Lexi Greene’s Grim Awakening
Published by CZ Publishing, LLC at Shakespir
Copyright 2016 C. Zablockis
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First Edition: March 2016
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Zeuorian is a trademark of Cindy Zablockis
Photography Copyright 2016 Aleshyn Andrei, andreiuc88, phildaint and Dmitry Kalinovsky/ Shutterstock.com
Book and Jacket Design Copyright 2016 CZ Design Co.
I clutched Mom’s long slender body, reeling from my close call with the man in black. I still couldn’t believe he tried to kill me, because he thought I would turn into a monster. Me, of all people. I’m barely five-two and weigh one-hundred pounds. I haven’t even started high school. I’m not even fifteen. How could I be a threat to anyone?
But apparently my power of telepathy and premonitions scared him. Enough he wanted me dead. If only he gave me a chance to show him that he had nothing to fear, but he never gave me that opportunity. He just went after me.
There were several bangs on my front door, making Mom and me jump, followed by a muffled voice. “Let me in,” Dad said. “It’s okay. He’s gone.”
Mom rushed over to the door, her long brown pony tail, bouncing up and down on her upper back. All the while she unlocked the door and turned the knob, I sucked on the end of my strawberry blonde hair. Dad rushed to the small table along the back of the sofa. His baseball cap had shifted on his head and his brown graying hair stuck out from underneath it. His T-shirt was wet from perspiration under his arms and along the front of his lean chest.
“What happened, Brian?” Mom asked.
“I called the police and they’re taking care of the man as we speak,” he said, placing a gun in a metal box under the small table.
“So they’re taking him to jail,” I asked, unable to contain the excitement in my voice.
“Yeah. Everything is going to be okay, kiddo,” Dad said, walking over to the large window next to the dining table. “In fact,” Dad turned back to me. “We’re going to take you on a trip to Disneyland. I think we all need a break after today.”
“Really?” I asked, looking up at Mom, who seemed just as shocked as I did.
“Uh, uh, yeah.” She stuttered, tugging at her sweat jacket sleeve. “You should go pack. We’ll leave tonight.”
“Pack enough for the summer,” Dad said, while he gave Mom a look, trying to convey a silent message I didn’t understand.
I turned to Mom and then Dad. They were blocking me from hearing their minds with my telepathy by thinking of random thoughts. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else going on?”
“Nothing.” Dad nudged me toward the stairs on the other side of the room. “Now go to your room and pack. I’ll be up there soon to help you carry your stuff to the Jeep.”
I reluctantly walked toward the family room at the end of the foyer, made a quick left, and continued up the stairs to my bedroom. I went straight to my dresser and started to yank clothes out of each drawer.
An hour later, I was cramming the last hefty bag into the back of the Jeep. My parents packed practically everything they owned, with the exception of furniture, utensils, and other non-essentials, into the trunk, which worried me. Why did they need to take so much with us? But I still wasn’t able to get any answers from their minds.
“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked.
“We already did,” Mom said, slipping her black leather purse strap over her shoulder.
“Yeah we did,” Dad chimed in. “Now get inside the Jeep. I’m going to make sure everything is turned off and locked up.”
“No.” I stomped my foot on the hard wood floor, startling both of them. “I want to know why we’re taking off for the summer? Did that man say something to you?”
Mom and Dad looked at each, silently making a decision. But I didn’t need to hear their answer, because I got it from Dad’s memories. I’m not only able to hear people’s thoughts, but view their memories and daydreams too. What I saw, made the hair on my arms stand on end.
“Oh, God.” I felt as if I had been sucker punched in the gut and the air knocked out of me. “Why didn’t you tell me the cops don’t have him and he got away from you?”
“I’m sorry, kiddo.” Dad rubbed my shoulder. “I just didn’t want to worry you.”
“So.” I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat. “He’s never going to leave me alone is he?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself.
“No.” Dad pulled me into his warm embrace. “He’s not.”
I craned my head back and looked up at Dad’s face riddled with concern. “And you don’t think the police are going to be able to keep him away from me either, do you, since he got away with those grenades.” At least I thought the strange glowing objects the man had thrown at Dad in his memory were grenades. “That’s why we’re going to Disneyland so you can keep him from getting me.”
Dad shook his head. “I don’t think he’s as invincible as he claimed to be. But I thought it would be a good idea to take you away for a while and let the police do their job.”
I didn’t believe that was the entire truth as to why he wanted to leave town. “Are you sure, you’re not running because of what she told you?”
“You heard my thoughts in my memory?” Dad’s voice sounded alarmed.
“Uh-huh.” I replied, stepping back and crossing my arms over my chest. “So who is she and why did she believe others would come for me?”
“She’s no one.” Dad diverted his eyes from mine. “A stranger we came across when you were young. She was gifted like you and warned us of the dangers of being like her. I didn’t believe her until I heard that man rant about you being a monster and killing us, because of your abilities.”
“She knew others would think I’m a monster?” Like in the horror comic I had read. “But if that was true, why did the man claim I wasn’t a monster yet, but would become one soon?”
“More crazy talk,” Dad said, before shooting a terrified look to Mom.
I couldn’t tell if they were scared, because the woman told them more than they let on or what the man had said could be right about me turning into a monster, because they were still blocking me from hearing their thoughts.
Before I could question them about it, Mom said, “It’s late. We should probably take off.”
By the expression on her face, I could tell the conversation had come to an end, at least for now.
I followed Mom and Dad to the Jeep parked out front. I opened the passenger door and climbed onto the bench seat in the back. Half of it had been covered with hefty bags of clothing and bedding. I grabbed my pillow and laid my head on it. But I didn’t fall asleep right away. I listened to their thoughts, hoping to figure out what they weren’t telling me.
I jerked awake in the back seat of the car. The early morning sun shone on my face, creating rainbow colored halos in front of my eyes. Last memory I recall, I had been listening to Mom and Dad’s different inner monologues about cars and photos. I guess I must have fallen asleep.
I heard a faint buzzing in the back of my mind from several people’s thoughts in the area giving me an instant headache. We had to be at a rest stop or somewhere outside of a town. There were only twenty or so voices in my head—far less than I suspected there would be in a large city close to Disneyland.
What I didn’t understand was that all of the people seemed to be looking for someone. A little girl. Huh. Maybe a girl got lost at the rest stop. I should warn my parents.
I uncurled from the fetal position and sat up on the bench seat. My eyes were blurred, and I rubbed them. Strange they were soaking wet—same as my cheeks. Had I been crying? I couldn’t recall doing that. For that matter, I couldn’t remember where my pillow had disappeared to, or the hefty bags in the back seat.
That was odd. Maybe my parents had removed them so I could lie across the bench seat, and took my pillow too? No. That didn’t seem right.
“Hey Mom, Dad did you take my pillow?” I asked, leaning over the front seat to look at them, but they weren’t there.
I turned check if they were outside, but I froze at the sight of a chrome stick shift and an old pine air freshener hanging from the chrome mirror. How did I get in my Dad’s 1970 Chevelle? He had locked it up in the garage at home, over three hundred miles away.
“Lexi,” a familiar woman’s voice shouted in the distance.
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Irene?” I asked telepathically, projecting my thoughts into my aunt’s mind.
“Where are you?” Irene thought, knowing full well I could hear her.
“I’m not sure,” I replied and looked out the rear window at the large wood double doors similar to barn doors with faded white trim. I knew them all too well. “I’m in my parent’s garage?”
One of the barn doors opened, making a loud creaking noise. A tall dark figure rushed into the garage, backlit from the sun shining in, and rushed to the car. “Oh, thank heaven it’s you,” Irene said, tearing open the passenger car door. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought something bad happened.”
“I’m fine.” I slung my legs outside the car and placed my feet on the cement. Wet hair stuck to my face as I looked up at Irene. She had on her blue doctor’s uniform that she wore in the emergency room, and her brown hair had been pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. “Why are you here?” I asked. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”
Irene’s mouth dropped and she blinked several times. “Y-you d-don’t remember what happened?” she stuttered.
I thought for a minute but nothing came to me. “Last I remember, Mom and Dad were taking me to Disneyland. I fell asleep in the back of the Jeep.”
“That—that was over four months ago.”
No. That couldn’t be right. It didn’t feel like months had passed, only hours. But I wasn’t wearing the same outfit I had on while driving to Disneyland. I had on jeans and a hoodie. The weather seemed cooler, like it was fall instead of spring. And I was back at home.
Oh, God. I did forget four months. Blood rushed out of my face and I suddenly felt cold. I started to shiver and wanted to lie down, but Irene pulled me in her arms, warming me.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said in a low voice with her mouth close to my ear. “I wish I can wave a wand and make them come back.”
“What are you talking about?” I lifted my head and looked at Irene. “Did something happen to my parents?”
Irene swallowed hard. Her eyes brimmed with tears. She opened her mouth and nothing came out, but she didn’t have to say a word. I heard her thoughts.
“No,” I pulled away from her. “They can’t be dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Irene said barely above a whisper, wiping tears from under her eyes.
I placed my face in my hands as tears streamed down my cheeks. My body shook so hard the car started to rock side to side.
“It’s okay,” Irene draped her arm over my shoulder. “Everything is going to be fine.”
How could she believe everything would turn okay? My parents were dead. Nothing was ever going to be fine. I would never see or speak to them again. I would never be able to watch Dad design another engine, or follow Mom around as she took pictures of the redwoods. There would always be two empty seats when something momentous happened to me, like graduating from high school, earning my Bachelor’s degree at MIT, getting married and having a baby. But most of all, I would have to live with the knowledge that I forgot the last four months of their lives, including the day they died.
I wiped the tears off my face with the back of my hand and tried my best not cry again. “So how did they die?” I asked, snuffing my nose.
Irene opened her mouth about to answer me when a dark figure appeared. He stepped into the garage and immediately I noticed the gold badge on his breast pocket. A cop? He had to be here for my parents I assumed.
“So you found her?” The officer asked Irene in a formal voice.
He wasn’t here for my parents, rather me? I jerked my head toward Irene for some clue as to why.
But she ignored me. “Yeah, I did,” Irene replied, wiping a fresh set of tears from her eyes. “Sorry, I should’ve said something sooner,”
“That’s all right,” the officer said. “I’ll call off the search. When she’s ready, I’d like to talk to her, alone.”
“I thought Mr. Morrow spoke to you about waiting a day.”
“Yes he did,” he replied with a hint of annoyance to his voice. “But the Police Chief doesn’t want to wait that long.”
I felt my heart race so fast it was about to leap out of my chest. Once the officer left, I blurted out, “Why do the police want to talk to me? Does it have something to do with my parents’ death?”
“Yes it does.” Irene stood. “I need to talk to Mr. Morrow about you forgetting what had happened. Wait here. I’ll be back.”
Screw that. I wasn’t going to wait. I wanted answers. I wanted them now. I quickly chased Irene out of the garage. “So how did they die?”
Irene stopped on the gravel driveway and faced me. “They died in a,” she briefly hesitated as if thinking of what to say next, “a car accident.”
No that couldn’t be right. Dad was an excellent driver. He never would have gotten in an accident. Even if another driver struck him, he would have figured out a way to ensure everyone walked away without a scratch. Something he learned driving for NASCAR.
“Are you sure they died in a car accident?” I asked.
“Yes,” Irene said, wiping her nose. “I’ll tell you everything later. I need to talk to Mr. Morrow so we can get out of here.”
Before I could ask her another question, she walked toward the front lawn. I chased after her, kicking up gravel along the driveway. When I rounded the house and stepped on to the tall grass, I froze. Police were in the woods, on the porch, outside my house—and inside, from what I saw through the large dining room window.
“Why are there so many police officers here?” I asked, Irene. Crescent City was a small town that didn’t have much of a police department, but it looked like police from other neighboring cities were on my property. “Did someone make my parents’ wreck?” That made more sense than Dad getting in an accident.
Irene took her time answering me. “The police aren’t here because of your parents’ accident. They’re here for you.”
“The police are looking for me? Why? Did I have something to do with them getting into a wreck?” Maybe the man had been right about me becoming a monster after all.
Irene couldn’t speak. She had been rendered speechless. But I didn’t need to hear what she had to say. I could tell by the terrified expression on her face it had to be bad. “I killed them, didn’t I?” I whispered.
“No,” Irene blurted, suddenly awake from her comatose state. “It was an accident. You got that.”
“The police only want to question you about how you knew they were in an accident and called it in immediately afterwards,” Irene lowered her voice, “Since you were at home, alone, and why you disappeared before they showed.”
By the concerned look on Irene’s face, I could only assume they must have wrecked on the main road, but not far enough away I couldn’t talk to them telepathically. Which would open up a lot of unwanted questions if I had been doing that when they wrecked.
But what didn’t make sense, “Why wasn’t I with Mom and Dad?” They never left me home alone. I went everywhere with them no matter how small the errand. The doctor’s office. The post office. The dry cleaners. Even the mailbox at the end of the road.
“I don’t know, sweetie.” Irene’s eyes drifted to an attractive man with short jet black hair. He was wearing an expensive navy blue suit. “Maybe they were trying to surprise you for your birthday. They had a new iPad in the car with a bow on it.”
I had forgotten my fifteenth birthday, too? I’d been looking forward to it for months. I had a feeling Dad was going to give me the Chevelle to fix up and drive when I got my license.
How could I forget that day? And why would my parents buy me an iPad? Dad had a weird aversion to anything made by Apple and wouldn’t let me own any of their products. For that matter, why did they get me a gift without me? They had never done that before. They would’ve taken me to the store and had me pick something out. There had to be another reason. Maybe there was something inside my house that would help me remember.
I rushed over to the porch and through the open door. I stopped in the foyer and scanned the living room to my right. The back of the brown leather sofa was facing me with the wood table pushed up against the back of it. The flat screen T.V. hung on the wall with a wood entertainment center below. Two recliners sat on opposite sides of the room facing each other, just like they had when I left for Disneyland.
I turned toward the dining room. It looked the same, too, except there was a white cake with strawberries on top. It smelt as if it had just been baked a few minutes earlier.
Mom would bake one every year for my birthday and decorate it with strawberries. Then just before we ate it, she’d pour strawberry sauce on it so the cake wouldn’t get soggy. It seemed, by the clear cup filled with red liquid near the cake, Mom had never gotten to that part of my birthday party before she died.
I slumped against the wall, trying not to cry as a police officer backed into the table and knocked the cup of sauce over. It flowed out of the glass, dripped onto the hard wood floor and pooled into a large puddle. The smell of strawberries overwhelmed me and suddenly the room started to spin. Everything turned red as if they were covered in blood, even my hands and clothes. I had to get out of here before I threw up.
I ran out onto the porch, taking deep breaths and clutching my side as if I’d run a marathon. Irene rushed to me and grabbed my shoulders, trying to keep me from falling. She escorted me to a wood rocking chair in front of the living room window.
“What’s wrong?” Irene asked.
“I’m fine. I just—” I didn’t know what I felt or why the smell of strawberries bothered me, but I didn’t want to worry Irene over something that could be nothing. So I settled on saying, “I needed air.”
The man in the suit walked over to us, motioning for Irene to speak with him alone. He held his head high and had an air of dignity about him, like he was better than everyone.
Irene nodded before saying to me, “I’ll just be a minute.”
I collapsed onto the rocking chair as Irene and the man took a few steps away before speaking. I listened to him say in a low voice, “I’ve taken care of everything. You have nothing to worry about. I made sure of it.”
Made sure of what? I opened my mouth to ask, but closed it when his pale blue eyes shifted in my direction. Something about him bothered me. I scooted the chair over, increasing the distance between us.
He smirked and turned back to Irene. “You should take her home. I’ll drop off her stuff tonight,” he said.
Irene waved to me. “Let’s go.”
I remained still, staring at my house. I felt like everything in my life was being ripped away. Mom, Dad, my home and my memories. But why? Because Dad got in a car accident? Or because the man dressed in black came for me again and killed my parents to get them out of the way? That would explain why my last memory was of him. But a tiny part of me wondered if they died because of me—since I was a monster.
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Discover the shocking truth about Lexi and her parents’ death.
It’s a thrilling fantasy about seventeen year-old Lexi Greene who discovers she’s a Zeuorian and hunted by a secret society hell bent on killing her. She must hide in order to stay alive, which is hard to do when she’s unable to control her developing abilities.
There will be four books following Lexi Greene. The tentative titles in order are as follows:
In addition, there will be several short stories, novellas and spin off series following Lexi and other lead characters that happen prior, during and after Zeuorian book series. A few of them are:
Go to to learn more about the series, get the latest news about upcoming books, and view deleted scenes and other book related facts.
Cindy is an author of paranormal, dark fantasy and horror stories. Her short fiction has appeared in numerous short story anthologies, popular magazines and many other publications.
It wasn’t until 2008 did she decide to write novels after several coworkers at Harcourt Publishing encouraged her to do so.
She was born in Southern California and spent most of her life traveling the United States in a motorhome. Her favorite camping spots were in the California redwoods and Brookings, Oregon along Highway 101. Now she lives and writes in Round Rock, Texas. To learn more about what she is doing, check out her author website, or follow her on Twitter – and Facebook at .
After a man dressed in black tried to kill Lexi, she didnâ€™t believe something worse could happen after that. Honestly, what could be worse than a psycho trying to kill her, because he got it in his head she'd become a monster for having the power of telepathy and premonitions. But she was wrongâ€”dead wrong. Something far worse was about to happen to her. A thrilling short story about a young girl gifted with paranormal abilities who wakes to discover she forgotten the past four months. Itâ€™s a prequel to My Watcher (The Zeuorian Series).