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| Check out the Splash into Summer Main Pages at A Backwards Story, and Mermaid Vision Books where you can access the schedule! You can also go here to get involved! |
I've previously reviewed WARPED, Maurissa Guibord's debut novel!
Check out today's review of REVEL, Maurissa's splash-tastic new book!
Keep reading to win your own personalized copy of REVEL!
Check out today's review of REVEL, Maurissa's splash-tastic new book!
Keep reading to win your own personalized copy of REVEL!
~*~
Before beginning her writing career Maurissa Guibord worked slinging pizzas, alphabetizing things and practicing medicine. Now she writes teen fiction for people who love the same kind of stories she does: mysterious, romantic and with a touch of humor. Her short mystery fiction, published in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine has been nominated for the Agatha Award. She lives on the coast of Maine with her mysterious cat, romantic husband and three kids who make her laugh. Her debut novel, WARPED, was published in early 2011 by Delacorte Press.
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O F F I C I A L I N F O:
Title: REVEL
Author: Maurissa Guibord
Author: Maurissa Guibord
Release Date: Feb. 12, 2013
Received: Purchased
SUMMARY:
There’s an island off the coast of Maine that’s not on any modern map.
Shrouded in mist and protected by a deadly reef, Trespass Island is home to a community of people who guard the island and its secrets from outsiders. Seventeen-year-old Delia grew up in Kansas, but has come here in search of her family and answers to her questions: Why didn’t her mother ever talk about Trespass Island? Why did she fear the open water? But Delia’s not welcome and soon finds herself enmeshed in a frightening and supernatural world where ancient Greek symbols adorn the buildings and secret ceremonies take place on the beach at night.
~*~
Maurissa wrote a fabulous short story for Splash. I'm in love with it and want to pick up REVEL
based on this alone!
...Wait. I already read and reviewed it? Can it be my first time all over again!?
The Lighthouse
by Maurissa Guibord
From the world of REVEL
There was something out
there. He knew it.
He stood at the water’s
edge and peered into the darkness. He was a steady sort and not given to
flights of fancy. But something was out there. Seals. Or a pilot whale. Might explain the strange sounds that seemed
to circle the island.
The young man had blue
eyes as cool as sea glass and dark hair that wouldn’t stay put. He was the lighthouse keeper. His station,
Moses Island, was little more than an outcropping of rock supporting the
lighthouse, a small patch of grass, a milking cow in the lean-to and a clutch
of mean-spirited hens. A mail boat came out once a month with kerosene and
other supplies. Otherwise, he was alone.
There was a hard splash
then faint noises, barely audible against the wind and surf. It sounded almost
like laughter. Nonsense.
He strained to see, to
hear something. No running lights of a
vessel. No signal horns. This island was thirty-two miles from the mainland.
The water sloshed up and
over the rocks. Nothing but weather. A storm was coming. He stepped back from
the rocks, recalling the nor’easter last winter. Afterwards he had been careful to write a
composed log entry in small, neat script.
Gale winds and high seas. Chicken coop washed out to sea.
He’d like for whoever
might read his log in years to come, to know that he was capable. Steadfast.
More strange sounds mingled
together, rising and falling in an eerie cadence.
Singing.
The thought came before
logic could cancel it out. No. Of course
it wasn’t possible for people to be out there singing. Out in the darkness, out
in the water.
Whales might make noises
like that. He surveyed the water but saw only the increasing chop of the waves.
The electric tang of the coming storm
hung in the air.
By habit that had become
instinct he touched his pocket watch and sensed the time. He turned away and went into the tower.
One hundred and
forty-seven steps. The measure of his life.
He didn’t even breathe
heavy anymore when he got to the top of the spiral stairs. He trimmed the wicks
of the kerosene lamps, relit them and then wound the clockwork mechanism of the
rotating lens. It had to be done every five hours. Such a schedule meant that
he hadn’t slept a full night in nearly two years.
No wonder he heard
things.
He watched as the flames
steadied and the delicate crystal prisms broke the light into a thousand
shards. Reflecting them, a beam as thick
as his waist swept over the water, warning ships off the nearby shoals.
The light was brilliant
but it sure wasn’t sunshine. He shrugged deeper into his woolen jacket. It was October off the coast of Maine and nothing
would be warm until June.
One hundred and forty-seven
steps.
Outside again he smoked
a pipe and thought about the girl he’d courted back in Portland. Emeline didn’t
want this life. She’d gone to Providence to marry a furniture maker.
It was a lonely job here,
but important. And someday he would find a wife. Again he heard the
noises, closer now. The lilting murmurs
were strange but somehow comforting.
Don’t start imagining
things. He tapped the plug from his pipe. The storm would be here soon. Long
night ahead.
The bolt of lightning came
without warning. The ground, the rocks and the sea lit up with a green
brilliance, showing him what he never should’ve seen. And couldn’t have imagined.
A girl with opalescent
skin was climbing from the water, ascending the slippery rocks as lightly as if
they were sturdy steps. She was naked. She was lovely. And she was not a human
thing. Her eyes glowed like flames set in amethyst. Her hands reached out,
palms upturned, fingers spread. Webbed.
The young man choked out
an oath and stumbled backwards. Thunder rumbled the ground. He ran into the
warm, welcome light of the doorway.
He emerged with a rifle
clutched in his hands. The rain pelted down and he spun in a circle, searching.
Another crack of lightning lit the sky and he saw her slim, pale form come
closer. There were gills on her belly.
“Go away!” he shouted.
“In God’s name, go away!”
A pale membrane
shuttered sideways over the creature’s eyes but she didn’t respond. She turned
and he saw the silhouette of a long dorsal fin with black spines.
He closed his eyes and was
shocked to feel the trigger depress, to hear the rifle blast.
When he opened them it
was raining steady. He was alone.
An emerald trail of
bubbles glowed beneath the water.
***
There were rules. And
she had broken them.
Never go above where you
could be seen. Never approach the landers.
His loneliness had drawn
her. It was a palpable thing that crept across the water and even tainted the
fog. She’d watched him before, from a distance and somehow liked his soft bright
eyes that gazed into the water. Sometimes
she even sang to comfort him.
And though the hot,
roving eye was grotesque, she was curious about that too.
But he was only a beast.
His voice had been an unintelligible cry- lower than the screech of a gull but
just as harsh. The cruelty of the air must be part of them.
The tiny stone he’d thrown had cut her and her
blood had spun dark threads behind her for many days.
She wouldn’t venture
there again. And she would ignore the sad watchful gaze of the lander who came
out when it stormed, calling to her and whispering apologies to the sea. For
the rest of her lifetime she would teach her clan what she knew of the hot, bright
eye on the rocks.
Now she knew. It was a
warning. The sweeping stare across the waves told everyone to stay away.
Here be monsters.
****Giveaway*****
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I love the atmosphere this short story gives.
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