Rays of Hope

Prologue: Ray's POV

“New York's best selling author Ray West is starting a new book! If it's anything like his first book, we're in for an amazing treat. Find out more next week with more updates!”

I turn the TV off before I see anything else about me and my “new book”, before chucking the remote in my hands into the basket on the table beside me. I still don't have any ideas on what I'm going to write about for this new book. If the press finds out that I really don't have any ideas, all my fans would  be so disappointed and mad at me, and the press would kill my blossoming career. I've thought of absolutely everything, but I can't think of anything original.

Getting my laptop out, I type up some book ideas that I barely like and hope that today will finally be the day that I  think of something. Pulling out my phone, I quickly open my twitter account and I see #RaysNewBook trending. Clicking on it, I see that everyone is freaking out and already setting high expectations on my unwritten story. Well isn't that great... I can already feel the pressure of it all.

I then get an idea and begin to type up a new tweet. “So what do you guys think my new book will be about?” Hopefully someone will tweet back something original and I could use that. I know that sounds awful but I'm really desperate and running out of options to use. Seeing that there are no ideas I like, I let out a sigh and close my laptop. Maybe if I go around town the ideas will start flowing. Grabbing my coat and my laptop, I head out of my penthouse and go out into the busy streets of New York City.

 ****

 Avery’s POV

I sit on the inner ledge of my window with my nose pressed against the cooled glass as I watch the raindrops fall. The weather seems to match my mood right now.

Blowing out warm air through my chapped lips, I push a strand of my jet black hair behind my ears. Closing my grey eyes, I try to remember a better time. I lean my whole head against the window pane, and try to conjure up an image of my parents….. And fail.

Only three years since their death, and I had already forgotten. Glancing at the clock on a table near the sill, I jerk up in my seat and stand up. Pulling on a yellow rain jacket, and slinging a slightly beat up shoulder bag over my arm, I head out the door and down the wooden steps to the front of my apartment building.

Walking out the door, and into the pouring rain, I shiver slightly at the chill that runs down my spine. Glancing around at the bustle of hurried people in the New York streets, I head down the damp sidewalk towards the park.

Passing a bookstore, I glanced in the window, to see the latest “Top Books by New Authors” novels on display. Rolling my eyes, I continue on my way. I have no interest in those cliche novels written by wannabe writers who didn’t even have any emotional attachment to their book. They were probably only in it for the fame and fortune.

Well to me, money doesn’t matter, nothing mattered except my family.

I miss my family.