Dark Perceptions (Mystic's Carnival Collective)

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

Copyright

Introduction

Welcome

Emotion’s Knot

Painted

Puppet Master

Freak Show

Move!

Unmasked

Epilogue

Age Of Hybrid Glimpse

Reap Not the Dragon

Moorigad Dragon

Meet The Author

Acknowledgements

Dedicated to my father.

 

The best role model any child could ever wish for. I would be a very different person today if it weren’t for him.

 

Dark Perceptions

Copyright © 2014 by Debra Kristi

All rights reserved.
 

Published by Ghost Girl Publishing, LLC. Simi Valley, CA

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. For information address Ghost Girl Publishing, LLC.

P.O. Box 940583

Simi Valley, CA 93094-0583

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogue, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN-10: 1-942191-02-2

 

ISBN-13: 978-1-942191-02-5

 

Cover design by
Vila Design

Images provided by Bigstock.com

Book layout:
Book Cover Corner

Editor: Tiffinay Johnson,
TJ Writeography

Proofreader: Leandra Savage
 

Kristi, Debra

Dark Perceptions / Debra Kristi. – 1
st
ed.

Visit the author:
www.debrakristi.com

 

Dark Perceptions is a novelette set within the world of the Mystic’s Carnival Collective (MCC)

A collection of stories sharing a common world as written by various authors. As a result, characters and locations may crossover and visit various stories from time to time. If this is your first visit to the collective and would like to explore more, Debra Kristi will have more stories out soon. You may also look for the published works of fellow author, Kristy K. James, and the soon to come stories from author, Melinda VanLone.
 

If you like what you read here, please consider leaving a review on Amazon and GoodReads. Thank you.

Mystic’s Carnival,
you may have heard of it—the name has been whispered in quiet conversation, mentioned in folktale. Many believe it does not exist. Let me assure you, it’s as real as the air around you. If you are lucky or so in need, you may be among the few who come to know the wonder of this mysterious destination. It is not your average carnival, no, not at all. The show of twirling lights, motor rides, and funny sideshows never moves, never sleeps, and can never, ever be found unless so wished by the carnival herself. Is she a living, breathing entity? I’ll let you be the judge.
 

Follow now, if you will, into the story, and let our characters introduce you to the splendor of their world and the mystery that can only be found at Mystic’s Carnival.
 

Safe travels, weary reader~

 

The stars above exploded,
expanding into a forever cascade of the Milky Way and encompassing every available space around us. I sucked back my breath and held up the small joint to examine it. Was the drug truly so strong or was my tolerance that low?
 

I handed the slim wrap of paper back to Matt, folded my hands behind my head, and gazed up at the night sky. “I feel like I’m in the middle of a sparkler on the Fourth of July.”
 

Matt chuckled. “Pretty wild.” His voice wheezed, holding in his last inhale. “Heaven help us if your parents find out what we’re doing, I’ll be toast. Let’s not make this a habit.”

I didn’t respond. Instead I allowed a heavy sigh to escape. It burst with a whoosh, as if it had been held prisoner within the confines of my chest for ages.

This was an all-new high for me

or low, depending on how you wanted to look at things. In all my years of high school I had never tried any kind of drug, and here I was giving in to the demon of temptation in my first year of junior college. But tonight was an exception. I’d wanted something to dull my senses. Matt had been good enough to come through. My feet dangled off the edge of his car and we sprawled across the hood together. In our silence, I felt a lifetime of emotions.

Since we’d met, I’d come to crave Matt to an almost unbearable level. And yet, I now questioned everything I’d felt. I questioned love and wanting. I questioned the solidarity of relationships. Not that it was Matt’s fault. The blame fell squarely on my parents. They had shown me how quickly perfection could be shattered. Or at least, the perception of perfection. In one short week they had destroyed everything. Our family, our happy home, their union.

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