And the photo of Jamie. The white crease down its center cut right along the middle of his tiny body. A tangle of tubes and wires snaked in and out of him. And all because of me.
“What you need?”
I jerked away from the image in my hand, and followed the voice to the pierced lip of an inked-up guy. Scruffy hint of a beard, jet-black hair, and nerd glasses reflecting the light so I couldn’t see his eyes. I stepped closer, checking out his skinny jeans through the glass display case of tongue rings and metal bars.
At least this Podunk had a tattoo shop. The first I’d seen in two days. Enough stalling. I needed to get it done while I had the chance, before I lost the nerve again, before my money ran out.
A bell jangled as I pushed my way into the antiseptic air. Drawings of hearts and butterflies, daggers and skulls, covered the walls. I slid my fingers into my back pocket and fished out my last eighty-three bucks. And the photo of Jamie. The white crease down its center cut right along the middle of his tiny body. A tangle of tubes and wires snaked in and out of him. And all because of me.
“What you need?”
I jerked away from the image in my hand, and followed the voice to the pierced lip of an inked-up guy. Scruffy hint of a beard, jet-black hair, and nerd glasses reflecting the light so I couldn’t see his eyes. I stepped closer, checking out his skinny jeans through the glass display case of tongue rings and metal bars.
I aim my dart and hit 20 on the pie!
ReplyDeleteMy dart hits the 15 pie ... Carlie Webber
ReplyDeleteThx for the dart-luv, agents. Much appreciated!
ReplyDelete