Sneak Peek 2 of Tentatively Prewritten, Book 2 of the User-Friendly Guide to Ghosts Series by Mia Smantz
- Mia Smantz
- 8 hours ago
- 7 min read
#userfriendlyguidetoghosts #miasmantz #willawalker #alpha #reverseharem #reverseharemseries #beforetheguide #ghosts #reverseharemghosts
Hello all!
I've been away for a while...
Welcome to the sneak peeks countdown for Tentatively Prewritten, Book 2 of the User-Friendly Guide to Ghosts series, by Mia Smantz. With the first book of the new series, Before the Guide, releasing on April 22nd, I'll be posting some snippets from the story to whet your whistles :)
Some housekeeping notes before we get to the good stuff... my first series, The Cardinal Series is all completed and available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited for free. It's also available for purchase. If you're interested in purchasing them, the links are here:
And, if you've already read the books through Kindle Unlimited and are looking to reread, consider downloading the 6-book anthology. You can free up some space in your Kindle Library and also support me, since authors only get paid the first time you read a book on your account. The 6-book link is here with some awesome new artwork.
Also the second, completed series, The Stillwind Series is all completed and available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited for free. It's also available for purchase. If you're interested in purchasing them the links are here:
Again, if you've already read the books through Kindle Unlimited and are looking to reread, consider downloading the 6-book anthology. You can free up some space in your Kindle Library and also support me, since authors only get paid the first time you read a book on your account. The 6-book link is here with some awesome new artwork.
Also--almost there, I promise--the second book of the User Friendly Guide to Ghosts, Very Rough Draft, is available for preorder. Order your copy today!
And now, on to the sneak peek of the new series.
I wasn’t sure how I’d been placed in art class as an elective. My parents had handled all the enrollment meetings. Mr. Henderson, the teacher, must have thought my placement had to be some colossal joke as he stood over my workstation. One clay speckled arm folded across his chest to prop up the other, whose hand probably concealed a frown that was trying to form.
“Okay, one more time. You said it’s a…” He let the sentence hang, and the students at our table chuckled.
My cheeks burned as frustration welled. Sure, I’d never been an art prodigy, but even my single fifth grade coil pot had been recognizable as a penguin. I placed my hands beneath the worktable, as if I could hide the problem.
Let’s just add “no longer able to scrape by in ceramics” to the long list of grievances courtesy of Chief Pierce.
“A tree.”
“Hmm,” Mr. Henderson hummed, tilting his head this way and that. Given that the subject area was notorious for subjective interpretation, it was frankly insulting that he couldn’t find a single redeeming quality in the piece.
I snapped when more snickers released. “You guys hide laughter like I build sculptures. At least one of us has an excuse for being so bad.” I pointed at myself and the somewhat visible scar. “Coma. Brain surgeries. Half a dozen or more stroke-like events.” I shifted my finger to them. “What’s your excuse?”
To their credit, they looked uncomfortable and maybe even ashamed of their actions.
“That was well said, Willa,” Mr. Henderson agreed, trying to cut through the lawbook thick tension. His posture straightened, and I just knew he intended to turn this into a teachable moment when he spun to address the class. “It’s called empathy. I think our next journal assignment is going to be a representation of what that means to you. You can draw people showing empathy in different ways or things that evoke strong emotions so we can discuss what the subject might be feeling and ways to show empathy during the critique. This will be a good exercise for us.”
Yep, teachable moment.
Oh, I regretted saying anything.
I wanted to sink into my seat.
The bell rang.
“Willa,” Mr. Henderson called, despite my best attempts to flee with the crowd. “One moment please.”
If lunch wasn’t right after this, I might have worried about being late for a second class.
As people departed in twos and threes, they glanced back, intensifying my regret for speaking out tenfold. Lunch would be bursting with rumors—more rumors since they’d already had quite a bit of material to work with after I was scolded in first period and pulled aside in the hall for second—and I’d be popping in after most of the tables were full.
Mr. Henderson waited until the last student vacated before he glanced at my artwork again. “Your teachers are aware of your situation, and I can’t even imagine how frustrating this must be for you.”
“Oh. Thank you?” I licked my lips. “Would it be okay to drop the class?”
He turned my droopy, melted monstrosity. The sad piece sat perched atop a square of drywall with duct tape on the edges to prevent the gypsum from chipping out and mixing with the clay. Apparently, that was imperative to avoid. “Since your parents actually pushed to add you to this class at the recommendation of your physical therapist, Dr. Blakely, it might be something you have to discuss with them before your guidance counselor would consider it. They think it will help you regain your dexterity.”
Pointy pin, meet my balloon of hope.
That sounded just like something my slave driver therapist would do, encouraging my parents to join the dark side.
“So, while I can’t absolve you of the ceramics projects we do, I can exempt you from sketch journals if you’d like. Practice with a pencil is possible in any class, but I’d like you to have the chance to at least explore your artistic voice while you’re in here.”
I didn’t dissuade him of the idea, even if using a pencil versus a keyboard ranked lower than volunteering for an unnecessary root canal. “How?”
He tilted his head. “Well, most teenagers have a phone camera, at the least, these days—”
Excitement grew. “Oh, I have a Sony Alpha!”
His lips curled at the corners as he released a whistle. “Sony Alpha? That’s not too shabby. You dabble in photography?”
“Yes, I mean, for my dad’s business. I was in charge of the camera when he needed dynamic shots instead of the stationary tripod, and I bring the camera along any time we go camping to capture photos for his website.”
“Your dad’s business?”
A little more animation entered my voice as I explained how my dad ran a successful social media and vlog site that often saw people stopping us almost every weekend on our camping trips at Green Dunes Off-Roading Park.
Technically, Mom didn’t need to work, let alone with the grueling schedule of an ER nurse, but that didn’t stop her from pulling doubles on the graveyard shift.
“He’s even sponsored by several big-name companies,” I finished with a grin.
Mr. Henderson laughed. “Well, I can see why you wanted to sculpt a tree to represent your hobby. You likely spend more time outdoors than my cat.” His eyebrows climbed when he glanced at the wall. “Is that the time? Oh my, I’ve kept you from your lunch period… and mine.” He moved around his desk and offered me two PowerBars from a pretty extensive collection. “I often lose track of time,” he explained. “I like to throw my own pieces on the wheel during my lunch.”
The sweet, sinful smell of peanut butter and chocolate hit my senses. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson.”
“No problem, Willa. It was a joy talking with you, especially about a topic you’re so passionate about. I expect your picture portfolio for the empathy assignment to include at least three photos, and you should prioritize originals over internet grabs.”
“Of course,” I agreed, my mind already spinning over possibilities.
“You’re welcome to stay in here and finish those, rather than brave the bloodthirsty, chaotic safari that is the cafeteria.”
Finally, my luck had turned.
“Thank you.” A nervous but positive energy sent me buzzing. I’d never photographed anything besides nature and ATVs. This new challenge kept my mind busy until the bell rang. At the doorway, I paused, thinking about how much it’d frustrated me to be unable to write. “Mr. Henderson, would it still be okay if I did the photos and the drawings?”
He smiled. “That would be an excellent idea. You better hurry along to class. It’s quite a walk from here.”
If I’d been less preoccupied, I might have asked him if I could borrow a charger to power my device, but it didn’t even occur to me until I went to collect my belongings and shoulder that cumbersome weight. Now the laptop lacked battery for the second half of the day too.
I couldn’t blame that on bad luck though. That was another bed of my making.
My head tilted as I caught sight of the cafeteria clearing out, and I moved to join the herd. Either I could allow these negatives to control my life, or I could carve my own luck… like also doing the drawings instead of taking the easier road of photos only.
I needed to focus, but I could do this.
I maintained that cheerful fortitude throughout my next class, telling myself I would text the guys an explanation. They’d gone to the police station for support when I was arrested. Heck, Ralph was escorted in the back of the cop car right alongside me because he couldn’t snap me out of whatever trance I’d been in the night of the sleepover—the catalyst for everything that’d gone wrong.
It’d been difficult to perceive any brightness in that with the shadow of Ben’s death and my near murder, but it was insane that Ralph, in a clear headspace, had chosen to remain by my side instead of cutting out the second red and blue lights appeared.
The more I contemplated the situation, the more guilty yet determined I felt to fix it.
Ben wouldn’t have wanted me to do this to myself or self-destruct.
I couldn’t keep passively drifting through life and allowing unlucky things to happen.
Lie down and take it or become more proactive?
Exactly. It was time, and that included rejoining the land of the living and ignoring the unexplained.
END EXCERPT
I hope you enjoyed it!!
Comments