• Round: Books: Page 1 Challenge

  • Genre:
    Fiction: Young Adult/Juvenile, Teen
  • Submitted: April 21, 2013


Status: Elevated to Round 2

  • Want it elevated: 54%
  • Publishing Pro Rating: Under review.
  • 0%


  • 9%


  • 37%


  • 48%


  • 6%


% want it elevated


Page 1 Challenge


Amongst a pandemic, Priya sleeps in a Keeper beneath a secret facility.  When she wakes, a thousand years have passed. Priya's world is gone; people no longer taste or smell and believe senses are gifts reserved for Gods. Is Priya a savior or a new-world threat? Or are her genes a potential cure?

Page 1

An explosion outside the plant’s steel door makes us jump, stoking Mom’s determination.  She raps on the side of the box confining my body and the thump resonates through the abandoned water testing facility.  Now that everyone’s gone, it’s hard to imagine the secretive experiments that went on here after the University fortified the building and turned it into a lab.  Now, all I see are the enormous static pumps that fill the huge empty room, like tendons hooking the earth to the sky.  Beside them, our bodies are specks; organic filament as useless as any of the rotting bodies filling the makeshift mass grave outside.

 “No, let me go!”  Struggling, I try pushing my mother away, resisting her stiff, rubber gloved hands, terrified of the thought of being buried alive. 

“You’re going to die,” Mom says, pushing me back against the squishy foam lining the resin box they call a Keeper.  “This way, at least, you’ll have a chance.”

“I’m not even sick.”  

“Not yet, Priya.  But you will be soon enough.”  Through her cotton baby blue mask, Mom’s voice sounds rushed and muffled.  “I don’t know of anyone that’s escaped Westcastle.”

The shallow box holding my shivering body is nothing more than a glorified casket.  A magic casket maybe — some incredible life sustaining prototype designed by mother’s team at the Popocracy’s behest, after the world’s best biologists started dropping dead; a box theoretically capable of holding a person’s life in stasis indefinitely — but a box nonetheless.

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