Manifest Read online

  Table of Contents

  about the author

  books by the author

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  about the author

  In the beginning, Golden worked the standard corporate rat race, completing college with a chemical engineering degree before starting a small photography company on the side.

  Help… me…

  Since then, the FuriousFotog brand grew into an internationally recognized brand, published in both domestic and international magazines, on websites, and trade/e-book book covers (even appearing on some himself). Having been in the industry since 2012, Golden has interfaced and networked with countless other authors, clients, and photographers to license and create over four-hundred romance book cover images, diversifying into other commercial work as well.

  He published his debut novel, Homeward Bound (The Journeyman Series, Book One) in June 2016, completing the six-book paranormal adventure romance series in January 2017. Since then he has ventured into other genres, including contemporary, fantasy, and erotica.

  Please… help…

  Websites:

  http://www.goldenczermak.com/

  http://www.onefuriousfotog.com/

  Facebook:

  http://www.facebook.com/authorgoldenczermak

  http://www.facebook.com/furiousfotog

  Newsletter:

  https://goo.gl/ZoLqC4

  books by the author

  THE JOURNEYMAN SERIES

  Paranormal Action, Adventure, Romance

  Homeward Bound

  Seal of Solomon

  Made to Suffer

  The Devil’s Highway

  Then Hell Followed

  Running on Empty

  THE STEAM TYCOON SERIES:

  Steampunk Science Fiction & Fantasy

  The Steam Tycoon

  SWOLE SERIES

  Erotic short stories (male-male)

  Chest Day

  Leg Day

  Wet Wednesday

  Triple Drop Sets

  Flex Friday

  COOPER BENNETT

  Fantasy & Shifters

  The Secret Life of Cooper Bennett

  manifest

  Published and written by: Golden Czermak

  1st Edition

  Cover Model(s): Chase Ketron

  That’s not me!

  Cover Photography and Design by Golden Czermak, owner of FuriousFotog

  Proofed by Ultra Editing

  Formatted by Golden Czermak, owner of FuriousFotog

  CONTENT NOTICE:

  This book contains sexual situations, paranormal themes, disturbing scenes of violence, gore, and strong language.

  This is a work of fiction …NO!

  Names, characters, places, brands, items, and events portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously.

  No! I’m REAL!

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved.

  In accordance with the United States Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the copyright holder. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted works. Support the author and purchase only authorized copies.

  Copyright © 2017 by Golden Czermak.

  Time deprives all but memories.

  chapter 1

  Way to go man; they’ve just set the damn thing down and from what I can hear, if that loud thumping is their feet, they’re actually running away from you. You need to develop a different approach to getting out of here other than being some freaky, haunted book. Unless you like having less than a snowball’s chance in Hell…

  Wait, what was that noise?

  I don’t think you’re alone anymore.

  Hello? Is somebody there?

  Oh gosh, there is! Please stay… please keep reading…

  Um, hello there! This might seem a little odd, but I can guarantee you’re not crazy. This book character is indeed talking to you…

  Yes, you…

  Well, you are the one reading right now, aren’t you?

  No, no, no please don’t stop…

  Okay, whew! Sorry!

  You’re going to have to forgive the tone of urgency, but it’s been a while since anyone’s made it this far. Into the book, that is, to chat… without any screaming.

  Listen to me starting to blubber on like a complete idiot. Thank God you can’t see my face; it’s probably a complete mess and redder than Grandma’s strawberry preserves right now.

  Sweet Jesus, speaking of messes, apparently my manners aren’t much better. The name’s Chance. Chance Wilcox.

  What’s yours?

  Nice! The name’s very fitting. I would shake your hand, but given the circumstances that’s a little… impossible at the moment. Hopefully it won’t stay that way but regardless, it’s a pleasure to meet you.

  So, what brought you here? I gather it was the blurb that caught your attention?

  That and the cover photo, eh?

  It was ‘hot’?

  Lord, if I had cheeks I’m sure they’d be even more red now, haha. Thank you though, it’s very nice to hear you saw them both and found yourself intrigued. Honestly, I wish more people did. Perhaps I’d be out of here already if that were the case, or perhaps not – people are weird you know? Quite often, not at all what they first appear to be.

  But the fact is you took a chance on me today. That makes me incredibly happy and grateful beyond words alone.

  I suppose you have a lot of questions for –

  A low rumble interrupted the conversation, conjuring a vision of rain slowly dancing across a bank of stormy clouds. Great claps of thunder roared like beasts whose hidden, yet monstrous forms were locked behind cages of bright, forked lightning.

  Did you see that? The raging storm with all the lightning? I call those memory fragments and they’re plaguing my entire time in here. The one we just saw happens to be the most frequent, so it’ll be back.

  Sadly, my mind is no longer what it used to be. I’ve always had a near photographic memory, but whatever has me trapped makes everything spotty at best, empty at the worst. How best to describe it?

  Hmmm. Have you ever had that feeling of waking up after hours of partying and drinking, unable to recall much beyond blurry smears that look like you’re viewing them through the bottom of a dirty glass with no idea what truly happened the night before, versus what you imagined happened? These memory fragments are like that for me in this book. In this damn PRISON…

  Okay Chance, breathe. Just breathe. Calm yourself down or you’ll scare this one away… like all the rest.

  This must be one of if not the strangest experiences for you; having this kind of interaction with a book. Trust me when I say the pill’s no easier to swallow on the other side where all I can do is look out, helplessly shouting for someone’s assistance and praying that there’s a response. It’s a great feeling, that hope rising in your chest when someone stops to look. But it’s equally miserable when hope becomes a searing fire like a knife in the heart when they don’t follow through.

  Sigh.

  I guess I shouldn’t complain. I mean, if our roles were reversed, I probably would have set this book down or thrown it clear across the room when I realized the words were literally speaking to me. That’s assuming we even got to that point, since I don’t read all too much anymore. I’m more of a movie guy myself.

  Great. Now they’re going to think less of you, big guy.

  I’m glad you don’t seem to be like that though. When I first felt you loo
king in, I saw – or better yet felt – something different than before. Hope was there but with a little bit extra too. I think it could mean great things for us, so I can’t thank you enough for your temporary lapse in sanity. Thank you for giving good ol’ Chance a second one.

  Oh, come on, it was a joke! A lame one, I admit, but still.

  Anyway… moving on, I suppose it’s only right that I give you some insight into my unique situation. I hope – and know we’ve only just started to get to know each other – that by talking we might be able to figure a way out of this predicament. That is, if you don’t mind sticking around for a little while longer? Maybe we can build up some level of trust for that to happen or at least satisfy some mutual curiosity.

  At the very least it’ll be a nice chat.

  Do you have time?

  Please have time…

  Wow, thank you for carrying on with the creepy book guy who tells lame jokes! I knew the connection I felt was a good one for this mission of discovery.

  So, where were we? Ah, yeah, the memory fragments. Now, the further back I go, the more intact those memories get. My childhood is clear as day; totally opposite from most people I knew. I can remember what I ate for breakfast on June 8th, 2001: a stack of four pancakes with a large pat of butter on top, two pieces of sausage on the right, and eight strips of extra crispy bacon all around. But as I move the mark closer to the time I was imprisoned, whenever and wherever that was, the details start to get scrambled like the eggs I had on June 9th.

  All I can remember from then on is being awake in these pages, vague and misty conversations with others lingering on the fringes of thought, all with an underlying urge to get out with someone’s help. The storm too. It had to be storming that night.

  But enough about that for now.

  I have your name, but not where you’re from. I’d like to know more. Where’d you grow up?

  Ah, that’s wonderful.

  I’m a Screaming Eagle, or was one, in the 101st Airborne Division based out of Fort Campbell, Kentucky. I’m not a Kentuckian myself though, born and raised about four hours east just outside of Knoxville, Tennessee. It was a small town called Seymour.

  Go Vols, right?

  As far as the folks go, Dad was a hard-working security guard who worked thirty-six hours a day at a local factory while Mom championed being an amazing housewife and mother. She was probably the biggest influence on my life – Dad second only due to those long work hours to support us.

  Yeah, I have a brother and a sister. His name’s Max, hers Julie. We were close for a long time, but I think both our parents might have done too good a job keeping things together. Since the accident that stole them away, Max became angrier and estranged, eventually heading far west, away from Julie and me.

  I’ll tell you more about that later if we get the opportunity.

  Speaking about siblings, do you have any on your end?

  “Stop it Max!” said Julie’s soft voice.

  Rain streamed down the window’s smooth surface, a medley of colored lights shining out through the chilled glass. Accompanied by Christmas music, faint sounds of laughter spilled out with the warm light into the dark night.

  “Chance! Max keeps shoving his wet finger in my ear! Make him stop!”

  Well, it’s pretty obvious the best genetics were used to make you; both outside and in. I can especially see it in your eyes. People used to tell me that I had amazing blue ones, throwing all kinds of clichés my way. You know the stuff: “oh my God they’re as vast as the sky”, “deep as the sea”, “cold and piercing like ice”. All of it would have been marvelous to hear, if it weren’t used repeatedly. I lost count of the number of times I heard it, most of the time just to get into my pants.

  What? You thought the cover photo was hot too. Haha. I admit to being a little bit of a flirt mixed with a lot of playboy. Could you really blame me? I was young in a small town and quite a big guy. Hell, the combination was perfect, just like my hair back in the day.

  Hey now, I’m just kidding!

  If you could see me, I’d be arching an eyebrow at you. But in all seriousness, now that I’ve had more time to consider you as you’ve been reading, there’s a definite beauty in your eyes and a story or two behind them that should be told. I hope to be able to hear them one day…

  But I’m digressing, which isn’t hard to do given my company. Especially when the corner of your mouth turns up ever so slightly as a happy thought flashes across your mind. Surely you knew you did that?

  My own thoughts could get lost if I looked at you too long…

  The intensity of the thunder sent waves of fear through Chance’s body.

  His feet were cold, so incredibly cold as water soaked through his old shoes. The squelching of his footsteps in the muddy soil bordered on grotesque, while the soft rain had hardened into wet shrapnel that stung his exposed skin.

  More thunder rolled as lightning cascaded from cloud to cloud above, revealing…

  That was an intense one. I… I can understand if you feel uncomfortable continuing. The conversation was heading in a direction that was unexpected. I promise you I didn’t plan on it to go there.

  If you want to, or if these memory fragments are causing you issues, we can stop.

  You’re going to stay? You’ve no idea how relieved I am! I appreciate having someone here to talk. Honestly, it’s much nicer than I expected it to be.

  I’m not sure how it’s happening but the flashes feel more potent now. It’s only slight, but they’re somehow more real. I think it’s because our conversation is solidifying things. Slowly manifesting them, if you will. Into what I don’t know, but I’m still holding out hope that we’ll be able to find a way for me to get out…

  That visual by itself is kind of freaky without any context, isn’t it? A body crawling out of a book with someone helping it. That’s some horror movie shit.

  Yikes!

  It’s a big part of why I wanted to talk with you first – to ease the unease so to speak. This way it’d also give you a purpose and me a goal, and we could use that to bridge this weird, magical gap between us.

  That’s even weirder to say: magic.

  Huh. I bet a lot of people are weirded out by the concept, with more passing on even opening the book due to the audacity of such a childish concept. A man stuck in a book – who has time for such a stupid little read?

  This guy, I tell you! I have all the time in the world!

  It does shed a lot of light on why I’m still trapped though, and why most don’t get past the book blurb – even with an apparently dashing cover model. Maybe I should say there are billionaires and virgins in here.

  Ugh.

  That’s tough being the freshest recollection I have: people finding the situation too freaky or childish or eye-rolling. Or worse still, what if they have been chatting with me and leave because I don’t have enough depth to keep their interest?

  I’m over analyzing this, aren’t I?

  I hope I am…

  I’m truly glad you won’t do that to me. Hell, you’ve stayed longer than anyone I can remember. Your commitment to me makes it promising that I will be able to breathe through lungs again.

  Taste peanut butter off a spoon again… and eat the whole damn jar.

  Smell things like cinnamon rolls and fresh roses on the breeze…

  You know what, given this new strength I’m going to try something and see if it works. If it doesn’t, then just chalk it up to another weird thing this crazy main character is doing.

  Hold on and give me a few page flips…

  Ah, there we go! I had some doubt there for a second, but it seemed to work out in the end.

  That’s for you, by the way. Kind of a cheesy thing but you can consider it a gift; a down payment until I can present you with a real one.

  chapter 2

  I hope that wasn’t too improper a thing to get you, but I’m just so thankful to have you here. I needed to express it beyond words.


  As we were talking about those feelings, I could feel this rush of energy overcome me. It was positive, if that’s a thing, and I swear I could even see my body. During the tingle, yes there was a tingle everywhere, I suddenly had the urge to try something out of the box. I focused on the image of a rose, the last thing we’d talked about, and I’m surprised it worked! That was the first time I could manifest anything other than simple words on the page. However, that much focusing took quite a toll on me. Maybe you can help take my mind off things as I recuperate? Every little bit helps.

  Hmmm.

  While we’re on the topic of your strange taste in books – after all, you’re still reading this one – which one has your favorite order of words? I won’t be offended if it’s not mine, but whatever it is, I bet it never gave you flowers!

  Okay, shutting up for a second so you can answer. What’s your favorite book?

  I happen to like that one.

  What? I know I said I liked movies, but a buff movie buff can’t like some books too? Someone is judging this book by the cover…

  Where the Red Fern Grows happens to be one of my favorites and, in my humble opinion, one of the greatest man’s best friend books of all time. I could really connect with the setting and characters growing up where I did, even the violent parts which didn’t faze me all too badly.

  But when reality met fiction…

  Sigh.

  I’m not sure if it’s because I’m that drained from my earlier stunt or that we were talking about this particular book, but I’m feeling a little down at the moment.