Author: Elliot Chandler
ISBN: Kindle: B00BK3ESNQ
Page count: 150
Genre: Young Adult/Children’s Fantasy
Elliot Chandler is a writer from San Diego, California, who specializes in young adult and children’s fantasy with elements of science fiction. With a plethora of previous work just waiting to be released, Elliot has released the first of three volumes in the series “Dispencia.” The author is inspired by his travels across the world, as well as a distinct imagination that children and adults alike are sure to appreciate.
Tell us about your book:
“Dispencia – Vol. I” is an epic tale of about mystery, love, hope, revenge, and friendship. This enchanting adventure book is aimed towards children and youth, but can be enjoyed by every one of all ages. Its colorful vocabulary, absorbing descriptions, and delightful humor are sure to impress, expanding the knowledge of children while entertaining with fun and laughter.
How long did it take to write the book?
This book was written about ten years ago 2003 and took about one year to complete.
What inspired you to write the book?
I was inspired to write this series because I wanted to have a great story to tell my own children at bedtime, something that came from my own imagination, installing values and principles in their minds before sleep and dreams.
Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?
The writing process was very simple. I decided on the type of story I wanted to tell, and I told it on my portable computer. It didn’t hurt that I was traveling the world at the time and had unlimited inspirations and incredible views full of wonder and beauty, while meeting various people from different countries who had their own stories to tell.
What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?
I want to reach out to the young adults and children of the world, providing values of hope, generosity, understanding, and love through vivid images of color, wonder, and excitement, along with funny dialogue and clever characters who interact with each other in ways that will always be remembered by the reader.
Where can we go to buy your book?
It’s available for $2.99 on Amazon Kindle. http://www.amazon.com/Dispencia-Vol-I-ebook/dp/B00BK3ESNQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361796283&sr=8-1&keywords=dispencia
Any other links or info you’d like to share?
I also have a brand new Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Dispencia/334323440022130?fref=ts as well as a twitter account at https://twitter.com/YouthBooks
Excerpt from book:
“Please, you must understand, your majesty,” the messenger begged. “He’s not your average human being. There’s something unique about this boy; something strange and unexplainable. Something alarming.”
“Your lack of confidence is what alarms me!” he shrieked back eerily. “I know exactly how you feel about this boy, and I know you have a sinking doubt about my rule over this kingdom; a doubt about my supremacy and continued dominance over this land. You dare disobey my only request? The consequences will be wretched. Corma! Please show this feeble, timid fellow… to the pit!”
“Water… I need water,” muttered Quinn under his steady breathing. It was well over one hundred degrees outside in the city of Phoenix, Arizona, and the sun was beating harshly without remorse. He wiped the fresh sweat from his brow.
One more out to go, he thought, then I’ll be able to indulge in some ice cold, refreshing H2… CRACK! ”Oh!” he cried, startled back to reality.
“It’s hit high! It’s hit way up there!” shouted the announcer at a mind-numbing volume. “It’s back, to the wall. It’s going… it’s going further. It’s… caught! Left-fielder Quinn Dawson with the diving catch, ladies and gentlemen.” The crowd erupted with applause.
Quinn’s inning-ending catch landed him sharply against the breathtaking ground, which was deceptively masqueraded by the soft, flaccid grass. He glanced down into his worn, leather glove and glimpsed the crimson stitches on the white baseball before his mind fell into a hazy, subtle darkness.
“Wh-What?” Quinn groaned. He felt incredibly weak, as if every ounce of energy had been drained from him. He had blurred vision and wasn’t able to think properly; he also couldn’t move any of his limbs. Gradually, he came out of the darkness which consumed him only thirty seconds earlier. All of the sudden, the darkness became blinding until it was not a darkness at all. It became the opposite; a blinding light, whiter than a mid-winter snowfall. It only lasted a moment before Quinn could finally see a clear, baby blue sky with no clouds in sight.
Slowly, he sat up. He looked to his left, then to his right, and then to his left again. For miles in each direction, all he could see were fields of green grass. The grass appeared freshly cut, every blade synchronized and still. The field was noticeably level. There were no hills, mounds or deviations in the grass. The size of the field was a great mass, impossibly gargantuan. Quinn felt of pang of sympathy for whoever was responsible for keeping this open land mowed to perfection. The smell of the grass was overwhelming. It was as if his blackout had heightened his senses aside from his hearing, because he could hear absolutely nothing.
The baseball diamond was gone. He couldn’t locate any trace of the base paths. The bleachers were also gone. His teammates had disappeared, as did the crowd. It’s like everything and everyone was swept away in a wind storm, he mentally murmured. But, by what wind? He hadn’t felt a single gust of wind since he’d awakened in this strange, yet pleasant, place.
Quinn stood upright, wobbled a bit, and caught his balance. Then, he heard a sound that he instantly recognized. A stream. I can hear running water. It sounds awfully close. He carefully followed the sound of the water, glancing every which way, and noticed a small but prominent stream running all the way along the grass and into the far off distance. Quinn reached the edge of the narrow river and was astounded with what he found. The water was bright orange in color, and perhaps not even water at all. It resembled the Gatorade that Quinn was daydreaming about earlier.
“Oh my,” he whispered to himself. “Where in the world am I?”
Quinn kneeled next to the dazzling stream of orange liquid, wondering to himself how this was possible. It was the sort of thing he’d only read about in story books or saw on the television. It reminded him of a movie he watched when he was younger, but the name of the movie eluded him. He was in a state of shock. Just follow the yellow brick road, or in this case, the orange dyed stream, he thought, continuing his silent soliloquy. He contemplated following the stream. There was nothing else in sight, and he figured that following the river was his best bet at getting out of this dreamy, yet somewhat ominous field of lush grass, and finding someone who might be able to help him.
He considered touching the liquid. He considered smelling it. He even wondered what it might taste like. Finally, Quinn decided to follow it for a while and find out where it led. He got up off of his knees and noticed something dark, like a shadow, rapidly shoot across the stream. It sped past him at incredible speed. A fish? No, much too fast to be a fish. Wasn’t it? He wasn’t so sure. There it goes again! This time, he caught a better glance at the moving entity because it was moving at a slower pace. Quinn could’ve sworn that he saw bright, yellow eyes staring back at him as it moved past him in the opposite direction. Quinn stood idle, flabbergasted. “Things are getting weird,” he said.
He wasn’t scared, necessarily, but he was beginning to worry. He waited… and waited… and waited a while longer. He decided to continue with his trip down the yellow brick– I mean… orange dyed stream. As he strolled along with the smooth flow of the stream, he gazed up at the sky and noticed for the first time that, although there was plenty of sunlight, there was no sun in the sky. He could feel the warm rays on his body, through his baseball uniform and on his pallid face, but could not figure out where the source of heat and light was. His thoughts were interrupted by a sight that made him choke on his own saliva.
The stream began to change color. It was turning to a different shade of orange right before his unbelieving eyes. It was now a darker orange color, almost opaque, as if it was a river full of orange juice. Even if one of those speedy little fish things made its way back down stream, there’s no way I’d be able to see it through this uncanny river of… he didn’t know exactly how to finish that thought. OJ?
He stood there, astonished and numb, for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past hour. What would Dad do? he surmised. I’m surrounded by an eternity of flawless grass. A mysterious stream, apparently full of orange Gatorade, magically turns into a stream full of pulp-free orange juice, and has torpedo-like fish swimming up and down it, watching me.
Quinn knew what he needed to do. He needed to wake up.
The hot rays of the nonexistent sun continued to wear on Quinn’s frail body. He was still wearing his little league Red Sox jersey which read “Dawson” and “17” on the back. When it came time for all of the children to pick the number they wanted on their jersey, Quinn’s first choice was number 25, in honor of his favorite player; but, at that point, it had already been taken by another one of his teammates. He went with his dad’s old jersey number 17. He was also still sporting his Sox baseball cap, but removed it so he could untangle his brown hair which was currently matted against his stark, blue eyes. He was sweating profusely.
The orange river had turned back to its original, transparent form. He observed the stream, searching for any sign of the yellow-eyed, shadow-like fish in which he witnessed earlier. There was nothing in sight. He began to ponder the possibility that maybe he was dead, and perhaps he was in heaven. This isn’t exactly what my idea of heaven’s like, and certainly not a hell that I’d imagine. I’m probably not dead, and this place is too real to be a dream.
He continued walking while he contemplated his situation. He realized he was now in the vicinity of a hill where the stream crossed over and disappeared. Another hundred meters in the same direction and he’d be right on top of the hill. He hiked towards it, and then up it, standing on the very apex of the grass covered mound. He noticed that the hill ended where a cliff began. He peeked over the edge of the cliff and was struck with amazement, shock, and terror. Is this even possible?
When he looked over the edge of the cliff, he gazed down upon a massive village. The quiet stillness that he had become accustomed to gave way to a bustling town full of movement and noise. He could see petite little country homes lined adjacently with tiny gardens flourishing beside each abode. He could see enormous tree trunks hollowed out and used as living quarters by hundreds upon hundreds of what looked like oversized rodents. They appeared to be either nestling inside of their homes or searching the branches protruding from each tree, most likely looking for food. He saw dwarf-sized tents on the outskirts of the extensive village. They looked like miniature teepees. He would’ve bet that if there’d been any wind blowing, each one would’ve blown away in an instant. The orange stream continued over the cliff as a thin waterfall, and became a large, wide river at the bottom, flowing past all of the houses and out into the edge of a forest. There was even a huge fountain located directly in the middle of the village. The fountain looked to be functioning with regular, clear water.
There was activity everywhere. This is like the New York City of villages, Quinn thought wondrously, except with tiny wooden houses, shelters, and tents instead of apartments, humongous redwood trees instead of skyscrapers, and a variety animals and birds rather than people.
The place was immaculate and superfluously crowded with creatures of every sort. Quinn could see a family of grizzly bears gathered around a spot where the stream widened on the ground below. He glimpsed many birds in flight. He spotted hawks and blue jays, cardinals and hummingbirds, robins and pigeons, all of which were gliding back and forth throughout the village, looking as busy as a hoard of bumblebees. He could see coyotes and peacocks, horses and camels, monkeys and… gorillas? Quinn mentally hollered. He could even see a pack of wild elephants and a lone ostrich strutting its stuff about.
This place is magnificent! He was speechless but his mind was running full throttle. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he realized that, not only were these animals living here in unison, but they seemed to be conversing with each other. He could almost hear the chitter chatter upon their lips. They were using hand gestures and body language that was only typical of humans. He wanted, needed, to get closer to the village. He had to be sure that his eyes weren’t deceiving him.