YA Paranormal: NASCENT

Author's Name: Elizabeth A.

Category: YA
Genre: Paranormal (ghosts) / Magical Realism

Stage of Completion: 3rd draft. So "Mostly Polished"? 

Preferred Critique Style: Straight to the Point with half a spoonful of sugar. ;-)

Cat Person or Dog Person: Cat!

Tea or Coffee: Coffee, always 

Short Pitch

Seventeen-year-old Tori has officially lost it. Her clean record, her social life, and her mind. The doctors say, 'hallucinations,' Tori says, 'crazy,' but her best friend Clara says 'ghosts.' If Tori believed in ghosts, there'd only be one worth finding. Her first love (who happens to be her best friend's brother), Terrance, who is missing and presumed dead. 

To save his life and her crumbling psyche, Tori must put her faith in the unseeable, defeat a would-be necromancer who's controlled by wraith bent on human sacrifice, and dig into a secret past her parents would prefer to forget. 

Writing Sample

"Never have I ever seen a ghost," Clara slurs. 

Drink. But I don’t. My hand reflexively grips the shot glass so tightly I’m shocked it doesn’t burst. I can’t believe she’s joking about ghosts, today of all days.

Kelli shoots back a thimbleful of vodka and screws her eyes shut. She shakes her head jerkily, her product-laden blonde hair swishing back and forth. Sara grins and looks around the group. Maybe she gets a kick out of this. But prickles climb my spine and cling to my brain, making the feeling of unease impossible to shake.        

"Go ahead," Clara whispers with a shove of her shoulder against mine. She's a little tipsy, and no wonder. My best friend borders on dangerous alcoholic activity, if she asks me - which of course she never does. She would have, before. But she wouldn’t have needed to, because pre-accident Clara didn’t drink.

"I've never seen a ghost.” A half-truth, not a lie. I shrug away from her shoulder and booze breath.

Clara giggles. "You have, too. Go ahead, tell her."

She holds her empty shot glass out in Sara’s direction, then frowns and grabs for the vodka bottle. I wrinkle my nose, but my distaste means nothing anymore. Her brother, Terrance, went missing in the Everglades during an independent research trip. Ever since, she's been clinging to me like her personal medium. Clara’s expectations are mind-numbingly frustrating, and her hope suffocates me like a combat boot pressed against my windpipe.