Posts Tagged ‘Jennifer Alice Chandler’

May 7, 2017


I have finished up my typing/ first round editing of Intermezzo. Now I’ve begun typing Grave — or I should say my mom is doing most of the typing while I dictate and edit with some typing. At this point, I am alternating between editing Intermezzo and typing/editing Grave. Grave is a bit more of a challenge since it wasn’t written in chronological order, and I have to put it in order. Plus, I put notes for future books in the margins, which have to be typed up.

I began writing Grave in earnest in August of 2014 — the August after my stroke. That is sort of interesting, at least to me. My mom mentioned my style is different than previously. She seems to like it better. My handwriting was certainly shaky back then, but all things considered it was remarkably legible. I was still getting used to using my right hand to write again. After my stroke, I couldn’t use either hand to do much of anything. Not to mention, in no time in my life was my handwriting ever going to win an award for beauty! A thank you goes to God and His Son Jesus for His mercy.

I’ve started writing five books at a time. I started Book 5 of Nocturne’s Reaping®, Etude, when I finished writing Grave. Plus, I recently started a whole new book. Initially, I wrote a page in two books one day then a page in the other three on a subsequent day. But writing in three books in one day proved to be difficult. So instead, I am doing two in a given day. I am repeating days for Labyrinth — a book that’s the first of a three-part dystopian series and is the one of the five that is the closest to being finished. Making slower progress on the others allows me to be open to new avenues and extend the pacing and length of the books. But once I get close to the end of a particular book, such as with Labyrinth, I think it is better to be more focused and revisit it more often in order to keep up the pace and momentum.

Lastly, I will be posting Prelude two chapters a month starting today. God willing, I plan to post two chapters on the seventh of each month. Chapters 1 and 2 were already posted. I’ll be posting these on Word Press and my website: http://www.jenniferalicechandler.com  or http://www.nocturnesreaping.com

My books will continue to be in e-book format on Amazon (Kindle) and in paperback format on Amazon/ CreateSpace. I won’t be enrolled in the Kindle Select or Kindle Unlimited programs any longer though.

Thanks for reading this!

Jennifer Chandler

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Nocturne’s Reaping® : Prelude

Chapter 4

The funeral was held the day after Celeste returned to the lawyer’s office. It took place at Prince of Peace Christian Church. It was well attended, despite the fact that it was held early in the morning. Celeste had insisted that it be early. After all, the club meeting had been rescheduled for that afternoon. And while she was at school, she planned to take care of another matter as well.

Mr. Davis had found documentation that pointed to the existence of a wall safe in her parents’ house. The documentation also listed the combination for that safe. The money was put there, so that her parents’ assets wouldn’t be tied up in litigation. Celeste was ecstatic there was more than enough money to pay for the rest of her yearly school tuition. In addition, there would be enough left for her and Lark to live off of for a while. In the meantime, Mr. Davis would be working on liquefying other assets and checking into any life insurance policies. Though, he advised, it may take awhile because of his busy schedule. Celeste was a bit dismayed to hear that her struggles weren’t a priority for her father’s supposed friend. Perhaps, she should take Lark with her next time; Lark was sure to evoke some sympathy. Yet, at the end of the day, Celeste concluded that it was more important for Mr. Davis to do a thorough job. She, therefore, couldn’t afford to call him out on his lack of enthusiasm. Instead, she decided to focus on the fact there would be plenty of money once everything was settled. After all, if her parents had that much in a safe imagine the size of both estates! And there was more good news; it seemed there was no stipulation about age or trust funds in the will. That meant that Celeste could control the entirety of both estates! At last, control seemed to be returning to Celeste. So much for Mrs. Baker’s proclamation of doom!

“Celeste … Celeste.”

Celeste turned towards Mrs. Baker.

“Would you like to say a few words?” Mrs. Baker offered in a solemn tone.

Celeste’s eyes flashed as the people around her turned and stared. Celeste’s face flushed.

“No.” Celeste snapped.

Celeste could tell by the reaction of the people around her that they thought less of her. Celeste turned to her left and looked at Lark. Lark was silent. Her head was bowed down; tears streamed continuously down her face.

Celeste remarked to herself that no one asked Lark to speak. No one ever expected anything from her. Why was that? Why didn’t anyone cut Celeste slack? Her parents died, too. Celeste turned from her cousin and stared straight ahead. Suddenly, tears began to form in Celeste’s eyes as well. Lark looked up at Celeste then placed her hand on Celeste’s. Celeste looked down at the hand for a moment. The weight and heat of it became almost unbearable somehow. But Celeste couldn’t exactly move her hand away. What would everyone else think?

After the funeral, there was a delay. Mrs. Baker was going to drive Celeste and Lark to the cemetery, but she was taking her time leaving the church. In order to avoid having to talk to too many people, Celeste placed herself away from the door and next to a bulletin board. One after another, the other mourners filed outside slowly. Celeste began watching them leave out of the corner of her eye; that is until she realized that one of them was coming towards her. To avoid having to deal with the person — whoever it was — Celeste turned completely away and stared at the bulletin board. As it turned out, this incident was fortunate, for one notice quickly caught her eye. Without hesitation, Celeste grabbed an information pamphlet from the board. Celeste then turned to Lark, who had come up silently to stand next to her.

“Look.” Celeste directed. “This may work for you. There’s an after-school church program for kids. Since this church isn’t far from your school, you could walk here. I wonder how much it costs. Remind me to call and ask later.”


There was a lot of food at the luncheon after the funeral. The good news was Celeste wouldn’t need to cook for a while; though, she did wonder whether there was enough freezer space for all of it. Still, the problem with having all these people come over to the house was how to get them to leave promptly. They seemed almost dazed and unsure of what to do with themselves. Celeste tried dropping hints about how she had somewhere else to be soon, but the guests just looked at her as though she wasn’t speaking their language.

Fortunately, they eventually started to say their good-byes and excuse themselves. Then, it was just she and Lark left.

“All right. It’s time to get ready for school.”

Lark was perplexed.


“Yes. I have to go, so you have to go.”

Lark looked off to the side for a moment and considered. Then, she headed for her room to change. Celeste got ready in record time. It wasn’t that hard, for her hair and makeup were already perfect. Then again, that wouldn’t do. Celeste swiftly grabbed a handkerchief from her father’s desk drawer and began taking off some of the makeup — that way no one could accuse her of not grieving enough. Too bad she hadn’t thought of that during the funeral. Perhaps, she might have been treated better if she had looked less pretty — like Lark. Suddenly, Celeste sighed. All that was left for her to do was wait for Lark to show up. Once Lark finally did appear, Celeste promptly ushered her out the front door. Lark’s school was a little out of Celeste’s way, but it couldn’t be helped. It would be just like Mrs. Baker to show up to check on them later and find Lark home alone. That could potentially ruin Celeste’s chances of becoming Lark’s guardian. Fortunately, it didn’t matter. If Celeste hurried, she could still make it to her own school early enough to complete a half-day. And that would make her eligible to attend the after-school meeting. Thankfully, Celeste now had access to her mother’s car. Celeste knew she couldn’t make it on time if she had to walk.

“Remember to go to the church after school.” Celeste mentioned when they arrived in front of Lark’s school. “I talked to them. They’ll be expecting you. It turns out it’s free.”

Lark nodded; then, she stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Seconds later, Lark could hear the car retreat behind her.

Of course, people looked at Celeste funny when she arrived at school. Something about death seemed to bring on this reaction, Celeste thought. Oh well. There was one thing she could do to cheer herself up. Celeste headed directly to the main office of the school. There, she proudly took out most of the money from the safe and presented it to the bursar.

“I’d like to pay my tuition for the rest of the year.” Celeste announced.

The bursar didn’t seem to react. Of course, they were used to this kind of thing, and Celeste’s account had always been kept current. Why should anything change now? Feeling confident in having secured part of her future, Celeste now just needed to secure the presidency and the scholarship. Since it was almost time for the lunchtime passing period, Celeste decided to wait around in the hall for Deidre. Celeste had become friends with Deidre over the course of the last few months. She was a perfect friend to have at the club. Deidre’s parents were rich, so Deidre certainly didn’t need the scholarship. Deidre was also very busy in the show horse circuit and had no desire to take on more responsibilities. If Deidre had wanted the presidency, she would have had it with ease. She was very influential and well liked. Fortunately, instead of being a rival she became Celeste’s asset.

Of course, there was one problem: Deidre’s best friend, Melissa. Deidre had thrown her support behind Melissa up until about a month ago. But now, Deidre’s support was firmly behind Celeste. Well, as firm as these things could be. The bell rang.

By the time Celeste caught sight of Deidre in the milling crowd, Deidre already seemed to have caught sight of Celeste. Celeste was a bit surprised that Deidre appeared to be dragging her heels heading over to her. What was even stranger was the fact that Celeste was standing in front of Deidre’s locker. Could Deidre be avoiding Celeste because of her personal tragedy?

“Celeste. I didn’t think you’d be here.” Deidre stated when she eventually found herself standing in front of Celeste.

“What do you mean? Certainly, you’re not saying you purposefully scheduled the meeting for a time when you thought I couldn’t be here?”

“No, of course not.” Deidre replied. “But once I heard about the funeral, I just assumed. I mean, as it turns out, you really don’t have to be here.”

“What? Of course I do.” Celeste was incredulous.

Deidre raised an eyebrow then looked off to the side.

“What?” Celeste demanded.

“I talked it over with the other girls. Seeing that you now have a little cousin to take care of — how can you expect to fulfill the club responsibilities?”

“She’s old enough to stay at home by herself a little while. Plus, I’m getting her into an after-school program.”

“Then, there’s the little matter of the scholarship.”

“What about it?”

“You can’t use it.”

“How so?”

Deidre rolled her eyes.

“They’re not going to let you take your little cousin to Highland. You won’t be able to attend there until she’s grown. So really, why waste this opportunity for the rest of us? It doesn’t make any sense. Plus, it was close anyway. The fact is any one of us … well, any one of the rest of us could do just as good of a job as you could.”

Celeste glared at Deidre with intensity.

“Listen, the thing with Lark hasn’t even been settled yet …” Celeste pointed out.

Deidre sighed.

“Before you go on, you should know that I know.”

“Know what?”

“Well, it seems you were mistaken about Melissa.” Deidre added. “She never went out with my ex-boyfriend. It’s a good thing we got to talking. Now I can vote for her instead without reservation. It’ll be enough to change the outcome.”

Deidre turned — a satisfied grin on her face. Celeste just stared; hers was a look of shock mixed with impotent rage.

“Please, Deidre, can’t the vote wait?!” Celeste suddenly cried out. “I just buried my parents today!”

Deidre turned and looked at Celeste with disbelief and disgust etched on her face.

“I really don’t see how that would be fair to Melissa, do you?” she countered.

Deidre turned around again; this time she kept walking.

Copyright © Jennifer Alice Chandler 2015

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Nocturne’s Reaping® : Prelude

Chapter 3

It was going to be a busy day, but Celeste felt ready for it. First thing was first — get Lark ready and out the door. It wasn’t part of the plan for Lark to stay home again; Celeste couldn’t deal with that. The possibility of having to call Mrs. Baker was not something Celeste even wanted to consider. Fortunately, Lark seemed more cooperative than she did the day before, and Celeste managed to get her onto the bus on time.

Next, was school. After what happened yesterday, Celeste had to make it clear to the other members of the club that she was up for the responsibility of being the club president. Celeste had to admit there was a risk to her showing up at school at all the day after the news of her parents’ deaths broke; people might think she was cold. But let them even suggest she wasn’t grieving enough, and they’d regret it. Celeste would just burst into tears in front of everyone. Not to mention, if Celeste didn’t show up at school who would excuse her absence? The last thing Celeste needed was people thinking she couldn’t handle herself.

As it turned out, the day was uneventful — if not a bit awkward. Most people didn’t even talk to Celeste; they just looked at her blankly. The ones who did talk to her gushed sympathy; this got to be annoying quickly. Yet, because most of these were the ones who supported Celeste’s bid for the club presidency she had to play along. But what made the situation truly intolerable was the fact there was no news about the club presidency or when the meeting was to be rescheduled. In fact, when Celeste tried to press the members for details there was a distinct feeling that the topic should not be breached. Celeste decided there was always tomorrow. Celeste would figure out what was going on and fix it. In the meantime, there were other matters to attend to.

Celeste was grateful that her father’s lawyer fit her into his schedule that day. Celeste figured that if anyone could help her return her life to normal it would be he. Just the idea of that was a relief. People like Mrs. Baker just wanted to change everything, to ruin the good things in Celeste’s life. Celeste was determined that Mrs. Baker’s vision of the future would not come to pass.

Right after school, Celeste headed to the lawyer’s office. Regrettably, there wasn’t even time to go home and change out of her school uniform. As Celeste approached the large, marble steps of the lawyer’s building, she reflected on the fact that Lark was getting out of school right then. Celeste had given Lark instructions on how to get off the bus, let herself into the house, then lock up behind her. Celeste hoped that Lark could handle this one thing. Celeste didn’t need any more complications.

After tracking down the lawyer’s office number from a registry on the wall, Celeste headed for his office. The waiting room was large. It had well-groomed plants and a waterfall sliding down the opposing wall. Right in front of Celeste was a huge cherry-wood desk with a well-dressed woman sitting behind it. Celeste went straight toward her.

“Hello. My name is Celeste Tampy. I have an appointment with Mr. Robert Davis.”

The receptionist lifted her eyes slowly. Then, she began to rifle through a day planner.

“Ah, yes.” she started. “I see he’s going to squeeze you in.” The receptionist made a directive gesture with her hand. “Please, have a seat.”

Celeste turned around. This was unexpected. Celeste needed to get this done and return home before anyone realized Lark was home alone. Maybe if Celeste mentioned her cousin … Celeste turned back toward the receptionist. Only this time, Nancy Springfield was turned away from Celeste and had her phone to her ear.

Celeste looked back toward the chairs; she grudgingly headed toward them. She remarked to herself that the chairs’ cushions were made with expensive-looking blue velvet. Celeste daintily sat on a chair with a direct view of the receptionist. Several times, Celeste lifted her eyes in irritation toward the woman, but the woman didn’t return her gaze. As time passed, Celeste began knocking her Mary Janes against the wooden legs of her chair. If the receptionist noticed Celeste’s actions, she never showed it. Then, all of a sudden, the entrance door to the office swung open powerfully.

A tall, well-dressed blonde teenage boy walked briskly into the room. He went directly toward the receptionist. Nancy Springfield turned, a surprised look in her eyes. She said good-bye slowly then hung up the phone. The teen looked about the room briefly, his eyes scanning above Celeste’s head. He then turned his attention back to Ms. Springfield.

“Where’s my father?”

“In with Mr. Davis.”

“Why was I summoned here if my father doesn’t have the decency to wait for me?”

Ms. Springfield just stared at him. Finally, after a few moments of the two of them staring at each other, the teen turned on his heels and headed over to a chair. He sat next to Celeste without actually looking at her. Eventually, he did look over and at Celeste directly. He noted how pretty she was with her long blonde hair and delicate features. He thought she looked a lot like a female version of him.

“So, have you been waiting long?” the boy then asked Celeste.

Celeste turned her head fully toward him and looked him in the eye.

“Do I know you?” she returned.

The boy laughed.

“Ha! Most girls want to be nice to me.” the boy responded.

“I’m sure.” Celeste replied. “But you see, most boys want to be nice to me as well. There are so many who talk to me; I lose track.”

“Wow, really?”

Celeste smiled.

“Yes and no.” she said. “I don’t remember you.”

“Frederick Applegate.”

Frederick offered his hand. Celeste waited a moment then decided to shake his hand.

“Celeste Tampy.”

“That’s a pretty name.” Frederick admitted.

“And yours is impressive.”

Frederick’s face fell.

“What?” Celeste wondered.

“You recognize my name?”

Celeste looked at him doubtfully.

“No, should I?”

Frederick analyzed her for a moment. Suddenly, the door from the inner office opened. Two men emerged, both meticulously dressed. They shook hands. At that moment, Frederick stood, his attention directed solely at the men.

“Frederick.” the older of the two men stated. “It’s good of you to show up.”

“I got here when I could.” Frederick mumbled.

“I’m sure. I’ll fill you in on what was discussed when we get home.”

Frederick looked on his father with irritation.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Davis.” Mr. Applegate concluded.

“Sure. Thank you for your patronage.”

Mr. Applegate came up to his son and placed his hands on Frederick’s shoulders. As Frederick turned back around, he looked at Celeste. He maintained eye contact with her as he left. She returned a look of sympathy. After all, she now knew how it felt when adults tried to run your life. Celeste then turned her attention back to the receptionist. Mr. Davis and Ms. Springfield were discussing something.

Ms. Springfield looked up.

“Miss Tampy, Mr. Davis is ready for you now.”

Celeste stood up then followed Mr. Davis into his inner office. Mr. Davis pointed to a chair in front of his desk. Celeste sat down.

“So, what can I do for you?” Mr. Davis asked as he walked behind his desk.

Celeste’s forehead crinkled.

“Well, don’t you know that my parents are dead?”

Mr. Davis was briefly taken aback by Celeste’s affect.

“Yes, I was informed.”

“Well, I don’t know what to do.” Celeste admitted. “I’ve never buried anyone. I’ve never paid bills in my life. I was hoping you could help me.”

Mr. Davis sat down.

“Your father wasn’t just my client; I considered him a friend. I would be glad to help you in any way I can. I can make Ms. Springfield available to help you with the funeral arrangements.”

“And the estate? What about that?”

“From what I understood from talking with your father, there should be enough money in your father’s and your uncle’s estates to take care of both you and your cousin until the two of you reach your majority.”

Celeste beamed.

“As long as the two of you can adhere to a budget …” Mr. Davis quickly added.

“Budget?” Celeste repeated.

“Yes, there should be plenty of money for all of your living expenses. As I’ve said, you can live quite comfortably until Lark reaches her majority.”

Celeste bowed her head in thought.

“Of course, there’s the matter of guardianship. I’ll have to review your aunt and uncle’s will to see whether they recommended anyone for Lark.”

“I’m almost eighteen.” Celeste said.

“Yes, that is something to consider. But I realize you must be busy …”

“Part of the estate would go to Lark or at least to her guardian, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“What if I became her guardian?”

Mr. Davis looked perplexed.

“You’d have to prove you were mature enough for that.” Mr. Davis informed her.


“For one thing, you should find some employment.”

“Employment? Why should I have to do that? You said we’d have enough money.”

“It doesn’t need to be a full-time job, but it would help to show you can be responsible with money.”

“I see.” Celeste uttered.

“When is your birthday?”

“Next month.”

“Assuming that is what you both really want, we could delay filing for guardianship until then. But in the meantime …”

“What if I hired a nanny until then?”

“That could be a possibility.”

“Well, how long before the estate is dealt with?”

“I can’t give you that information just now. I will have to see whether there’s an executor named.”

“And if there is, he or she will be in control of the money?” Celeste continued.

“As you know, I’ll have to review your parents’ paperwork. There may be stipulations about age, trust funds, and other such things. I’ll try to free up some liquid assets for you and your cousin right away. In the meantime, talk to my assistant about arranging for the funeral. Once again, I considered your father a friend, so I will pay for the funeral expenses.”

“Thank you!” Celeste was quick to say.

The thought occurred to Mr. Davis that he couldn’t tell whether Celeste was happy for her relatives’ sakes or because she wouldn’t have to pay the expenses. Perhaps it was both.

“Why don’t you make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon? That should give me the time to look over at least some of your parents’ documentation. Will you and your cousin be all right overnight?”

“Yes. We have enough food.”

“Good. Then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Mr. Davis picked up his phone.

“Ms. Springfield, I’m going to send Miss Tampy out to you. I want you to make her an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. I also need you to please help Miss Tampy make arrangements for a funeral for four individuals.”

“All right, sir. By the way, your 4:30 appointment is here.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Mr. Davis hung up the phone. “Thank you for coming in, Celeste.” Mr. Davis stood and offered his hand to Celeste. “Ms. Springfield will take care of you outside.”

“Thank … you.”

Celeste headed out the door. As she stepped into the waiting room, a man rushed past her and into the room. The door was shut soon after.

“Miss Tampy. If you’d take a seat in the chair by my desk, we’ll get started.” Ms. Springfield offered.

Celeste sat down. Things were happening quickly now.

“That’s good,” Celeste thought.

The only problem was it felt as though she had just lost control of her life.

Copyright © Jennifer Alice Chandler 2015

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I’m going to be having a free Kindle promotion for Nocturne’s Reaping®: Dirge. The free promotion for Dirge will be November 20th through November 24th. Don’t have a Kindle? You can download an app to read it on other devices!

Free Kindle Reading Apps: https://www.amazon.com/gp/help/customer/display.html?nodeId=200783640

Dirge: https://www.amazon.com/Dirge-Second-Book-Nocturnes-ReapingTM-ebook/dp/B01BK21LH2/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Thank you for reading this!

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I’m going to be having a free Kindle promotion for Nocturne’s Reaping®: Prelude and Nocturne’s Reaping®: Dirge. The free promotion for Prelude will be November 13th through November 17th. The free promotion for Dirge will be November 20th through November 24th. Don’t have a Kindle? You can download an app to read it on other devices!

Free Kindle Reading Apps: https://www.amazon.com/gp/help/customer/display.html?nodeId=200783640

Prelude: https://www.amazon.com/Prelude-First-Book-Nocturnes-ReapingTM-ebook/dp/B00TYVROKK/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Dirge: https://www.amazon.com/Dirge-Second-Book-Nocturnes-ReapingTM-ebook/dp/B01BK21LH2/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

Thank you for reading this!

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I’ve been writing, but sometimes it feels like I can never get enough done. I had been writing (or trying to write) a page in four different stories a day. Now I’ve been doing a page in two different stories then switching to the other two stories the next day… except for Saturday, which I take off. It works better that way. I am able to write consistently now. Establishing some sort of routine is important, I think.

One of the four stories I’m currently writing is Book Four of Nocturne’s Reaping®: , Grave. I’ve made quite a bit of progress on that one, but I wrote it out of order. I won’t be able to see all the holes in the narrative until I start editing it. Right now I have a backlog on editing. My mom is helping type up Book Three of Nocturne’s Reaping®: , Intermezzo, as well as a mystery series I wrote previously. I handwrite almost everything first. Before the stroke, I had been pretty fast at typing. Now, not so much. I have to type with just my right hand. Though, I’m grateful to God that my right hand is doing as well as it is. My mom isn’t fast at typing, but she’s better than I am! I dictate the pages to her since my handwriting can look creative at times. ^^ After typing, I do some editing. Needless to say, I wish this process was faster. But it helps to be able to do some creative writing while the editing is progressing.

I’m missing oil painting again. I hope to start that in the next few months.

Thanks so much for reading this update!

Jenny Chandler

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I finally got Dirge completed! It is available on Amazon in both print and Kindle format.

International links can be found here:


Leader Monrage’s merciless plot has come to fruition — unleashing unspeakable evil onto the universe. The first to feel its effects is a small, isolated colony known as 52. Nora Montgomery had been living a pretty normal life — normal in her view at least. But then, the nebula reapers descend — turning her life upside down and exposing secrets of the world — a world she thought she knew. Together with a young man named Jack Callahan, she must try to claw her way free from the tightening noose that threatens to take all of their lives.

Two different dreams contributed to two of the scenes in this book. One was of the air taxi in Chapter One. The second was about the confinement exercise.

Book One of the Nocturne’s Reaping® series, Prelude, serves as a prequel to the events in Book Two, Dirge. It will also fill this role for the rest of the books in the series.

Here is the Chapter One sample:

Chapter 1

I can’t even remember the first time I learned about death. Because of my limited memory back then, I don’t recall it. It must have been a shock for me. And still, how sad and how scary it is that in every moment of my life, which I can think on, I’ve always been aware of death.

The fact is people don’t handle death well; it is absurd to suggest otherwise. Some people say that because it exists it must also be accepted … but it really can’t be. It is too terrible a thing to simply be accepted. A society based on death has no hope. Even I, who believe there’s a chance for life after death, despise death. The pain and the loss, the fear over how it’s going to end can taint even the happiest of times … of memories.

Of course, some people deal with it in a particularly deranged way. They think that if they can cause premature death to happen to other people that that infliction of death will give them a sense of power over it. It’s an illusion, but it makes them feel better. It restores in them the sense of self-determination that death stripped away from them long ago. Unfortunately, it does this with disastrous consequences.

Such as it was for a small colony known as 52, for it was a time in its history when the already dead seemed like the lucky ones. For my uncle Leader Monrage decided one night to unleash on the unsuspecting population of Colony 52 deadly creatures known as the nebula reapers. Had he realized the extent of the horror he would inflict? With a man like Leader Monrage, it’s impossible for me to know for sure all of what he was trying to achieve — but it was indeed horror that he caused.

It was a particularly dark night. The sky was overcast, and the only objects that consistently illuminated the streets were the scant lights, which cut through the darkness. Fewer lights were needed in the city thankfully, as the buildings within its limits were built so closely together and the streets made narrow. People tried not to think about the reason there wasn’t enough power to illuminate a greater area. Still, it helped how dependably the lights came on every night.

Nora Montgomery was doing her homework by the window. Air conditioning was expensive, so she left the window open. Nora’s apartment was on the tenth floor. It wasn’t unusual for the occasional cargo ship or air taxi to fly by at that height.

Given that the streets were so narrow, people traveled at different altitudes to keep traffic moving. Of course, after 23:00 most vehicles weren’t allowed in the residential zones. Right then, it was 22:35. Of course, while the noise reduction would allow Nora to sleep later on it wasn’t going to help her get her homework done. Even so, sometimes just watching the vehicles as they passed by was a nice distraction.

It was not so helpful when the wind picked up. Nora assumed it was an approaching storm. Nora believed it was a storm because the wind was preceded slightly by a deep rumbling noise. Usually the atmospheric regulator managed to allow for the rain to come without any disruptions such as storms, but occasionally they popped up anyway. Nora groaned. Even though the wind was subtle at first, it did jostle some of Nora’s loose papers around. But then, suddenly, there was an odd, low, moaning sound, and all of her papers began to stir.

“Shoot!” Nora exclaimed.

She rushed to the nearby window and shut it tightly. Then, a sound, which Nora had never heard before, came from a small device on her desk. She turned toward her desk with a curious expression. For a moment, Nora just stared at the device. The meaning of the noise didn’t register. She knew the device had a purpose, but … something at that moment drew her attention back to the window. Nora’s eyes lighted upon a movement toward her left. There she saw an air taxi making its way slowly down the street.

Behind the taxi something was quickly approaching. It seemed a crash was inevitable. Nora at first thought to scream, but seconds later she lost her breath entirely. The taxi was by then in the process of being engulfed by a semi-transparent, milky-white form. The creature appeared to be sliding through the taxi. The driver ejected just in time to avoid the form; she continued to hover mostly upward but slightly forward with a jet pack. Suddenly, though, the creature lurched straight up and consumed the woman. Nora gasped and stumbled backward. She fell against her desk as she viewed the woman struggling inside the middle of the form. Then, the form became opaque.

After that horrid occurrence, the lights went out. Nora reached for a flashlight she had stored in her desk. She was afraid to turn it on, afraid of what she would see. She could hear the sound of dogs barking in the street. People’s voices began to clamor there as well. It had to be a stunt of some kind; she couldn’t have just seen what she thought she saw.

No one even spoke the name of the nebula reapers. Certainly, a reaper couldn’t be out in the streets somewhere — preying on people — consuming them. Could one have gotten out of its electric cage? If so, how would they recapture it? Were other reapers soon to come?

Suddenly, there was a knocking on Nora’s bedroom door. She turned on her flashlight and headed over to open it. On the other side of the wooden structure was the ashen face of her father. Her mother came up from behind him and hugged Nora.

“Thank goodness. I knew you usually left the window open!” her mother shouted.

“What’s going on?” Nora asked.

Nora’s voice was a little lower, a little more mature than one would expect from someone so young-looking. Then again, Nora was seventeen years old, hardly a baby, at least in her mind. But her large, innocent eyes tended to make people treat her like a child. She had tried to cut her dark brown hair into a medium, and, therefore, more sophisticated cut, but it didn’t help enough. So, it wasn’t particularly surprising that her parents would react this way. It didn’t mean that things were really so bad.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” she asked again.

Her parents looked at each other.

“Let’s turn the radio to the news station.” her father finally spoke.

He walked past Nora and headed to her desk. Nora and her mother filed in behind him. Nora’s mother, Rebecca, placed her hands on Nora’s shoulders.

There was a strange noise coming from the radio. It was the combination of static and a high-pitched tone. Nora’s father, Clam, tried to fine-tune the station. Eventually, he got a faint signal. They could hear just the smallest rumbling of a human voice. After a few more moments of refining, the voice was as clear as it would get. Nora couldn’t help but wish the voice hadn’t been found at all.

“This is a pre-recorded message from the Government Emergency Service. An official statement will soon follow. Please secure all of your windows and doors. Do not open them no matter what you hear. Stay tuned to the radio. If you’ve changed your batteries as often as you were mandated to by law, you should be able to leave the radio on for as long as needed until an official statement is released. This message will be repeated …”

“Are we just supposed to keep listening to this message over and over again?” Rebecca asked.

“We might miss something, Becca.” Clam responded.

“Can’t we at least turn it down?”

He shook his head no. Becca turned to Nora, determined, it would seem, to drown out the repetitive noise from the radio.

“Did you see anything, Nora? I mean, we thought we did … at the window.”

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Becca. Maybe you should sit down.”

“I’m fine.” she insisted.

“You’re shaking.”

Suddenly, there was a buzzing from their apartment’s intercom system. It signaled someone was at the front door of the apartment building.

“Oh my, what’s that?!” Becca cried out.

“I’m sure it’ll stop.” Clam responded.

“But what if it’s one of our neighbors?” Becca countered. “Wait! That noise comes from the buzzer outside the building, which would mean the person’s outside. But wouldn’t a neighbor have a key?”

Clam headed to the intercom. Once he got to the front door, he pressed the button to speak. “We’ve been told not to open the door. Please go back to your home.” he uttered into the device.

There was static emanating from the intercom. Then, there were some mumbling noises. Finally, a brief moment of silence was broken by more mumbling.

“Why doesn’t that person stop?!” Becca called out.

“And what if one of the neighbors lets them in?” Nora questioned.

Becca gasped.

“All right. I’m going to seal the front door. Get me some tape.” Clam concluded.

Just then, Nate’s bedroom door opened, and the young boy came out rubbing his eyes. Almost instantly, Becca’s demeanor changed; she grew calm and protective.

“Nate.” She rushed to him. “What are you doing up?”

“I heard a noise.” Nate muttered.

“Nora. The tape?” her father repeated.

“Yes.” Nora replied. She headed for the utility room to retrieve her father’s tool kit.

Nora stared at the box for a moment. How normal it all had seemed when she had last seen this toolbox.

“Nora!” her father called out.


Nora grabbed the dusty toolbox and ran it over to her father. She figured her father could find the tape in the box faster than she could. When Nora got to her father, she handed off the box to her dad. She noticed for the first time that his hand was shaking. Clam found his special industrial tape rather quickly. Then, he started to apply it to the door cracks.

Nora wrung her hands and looked over toward the kitchen space. There, she saw that her mother had made some hot chocolate for Nate. She rather wished she could be protected from the truth — that she could be convinced everything would be all right. However, she knew her mother’s actions were as much about her mother’s feelings as her brother’s; it made her mother feel better to make her brother feel better. Nora then turned her attention back toward the door.

“Was that — the elevator?” Nora asked.

“I’m almost done!” Clam called out.

Nora approached the peephole in order to look out into the hall. From the side, she could see to the end of the corridor with the aid of the auxiliary lights, which lined it. She could tell that the elevator door was open. Only, from what Nora could make out, there was no one there.

“That’s strange.” Nora whispered.

She looked down and over at her father. She saw that he was making progress to cover the final crack of the door.

“The elevator opened, but there was nothing inside.” Nora informed her dad. Then, she turned back toward the peephole. “Wait, there is something. It looks almost like a dark haze of smoke.”

Nora squinted.

“Smoke is coming down the hall! It may be a fire! What will we do?!” Nora then froze for a moment. “Dad, it’s coming! Wait! Is that a form there? Dad!!”

Nora looked down at her father with a horrified expression. She saw him finally seal the remaining crack of the door just as some force rushed down the hall past their apartment. The sound of the air as it crackled penetrated her ears. It was like a backdraft almost. Clam stood and placed his hands on Nora’s shoulders.

“Stay away from the door.” he told her. “It’s going to be a long night.”

Nora and her father suddenly heard the sound of a window breaking from down the hall. Nora and her father looked at each other then stepped away from the door. The family of four waited there in the dark — huddled together — waiting for some kind of news. Nora was really expecting a message to come over the radio at any moment … but there was nothing. Nora was very afraid when silence overcame the station.

“What’s that?” her mother asked. “What happened?”

Suddenly, there was a fluttering of static. Then, the music came back on. After the first song played, there was station identification. Nora’s family all looked at one another in shock. What was this? Had someone accidently played an old recording? How could the radio disc jockey be so calm under these circumstances? Even if he had been told to act as though nothing was wrong, how could he pull it off this well?

“Is that it?” Nora asked her stunned parents. “Are they really not going to tell us what’s going on?”

It was only a second after she got out the last word that the lights came back on. The other three people in the room began to look around. Their posture eased and slowly they began to stand. Nora couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed. That reaction lasted until she realized her own feelings were silly. After all, her family’s sitting around the radio wasn’t going to make the announcer come back on. Still, as the others seemed to scatter and slowly return to their normal day’s activities, Nora couldn’t help but feel abandoned.

“That was it?” Nora kept playing those words over and over in her mind.

Yet, thinking that way made her feel suddenly guilty. She should want it to be normal; that was what was best. And that was reality, right?

There was an awkwardness at the breakfast table. Nora could tell by the look in their eyes that her parents and her brother were unsure. And yet, the morning played out just as it had a thousand times before. Everything around them said it was fine. So, even though something deep down said it wasn’t fine, the seeming normalcy won out. Yet, Nora was so frustrated by her family’s lack of acknowledgement of the past night’s events she chose not to put her usual effort into getting ready for school. After not having slept the night before, why should she be made to go at all? And why, for that matter, was school in session anyway?

Unfortunately, Nora’s simple act of defiance didn’t seem to be noticed by anyone. And the television lineup, the trip to the bus stop, the day at school proceeded as though nothing had happened. Even though one girl, who lived close to Nora, didn’t show up for school that day, no one made mention of it. Nora seemed to be the only one who would look over periodically at the empty chair. Aside from a few flashes of fear in the eyes of those around her when an unexpected noise occurred, there was nothing to indicate that anything had changed.

When school was over, Nora was so riddled with anxiety that, after she walked her brother home, she decided to go for a walk.

“Where are you going again?” he asked her.

“Just for a walk.” she responded. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

Maybe after a walk, Nora could slip back into normalcy again. Still, the streets seemed filled with that same odd feeling she had had all day. However, the thought occurred to her as she was walking that there may be one place she could go that would be different. Years earlier she had lived in another neighborhood – a poorer neighborhood. That part of town abutted the underground communities where some people lived. When her father finally got that promotion, she and her family had moved. Even so, she never forgot where she came from. Maybe it was just childhood nostalgia, Nora thought, but she could remember being truly happy there. And yet, she’d never be capable of walking there and returning home before it got dark. She’d have to take the bus. It occurred to Nora that she hadn’t mentioned going that far to her brother. Though, chances were good that her parents wouldn’t approve of her plan if she were to go back to tell them about it now. What was more, Nora wished to go there alone. Nora bit her lip. This might be her only chance. If she headed home first, there wouldn’t be time today, and Nora just knew if it didn’t happen now it wouldn’t happen at all. So, as the bus heading in that direction pulled in front of her, she could feel her legs approach and step onto it. It would be the most fateful decision of her life.

Copyright © Jennifer Alice Chandler 2016

















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