Hey all!
I've been writing for the past 15 years, but I've never gone full CP/Beta, so looking to do that with my latest project, Extractors. It would be great to start if I could get some feedback on the first 5 or 6 chapters of the book, then we go from there. Happy to swap work, so please get in touch and let's chat projects!
Extractors is a YA paranormal fantasy, I've included some info below:
Quick pitch -
When insomniac Matt Crawley turns seventeen it is time for him to learn the family business of Extraction, the process of removing the soul from recently dead murderers so they cannot return as spirits to torment the living.
Excerpt from chapter one -
I was twelve when I first saw a ghost. She was tall and slender and stood at the foot of my bed. I wasn’t scared, my parents had warned me that some day it would happen, but I felt a little uneasy as she watched me with her black, expressionless eyes.
Compared to what I’d see throughout the following years, she was nothing. It would be like comparing a paper cut to a severed arm, but for the twelve year old me seeing a ghost was new and I had no idea what the hell was about to happen.
‘Mum!’ I called out. ‘Mum! Come in here!’
I sat up and pushed my back tight against the wall. The spirit smiled at me but I didn’t smile back.
‘Mum!’
My bedroom door swung open and light poured into the room. Mum stood in the doorway in her fluffy dressing gown, and as she was about to speak she stopped and looked straight at the ghost.
‘Are you okay, Matty?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ I breathed. ‘Do you see it?’
Mum nodded and choked back tears.
Dad appeared beside her wearing baggy pyjamas and only one slipper. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘He can see her,’ said Mum.
‘You can?’ asked Dad, looking at me and smiling. ‘That’s fantastic. Everything’s fine, son, okay? There’s nothing to worry about.’
I nodded. ‘Who is she?’
Mum smiled at the spirit. ‘That’s Grandma.’
‘Grandma?’
The spirit moved around the side of the room and sat beside me on the edge of the bed, but the springs didn’t twang like they usually did whenever I jumped on. A wash of warmth flowed over my body like I’d sunk into a hot bath and I realised I’d been gripping the bedsheets tightly.
‘It’s been a long time since you last saw her, hasn’t it?’ asked Mum.
‘I guess,’ I said. In truth, it had been almost seven years since Grandma had died, and my memories of her had begun to fade. I remembered kindness and baking and mountains of boiled sweets.
Now that she was closer I could make out more of the features on her clouded, translucent face. At the centre of her dark eyes was a tiny twinkle of light, like a single lightbulb at the end of a long corridor. Her nose was small and twitchy, and her thin lips were turned up into a smile. She placed her hands on her lap and she continued to look down at me.
‘What is she doing?’ I asked.
‘She wants to see you,’ said Mum.
‘Why?’
‘She’s your Grandmother, why wouldn’t she? She just wants to make sure you’re okay.’
‘How long has she been here?’
‘Tonight? I’m not sure.’
‘What do you mean tonight? She’s been here before?’
‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘She often comes to see you, and your sister, your grandfather, me, and your Auntie Violet.’
Grandma nodded slowly.
‘Why haven’t I seen her before?’ I asked.
‘Things are changing,’ said Dad. ‘Your body and your mind are maturing. It’s nothing to be frightened of.’
I’d had a similar talk to this one a few weeks before when I found hair growing where hair hadn’t grown before, except that talk hadn’t involved me being able to see ghosts and wasn't nearly as awkward.
Small thuds echoed through the hallway, and my little sister, Cara, burst into the room.
‘What are we all doing?’ she screamed in brattish way. She leapt up and down and her blonde pigtails swung around her head.
‘We are having a discussion,’ said Mum. ‘You are going back to bed.’
‘No thank you.’
‘I wasn’t asking.’
‘But Matthew gets to stay awake,’ she grumbled. ‘Why can’t I?’
‘Because you’re seven and Matthew is grown up now,’ said Dad. He winked at me and I wasn’t sure if he meant the new hair or the ghosts.
Grandma had turned to watch Cara, who had folded her arms and was stamping her foot.
‘Come on, back to bed,’ said Mum. She put her hand on Cara’s shoulder and led her out of my room.
‘Can Cara not see Grandma?’ I asked.
‘No,’ said Dad. ‘But she will, one day.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s just something our family can do. It’s our little gift.’
I looked at Grandma, and her eyes were back on me. Gift seemed like a very strange word to use. ‘Why is it a gift?’
‘It’s hard to explain. You’ll see what I mean over time.’
I pulled my bedcovers down from my chin and held out my hand. The air around Grandma was warm and still. She moved her hand from her lap and slowly towards me. It was so warm, like a hand dryer in a public toilet but without the blast of air. Her hand passed right through mine and I groaned and pulled back.
‘Did you get that prickly feeling, like pins and needles?’ asked Dad.
I rubbed my warm hand with my cold one. ‘Yeah.’
‘You get used to it.’
Grandma stood up and turned to face me. She took hold of the sheets and pulled them back up to my chin, enveloping me in warmth. Then she was gone.
‘Where did she go?’ I asked.
‘Anywhere she wants,’ said Dad.
‘Will I see her again?’
‘I’m sure. And it won’t just be Grandma that you see from now on. There are others out there.’
‘Lots?’
‘Quite a lot, but it’s nothing to be worried about. People die every day, not all of them pass on to the other side.’
‘What other side?’
‘We’ll explain it tomorrow, try to get some sleep. There’s a lot for us to talk about in the morning.’
I've been writing for the past 15 years, but I've never gone full CP/Beta, so looking to do that with my latest project, Extractors. It would be great to start if I could get some feedback on the first 5 or 6 chapters of the book, then we go from there. Happy to swap work, so please get in touch and let's chat projects!
Extractors is a YA paranormal fantasy, I've included some info below:
Quick pitch -
When insomniac Matt Crawley turns seventeen it is time for him to learn the family business of Extraction, the process of removing the soul from recently dead murderers so they cannot return as spirits to torment the living.
Excerpt from chapter one -
I was twelve when I first saw a ghost. She was tall and slender and stood at the foot of my bed. I wasn’t scared, my parents had warned me that some day it would happen, but I felt a little uneasy as she watched me with her black, expressionless eyes.
Compared to what I’d see throughout the following years, she was nothing. It would be like comparing a paper cut to a severed arm, but for the twelve year old me seeing a ghost was new and I had no idea what the hell was about to happen.
‘Mum!’ I called out. ‘Mum! Come in here!’
I sat up and pushed my back tight against the wall. The spirit smiled at me but I didn’t smile back.
‘Mum!’
My bedroom door swung open and light poured into the room. Mum stood in the doorway in her fluffy dressing gown, and as she was about to speak she stopped and looked straight at the ghost.
‘Are you okay, Matty?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ I breathed. ‘Do you see it?’
Mum nodded and choked back tears.
Dad appeared beside her wearing baggy pyjamas and only one slipper. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘He can see her,’ said Mum.
‘You can?’ asked Dad, looking at me and smiling. ‘That’s fantastic. Everything’s fine, son, okay? There’s nothing to worry about.’
I nodded. ‘Who is she?’
Mum smiled at the spirit. ‘That’s Grandma.’
‘Grandma?’
The spirit moved around the side of the room and sat beside me on the edge of the bed, but the springs didn’t twang like they usually did whenever I jumped on. A wash of warmth flowed over my body like I’d sunk into a hot bath and I realised I’d been gripping the bedsheets tightly.
‘It’s been a long time since you last saw her, hasn’t it?’ asked Mum.
‘I guess,’ I said. In truth, it had been almost seven years since Grandma had died, and my memories of her had begun to fade. I remembered kindness and baking and mountains of boiled sweets.
Now that she was closer I could make out more of the features on her clouded, translucent face. At the centre of her dark eyes was a tiny twinkle of light, like a single lightbulb at the end of a long corridor. Her nose was small and twitchy, and her thin lips were turned up into a smile. She placed her hands on her lap and she continued to look down at me.
‘What is she doing?’ I asked.
‘She wants to see you,’ said Mum.
‘Why?’
‘She’s your Grandmother, why wouldn’t she? She just wants to make sure you’re okay.’
‘How long has she been here?’
‘Tonight? I’m not sure.’
‘What do you mean tonight? She’s been here before?’
‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘She often comes to see you, and your sister, your grandfather, me, and your Auntie Violet.’
Grandma nodded slowly.
‘Why haven’t I seen her before?’ I asked.
‘Things are changing,’ said Dad. ‘Your body and your mind are maturing. It’s nothing to be frightened of.’
I’d had a similar talk to this one a few weeks before when I found hair growing where hair hadn’t grown before, except that talk hadn’t involved me being able to see ghosts and wasn't nearly as awkward.
Small thuds echoed through the hallway, and my little sister, Cara, burst into the room.
‘What are we all doing?’ she screamed in brattish way. She leapt up and down and her blonde pigtails swung around her head.
‘We are having a discussion,’ said Mum. ‘You are going back to bed.’
‘No thank you.’
‘I wasn’t asking.’
‘But Matthew gets to stay awake,’ she grumbled. ‘Why can’t I?’
‘Because you’re seven and Matthew is grown up now,’ said Dad. He winked at me and I wasn’t sure if he meant the new hair or the ghosts.
Grandma had turned to watch Cara, who had folded her arms and was stamping her foot.
‘Come on, back to bed,’ said Mum. She put her hand on Cara’s shoulder and led her out of my room.
‘Can Cara not see Grandma?’ I asked.
‘No,’ said Dad. ‘But she will, one day.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s just something our family can do. It’s our little gift.’
I looked at Grandma, and her eyes were back on me. Gift seemed like a very strange word to use. ‘Why is it a gift?’
‘It’s hard to explain. You’ll see what I mean over time.’
I pulled my bedcovers down from my chin and held out my hand. The air around Grandma was warm and still. She moved her hand from her lap and slowly towards me. It was so warm, like a hand dryer in a public toilet but without the blast of air. Her hand passed right through mine and I groaned and pulled back.
‘Did you get that prickly feeling, like pins and needles?’ asked Dad.
I rubbed my warm hand with my cold one. ‘Yeah.’
‘You get used to it.’
Grandma stood up and turned to face me. She took hold of the sheets and pulled them back up to my chin, enveloping me in warmth. Then she was gone.
‘Where did she go?’ I asked.
‘Anywhere she wants,’ said Dad.
‘Will I see her again?’
‘I’m sure. And it won’t just be Grandma that you see from now on. There are others out there.’
‘Lots?’
‘Quite a lot, but it’s nothing to be worried about. People die every day, not all of them pass on to the other side.’
‘What other side?’
‘We’ll explain it tomorrow, try to get some sleep. There’s a lot for us to talk about in the morning.’