Stolen Consciousness

Stolen Consciousness

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Feb 11, 2015
The Mules, Canisters, Couriers. Call them what you want, they won't care. Seven to eighteen, just everyday children. That's who they picked to be their smugglers, to move their goods across borders and under radars. They're not smuggling drugs or guns that would be too conventional. They're moving the most powerful weapon of all, the mind. The minds of those who have been exiled from the State. Living people, diminished into a consciousness in the farthest regions of a child's mind. It's a popular business you see, each day fifteen people are exiled by the Carthan government. Just thrown away like meaningless trash. One in particular is the consciousness of Alexandru Lennox, the kid genius exiled years prior because he criticized the Marshal of State. His parents paid a man known as "The Seahorse" to sneak their son back into the State and give him a new identity. Will his family's wealth save him or sign his death certificate?
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smuggling
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In the beginning, there was death. The darkness flows from hues of purple and orange, the moon rising to kiss the sun's rays one last time as the darkest cloud of night I've ever seen falls over our tiny haven. I catch Will's face from the side of my vision and my heart tightens slightly. The tick of his jaw wouldn't be noticeable for anyone but me. His best friend, his lifeline. A solemn tear forms in my eye as he wipes his face, another tear falling for the family he lost. I love him. Utterly and desperately so, but, there's nothing I can do about that. The ultimate forbidden fruit, if you will. I reach to comfort him and he doesn't respond. I open my mouth to speak and he looks my way, but the gleam in his dark brown eyes hits the moonlight just right and I fall. My voice escapes my throat and I can't do it. I've tried for years to tell him. 10 years, actually. All this time, I hopelessly remained devoted to a ghost who had given the best of himself to a fiery red-head with a sassy personality and the body of a supermodel. For 10 years, I held to the desperate thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd be someone I could count on. Instead, I watched him marry my best friend, smiled as they welcomed their son. Stood, holding that beautiful boy as his mother was in the first round of executions after the beginning of the Revelation. Helped heal Will's wounds in the aftermath. Cried, clutching the tear-stained shirt of my best friend as his son took his last staggering breath in that first harsh winter. The guilt of my emotions crawl through me. My heart twisting in regret, guilt, desperation, and grief. I loved my best friend. She was so much more than that; she was my family. In this dystopian quick read, join a group of people desperate to recapture their freedom and end a tyrant's reign.

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