Undercurrent Haze

What say?

Hello readers,

This is a new book. I'll publish this here only based on the reviews I receive from the readers. If this is 'well-liked' and accepted, I'm gonna publish it here.

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Synopsis: The journey into seeking what was once yours; if it was really yours. The return to the origin and start out once again. If you are willing take on the difficulties over again if it only means for you to achieve what is yours or what may be added, something that you thought was yours.

Harper seeks the truth, the interface, the convergence, the harmony. Not knowing had been something that makes one ignorant and somewhat taken for granted when responsibility can be dismissed.

Who to seek when one does not know the question in itself. Who to trust when all people have ever presented before her is masks that overcame the whole being. When nobody was there beside her, she sang herself to sleep and now the lullabies were forgotten, the voices jumbled up, faces and masks undistinguishable and stories and dreams were dangerously trudging on a thin line separating them, Harper finds herself amidst the darkness of an abyss that she is familiar with but not aware of.

"The world is a globe- the farther you sail,
the closer to home you are."
~ Terry Pratchett

Harper does not remember who she is or who she was; she does not remember how she ended up as she is now in the first place.

Harper has amnesia and finds herself in a hospital where the only objective of her life becomes uncovering the truth and discovering her identity in a whole new light. In this battle she finds herself alone if not for a set of brown eyes and a forest hushed voice that guided her through music.

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A GLIMPSE INTO CHAPTER 1!

"Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile,
Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceiv'd
The Mother of Mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his host
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equall'd the Most High,
If he oppos'd;"
~John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book I

The golden sun rays threatened to seep in through my eyelids and make it even harder for me to adjust to the new day. I blinked several times to find myself in a place that in no sense provided even the minimal iota of the warmth of familiarity.

The bed where I was lying on was very uncomfortably warm only within the locus of where I lay, and if I was not wrong, I was provided with the thinnest mattress for a bed that was nothing but a hard cold metal box to me; not only that but also the fact the pillow where my head rested was raised to a bumpy manner my nape protruding in a way that almost made all my blood from the brain to be accumulated and made it impossibly heavy for me to do anything with it.   

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This is how I plan on starting it.  Opinions and support peeps.

With regards,
Cee