Wayne Gerard Trotman – Kaya Abaniah and the Father of the Forest

Kaya_Abaniah_6x9Title: Kaya Abaniah and the Father of the Forest

Author: Wayne Gerard Trotman

ISBN or ASIN: ISBN 9780956787217 (Paperback) ISBN 9780956787231 (Hardback)

ISBN: 9781311992062 (eBook) ASIN: B00T1DFTL2 (Kindle)

Page count: 416

Genre: Young adult or teen Sci-Fi & fantasy

Price (Print and Ebook): $22.99 (Paperback) $26.99 (Hardback) $5.99 (eBook/Kindle)

 

Author Bio:

Wayne Gerard Trotman is a British writer, filmmaker, artist, photographer, blogger, composer and producer of electronic music from the two-island Caribbean Republic of Trinidad and Tobago. He lives with his wife and two sons in Surrey, Greater London, near Wimbledon.

 

Wayne01Tell us about your book:

Kaya Abaniah (Kah-yuh Abba-na-yuh) is a boy’s name. Kaya Abaniah and the Father of the Forest is a unique coming of age, science fiction, adventure story. It is presented with much of the dialogue in authentic Trinidadian Creole, and combines legends and characters from Trinidad and Tobago folklore with the themes of wildlife conservation, redemption, and forgiveness.

Kaya Abaniah believes he’s an ordinary fourteen-year-old college student. He lives with his mother on the Caribbean island of Trinidad; he’s passionate about wildlife conservation and has a crush on the prettiest girl in his class. However, one fateful day, Kaya’s life is changed forever when he encounters Papa Bois, a folklore character similar to the Greek god, Pan.

Kaya learns he has the talent. He’s a telepath, and he’s not alone. He discovers that men in black are constantly watching him, Soucouyant, the shape-shifting vampire wants his blood, and his packed lunch is never safe.

Will Kaya succeed in protecting his relatives and friends from the supernatural evils that lurk on the tropic isle? Can he reveal the shape-shifter’s secret identity? And, why on Earth is the most gorgeous girl, he’s ever known, so interested in him?

Follow Kaya’s struggles with love, rivalry, and academic life, as he confronts the terrifying creatures of Trinidad and Tobago’s folklore, and unlocks the shocking mystery of Papa Bois, the father of the forest.

 

Share any thoughts you’d like the readers to know about you and/or your book:

Were you ever young and in love? Do you like mysteries, action, and adventure? Have you ever longed to visit a tropical paradise? Do you love nature? Do you enjoy learning about different cultures? Have you ever wondered if life exists elsewhere in the universe? Do you have an open mind? If you answered yes to any of these questions, this book is probably for you.

 

Where can we go to buy your book?

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Barnes & Noble

iTunes

Smashwords

 

Any other links or info you’d like to share?
Psychic War Journal

Facebook

Twitter

 

Excerpt from book:

1

AGUE

On a hot, humid, moonless night, in the small Trinidadian town of Coconut Grove, Kaya Abaniah lay awake on his bed, covered in a thick woollen blanket, drenched in sweat and shivering uncontrollably. Experiencing fresh waves of feverish chills, Kaya slowly reached for the glass of water on his bedside table. And, between shaky sips, his teeth chattered loudly, and a soft groan escaped his chapped lips. He gulped the tepid water past sore swollen tonsils and shakily placed the glass back on its bedside perch.

With a sigh, Kaya adjusted his pillow. Thinking of nothing in particular, he stared at the four walls, weakly illuminated by the ambient glow of his old computer’s LED standby button. In the gloom, his Bob Marley poster, the Birds of Trinidad and Tobago calendar, and the colourful acrylic paintings of local scenery he had meticulously produced were all reduced to morose shades of grey.

Trying to make himself comfortable, Kaya turned to his left and observed his mother, Josephine. She slouched, fast asleep, in the old wooden rocking chair that once belonged to Kaya’s grandmother. For the third night in a row, Josephine had watched over her ill son until fatigue finally got the better of her. In Kaya’s eyes, the headstrong thirty-six-year-old single-mother did not look a day older than twenty-six, despite the exhaustion she endured due to her busy daily routine.

Always fiercely independent, she had been the subject of much gossip in the village of Tortuga, where Kaya was born. Josephine never told a soul the identity of Kaya’s father, and when the constant whispering and innuendo became too much of an annoyance, she left the Montserrat Hills of Tortuga with her infant son and moved in with her mother in Coconut Grove.

In this seaside town, no one dared trouble Josephine, at least not while her mother was still alive. Most people were utterly terrified of Florence Peters, the dark, imposing woman the townsfolk called Mama Flo. According to a popular local legend, Mama Flo, the proud descendant of a powerful African family, had turned an old suitor into a frog after catching him in a compromising position with her best friend. Several stories exist regarding the fate of Mama Flo’s former friend, but most inhabitants of Coconut Grove agreed that the poor woman had been turned into a blight-infected silk cotton tree.

Years later, having defiantly vowed never to trust her heart to the whims of men, Mama Flo met Ekon Arius Abaniah, a tall, dark, handsome stonemason from Barbados that everyone, except Mama Flo, called Papa Choonks. However, Josephine’s parents would never marry. Their whirlwind romance led to an engagement that abruptly ended, when Ekon was struck down, while hurrying home during an unexpected thunderstorm. The local coroner blamed ball lightning for Ekon’s death. There had been several eyewitness accounts of the bizarre natural phenomenon that fateful evening. However, privately, Mama Flo never accepted the coroner’s verdict. Long before she peacefully passed away in her sleep, Mama Flo told Josephine that Ekon had been murdered by one of the women he spurned in Coconut Grove. This particular woman, she claimed, was secretly a powerful witch. However, to Josephine’s dismay, Mama Flo stubbornly refused to reveal the woman’s identity, saying she had no proof of her guilt. In her twilight years, Mama Flo often sat in her old rocking chair, softly singing old-fashioned melancholy songs.

And sometimes, she’d look in awe at Josephine, going about her housework, and she’d whisper sadly, “Poor Ekon. Boy yuh never know ah was makin’ dis chile when de Soucouyant take yuh from meh. Buh watch yuh daughter boy, look how she grow up strong like she fadah.”

In this day and age, most people would treat the old stories of the Soucouyant, a vampiric witch that roamed the night in the guise of a fireball, as the stuff of folklore. But, Josephine knew better. Mama Flo had raised Josephine alone, and Josephine raised Kaya in a similar fashion. At the first signs of illness, Josephine had given Kaya tea made from what Mr Chen, the pharmacist, called chen pi.

At first, Kaya protested the way most normal fourteen-year-old Trinbagonian boys, in his predicament, would have. “Mammy, I ent drinking Chen pee!”

But, Josephine, the sole proprietor of Josephine’s Flower Shop, knew a thing or two about herbs, plants and Chinese medicine.

She explained to Kaya, “Chen pi is de Chinese name fuh dried orange peel. Yuh doh remember yuh granny used to give yuh orange peel tea when yuh were small?”

Of course, Kaya remembered this. He recalled Mama Flo telling his mother on more than one occasion, “Josephine, doh bother wit any ah dem fancy capsule or tablet. Give de boy orange peel tea fuh de cold an’ tuh stop de ague.”

Ague was what people of Mama Flo’s generation called fever, and that’s exactly what Kaya had now. Orange peel tea, perhaps the most pleasant of Mama Flo’s medicinal concoctions, certainly tasted a hundred times better than karaili juice. Momordica charantia, known as karaili, bitter melon or bitter gourd is without exaggeration one of the bitterest vegetables known to humanity.

Mama Flo often warned Kaya, “If you doh drink dis down, crapaud smoke yuh pipe.”

And, he knew if he did not drink the foul-smelling, bitter-tasting mixture, he’d have a painful appointment with a guava whip. Kaya thanked God his mother did not share his grandmother’s grim zeal or her unshakeable faith in the dubious medicinal properties of the green, warty-looking menace. But, since Mama Flo’s death two years ago, unwilling to take any chances with his precious taste buds, Kaya had developed the habit of ripping up and burning any of the karaili vines and fruit that occasionally sprouted in the garden. The mere memory of the evil taste of karaili made him shiver even more as he tucked himself back into the security of his thick blanket.

Because of his illness, Kaya had already missed the first three days of the college term, and it bothered him that he could not do anything to stop Artimus Corbeau from harassing Raima Khan. Artimus, a fifteen-year-old spoilt rich kid, a class prefect and bully, had the honour of being Kaya’s enemy. Kaya delighted in frequently reminding Artimus that corbeaux, pronounced cobo, was the name Trinidadians gave to the local black vulture; an incredibly ugly bird with a tendency to congregate in the vicinity of garbage dumps. Raima also came from a wealthy family, but had no airs and never uttered a rude word or a condescending remark, at least not to Kaya. For this reason, Kaya appointed himself Raima’s knight in shining armour. And, the fact that Kaya considered her to be the prettiest girl at Paria College had absolutely nothing to do with it.

 

A loud crack of thunder woke Kaya. Lying on his back, he opened his eyes to be temporarily confused by silvery-blue flashes and deep shadows dancing on the ceiling. Confusion transformed into fear when Kaya realised that he could only move his eyes. Instinctively, he looked to where he remembered his mother had fallen asleep, but no one occupied the rocking chair. Utterly exhausted from her three-night vigil at Kaya’s bedside, Josephine had retired to her room, and not even the thunderstorm could have woken her now.

Nevertheless, Kaya felt a presence in the darkness. Did a thief use the thunderstorm to mask a forced entry into the house? It would not be far-fetched for a criminal to assume that Josephine hid some of the takings from her shop at home. Kaya wanted to call out, but his mouth did not function.

He heard a deep, earthy voice say, “Go back to sleep, Hezekiah.”

Hezekiah? Nobody call meh Hezekiah.

“It is your name.”

Yeah, buh…. Who is dat?

“I am a figment of your imagination.”

Yuh t’ink ah schupid, awa?

“Not stupid. Delirious. You are experiencing a hallucination.”

So, yuh mean tuh tell me, dis is ah dream?

“Yes, Hezekiah, you are dreaming.”

How come ah dreamin’ if yuh askin’ meh tuh go back tuh sleep?

“You are in a transitional state between wakefulness and sleep.”

Is dat why yuh talkin’ funny?

“What do you mean?”

Yuh soundin’ like ah real Englishman.

“I am communicating in English, but I am not an Englishman. I am your subconscious mind.”

Ah never realise meh subconscious mind could tell lies in perfect English.

“Go back to sleep, Hezekiah.”

Kaya was about to think up another witty retort, but the shadow of a man glided towards him, and he felt overpowering fear.

“Your illness is not natural. You will be better by sunrise, but be careful what you eat or drink. There are those who would do you harm.”

Kaya noticed that the silhouetted man held something in his right hand, which looked like a baton or cane. He heard a low hum and his eyelids felt suddenly heavy; and, as the thunderstorm headed out to sea, Kaya drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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Wayne Gerard Trotman – Veterans of the Psychic Wars

Title: Veterans of the Psychic Wars

Author: Wayne Gerard Trotman

ISBN: 978-0-9567872-0-0 (Paperback Edition)

Page count: 416

Genre: Science Fiction

Price: $5.73 (Kindle Edition)  $5.99 (Smashwords Edition)

 

Author Bio:

Wayne Gerard Trotman is a British writer, filmmaker, artist, photographer, composer and producer of electronic music. Born in the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago, Trotman immigrated to England in 1984, where he lives with his wife and two young sons.

A martial arts enthusiast, he wrote and directed ‘Ashes to Ashes’, Britain’s first martial arts feature-film. He has a cosmopolitan and multi-cultural approach to all his artistic work, which has received recognition internationally. His epic science-fiction novel, ‘Veterans of the Psychic Wars’, is the first of a proposed ‘Psychic Wars’ series.

 

Tell us about your book:

‘Veterans of the Psychic Wars’ is an epic science fiction story that takes the reader from London, England, to a distant galaxy known as the Cosmic Sea. There, Baron Seti Aljyk has instigated a Second Psychic War by seizing Najura, the last of the ancient swords of power, and usurping the imperial throne from Sakara Rey, the True Emperor.

Protagonist Roman Doyle emigrated from Trinidad to England. He is a happily married, twenty-five-year-old schoolteacher, anticipating becoming a father. What Roman does not know, is that he is really Armon Sakara, heir apparent of the True Emperor. That is, until he encounters Chi-Ro Jin, a Veteran of the Psychic Wars.

Chi-Ro’s mission is to return Roman to the True Emperor, but Roman believes that Chi-Ro is crazy. When Roman’s wife, Soraya, is abducted by the Baron’s assassins, Roman is forced to make the epic journey to the Cosmic Sea. However he does not go alone. He is joined by his shamira Chi-Ro, Nuri Nemsys a beautiful secret agent, Anah Sadaka the mysterious captain of the Starglider Sanura and Roman’s friend, Zachary Silverman, a quantum physicist.

With his dormant psychic and astral abilities awakened by an alien drug and pursued by the Baron’s assassins, Roman, his friend, and the Veterans of the Psychic Wars face evil and danger in uncharted space and on alien worlds. Roman must overcome his fears, master the martial art of Hatari Ikou, and learn the secrets of astral projection, in order to rescue his wife, retrieve the sword of power, and bring the Psychic Wars to an end.

 

How long did it take to write the book?

Approximately three years.

 

What inspired you to write the book?

A brief conversation I had with my mother, when I was a child, inspired this book. Throughout my life I’ve been told that I think too much. When I was nine or ten, I complained to my mother that I felt that I didn’t belong.

I said, “I think I’m an alien, from another planet.”

My mother replied, without hesitation, “Yes, you’re an alien.”

We laughed and the conversation quickly moved to other things, but I always thought about what she said. I didn’t actually believe I was an alien, but I never forgot the conversation or its possible implications.

I started thinking: what if a young man grew up believing he was a normal human being, only to find out one day that he was actually an alien from another galaxy? Wouldn’t that explain his feelings of alienation; and wouldn’t that make an interesting story? ‘Veterans of the Psychic Wars’ started its life as a film script. I had already written the script equivalent of the book’s first chapter, when a friend suggested I write a novel instead. So, I wrote the book with a film firmly in mind.

 

Talk about the writing process. Did you have a writing routine? Did you do any research, and if so, what did that involve?

I wrote whenever I had the opportunity, usually between 10:00 PM and 7:00 AM – when it’s quiet. I did a lot of research for this book, which is one of the main reasons it took so long to write. The novel contains a ten-page glossary of terms, and there are many historical, cultural and linguistic references. I researched weaponry, propulsion systems, religion and myths, ancient astronaut theories, battle strategies, the meaning of names, human physiology and the way different injuries affect the mind and body. Writing ‘Veterans of the Psychic Wars’ involved a lot of reading, and a lot of learning.

 

What do you hope your readers come away with after reading your book?

I hope they will be thoroughly entertained.

 

Where can we go to buy your book?

‘Veterans of the Psychic Wars’ is currently available on Amazon’s Kindle both in the US and the UK. Other eBook formats are available from Smashwords. The paperback edition is due for a January 2011 release and will be available from most outlets.

 

Any other links or info you’d like to share?

My Official Website.

My Facebook page.

My Smashwords page.

Follow me on Twitter.

 

Excerpt from book:

Brakis Tarn felt exhilaration reminiscent of his first kill on the southern plains of Navora Karavak. He was the youngest cadet in a notorious guerrilla group known as Piros Kreegan. His grandfather, Havek Izom, a Shudyar smallholder from the Mevaal valley, had formed this rebellious group in opposition of the crippling taxation levied on Karellan agricultural trade by the Commonwealth’s Chancellery, which had no Karellan representatives. And now, Brakis Tarn’s father, Tarn Havek, an adept of the forbidden art of Kon Jou, led the fearsome Kreegan warriors against the invading tyranny of the so-called Democratic Talisian Commonwealth.

At an early age, Brakis Tarn had impressed his father with uncanny intuition and an enviable aptitude for psychic combat. Finally, the sixteen-year-old embarked on his first mission, elated that his father had reluctantly agreed to allow his participation in the dangerous raid of a Talisian weapons depot.

Intelligence reports had suggested that the Talisian Invasion Force, engaged in fierce battles, in the Northern Territories, left the weapons depot vulnerable to attack. But, Commonwealth stormbringers had telepathically suggested this misinformation to Piros Kreegan spies, and Tarn Havek led his men into a trap.

The scribes recorded that a battalion of one thousand Talisian assault troops led by Supreme Chancellor Rameses Gor surrounded the three hundred Kreegans.

The battle raged for three long hours, until the opposing wills of rival stormbringers created unmanageable psychic anomalies and widespread mental chaos. In the confusion that ensued, Brakis Tarn became separated from the protection of his father, and found himself alone, pinned down behind a rocky outcrop, amongst a sea of wild ryzagrass.

For two desperate hours, with precision blasts from his Koroba A2L Ultra assault phase rifle, Brakis Tarn managed to keep his pursuers from advancing on his position. He felt a heady rush of pride, finally managing to wound a fleeing soldier in the right buttock. Later, he would claim that he had shot an officer in the right shoulder.

Brakis Tarn managed to keep the Supreme Chancellor’s troops at bay for another hour, before depleting his assault rifle. For a moment, all seemed lost, but fortune favoured the boy. Retreating Piros Kreegan guerrillas, blasted the position of the soldiers who had hindered his escape, and Brakis Tarn used this opportunity to run.

He had sprinted just over one hundred metres before his intuition compelled him to dive for cover. As he dove, an energy bolt sliced through the atmosphere vaporising every particle in its wake.

Brakis Tarn rolled to his feet and hurled his dagger, aiming for his opponent’s throat but only succeeding in wounding him in the right shoulder. With the desperation that only a boy facing certain death knows, he leapt forward in a spin kick, bringing his right heel down on the Daxia H1-09 Compact pistol held by the Talisian veteran. The blow knocked the man to the ground and the plasma weapon out of his reach.

Recovering quickly, the assault trooper pulled the blade from his shoulder with his left hand and attempted to drive it into Brakis Tarn’s solar plexus.

The boy used his knee to shove the trooper’s knife hand upwards. Then, clasping the man’s wrist securely with both hands, he twisted him off balance, fluidly wrenching the knife from his grasp and throwing him to the ground with a right-heel sweep.

But, taking advantage of the youth’s distracting sense of achievement, the fallen Talisian locked Brakis Tarn’s ankles with his legs and brought the boy to the ground with a painful thud. The opponents rolled apart instantly and stood facing each other.

In desperation, the young Karellan hurled the dagger again, but this time the older Talisian caught it by its hilt and with a menacing smirk, casually threw the weapon away.

Brakis Tarn rolled to the ground and retrieved his Koroba A2L Ultra, but the trooper immediately probed the boy’s mind and learnt that the assault rifle was depleted.

“I will enjoy killing you,” were the sinister thoughts Brakis Tarn discerned from his opponent.

The Talisian pulled a standard-issue retractable sok-bou power rod from his belt and assuming the ready stance of an Arashi Paksa fighter, extended the sok-bou, relishing the idea of giving this peasant boy a first and last lesson in the way of the storm.

Brakis Tarn cleared his mind. He knew Arashi Paksa’s strength lay in its speed, but the art of Kon Jou his father had secretly taught him, employed psionic mastery as its ally. The sixteen-year-old doubted that this well-fed older man could match his youthful stamina. Nor would he expect a lowly Shudyar to employ the art of Kon Jou, reserved for the scholarly Brahmyars and regal Khatras by the strict kurai system of social ranking, imposed on Karellan society by the Talisian High Council.

“May the scribes record it,” said Brakis Tarn defiantly.

The Talisian launched a swift attack and Brakis Tarn used his depleted phase rifle to parry the deadly blows of the sok-bou, painfully aware that the angrily buzzing plasma elements on either end of the power rod could easily vaporise flesh and bone. Wilfully shielding his thoughts from the trooper’s probes, Brakis Tarn defended against relentlessly speedy attacks, waiting for the Talisian to make an error.

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