Book Spotlight + Excerpt: Perfectly Imperfect by Kara Leigh Miller

Today I have on my blog, a very good friend of mine, Kara Leigh Miller. Her book Perfectly Imperfect released in May and if you haven't checked it out, you really should! Below is more about the book. 

Perfectly Imperfect by Kara Leigh Miller

Genre: Young Adult Christian romance (Contemporary)

Content Warnings: None

Release Date: May 19, 2020

Buy on Amazon

Synopsis: 

Isabelle Carson is charging into her senior year equipped with a handy checklist to ensure nothing goes awry. Things she didn't account for: a hot, new guy who almost runs her over, a messed up class schedule, and a boyfriend who dumps her for one of her best friends. All of that pales in comparison to the threat of her dirty family secrets breaking free from the perfect façade she’s diligently maintained since the death of her brother.

Grayson Alexander is on his fourth school in as many years. Lakewood Valley High is exactly like all the others, with one shiny exception: Isabelle Carson. She’s smart, funny, beautiful— the perfect package. But Isabelle is hiding something, and Grayson is determined to do whatever it takes to win her trust, except step foot in another hypocritical church.

As Isabelle’s life spirals out of control and her carefully crafted, picture-perfect image begins to shatter, Grayson does what no one else can: he makes her laugh and allows her to be imperfect. With rekindled faith, Isabelle sets out to right all the wrongs in her life. But Grayson has been damaged by his own family secrets, and Isabelle will have to decide if the boy she’s falling for more and more each day is a right or a wrong.

More about Perfectly Imperfect from Kara Leigh Miller

Give us a little bit of behind the scenes of what inspired you to write Perfectly Imperfect?

I’m really not sure. LOL. I’d had this idea pop into my head about this guy parking a motorcycle in a bicycle rack and a girl calling him out on it—this turned out to be the opening scene of the book, which you can read for free here: https://www.karaleighmillerauthor.com/chapter-one-perfectly-imperfect.html. Once I’d written that scene, the rest of the book just sort of came to me. I heard Belle and Grayson’s voices so clearly, and they demanded to have their story told.

 
What do you want readers to take away from this novel?

That we’re not “less than” because of our imperfections, that we are who we are because of them, and that they are what makes us unique. I hope readers will walk away from this book with the same realization that Isabelle has within the story—embrace your imperfections; God loves you no matter what.

Excerpt from Chapter 2: 

Grayson…

I hesitate but then approach. She can’t tattle on me and expect me to feel sorry for her. “You told the principal on me. What are you, five?”

She whips around and glares at me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “Don’t be mad at me because you’re a lunatic who tries to run people over. Really, you should be thanking me.” She shoves a couple items into her backpack so fast I can’t tell what they are and then proceeds to shove all the stuff on the floor into the locker as quickly as possible.

I lean against the neighboring locker and cross my arms. “Thanking you? Oh, this is going to be good.”

“Yes, thanking me.” She smiles sweetly—all the emotion from a moment ago is gone—and that single action steals my breath. “If I hadn’t told on you, you would’ve eventually run someone over and killed them.” She slams the locker closed, and a white carnation falls to the floor. “And if you’d killed someone, you’d have gone to jail. I saved you from rotting away in prison.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she adds, “You’re welcome.” Then she walks away in the opposite direction.

I move to go after her but notice a book lying on the floor. I scoop it up and read the title. Holy Bible. I whip my head around. Did anyone else see the title? Can they guess by looking? Do people even care about Bibles in schools in this part of the country? In my last school, a teacher was fired for giving a student a Bible and encouraging him to read it. He sued the district, but I moved before it was resolved.

I jog to catch up with Isabelle. “Hey, you dropped this.”

She eyes the Bible, as if unsure where it came from.

“You really don’t strike me as a Bible thumper,” I say. Not that I’m complaining. It’s nice to know there’s someone else here who believes in God.

“I’m not.” She snatches the book from my hand.

“No?” I raise a brow, challenging her. “Then why are you carrying around a Bible?”

“That’s really none of your business.”

“People don’t carry around Bibles unless they’re trying to spread the good word.” I smirk.

“Don’t be a jerk.”

“Judge not, and ye shall not be judged: condemn not, and ye shall not be condemned: forgive, and ye shall be forgiven. Luke 6:37.”

She takes a small step back. “You know scripture?”

“I know a lot of things,” I say, pleased with how I’ve managed to shock her.

“Except how to drive.”

I let out a surprised laugh, and she responds with a smile—a genuine one that makes my heart race in a way I’ve never felt before

About Kara Leigh MIller

Kara Leigh Miller is a full-time wife; stay-at-home mom to 5 kids, 4 pit bulls, and 6 cats; writer, and the Editorial Director at Anaiah Press. She's previously published two adult Christian romantic suspense books. Warped Remains is her first young adult book, but it won’t be her last.

Connect with her on Social Media: 

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Release Day: Perfekt Control by S. T. Bende

PERFEKT CONTROL

THE ÆRE SAGA: BOOK TWO

By: S.T. Bende

Genre: Upper YA Paranormal/Fantasy (Norse Mythology)

Release Date: TODAY!! February 9, 2016

Back Cover Copy

Rule the realms.

Brynn Aksel is a valkyrie—a battle goddess tasked with protecting both the God of War and the future of Asgard. She fends off giants and dark elves with an iron fist, a glossy smile, and no less than perfekt control. She’s focused one hundred percent on rising through the valkyrie ranks, and not at all on her lifelong crush on Henrik Andersson—the one guy in all the realms who could be her undoing.

Henrik serves as War’s other bodyguard, and he’s too focused on protecting their shared charge to realize that Brynn’s a girl. When an unprecedented surge of darkness abducts the Goddess of Love, Brynn’s already-steely focus is singularly directed on her new assignment—accompany Henrik to recover the realms’ source of light before the cosmos descends into chaos.

While battling demons, dragons, and the not-quite dead, it becomes clear that immortality does not equal invincibility. And when Hel herself puts a hit on Brynn, the valkyrie has to decide if staying in control is worth losing everything for . . . or if it’s time to rule the realms.

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Add PERFEKT CONTROL to your Goodreads TBR

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Perfekt Control Excerpt:

“Sorry we’re late.” Elsa rubbed her hands on her leggings. “There’s a teensy situation at the portal.”

Every god in the room snapped to immediate attention. The mortal simply stopped breathing.

“What do you mean ‘a situation?’” Henrik pushed off the couch and stepped slightly in front of me. I jumped up and moved around him so we stood side by side.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“We’re not exactly sure.” A V formed between Forse’s brows. “It’s been sparking for the last hour. Tiny electric currents are shooting off the outline of the portal, traveling roughly three meters on due south, then disappearing before they hit the ground. We don’t understand what’s absorbing the energy. We would have come over sooner, but we didn’t want to ruin the party.”

“Disappearing?” Henrik’s frown matched Forse’s. “That’s not right. If the portal’s being activated, the current should flow to the dirt and ground itself. At least, that’s what it did last time.”

“I know. I wouldn’t believe it unless I saw it.” Forse shifted in the entryway.

I tapped Henrik’s exceedingly firm shoulder. Great Odin’s ravens, how much was he benching these days? “Um, could your blocker be doing it?”

“Huh? Oh! Right.” Recognition dawned in Henrik’s eyes. “I installed the prototype of a new blocker that should provide an extra level of security.” Henrik glanced at Tyr. “But I haven’t locked down the tech. Maybe it’s short circuiting because of the rain?”

“It’s not raining yet,” Elsa countered. “Forecast says tomorrow. You sure that’s it?”

“No.” Henrik paused. “We should go check it out.”

The front door burst open, knocking Forse out of the way. He caught his footing and turned, shielding Elsa with his body. Tyr, Henrik and I leapt into action. I threw myself in front of Mia and herded her back into the living room, while Henrik opened the weapons closet and threw a sword at Tyr. Tyr plucked it out of the air and stood en garde, while Henrik aimed the crossbow he’d chosen at the intruder.

Oh, skit. Here we go again.

AUTHOR BIO:

Before finding domestic bliss in suburbia, S.T. Bende lived in Manhattan Beach (where she became overly fond of Peet’s Coffee) and Europe… where she became overly fond of McVities cookies. Her love of Scandinavian culture and a very patient Norwegian teacher inspired the books of The Elsker Saga and The Ære Saga. She hopes her characters make you smile, and she dreams of skiing on Jotunheim and Hoth.

Find S.T. on Twitter @stbende, her website (www.stbende.com), or Facebook (www.facebook.com/stbende). While you're at it, introduce yourself to @UllMyhr and @TyrFredriksen -- when they’re not saving the cosmos from dark elves, they love meeting new friends . . . especially the human kind.

Want to connect with fellow Norse god fans? S.T.'s readers have created a Facebook group! Head over to the RagnaRockstars page to chat with other readers, talk with S.T., and get access to exclusive content... including Ull POVs and sneak peeks at upcoming Ære Saga books!

AUTHOR LINKS

Connect with ST Bende at:

WEBSITE - AMAZON - FACEBOOK - TWITTER - WATTPAD - GOODREADS

TUR is currently available for FREE to newsletter subscribers!

Skål, y’all!

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Soundtrack: Chains, Nick Jonas 

Roman

Katie was alone on the terrace when I stepped through the doors. My stomach twisted in a fit of nerves the second I saw her, and I ducked into the shadows behind the french doors. Now, not only was I awkward and shy, but creepy, too. I couldn’t bring myself to step out into the light, though. What if she turned around and saw me? What if she recognized me behind the old motorcycle gear and two-sizes-too-big-for-me leather boots I’d pilfered from my father’s closet? I removed the helmet and checked the mask over my face, testing its security and position under my sunglasses, then relaxed once I’d reassured myself my face was still mostly hidden.

 

The music spilled out through the open doors, a soft, slow number that existed in perfect harmony with the beauty and peace of the dark terrace. The setting was like a world all our own. I let my gaze rove over her in a way I wouldn’t have had she known I was there—committing her every feature, every curve to memory. I fought the urge to remove my sunglasses to get a better look at her. I needed that extra layer of protection, even if for my own comfort. She was like a princess with the moonlight shining down on her, giving her blonde waves a silvery tone and lighting her skin as if the moon was a spotlight designed just for her. Even though she was facing away from me, looking down at the pool area, I could almost picture her soft, full lips with their pink pout, her gray-blue eyes with their exotic tear-drop shape, her button nose, and high cheekbones. She was perfection. And I was unworthy.

 

I shouldn’t have come; I didn’t belong here. Doubts crowded in on me, and I shuffled back toward the entrance to the ballroom. Maybe I could escape quickly, and she would never know I’d been here. My too-large boot scuffed the ground, and I froze, hoping she hadn’t heard.

 

She whirled with a startled smile, probably ready to greet whoever she found there. Her smile faltered when she saw me, but was back in full force when she spotted the helmet in my hand. “Hi!” She called and lifted her hand in a small wave.

 

“Hi,” I repeated. I hadn’t intended to use a lower register, but my voice sounded deeper, more gravelly. Maybe it was from a subconscious effort to disguise any defining detail about myself. I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t one of the cool kids. Sure, she’d invited me, but Brad had driven the point home that I just didn’t fit in with Katie’s crowd. She was so far out of my league, we weren’t even playing the same sport.

 

Katie tilted her head to the side, giving my person a slow perusal from head to toe and back again. I needed to say something, anything, to distract her from what was clearly an attempt to identify me.

 

“Like what you see?” I bit my tongue the second the words were out of my mouth. What was wrong with me? I didn’t talk like that.

 

Katie smiled that slightly crooked grin of hers. “And what if I do?”

 

Her words sent a little thrill through me, chasing away the worst of my nerves. Maybe I could pull this off. I was pretty well disguised, after all. Maybe, just for tonight, I could pretend I really was this devil-may-care biker. I could talk to Katie—flirt with Katie—like I couldn’t do when I was just me. I set my helmet down, checked the position of my mask over my face again, and pushed my sunglasses a little higher on my nose. Then I took a step toward her. “Well, then I would say the feeling is mutual.”

 

Her smile softened into an almost self-conscious smirk, and she lifted a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She smoothed the other hand down the fabric of her dress. “Who are—”

 

“Want to dance?” I cut her question off before she could ask it, avoiding the awkward place it would have left us when I tried not to answer. I held out my hand like I expected her to say yes.

 

She didn’t disappoint, crossing the terrace in graceful steps and placing a small hand in mine. I pulled her into my arms in a move I’d only ever seen in movies—and never imagined I’d actually use myself. She seemed to melt against me, molding her body to mine, and laying her cheek to my chest.

 

Then she took a deep breath and released it on a soft sigh. “You smell really good,” She whispered the words against my jacket. It was all the invitation I needed. I tightened my arms around her and began a gentle sway to the beat of the music. Katie followed my lead, moving with me as if we were one person, fluid, coordinated, perfectly in time with one another.

 

When the song ended and another began, I didn’t skip a beat, just shifted into a new sway, a new set of slow moves with her in my arms. I would dance like this all night if Katie let me, but I wanted more. I wanted to live this fantasy to the fullest.

I wanted to kiss her.

 

I was a man on a mission, expertly guiding our dance steps toward the shadows until I had Katie safe within the darkness behind the patio doors. I slowed my dance moves and softly pressed Katie against the brick wall behind her. I couldn’t see her face through my sunglasses, and I took a chance that it would be dark enough to hide my features if I lifted them out of the way, setting them on top of my head. With the glasses out of the way, I still couldn’t make out the details of her face. Hopefully, that meant that she couldn’t make out mine either.

 

Emboldened by that idea, I slipped my half-mask down under my chin. The air was cool on my face, sending little prickles of awareness across my lips as I imagined pressing them against Katie’s. Finally, I worked up the nerve to make my move.

 

I dipped my head and laid the softest of kisses across her mouth. I wanted more, wanted to show her in my kiss exactly how I felt about her, but I didn’t have the guts for that. So, I moved slow, came in for a second soft kiss, and slipped my tongue out to tease over her lips. She parted them on a gasp, and I took that as my cue to deepen the kiss.

 

Kissing Katie was like coming home, it was comfort and sweetness and exhilaration all at once. I swirled my tongue over hers, and she reciprocated, giving as much as she was taking. When I finally pulled back, she nipped playfully at my bottom lip.

 

“You’re a good… dancer.” She broke the silence, but her soft voice didn’t break the mood.

I chuckled at her compliment. “Back at ya.”

 

Eventually, the beat picked up, and unable to justify holding her close anymore, I let my arms fall away from her. I was quick to move my mask back into place and pull my sunglasses down over my eyes before I took a step back.

 

Katie’s expression was almost regretful as she removed her hands from behind my neck and I widened the space between us. “Do I know you?” she asked, eyeing my person with more than just passing scrutiny.

 

The idea that she could figure out who I was set off a firestorm of nervous energy in my veins, and I shoved my hands deep into my pockets to keep from fidgeting. “No,” I told her, and I wasn’t entirely lying. She didn’t really know anything about me.

 

“What’s your name?” She stepped forward, and I instinctively took a step backward.

 

“Eli.” I gave her my middle name, also not a lie.

 

“Eli…” she repeated, watching me consideringly. “Are you sure we haven’t met? You seem so familiar.”

 

I had to get out of there before she figured me out. “I, uh, gotta hit the road, but thanks for the dance, princess.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I spun on my heels and all but ran for the terrace doors, snatching my helmet up and shoving it onto my head as I fled. I zig-zagged through the crowd inside the ersatz ballroom, and was out the front door and racing down the marathon of steps in no time flat.

 

“Wait, Eli!” Katie’s voice sounded from somewhere behind me, somewhere too close for comfort. I was only about halfway to the bottom, and I lost my concentration—and my footing. My foot slid out of my boot, and I stumbled down a handful of steps before catching myself.

 

I froze, unsure if I should go back for my boot or just keep going. The click-clacking of Katie’s heels on the stone steps as she descended after me made up my mind for me. I righted myself and took off again, limping my way down the stairs two at a time. Dad’s motorcycle seemed a hundred miles away, but I finally made it. I swung a leg over and kicked it upright in one smooth move. The engine turned over easily, and revved dramatically when I took off. I tried hard not to look at Katie on my way by, but my gaze drifted to her without my consent. She stood at the bottom of the steps, her expression both sad and confused, and for a moment, I considered staying, telling her the truth, risking my heart for the possibility that she might feel the same way about me as I felt about her.

 

But at the last second, I caught site of Brad coming down the steps behind her, and his arrival on the scene knocked me back into my place. Katie and I were from two different worlds, and I’d made a huge mistake forgetting that.

Chapter Seven

Guest Post: Molly Zenk

Today, I'm thrilled to introduce you to a lovely writer, Molly Zenk, author of the contemporary Christian romance, Out of Character. She's here with a guest post to tell us how Out of Character came to be. And here she is!

Movie And Book Inspiration For Your Evolving Plot

Molly Zenk

I bet you can name at least one or two popular books that started their life as fan fiction.  The Mortal Instruments: City Of Bones by Cassandra Clare started out as a Harry Potter fan fic.  Fifty Shades Of Grey was an alternative universe Twilight fan fic. Sometimes, transforming them just takes creative use of the find-and-replace button in your word processing program.  Other times the changes evolve the story in a whole new direction that you never thought possible. That’s what happened to me with Out Of Character.  

Out Of Character started out as a Pirates Of The Carribbean fan fic.  I wrote it back in 2007 when the movies were at the height of their popularity.  When I noticed the finished story clocked in at 36,000 words,  I knew with some tweaking I could turn it into a market ready manuscript. At first,  I tried the old find-and-replace names form of editing.  I was told it was too much like the main romantic plot of Pirates Of The Caribbean. No surprise there. I needed to add something that made it stand out. Adding the actors on a TV show spin still got it called a “back door historical.” What more could I do? I know--they were actors on a historical reality show. That would give it a great juxposition between modern and history. My main inspiration for a historical reality show are 1900s House and Frontier House on PBS. In both shows, modern families agree to live life like the pioneers and Edwardians for three months while cameras rolled.  I knew instantly that I wanted to put my own spin on the historical reality show genre. Now I definitely had something unique that broke away from its Pirate Of The Caribbean beginnings. 

Out Of Character continued to evolve through several more revisions and three rounds of edits till it was published in 2015 by Anaiah Press.  It’s come a long way from its fan fiction beginnings.

 

 

MOLLY ZENK was born in Minnesota, grew up in Florida, lived briefly in Tennessee before finally settling in Colorado. She graduated from Flagler College in St. Augustine, FL with degrees in Secondary Education, English, and Creative Writing. She is married to a Mathmatician/Software Engineer who complains about there not being enough "math" or info about him in her author bio. They live in Arvada, CO with their young daughters.

 

Website: mollyzenk.wix.com/home

Facebook: www.facebook.com/authormollyzenk

Twitter:  @UnsinkableMoZe

 

Cloven (The Trinity of Souls #2) by Georgeann Swiger

What would you do if the only things standing between you and the angel you love were another angel and the fiery pits of Hell?

When Anya and Micah declare their love for each other, the battle for the souls of the star-crossed angels stretches across the heavens. With Heaven forbidding their love, Micah vows to protect Anya by sentencing himself to Hell.

But Anya won’t let him go without a fight. She goes into Hell after him, only to discover an angel from Micah’s past is willing to do anything to keep Micah in Hell.

With love and lies blinding Micah, Anya fights to get him to face his demons and return to Heaven, even if it means hearts will be broken.

The battle for the angels begins where it left off. Between Heaven and Hell is forbidden love.

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Information about the book
Author: Georgeann Swiger
Title: Cloven
Series: The Trinity of Souls (#2)
Category: NA
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: CreateSpace (Self-Published)
Format: Ebook
Published: 21st October 2014
Goodreads. Amazon. Barnes & Noble.

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Excerpt

“What are you two doing?” The deep voice coming from the hallway sends a happy tremor through my body. I jump to my feet to run to Micah, but I’m stopped by the piercing pain of glass going through my foot. I look down to see blood trickling on the floor. When I sit on the couch to pull out the shard, Kieran and Emory hover around me.

“Why are you in my room?” Micah asks, angrily.

Kieran and Emory move to the side to give Micah a direct line to me. I look up and his gaze grabs mine. We stare at one another, caught in a wordless hello. Small expressions run over his face, telling me he’s relieved, happy, confused.

“Leave us,” he says quietly without looking away from me.

Kieran and Emory hurry out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Micah closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, bows his head and mutters something under his breath. When he looks up, he stares at me in disbelief. He doesn’t seem to notice the glass crunching under his feet as he steps toward me. His lips quiver, trying to form words that won’t come.

The fire crackles and pops behind him. Micah’s eyes glisten while he studies my shaking hand, reaching for him. My hand finds his, linking our fingers together. The strong beat of his pulse thumps in his trembling fingers. I step cautiously to the floor, avoiding the glass. When I’m eye level with him, his pupils flicker. As soon as I open my mouth to tell him how much I missed him, he pulls me to his body and covers my mouth with his. Every pent up emotion is released the second he kisses me. I don’t know where this Micah came from. His mouth claims mine without reservation or fear of repercussions. I fall into his embrace, enjoying every bit of the intensity of the kiss that tells me he missed me as much as I missed him. The tension in his body falls away as his hands travel through my hair and down my back, over my hips and up my sides like he’s making sure I’m real. I’m real, Micah, I want to say but I don’t want to stop kissing him. The taste of his lips brings to life the forbidden feelings I’m done hiding. I can’t get enough of him.

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Georgeann Swiger earned her degree in journalism from West Virginia University, and then spent five years as an anchor/reporter at WBOY-TV in Clarksburg, WV. After having children, she left television news to be a stay at home mom. During that time, she discovered creative writing was more fun than writing about real life tragedy. Imagining interesting character and having them come to life on the page is now her passion. When she’s not writing, she works as a substitute teacher. She lives in Reedsville, West Virginia with her husband, two kids, a beagle dog and a temperamental cat who tries to rule the house.

Website. Twitter. Facebook. Pinterest.

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Giveaway
There’s a tour-wide giveaway during the tour too.
Participants can win:

Digital Copy of Adorned
Digital Copy of Cloven
$10 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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Follow the Rest of the Tour!



Click here for the tour schedule links.

Elected by Rori Shay: Exclusive Excerpt

Today, I'm excited to share an excerpt from my one of my book buddies, Rori Shay. If you haven't read ELECTED yet, you should go get yourself a copy, ASAP!

 

 

For purchase on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Elected-Book-1-Rori-Shay-ebook/dp/B00JUEWUP0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403233152&sr=8-1&keywords=elected

For purchase on B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/elected-rori-shay/1119587657?ean=2940149471287

Website;  www.rorishay.com

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/RoriShayWrites

Facebook Author Page:  https://www.facebook.com/RoriShayWrites

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22260666-elected

About ELECTED:

It’s the year 2185, and in two weeks, Aloy will turn eighteen and take her father’s place as president of the country. But to do so, she must masquerade as a boy to avoid violating the Eco-Accords, four treaties designed to bring the world back from the brink of environmental extinction. Aloy hopes to govern like her father, but she is inheriting a different country. The long concealed Technology Faction is stepping out of the shadows, and as turmoil grows within her country, cryptic threats also arrive from beyond their borders.

As she struggles to lead, Aloy maintains her cover by marrying a woman, meanwhile battling feelings for the boy who knows her secret—the boy who is somehow connected to her country’s recent upheaval. When assassination attempts add to the turmoil, Aloy doesn’t know whom to trust. She understood leadership required sacrifice. She just didn’t realize the sacrifice might be her life.

ELECTED is a YA Sci-fi and focuses on the topics of environmentalism, gender, and tolerance.

Here’s an exclusive excerpt:

We walk across the lawn over to a long, slate gray building adjacent to our house. I’ve never been inside this one, even though it’s close by.

Before I can wonder what we’re going to be doing together, my father says, “We keep prisoners here.”
I stop in my tracks. Even though I started the conversation with Tomlin, it’s like his session with me was manufactured for this exact moment. I think of my last words with my tutor. Hemlock.

My father stops and turns to look back at me. “Don’t delay.” His words are clipped, but there is the slightest bit of understanding in them. He is also reluctant to do this. I can see it in his eyes. “You know why this must happen, do you not?”

Unfortunately, I understand too well. It’s a system I believe in. Just not one I want to witness.
I hurry forward to walk with my father. Who knows how many of these he’s overseen? Soon they’ll be mine, alone, to witness. The responsibility sits on my shoulders like a lead weight.

How have I not known the prisoners’ building is so close to where I live? It was right next door all this time, in what used to be called the Old Executive Office Building. I realize my parents and Tomlin have sheltered me against the realities of my new role until the end. Taking the Elected position is technically my choice, but I don’t get the full story until it’s too late.

I’m angry at them, but when I stop to think about it, reluctantly thankful at the same time. I know I would have chosen the same route either way. How could I have abandoned my family and country like Evan did? If I declined the Elected role, my family would prematurely lose power before a hundred years’ time, and East Country would be thrown into disarray. So, maybe it was better all along not to know the gory details of my leadership role. In two weeks, I will be the Elected, and nothing I see now will make a difference. My commitment to the generations of my family and East Country will not be deterred by seeing hemlock wreak its havoc.

We are both steadfast in our walk up the stone steps. Each of us is resolute. Both of us walk in the same manner. I’ve studied my father’s manly gait for years. I can now recreate it so well, I walk more like him than I do like myself.

A few guards nod to us as we cross the door into the building. My father knows the way and thus no one leads us further. After a turn down one solitary corridor, we stop in front of a wooden door. Before we go in, my father turns to me.

When he doesn’t speak and merely looks at me I say, “Apa?”

He touches my shoulder almost like he cares for my feelings. “Are you ready?”

“I am.” I’m firm, even now that I realize exactly what we’ll be doing.

“One day soon you will have to watch one of these by yourself.” He stops squeezing my shoulder. “Do not close your eyes when it happens. The accused deserves for you to see them. Lock eyes with the prisoners. Give them your full attention. Think about their lives. How precious every life is. But remember our laws. If we did not have them, there would be no life at all.”

I nod. I know why my father adheres to the four Accords so fervently. They’re the only things keeping our world in check. Without them, there would be chaos, and we’d be thrown back into the old times. So, even though we might not like or agree with all of the Accords’ policies, we have to follow them. At least, I might not like or agree with all of them. I’m pretty sure my mother and father are believers, one hundred percent.

We cross through the wooden doorway into the prisoner’s quarters. It’s a room sectioned into two parts. Our side holds a wooden bench and nothing else. A thick piece of glass separates our side from the one housing the prisoner. The accused seems to be in his forties, relatively old for our country. I look over at my father, who answers my question without being asked.

“His crime is invention. He was trying to manufacture a battery.”

The accused sits on the small cot in his room. There’s a large potted plant in the corner—a rarity for us. We try to provide a few luxuries in this small space. We try to make it nice for people’s last days.

The prisoner’s eyes are downcast, but then he suddenly leaps up. He moves toward the glass separating us. I can’t hear what he’s yelling, but I can make out what he’s mouthing anyway. He screams over and over again, “We need technology!” He beats his fists against the glass, and I instinctively lean back.
“It won’t break,” my father assures me. “It’s from the old days. Armor glass. A piece leftover.”

Even when the atomic bombs went off, this glass didn’t break. So I feel confident this man won’t be able to get through. We aren’t able to manufacture this glass anymore, so it’s all the more precious to our country. However, I do see the irony in using the glass technology enabled years ago when we outlaw technology now.

I swallow hard when I see the prisoner eventually slump back onto his cot in defeat.

“How long until he drinks it?”
“Not long. They’ll bring it in now that he’s settled down.”
A burly guard enters the prisoner’s space and hands him a crystal glass containing approximately one hundred milligrams of clear liquid. It would seem like the prisoner was just given a cup of water if I didn’t know better.

I’m reminded of the many chemistry and biology sessions with Tomlin where he taught me again and again what kind of plants survived the global eco-crisis, which ones we could eat, which ones leached in atomic radiation, and which one we now use for capital punishment. The prisoner’s cup holds hemlock.
Withstanding the high and low temperatures brought on by global warming, the hemlock plant hung on, its lacy white flowers torturously beautiful, but deadly if eaten in large quantities.

The prisoner lifts the cup of hemlock to his nose, breathing in lightly. The toxic component, alkaloid coniine, will give off a small scent of anise, the same kind of smell one encounters biting into black licorice. It was my favorite treat as a child. I can imagine what it smells like even though it’s impossible to detect the fragrance through the glass.

The man holds the cup out in front of himself, determining his next course of action. I watch him closely, as Apa told me to keep my eyes open for the duration. It’s only right to give the accused the dignity of someone witnessing his final moments. But I turn to Apa anyway, fright and curiosity getting the better of me.

“What if he refuses to drink it?”

“He won’t.” My father’s eyes never leave the man’s face even as he answers my question. “It is honorable to drink the hemlock oneself instead of it being forced into his person by the guards.”

I’m horrified by the thought of having to watch the guards perform the execution themselves. In our country, capital punishment is carried out only through assisted suicide. One person killing another is against the law. In fact, I’ve never heard of it happening. Murder is obsolete, but it’s considered honorable for people to accept government-controlled suicide if an Accord is violated.

I pray silently that during this, my first execution, I won’t have to witness a killing. I pray the prisoner will drink down the liquid by himself. As I watch him studying the crystal, I secretly wish the process would go faster, that he would just tilt his head back and pour down the hemlock as quickly as possible. But then I chide myself on being so callous. This execution is not meant to be easy for me to watch. These are the man’s final moments, and if I cannot offer him anything else, I can at least grant my attention and time.

After what seems like an eternity, my father squeezes my hand and says, “It is happening now. He is starting.”

The prisoner rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet, preparing himself mentally for the ordeal ahead. I can only imagine what resolve it must take to drink the liquid and know it will be the last thing you do.

The prisoner looks to us one more time through the armor glass, gives a nod, and then lifts the chalice to his lips, taking a large gulp. His eyes are tightly closed. Immediately, the glass shatters upon the ground as paralysis takes over. I know through study with Tomlin—the respiratory function is at first depressed and ultimately ceases altogether. The prisoner’s death will result from asphyxia. However, the man’s mind will remain unaffected to the end, allowing him one more fleeting thought of his loved ones and the life he’s lived.

The man falls to the floor. I can see him trying to clutch his stomach, but his arm won’t lift. Vomit erupts from his mouth, puddling next to him on the ground. Saliva bubbles around his lips, mixing with the vomit in a toxic pool. He gasps deeply, trying to take in air even though it’s impossible.

My head aches as I watch the demise. Soon, I see the paralysis take its final toll as the man chokes again and again. Finally, when I think I can take it no more, the prisoner is stiff and no more mess exits his nostrils or mouth. He doesn’t move.

The guards enter the room. It’s finished.