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Grunge & Grace: The Grace Jackson Trilogy, #1
Di Amy Venezia
Azioni libro
Inizia a leggere- Editore:
- Amy Venezia
- Pubblicato:
- Mar 5, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9781386796008
- Formato:
- Libro
Descrizione
Kyle Kent is a beloved musician who dies believing that he killed himself. Grace Jackson is a woman who communicates with the dead. When Kyle and Grace find each other through the realms of existence, they each discover more than they ever thought possible...what they had always believed to be impossible. Did Kyle Kent kill himself? Will Grace get to the truth about what happened to him? Will Kyle manage to remember the last moments of his death? Grunge and Grace chronicles the journey of these two souls as they weave their way through the dimensions of time and space. Defying the odds and those who fight to keep the truth from being revealed, they find themselves forging an eternal alliance to bring light into the darkness of their realities.
Informazioni sul libro
Grunge & Grace: The Grace Jackson Trilogy, #1
Di Amy Venezia
Descrizione
Kyle Kent is a beloved musician who dies believing that he killed himself. Grace Jackson is a woman who communicates with the dead. When Kyle and Grace find each other through the realms of existence, they each discover more than they ever thought possible...what they had always believed to be impossible. Did Kyle Kent kill himself? Will Grace get to the truth about what happened to him? Will Kyle manage to remember the last moments of his death? Grunge and Grace chronicles the journey of these two souls as they weave their way through the dimensions of time and space. Defying the odds and those who fight to keep the truth from being revealed, they find themselves forging an eternal alliance to bring light into the darkness of their realities.
- Editore:
- Amy Venezia
- Pubblicato:
- Mar 5, 2018
- ISBN:
- 9781386796008
- Formato:
- Libro
Informazioni sull'autore
Correlati a Grunge & Grace
Anteprima del libro
Grunge & Grace - Amy Venezia
Author
This book is dedicated to the spirit that
shines brighter than the sun and to
the people who shine for him here on earth.
1
––––––––
He watches her. She has no idea how much he watches her. It isn't out of some creepy obsession. It isn't that he needs her. Wait. If he were to be completely honest, he would have to retract that last statement. He does need her. More than she is aware.
––––––––
She has no idea how he can feel through her. The slightest nuance of feeling. Like when she runs her hand through her hair. She has this nervous habit of pulling her hair behind her ear when she feels self-conscious. She has no idea that he can slow that action down to slow-motion frames and feel every strand of hair that caresses her fingers. When she drinks coffee, he can taste it. Thank GOD she’s a coffee drinker. Too bad she isn't a smoker,
he thought as he flicked his cigarette, all the while not taking his eyes off her.
––––––––
Yeah, he smokes where he is. It isn't like 3rd-dimensional smoking. It's some watered down, simulated version of smoking. We are talking another dimension...and here, anything can be simulated and felt...to an extent. So he picked up smoking once he got here. Something he had quit when he was in his body. One good thing about being dead...nothing can kill you anymore. Simulated or not.
––––––––
Sitting in a wooden backed chair, he has his legs stretched out as he studies her naked body. He cocks his head to the side so he can see every single flaw when the light hits them. Would she have been someone he would have noticed in life? Maybe. Noticed, but that would have been the extent of it. And now, standing in front of him naked, she is so beautiful. It isn't just her. Every human being is beautiful. He sees this now. To have a body. To have skin. It is beautiful. When he looks at her and hears the flaws that she berates herself over...it's pure beauty.
––––––––
He crosses his arms as he recollects all the ways in which he too used to berate himself over stupid imperfections. His ears being one of them. Most of his life he kept his hair long. His ears were not the deciding factor in that choice, but he certainly did like that he didn't have to feel self-conscious about them... like when he wore his hair shorter. His dick too. He would have liked to have a bigger dick. But hey, his wasn't bad...though guys are always comparing in their minds. Like some imaginary dick ruler, constantly. They may not be conscious of it, but it drives everything. Symbolically...truthfully.
––––––––
Fuck the dick ruler,
he thinks as he gets up from his chair. He walks over to where she is and whispers in her ear that she is beautiful. At that moment, she looks in the mirror while putting her lip gloss on and thinks about how she is getting older. Sometimes she hears him. It blows his mind how she can hear him... sometimes. Sometimes, it isn't that she hears his words...she feels them, and he loves to see that. It is as incredible as it is frightening. Jesus. What if some asshole was here whispering in her ear something assholes say? She just jabbed herself over getting old...so she didn't hear him this time. Or feel him. Or is there an asshole around he can't see?
––––––––
Either way, it makes him think of the women he has loved in his life. His daughters. And how so much of their days are spent criticizing their humanity. His thoughts drift to his wife, and he instantly feels a stab of dull pain. No. He isn't ready to go there yet.
––––––––
He mumbles something along the lines of being a fucking loser and right then he sees her stop putting her mascara on long enough to whisper, You are so loved, do you know that?
––––––––
He can't help but scoff at himself, Of course, that one she fucking heard.
2
WTF? Grace rolled over in her bed and reached for the cell phone that was charging on the nightstand beside her. It had been a non-stop symphony of buzzes; which she tried to let loll her back to sleep...but her logical mind out-ruled her sleepy head, and she had to see what the hell the fire was. She sat staring at the home screen of her phone as it blinked wildly...fighting the age-old curse of hard-to-focus eyes first thing in the morning. Every social media notification was lit up, and across the top of her phone were all kinds of symbols indicating message after message...comment after comment. 72 emails?? Still sleepy, she sat dazed for a moment. Her thoughts began to clear, and she realized something must have gone profoundly wrong in the world! Feeling a wave of panic, she almost didn't want to click on one of the slew of notifications. She closed her eyes and halfway opened one of them...her body leaning away from the phone she was holding...her finger hovering over a notification as if afraid it might explode or bite.
––––––––
Grace, did you see that Kyle Kent died last night??? OMG, PLEASE tell me you are going to try and connect with him? I am so heartbroken...
––––––––
Grace sat up in bed trying to think if she even knew who Kyle Kent was. She quickly Googled his name and the instant his picture came up she recognized him. One of the world's most prolific guitarists. He had been a part of several bands...sharing lead sometimes...all the time playing that guitar. He'd written numerous songs that had moved a generation. Grace sat and tried to recall some of them. She felt a little guilty only being able to think of one, but hey...he wasn't her kind of music. She smiled a sheepish smile, looked up and whispered: I hope that doesn't offend you.
Before she went on to look at more messages, she sat still and closed her eyes, saying a
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