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    Voices
    Voices
    Voices
    Ebook406 pages4 hours

    Voices

    By R.E. Rowe

    ()

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    About this ebook

    In a small town in Arkansas, two lives that seemingly have nothing in common will converge and change each other forever. A brilliant but tormented street artist and an ex-track star whose career was cut short by a heart condition.
    Aimee DeLuca had a promising athletic career before her heart gave out during a high school track and field contest. Aimee struggles to find her way after spending time with a deceased grandmother during a near death experience. Reizo Rush is a street artist whose torment fuels his desire to add color to the gray walls of the city. But Reizo's tagging and the two voices only he hears land him in perpetual trouble with both his teachers and the law. During a chance encounter, the two quickly find out they have much more in common than love. When they stumble upon a century-old storm cellar hidden underground on Aimee’s uncle’s ranch, they unearth a cellar full of artifacts and a hundred-year-old Will. Once the news of the discovery leaks out, a drug-dealing teen and a mysterious soul named General are determined to bury the truth along with anyone who gets in their way.

    NOTE: The sequel to this book is: Whispers (book 2).

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherR.E. Rowe
    Release dateFeb 22, 2015
    ISBN9780990999218
    Voices
    Author

    R.E. Rowe

    When Rick isn’t dreaming, you’ll find him trying to discover why, figuring out how, uncovering ancient mysteries, writing a crazy fun middle-grade or young adult novel, inventing something seriously cool, or learning something new. He enjoys participating in science camps, writing conferences and talking to groups about creative topics such as the process of inventing, building worlds for science fiction and fantasy stories, and the importance of dreaming big.Rick is a lifelong inventor and a named inventor on over one hundred patents. He has degrees in Avionics Systems Technology, Computer Science and an MBA from Florida Institute of Technology. His experience includes a wide range of engineering, technology development and management roles ranging from aerospace systems to gaming systems. He is a proud member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI), the Delta Mu Delta Honor Society, and the Phi Kappa Phi Honor Society.

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      Book preview

      Voices - R.E. Rowe

      chapter five

      Death? Heaven? Hell?

      I prepare to grab my phone and call Hank if he makes any unexpected moves. I recognize the boy. He’s the one everyone calls Crazy Kid. He talks to himself at school.

      Hank might be working, but he always answers when I call.

      Reizo turns around after throwing a rock into the water like a second grader. I doubt the frogs are impressed.

      He looks me straight in the eye with intensity and boldness. I dream of painting and then I paint my dream.

      I relax when I feel warm energy radiating from him. It also helps that I recognize the quote. But still, I hadn’t expected this feeling I’m getting from him. Another Van Gogh. I like that one too.

      Reizo glances down at his feet.

      I smile and brush my painting with a touch of blue. Most people I know who sketch carry around a notebook. How about you?

      There’s something odd about him, and I try not to look at him again, but fail miserably. A black t-shirt hangs loosely on his six-foot tall frame. I’ve never noticed how broad his shoulders were at school. With such a muscular build, he could easily play sports. Long brown hair frames his olive skin. Chiseled cheeks. Haunting hazel eyes and a sweet smile cause me to stare.

      He’s better looking than Jonathan James, the football god star quarterback. If Reizo weren’t nuts, he’d probably have all my old girlfriends checking out the tight blue jeans he wears.

      There’s something unique about him. Intense. Weird. My feeling meter detects confusion and pain.

      He fidgets and turns to leave, but abruptly changes course and walks toward me.

      I touch my phone, reminding myself where it is.

      He takes off his backpack and pulls out a leather notebook, then hands it to me.

      After setting my paintbrush brush down, I flip open the notebook. OMG. His sketches are so cool. Angelic clouds and colorful landscapes, fiery underground cave scenes, tombstones hovering above the page.

      As I continue thumbing through the sketches, I realize they’re all drawn in three dimensions. Each picture reminds me of a page in a pop-up book.

      These are really good.

      Reizo shrugs. I see sweat beads on the top of his forehead. Nervous? That surprises me.

      Ever think about using paints? I ask.

      I do, he says. Use paints, that is.

      Oh?

      Mainly spray. Easier to cover large surfaces.

      Tagging. He must be a tagger. Come to think of it, I’ve seen some of these images before.

      Large, like on a wall? I ask.

      I call it a gray canvas. He chuckles.

      I feel his energy change, gentle and sincere.

      So you’re the 3D tagger?

      How’d you guess?

      I recognized the fiery hell sketch. It was the tag on the firehouse door that made the news, right?

      His smile grows. Waves of warm energy radiate from him. Yep.

      I remember the story, but the media didn’t ID you. They caught you, right?

      Well, not exactly. A block away the cops arrested me when they saw yellow paint all over my fingertips. Circumstantial evidence, in my opinion. He rolls his eyes. I agreed to a plea deal. Probation.

      Reizo takes back his sketchbook.

      I pick up my brush, dip it in paint, and then apply it to the canvas.

      Look, I have to go. Nice talking with you . . . Oh, and by the way, Reizo says with a smile, branches turn violet on a sunny day and the top leaves on your tree should match the sky color . . . Later. He turns and jogs away.

      Wait—

      Reizo ignores me and continues on.

      There’s something electrifying about his energy, shifting from excitement to worry, from simple to edgy. It pulls me in, but it doesn’t crush me. That’s a first.

      I stand up and shout, I’m Aimee!

      He glances back at me. I know. I’m Reizo. At least for today.

      His jog turns to a sprint.

      WELCOME TO THE CLOUD

      Login: general

      Password: *********

      Cloud: How may I be of service, General?

      >>find enforcer carmina

      running..............

      Cloud: I am done with system check.

      >>report

      303 not found error

      >>report enforcer status

      Anomalies: 10 Enforcers Missing

      >>report reckoner status

      Direct comm:

      2 Reckoners with 1 Enforcer

      Communication encrypted

      Information tap not possible.

      Quantum Interference Detected

      Dimension Flux Detected

      >>search special status

      Password: *********

      104 Followers Active

      ?Would you like to activate?

      >>yes

      ?Would you like to use of Force?

      >>force authorized

      ?Allow innocent casualties?

      >>acceptable

      >>logout

      Good-bye General

      Login:

      chapter six

      I replay the encounter with Aimee. Anger should be what I’m feeling about the smiling girl who screwed up my plan, but I’m curious instead. She actually thought my sketches were cool.

      I adjust the rope on the pulley that’s secured to the top of the courthouse fire escape and lean back to observe my latest masterpiece. The gray courthouse wall now pops with color. It turned out better than my sketch. Stairway to Heaven. The judge will seriously remember me.

      You’re going to fall, says Honesti.

      Jump, says Bouncer. Dive on your head.

      Jerk.

      The voices continue rambling nonstop, polluting my thoughts and freezing my brain. Screw Bouncer. No way am I going to jump. I’ll make my exit when and where I want, but not here.

      Shut the hell up! I scream as loudly as I can.

      Keep your voice down! whispers Honesti.

      Don’t you scream at me, boy! shouts Bouncer.

      Easy! yells Honesti. Will you stop?

      The voices continue to argue.

      My head starts to pound, stabbing my brain again and again. I feel a headache sprout and grow until it’s piercing the back of my eyes.

      Lower your voices! I yell louder than Bouncer’s shouts.

      Incredibly, it works. They listen and shut up.

      Hand over hand. Grip. Release. Grip. Release. I lower myself into position in front of the lower right corner of my latest 3D masterpiece tag.

      The gray Franklin County courthouse has officially received a facelift: Stairway to Heaven. The stairway image disappears upward into a cluster of white puffy clouds, light ray streaks, and golden sunshine. The piece is shaded and painted to trick the viewer’s eye into believing the scene is three real-life dimensions. It is by far my best piece ever.

      I spray my personal wildstyle mark, "REIZO."

      The place where judges are judged and taggers rule. I mutter. "I’d enjoy sentencing Judge Samuels for being a jerk. I’d sentence him to one year of tagging, the most heavenly of community services. I’d make him add color to heaven’s cinder blocks. I wonder what he’d paint on

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