Title:
RIFT RUNNERS
Genre:
YA Fantasy
Word
Count: 90,000
Query:
When
Paumee village’s resident nutcase finds a little boy washed up on the beach, sixteen-year
old Shasta knows it means more than just a shipwreck off the coast. A rift has
opened, sucking away chunks of Paumee Island and spitting out whatever remains
of the “other world” the rift came from, the boy a part of that debris. Worse
still, he’s dying of the same incurable disease that’s killing Shasta’s father.
But
before she can muster a plan, her own village kidnaps the boy, forcing Shasta
to turn to Jayce – the guy that dumped her – and her estranged older sister,
Ali, for help. Soon Shasta’s only hope of saving her father’s life means
traveling through the rifts to a dangerous, technologically advanced world
she’s only heard about in stories. A world where a cure might actually exist.
A
world they call “Seattle.”
Currently,
I am an MFA candidate at Chatham University in Pittsburgh, specializing in
writing for children and young adults. Thank you very much for your time and
consideration.
First
250:
Only one thing could suck the wind away
and make it blow the wrong direction.
Atop the bluff, the sudden gust nearly
knocked me over and I grabbed hold of a branch to brace myself. I let my snare
line fall slack as I watched for other signs of a distant rift. Below me, the
ocean swirled in strange eddies that didn't match the tide, like something far,
far away was sucking up the sea. But a minute later, it was over. The wind
switched back to the east and the tide took its normal course.
A baying dog startled me from my
thoughts. At the bottom of the hill, Sam's hound paced with her nose pointed
upward.
“Balt it, Peg! What's got into you?” Sam
kicked her and she howled again, her tail ducking between her legs.
“She must’ve smelled something.” I
hopped to a lower outcropping, shoving a canteen in my bag. “The wind went
funny.”
“Funny?” Sam pushed a sweaty curl off
his forehead.
“Switched around.”
“You done up there already, Shasta?” Sam
raised an eyebrow, probably to communicate I was acting like an idiot.
I stopped winding my spare twine into a
ball. “But the wind changed. Really changed. And the tide-”
“So? Get the trap lines down. You want a
lean catch tomorrow?”
“Who cares about tomorrow? We have to
warn the village!” I felt caught between fear and excitement. Wind anomalies
were the first thing Dad taught me to watch out for. “There could be a rift out
there right now.”
Shooting three arrows for a full, please!
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