Yesterday's Gone: Season One

with Jade. He wasn’t about to miss his opportunity to build a future.
    If they could get out of this place.

    The door opened, and Sullivan entered.
    “Are you ready, Mr. Keenan?”
    “Yes,” Ed said.
    Footsteps outside the door grew louder.  
    A man entered the room.  
    Ed’s heart nearly stopped beating.
    He stared in confusion, unable to look away.
    In front of Ed was a man who could have been his identical twin, looking exactly the same, except for much nicer fabric that hung from his frame.
    Sullivan spoke, “Edward Keenan, meet Dr. Edward Keenan.”

    TO BE CONTINUED...
    JANUARY 2012

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    WANT A SNEAK PEEK AT THE FIRST SHOCKING CHAPTER OF SEASON TWO OF YESTERDAY’S GONE MONTHS BEFORE ANYONE ELSE?

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HOW YOU CAN HELP

    Did you enjoy Yesterday’s Gone? Want to help spread the word?
    Please consider leaving a review wherever you purchased this book. As indie authors, we don’t have big promotional budgets and rely almost completely on word-of-mouth and reviews to help spread the word about our fiction. Reviews where the book is sold, in addition to places such as Goodreads, blogs, and other review websites, can help readers discover what we’re doing, so we appreciate anything you can do to help!

    Thank you for reading,
    Sean Platt & David W. Wright

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

    The first book I remember reading was The Hobbit . Not that Grover’s, There’s a Monster at the End of This Book isn’t a real book, but The Hobbit lasted longer than a sneeze, I could feel its weight in my hand, and it left plenty of cool to ponder in the reader’s afterglow.  
    I was six. My mom had gone on and on about Tolkien’s masterpiece for as long as I could remember. She used words like magic, trolls, dragon, and elves, then insisted I’d love it when I “got older.” She may as well have said:  
    “Hey Seanie, you should really read The Hobbit right now if you want to understand all those snake in the grass jokes your older sisters are always laughing about.”
    I found The Hobbit in our garage. My parents were in the house, my mom experimenting with new ways to flavor grease, my dad warming his hands in his pants in front of a ball game. I’d gone treasure hunting in the garage many times before, but this time was special.  
    I found two treasures: a hatchet minus its sheath, leaning against the rotting wall, and an old paperback copy of The Hobbit , wearing a thin sweater of filth.
    Pretending I was He-Man was fun, taking the hatchet and swinging it into the trunk of the peach tree in our backyard, knowing that if I was caught, I’d be in a high heap of trouble. My adventures with the blade only lasted a few minutes. Though it wasn’t because I was scared of getting in trouble. I’d been in trouble before, plenty, and I’d be in trouble again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the magic, trolls, dragons and elves waiting for me.  
    I tore through The Hobbit , understanding maybe half. I was used to this level of comprehension; it was a lot like listening to my parents argue. I read the book several times until finally setting it down two years later, where it lay untouched for two decades until I first heard that the director of Heavenly Creatures was adapting The Lord of the Rings .

    I was eight the year I discovered Stephen King and became a different sort of reader.  
    My mom was an avid reader before I was born. That changed soon, though. Maybe it was the constant wiping of my ass which stripped her of the energy to tear through pages by the thousands as she once had, but she still saw herself as the reader she once was, or imagined a return to the good old days, so she bought the books to fit the image.  
    Though few were read, I believe in the early days, she never missed a single Stephen King. She started with Carrie and kept right on going.  
    I was around seven, laying on the floor in my sleeping bag beside my sister the first time I remember hearing the name Stephen King. Our parents were on the couch, our father flipping channels. Channel surfing was still new and therefore fun for the whole family. My father paused on a macabre scene of a woman, swimming in blood, being chased down a stairwell by another woman, obviously older.