diverse, cross-genre fiction

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"A BEAUTIFUL AND HOPEFUL READ. I love the variety of stories in this anthology. A beautiful and hopeful read especially in the middle of a pandemic. May we all emerge stronger from this!"

Blurb

Using his father’s time machine, Isaac travels back through time to search for the Savior who formulated the cure to the deadly virus before she is killed—and thus prevent the future mankind from being annihilated.

He finds her, but in doing so, he is caught in the midst of a bitter love triangle while fighting to survive the violent riots around them, threatening their lives.

When he is faced with a life and death situation, he is forced to choose which woman to save. He must choose well, for his future existence rests on his decision.

Excerpt

How do you find a needle in a haystack?

The rush of the mob is dizzying. People are barreling back and forth. They are panic-buying, snatching items from the supermarket shelves like there’s no tomorrow. Some are fighting over a roll of tissue paper, others over a carton of milk. Almost everyone is snarling at one another, all traces of decency and courtesy forgotten.

The faces pass me by in a blur, the sound of heavy, hurried feet intermingling with muffled curses and whispered expletives. The scent of fear pervades the air, gripping each and everyone in a vise-like hold, like tentacles of a humongous octopus.

It is, undeniably, pure and utter chaos.

Dad, what were you thinking, sending me here?

Perspiration trickles down my brow and I wipe it off with my fingers, staring at it with awe. I haven’t broken a sweat since. . . since ever. I’d only read about it in books. Another drop falls, this time to the floor. 

That’s when I realize why I am sweating. I am not dressed like the people around me.

Suddenly, someone bumps into me. Hard. I don’t even flinch, though. My four-layered clothing effectively protects me and I stay rooted to the floor. It’s the person responsible who is adversely affected. She looks shaken, as if she’d crashed into hard glass.

I take pity on her elfin frame and, on reflex, clasp her arms to prevent her from losing her balance. 

Her lips tighten at my unwelcome touch, her brows crunched in annoyance. She holds up her palms. “Sorry for bumping into you. Please take your hands off me now.”

That’s when I see her inner right wrist. Where a tiny lotus tattoo is embedded.

“Look for the girl with the lotus tattoo,” Dad said.

diverse, cross-genre fiction

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