July 2012.... I was sent a link to a blog post that a friend thought I may be interested in. I headed over to the blog and I discovered that the blogger (Sara Jane Potter) was challenging herself to write an exciting contemporary novel on line.
She put up the first instalment on the 28th August, and now here we are in May 2014 with just 3 more instalments to go. I have to admit that I thought Sarah was taking on quite a challenge, so the least I could do was to read the first instalment which I did and was from then on left eagerly waiting for the next one. So far I have read 38 instalments and might add that it is the first time that I have ever read a novel on line, and I do admit to finding it challenging as (I prefer to be lounging book in hand). I have truly enjoyed reading this novel, it made me laugh, left me guessing and kept me in suspense and I am still looking forward to the next instalment.
Therefore, the mission now is to see this book in print and get it in my hands and read it in the comfort of my hammock/bed/chair, preferably with a large glass of wine close to hand.
Sara is now in the throes of trying to get the book published and in anticipation of that is going to offer 3 of my readers a chance to win a signed copy of her book when this happens and I sincerely hope that it will be soon.
This is the opening lines of the novel “ABNORMAL” and it was enough to make me want to read more and I hope it does the same for you. Good luck, and if you’re lucky enough to be one of the winners all I ask is for your patience, you won’t regret it.
He's with me when I jump through the window.
I later wonder if he told me to do it. I'm fast asleep when I jump. I fall the single storey and hit the Watsons' trampoline, which is wedged inside their tiny back yard.
As I bounce, I awaken.
I almost scream but swallow it. It's dark but for the glow of the streetlight wavering down the lane. My long hair whips me like a sheet in the wind and I lose what little balance I have, slamming into the wood-panelled fence and smashing my face. Stars explode before my eyes in dazzling streaks of blue. I shake myself, tripping and slipping like soap between the trampoline and the fence, pooling onto the scratchy surface of the Watsons' guinea-pig hutch. I’m orientated once I hear the scuffled horror of Boblet racing to his bedding compartment beneath me. But it aint quite over yet. I slide finally to the unforgiving ground like a sack of beet, like some meagre sacrifice, slumped before the cage.
Copyright © July 2012 Sara J Sheikh. All rights reserved.