|Book 1 of the Novum Series|
"Apart, they were lethal. Together, they were indestructible."
Lost in the human world, the only way Greek God Hermes can reach home is with the help of an unlikely guide: Asta; human, Eta, imperfect.
In a reality where...
The door opened and two people entered the small, but cozily furnished room. The first one was a stout, aging man with suspiciously thick hair in dark sweatpants and a navy NASA t-shirt and the second was a woman in her early twenties wearing a casual attire of jeans and a hoodie.
In her hand she carried a bright yellow backpack that she put down on the grey carpeted floor once they were fully inside the room.
"This is it," said the landlord a little nervously after the girl silently looked around. He had cleaned up all the visible mess that his previous tenant had left ("they are not bloodstains, Sir Landlord," she insisted, "it's cherry juice for inspiration.") but he did not know anything about the hidden ones.
"It's pretty awesome." His latest tenant said with a satisfied smile. "Can I move in immediately?"
"Yes! I mean, of course you can." The landlord suppressed an urge to jump around in joy. The girl smiled, then suddenly spotted a flash of silver on the bookshelf. Frowning, she walked towards it and saw that it was in fact, a well cared for MacBook.
Picking it up carefully, she turned to her new landlord. "Did the old tenant leave this by mistake?"
"Oh, she said that this is for you." The landlord said casually. He remembered her saying that she had left a gift for the new tenant after her.
"For me?" She asked with surprise. The device in her hand looked to be in excellent condition, making her wonder why anybody in the right mind would want to ever leave it behind.
"Yes," said the landlord, then sounding all business he continued, "can I bring up the papers for you to sign?"
"Do you want me to pay you now?"
"Yes." The landlord had learnt his lesson with his last tenant. "I'd like it now, if you don't mind."
"Of course," she said with a courteous smile. "But pray, tell me, who was the previous tenant?"
The landlord gave a slight grimace, thinking about all the problems she had caused. Still, it was sad to think that she had left so quickly without a word (an envelope was taped to dresser that read 'RENT' in bold messy letters; he wondered still how she had managed to break into his apartment). He would never admit it, but he had a slight soft spot for the eccentric woman.
"Her name was Author," he said. "She was a good kid."
If I were to list out the names of all the people who have helped me write this book till the end, I would need a few more pages and a lot more of your time.
It is funny and definitely humbling when I realize that though I can hardly be classified as an author and Hermes can hardly be called a novel, I have seen the better side of writing. I've been a very lucky person, because even though I'm no good, I had a bunch of people constantly holding me up every time I almost fell down.
A huge chunk of my gratitude to you for clicking on this book and whether you've read it all or have just skipped to the end, thank you. This is not the greatest piece of work, it may not even remotely be good, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it too.
Happily,
The Author, PSEUDONYM.
Making herself comfortable on the couch, she looked at the last opened file in the Author's MacBook. On the glaring white screen, there was one sentence which had caught her interest in the first place.
This is for you, so take it.
The file showed that there were a lot of pages in the document. Feeling a silly for being nervous, she scrolled down.
'Hermes- Chapter 1'
It was a script, she thought to herself in wonder; a novel. She began reading.
'IT WAS getting darker and colder than when that young man with the expensive looking messenger bag had awoken but there was nothing he could do about that little fact. His bag contained but a slim-'
Then door opened and she looked up.
The landlord came in slowly, a few sheets of paper and a pen in his hand. Pushing away her annoyance, she rose up with a smile and accepted the pen and papers.
"Sign there, there and there." He said. Without a word, she signed as hurriedly as she could, wanting to read the rest of what was in the Mac that she left on the couch. Pulling out her wallet she took out the required amount of money and deposited it to the landlord.
The landlord gave the signed papers and frowned a little when he looked at the nearly illegible scrawl where her name was supposed to be written.
"I'm sorry," he said, "But what was your name again?"
"My name?" She asked with a smile. "Oh, my name is Pseudonym."
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