Book I of The Watchmaker Chronicles.
#1 LiteraryFiction.
They say some things are meant to happen; others were just not to be.
But what if they're WRONG? What if you could reset your life and CHANGE your fate?
"...breathtaking descriptions..."
"...c...
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Anaya's eyes flew open. Her skin tingled with static electricity, the same way it did when she used to drag her feet across a shag carpet when she was a kid.
Did it work? Am I really back in time?
She looked up at the white ceiling. Her eyes moved over the teal walls. One was plastered with posters of every movie she'd ever loved, ranging from Top Gun to Legends of The Fall. The other was dedicated to artists who'd sung her through every smile and tear of her adolescence. Bon Jovi, Toni Braxton, Jewel, Nickelback, and Tupac all peered down at her from their carefully decided places.
My old bedroom in my parents' house. I am back in time!
Lightning fast, she snatched up a pillow and pressed it into her face with all her strength to conceal a scream she couldn't contain. Albeit muffled, it was a shrill, glass-cracking cry of desperation.
Then she started to hyperventilate.
Not good, not good, not good!
Anaya knew what came next if she couldn't find a way to calm down. She'd learned that more than half of the people who had bipolar disorder experienced one or more anxiety disorders as well. She had to regain control.
I'm alive. I've got another shot at life. I'm alive.
Repeating her bizarre situation to herself didn't help. She could feel the hypomanic episode nipping at her heels. If it caught her, she would be overwhelmed with recklessness, aggressiveness, perhaps even hyper-sexuality... all controlling her instead of the other way around. And she was back in time now, still a teenager, for God's sake... she didn't have access to medication, hadn't even been incorrectly diagnosed yet...
Focus on something else. Something small!
She mustered enough courage to inch the pillow down and squint from underneath her lashes.
The Armageddon of sorts expected at the dawn of the year 2000, aka Y2K, had been all the craze back then. Her room was a mini time capsule of everything she loved.
My vibrant phase.
Her decor, her clothes, her style at this age were all so...
Beverly Hills 90210, college version.
Anaya finally removed the pillow from her face entirely. Rays of sunshine streamed through her lace curtains and she checked the table on her right, where she remembered her digital alarm clock should be. There it was!
On cue, it flipped over to 07:00.
Day FRI Month 09 Date 15.
It was a true wake-up call.
She hurled away the covers and made a beeline for the small bathroom adjoining her bedroom. It was a luxury for a young girl needing privacy to come into her own. That privacy now served her well the second time around. She smacked the light by the door and confronted her image in the mirror.
