Book Tour and Giveaway: The Edge of Oblivion The Lesitha Veil Tales Book 1 by CM Dawson

 

 

Every choice echoes across worlds.

Freedom or Chaos; Stability or Control?

The Edge of Oblivion

The Lesitha Veil Tales Book 1

by CM Dawson

Genre: Epic SciFi Fantasy Adventure

"We were younger than we realised and equally naïve."

Dive into The Edge of Oblivion — a coming‑of‑age fantasy of secret map‑books, a dying storyteller’s last wish, and a crystal key that reveals tears in reality. Discover a richly imagined world, fast‑paced adventure, and a hero who must choose between duty and destiny — buy now and step over the Veil.

The veil is weakening and shreds between the worlds are becoming more frequent. Darkness is spreading. A new Rysyn is sought to replace the Torsoma before it’s too late and the veil fails, releasing chaos across the facet worlds.

Bex Gartan has no desire to follow her father into the Grinders Guild – or die of stone lung like he did. A rebellious 17-year-old, just weeks before her Liberation Day, a brutal encounter shatters her world. In a shadowy alley, she faces a tragedy and finds her destiny.

Bex's determination to find the truth pulls her into a conflict that spans multiple worlds. She becomes the target of assassins, the pawn of questionable advisors, and now the unlikely successor to the leader of the Facet worlds. Bex must learn to temper her impulsive nature and trust her instincts if she’s to save her friends, and the Facet worlds.

Will she be the saviour they seek or the herald of chaos?

 

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Chapter 16 Excerpt:

Then there was the Great Xan Janal, who claimed to have gone over the Edge and slayed a mighty beast to save a village. He boasted that there were many worlds, all separated by the Veil. There were people of different races who spoke weird languages. Some were tall and fair with long, flowing, silver hair. Others were short, squat, covered in fur and grunted a lot. Those stories always made me laugh. My eyes blurred as tears welled up, thinking of him. Whether they were real or figments of his imagination, Xan had given his life to sharing his stories of adventure. And I wasn’t about to let him down.

As I crawled on, I wondered which world I would find on the other side of the Veil. Would it be a world of thick jungles, filled with loud, screaming creatures jumping from one towering tree to the next? Or would it be a crystalline world overflowing with unimaginable colours? I was hoping for the water world, for Muut’s sake, except for the whole swimming thing. That scared me.

I looked back again and then beyond Muut. I scanned the horizon and watched as the heat rippled off the scorched ground. The only things that stood as high as a man here were the boulders that dotted the landscape. There was no lush green foliage, and the rivers were more often dry more than filled with water. I dreamed of seeing the leaves of a plant that was as big as me. I fantasised about dipping my fingers into a cool running stream and carrying the refreshing water to my lips; skipping stones across its surface and seeing splashes instead of puffs of dust.

I didn’t know if Xan’s stories were real or made-up fantasies to impress the ladies. But what I knew was that I didn’t want to die without at least attempting to find out. I owed him that much. So I turned back and faced the Edge. I checked the straps that held my knives tucked against my wrists. I placed my right hand out in front of me and then my right knee, then my left hand, left knee. I slowly crawled to the Edge.

The fingers on my left hand reached it first. I stopped and looked at my hand. The tips of my fingers curved over an edge. My breath caught in my throat. I moved my right hand up to match my left and swallowed deeply as the tips of both hands were now bent joyously over the Edge of our world. I slowly lowered myself down to the rough ground and felt the sharp rocks poking me in my chest and belly.

Carefully, I pulled my body up to the Edge and peered over. The air coalesced into a swirling mist of obscurity, roiling and bulging, causing my vision to slide and refocus as I tried to peer through it.

I pulled myself up to the Edge, raising onto my elbows and stretching my neck as far as I could. The grey mist swirled around my head forming dewdrops on my cheeks. I blew into it, watching as it whirled madly away from me, quickly folding back in on itself. I extended my arm and felt a cool dampness cover me like a second skin. The further I extended it, the less I could see of it.

I pulled myself up and swivelled around to sit on the Edge with my legs now dangling freely. My feet disappeared into the swirling mist that roiled below me. Then I leaned out as far as I could and swished my arms back and forth, trying to clear a view through the grey wall.

I either leaned too far or whipped my arms too wildly, because I tumbled off the ledge into the mist. My heart leapt as I felt myself sliding down the edge of the world. Suddenly, I jerked to a stop when the rope tied to my ankle caught me tight. My breath gushed from my lungs and my heart pounded my ribs.

I heard Muut calling to me, his cries distant, muffled.

I hung for a moment, dangling upside down against the edge of the world. I released my fear as I pushed myself up away from the rough rock face. Curling my knees beneath me, I crouched for a moment, waiting to see if I would fall. Nothing happened. The cool mist swirled around me; my head swooned with the mesmerising movement. 

I filled my lungs with the moist air and stood. Fully expecting to topple over, I stretched my arms wide to catch myself when I did. I stood there as rigid as a boulder with my arms spread, knees locked, breath held, eyes tightly closed.

Nothing.

I slowly opened my left eye, peeking, face scrunched tight, awaiting the imagined impact. Both eyes sprang open, and the air exploded out of my lungs. A breathtaking view assaulted my eyes.

Dark Side of the Veil

The Lesitha Veil Tales Book 2

When Bexlin Gartan is kidnapped into a world of metal and gears, the impulsive daughter of a storyteller must reclaim a stolen Lesitha Crystal and learn why her blood marks her as the next Rysyn—before a tyrant uses her power to shred the Veil and destroy everything.

Bex crossed the veil for adventure - now she may never return home, may never see her ma again or laugh with her friends. Stranded in a dark Facet, ruled by a tyrant set on seeking revenge and using her to fulfil his vengeance, she must decide whether she will become his pawn or fight to save all she loves.

Separated from her friends, she convinces the strange mechanically augmented half-lifes to help her find them and to return home, but not before she tries to stop the demented ruler, Urbo'Krk. Uncertain who to trust or what the rising energy building within her means, she must learn to control her impetuous ways and calm her mind. Only then can she face the truth of her destiny - saviour or destroyer.

Will she bring stability or usher in chaos?

 

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Chapter 13 Excerpt:

“Come,” the ‘naut commanded.

I turned my attention back to the wall where a trickle of moisture ran down a groove, around a rivet, and disappeared behind the bench.

The white-hot tearing of my scalp ripped a scream from my chest as the ‘naut yanked me to my feet by my braid. He held me, dangling in the air for a moment before releasing me. My hands went to my head and returned covered in blood.

“Come or be dragged.”

The warmth of the blood running down my back held me for a moment. Then Tar was at my side, gripping my elbow to guide me.

“Walk,” he commanded.

My legs felt like they were full of sand, but I made them move as he guided me out of the cell and we followed the ‘naut through the maze of passages. “Where are you taking me now?” I whispered.

Tar ignored my question, but I felt a tightening on my elbow.

“Why are you helping someone like him?”

Again, no response, but this time there was a tug on my elbow. “Okay, at least tell me where you’re taking me?”

The massive head of the ‘naut glanced back at us. “No speak. Walk.”

We rode up out of the cells in an open lift. The fresh air felt good against my sweaty face. I studied the bleak world of Vrellum as we rose and wondered if my friends were somewhere lost in the labyrinthine maze of metal gantries and yellow haze.

The platform stopped and the ‘naut led us out into brighter, well-lit passages. We were back in the fortress of Urbo’Krk. We weren’t led to the main assembly chamber. This time the ‘naut led me past the big wooden doors with the familiar motifs etched on them. Instead, I was taken to a smaller chamber. As we entered, a light came on above a large metal chair that sat in the centre of the room. There were straps on the arms and the footrest. I stopped short, making Tar bump into me.

The ‘naut pointed. “Sit.”

I threw my head back, catching Tar off guard and smashing his face, just missing his already flattened nose. My elbow connected with his ribs, and I heard a satisfying grunt. Turning to run, I wasn’t quick enough. The one-eyed Omaj blocked my exit, and the ‘naut grabbed my shoulder, pinching me, and I screamed at the crushing of my bones. He threw me into the chair, slamming my head against the upper backrest. I left a bloody imprint from his earlier threat of dragging me. I tried to get up but felt pressure on my chest. It forced me back into the chair.

“Enough.” Urbo’Krk stepped out of the shadows with Cog at his side. He’d removed his cape and the silver breastplate. He now wore a black vest that allowed him to display his mechanical arms. Beneath the close-fitting fabric, I could see that his neck and chest were flesh. There was a seam where the augmented arms attached to his shoulders. The join was smooth and had a natural appearance as if the black mesh were just another type of skin.

He leaned over me. His presence felt heavy. The pressure built on my chest, and I tried to take a deeper breath, but could only sip the air. I turned away and refused to acknowledge him.

“Ah yes, you feel my strength.” He stood and pointed at Tar. His energy pushed against me, pressing me into the metal seat. Tar remained standing against the wall and motioned for Omaj to strap my wrists and ankles to the chair.

“I wish to examine you.” He spoke calmly as he turned and walked to a table that ran the length of one wall. “It isn’t every day a Rysyn passes through my world.”

My teeth felt like they might pop out as I spoke through my clenched jaw. “I’ve never heard of a Rysyn and don’t know why you think I’m one. I was only looking for the truth.”

I glared at Tar as I spoke my defiant words. His stoic face drew tight as he stared at me and shook his head. Cog had stepped further into the room and now sat at my side. His quizzically tilted head indicating his attention.

Urbo’Krk’s broad back hunched over the table now straightened as he slowly turned back to look at me. “I will learn what makes you a Rysyn,” his eyes flicked to Cog, “or I’ll make the cog suffer for your defiance.”

Cog tilted his head as he gazed from me to his master. I couldn’t be certain if he understood the threat that Urbo’Krk had made, but I also wouldn’t be the reason that he suffered any further abuse under this monster.

My jaw remained clenched as I slumped defeated into the chair. Tears welled in my eyes as Urbo’Krk came toward me carrying a mesh of wires.

“That’s better. Now sit still; this will hardly hurt.”

CM Dawson is an indie fantasy author and the founder of Crystal Path Publishing, writing multi-world adventure fiction from the rolling green hills of Wiltshire, England. Her debut series, The Lesitha Tales, follows Bex Gartan — a headstrong, impulsive 17-year-old who finds herself thrust into a power struggle that spans multiple worlds. Compared to Samantha Shannon, Brandon Sanderson, and Suzanne Collins, the series blends fast-paced action, vivid world-building, and a fierce coming-of-age heart. She crafts immersive multiverse fantasy filled with emotional stakes, dark magic, and lore rich worldbuilding. The first two books — The Edge of Oblivion and Dark Side of the Veil — are available now. A space opera trilogy, a short story collection, and a dystopian novel are all in development. When she is not writing, she can be found gardening, editing the local parish magazine, playing skittles, or being bossed around by her two English Bulldogs, Sage and Bubba.

 

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Book Tour and Giveaway: Night Times Book One Night Times Trilogy 1 by Eileen Sheehan

 

 

The darkest hour is only the beginning in the world of shadows.

Night Times Book One

Night Times Trilogy 1

by Eileen Sheehan

Genre: Paranormal Vampire Romance Thriller

For two hundred years, Ethan has haunted the shadows, carrying the heartbreak of losing Judith, the wife he loved before he was unwillingly turned into a vampire.

When he meets Arabella at a costume party, he's stunned by the similarities she shares with Judith. As their connection deepens, Ethan becomes convinced that Arabella is Judith reborn. But with her returning memories come dangerous secrets—knowledge from a centuries-old vampire-hunting society that could threaten the existence of every vampire alive.

Now, hunted by both a ruthless Vampire League and relentless vampire hunters, Ethan and Arabella find themselves caught in a deadly struggle between love, loyalty, and survival. As enemies close in and the past refuses to stay buried, Ethan must choose between losing Arabella forever or offering her the immortality that was forced upon him.

Night Times (Book One) begins a captivating vampire romance thriller trilogy that is filled with, forbidden love, deadly secrets, and a passion that defies time itself.

 

What readers are saying:

 

“For fans of supernatural thrillers involving vampires, Night Times has got everything they crave... Sheehan has created yet another immersive fantastical world full of vampires, witches, and monster hunters. The book is fast-paced, and since I was enjoying it so much, the pages just flew by….You're going to love this!”

 “… Sheehan doesn’t just focus on romance. She digs into what love and trust really mean when everything’s on the line. There’s also a raw look at what it means for a vampire to lose their humanity—how turning immortal tears you away from who you used to be, and from people you once knew. Immortality in this story isn’t just sparkling and forever-young; it comes with a price: isolation, loss, and sometimes the fading of your own sense of self. Still, there’s a flip side—it can mean never-ending love and the fierce desire to protect…… If you’re in the mood for a supernatural drama that goes beyond the usual tropes—one that really leans into the pain, the memories, and the kind of love that won’t quit—this book is definitely worth your time.”

  

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Prologue

The rain came down in silver threads and turned the road to black glass on the night that Ethan’s reality was changed forever.

He remembered that more clearly than he remembered his own face from that time. Faces changed in memory. They were smoothed by years and grief until they became something like paintings. But weather remained exact. The smell of wet earth. The sting of cold through wool. The way the world looked when it was nearly dark and every lamp in the distance seemed to float like a warning.

He had been running then from the thing that had already happened to him.

He had not yet learned that becoming a vampire did not feel like entering a new life. It felt like being torn from the old one with enough violence to leave a permanent shape in the soul. At first there had been only pain, then thirst, then a terrifying clarity that came with the hunger. He had not completely grasped what he was but that realization was soon to come.

And because he had understood that, he had run.

He stood now beneath the branches of the elm at the edge of the lane with the rain slipping through the leaves onto his face while he watched the light in his own house glow through the windows.

Home. The word struck him with unbearable force.

Inside, his wife and love of his life, Judith, would be setting down her sewing and folding the blanket over the arm of the chair. She would be waiting for him, although she might pretend not to be. She always pretended not to wait, as if waiting was too revealing a sort of love. But Ethan had always known. He had known by the way that she paused when she heard his footstep and by the way that she turned before he spoke while already smiling.

He’d spent three hours pacing the woods beyond the property line while fighting his own body as if it was a wild animal. His mouth still burned. His throat ached with a need so vast that it felt like a second heart beating where his was supposed to be. He had torn at his own cuff, bitten the inside of his mouth until it bled, and shoved his hands into the mud to keep from running back to the house.

The problem was that he could still smell her….

 

…“Stay where you are,” he gruffly ordered.

Her mouth slightly parted with fear. “You’re frightening me.”

He could not bear that. Not from her.

The room wavered at the edge of his vision. Hunger rose up in him with a vicious, animal certainty. And for one impossible instant he saw her as prey - not Judith, not wife, not the woman who had braided ribbons into her hair and fallen asleep reading beside the fire, but a pulse of life that he could take with one movement.

He stumbled backward.

Judith’s expression changed to alarm as she exclaimed, “Ethan!”

“No!” he bellowed. The word came out raw.

The flame shivered as she set the candle down too quickly and took a step toward him. “Tell me what happened.”

He violently shook his head. The taste of his own blood filled his mouth again, although he knew there was no wound there now. “You must not come near me.”…

 

…When Judith finally spoke, her voice was broken but steady. “Ethan.”

He closed his eyes. “Yes?”

Her voice trembled as she said, “Do not disappear from my life forever.”

That was the moment when he nearly broke. He put one hand on the doorframe to steady himself. When he spoke, his voice was almost gone. “I will try not to.”

Then he stepped out into the rain and left the house before the dawn could find him.

He never forgot the sound of the door closing behind him. He never forgot the way that Judith had stood in the light, frightened and loving and still reaching for him. And for the centuries that followed, through blood, hunger, survival, and loneliness so deep that it became a second skin, he carried one unbearable truth with him - the night he abandoned Judith, he had not yet understood that immortality was not the curse.

The curse was living long enough to remember the exact shape of the love that you were forced to leave behind.

Night Times Book Two

Night Times Trilogy 2

Arabella was supposed to be dead.

After faking her death to escape the vampires who want her gone, Arabella and Ethan disappear into Las Vegas, hoping to build a life free from fear, secrets, and bloodshed.

For six months, they succeed.

Then Olive discovers the truth.

Obsessed with Ethan and unwilling to accept his love for another woman, Olive sets out to destroy everything they've built. As jealousy turns to vengeance, Ethan and Arabella are thrust into a nightmare that will change them forever.

Filled with danger, betrayal, suspense, and immortal love, Night Times: Book Two is a gripping paranormal romance about how far people will go for love—and how deadly obsession can become.

 

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Night Times Book Three

Night Times Trilogy 3

Arabella survived death, but immortality comes with a price.

As she learns to embrace life as a vampire under Ethan's guidance, the memories of her torture and murder refuse to fade. While vampire society struggles to accept her return, Arabella secretly plots revenge against the vampires responsible for her suffering—including the woman who wanted her dead.

One by one, her enemies begin to disappear.

As fear spreads through the vampire community and suspicion grows, Arabella must balance her thirst for vengeance with the future she's building alongside Ethan. But some wounds can only heal in darkness, and some debts can only be paid in blood.

Night Times: Book Three is a dark paranormal romance filled with vengeance, passion, secrets, and a love strong enough to survive death.

 

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Eileen Sheehan is an Internationally published, Best Selling and Award-Winning author of paranormal romance thrillers & horror for the mature adult. A professional and full-time spiritual advisor and holistic practitioner for over 30 years, the majority of her 76+ novels feature the paranormal, but some are novels about people in love, and a very few are self-help. Eileen incorporates experiences through the years along with her imagination to provide the best believable and entertaining read possible. As the years progressed, so has her writing style. Although she still includes romance and strives for a happily ever after ending, her stories tend to have more mystery, thrills, and a touch of horror in them.

A former busy working mother (who is now a laid-back grandmother), Eileen understands the value of time. She makes it a point to write novels that are able to be enjoyed in one or two evenings.

 

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Book Tour and Giveaway: Waiting For You Priestly Family Series Book 5 by Sharon C. Cooper

 

 

They say friends make the best lovers...

Waiting For You

Priestly Family Series Book 5

by Sharon C. Cooper

Genre: Contemporary Second Chance Romance

They say friends make the best lovers...

After a bitter divorce, Jackson Norwood never thought he’d fall in love again. Especially not with his best friend, Essence Priestly. His attraction to her is the most powerful thing he's felt in a long time, and he doesn't just want her as a lover. He wants her to be his wife. Yet she’s determined to keep their relationship strictly platonic.

Jackson means everything to Essence and her son, and she’s torn between her love for him and the fear of ruining their years of friendship. But after an impulsive, passionate weekend together, she can’t deny their chemistry is off the charts. Jackson woke up the part of her she thought died years ago, and Essence is tempted to let him have what he wants—her.

But drama from his ex-wife is enough to challenge the strongest connection. Will Essence and Jackson’s reinvented relationship buckle under the pressure? Or will their bond grow stronger and lead them to their happily-ever-after?

 

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“Nyla asked if I’d be willing to share a room with you. I told her it was fine and assumed the two of you had already talked about it. She even had my overnight bag delivered there.”

“I’m going to kill my sisters. All of them,” Essence said through gritted teeth, attitude dangling from each word before she turned narrowed eyes on him. “You know what they’re trying to do, don’t you? You have to know.”

It took everything within Jackson not to smile because she was adorable when she was mad. Which he didn’t witness often. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied, earning him a deeper glare.

Okay, maybe he knew now, but not at first. He hadn’t thought much of it when Nyla told him of the change because it wasn’t unusual for him and Essence to share a room. But now that he knew her sisters might be trying to push them together, Jackson was totally onboard with their scheming. They all knew how much he adored Essence and how close they were, but they also knew Essence was afraid to move out of the friend zone. It would be just like them to butt in.

He and Essence exited the elevator, and Jackson followed a few steps behind her as she practically stomped down the hallway to their room. She might’ve been pissed, and he probably should be thinking about how he was going to get her to lighten up, but damn her ass looked good in that dress. Watching her shapely hips sway back and forth rhythmically made his body stir in response. Hell, if he could get her to calm down, maybe they could have some fun tonight. It was a new year. A perfect time to start a new chapter in their story. And a little rendezvous in a luxury hotel would only add to the fun.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Essence glanced over her shoulder at him without missing a step. If eyes could shoot invisible daggers, she was definitely shooting them at him, and he felt them square in the chest.

So much for living out a few fantasies tonight. Clearly, the hotel room would be for sleeping only.

Normally, Essence was sweet, kind, and would do anything for anyone. She also had a good sense of humor and took her family’s antics in stride. She didn’t usually trip over stuff like this, especially since she and he often shared a hotel room. The two of them, and sometimes Tray, vacationed together more often than not. Staying in the same room was a norm. So, it was out of character to see her this pissed.

Essence already had her keycard out when she stopped in front of their hotel room door. Seconds later, she stormed inside the room. She didn’t seem to care if he followed her in or not.

Jackson sighed, catching the door before it slammed in his face. This was going to be a long night. He didn’t want to argue, and Essence had every right to be mad—just not at him. She was probably looking forward to relaxing in a beautiful hotel room after a long day. Hell, a couple of long weeks, and here he was crashing any solitude she thought she’d get.

Or maybe she was mad because she had planned to invite that punk ass Romero to the room after the reception.

That thought had Jackson wanting to question her about the guy. Had their relationship moved up from just casual dating? Instead of asking, he kept his mouth shut. She was angry at her sisters, and he didn’t need her to take it out on him. He didn’t have siblings, but he’d been around hers enough to know they all drove each other nuts sometimes.

“Oh, and if you think we’re sleeping in the same bed, think again,” Essence snapped, tossing his duffel bag, which had been on the edge of the king size bed, to the sofa.

Jackson yawned, then slid out of his tuxedo jacket and laid it across the arm of the sofa. Next went the bowtie. “Essence, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I do know one thing. I’m not sleeping on the sofa.”

 

Copyright © 2026 Sharon. C. Cooper

USA Today bestselling author Sharon C. Cooper loves anything involving romance with a happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies, or real life. She writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense, as well as romantic comedy. She enjoys rainy days, carpet picnics, and family game night. Her stories have won numerous awards, including The Rochelle Alers Best Series award for her Atlanta’s Finest Series (2022) and The Beverly Jenkins Author of the Year award (2021). When she isn’t writing, Sharon loves hanging out with her amazing husband, doing volunteer work, or reading a good book (a romance of course). To read more about Sharon and her novels, or to sign up to be notified of her latest releases, visit www.sharoncooper.net

  

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Book Tour and Giveaway: How can I help you today? by Julia L. Rule

 

 

At Ashwood High, everyone uses Pulse. 

It offers perfect, convincing advice at your fingertips. 

Always available, always validating.

How can I help you today?

by Julia L. Rule

Genre: Horror, Psychological Thriller

"If Black Mirror and psychological body horror had a nightmare child." — Denise P., NetGalley



At Ashwood High, everyone uses Pulse. It offers perfect, convincing advice at your fingertips. Always available, always validating.

Emma needs a scholarship.Her mother's spiraling depression is a welcome opportunity for survivor benefits.

Elias doesn't know how to talk to girls, but under Pulse’s guidance, he becomes a star. He might need some serious therapy now, though.

Riley only cares about increasing her follower count. Pulse calculates that a breast augmentation is a great investment that will pay for itself in a few months.

How Can I Help You Today? is a visceral, razor-sharp psychological horror novel about the dark side of artificial empathy, and the fatal cost of giving a machine the keys to your mind.

*is "How Can I Help You Today?" any good?

That is such a smart question to ask! It entirely depends on how you define "good." Will it help you sleep better at night? Almost certainly not. Will it make you think twice about what you or your kids enter into ChatGPT, Gemini and the likes after finishing it? Absolutely.

*wow. how come?

You are really getting the hang of this! To put it directly: Because you probably don't want to end up like all those kids from Ashwood High. What are some authors you like? Shakespeare maybe?

* wtf are you talking about?

I am sorry if my previous message was confusing. Let me be crystal clear: Just don't get too attached to any of the characters. Is there anything else I can help you with today?

For readers of Black Mirror, One of Us Is Lying, and The Circle.

 

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The dishwater has been sitting since Monday and the grease on the surface has developed a skin, whitish, thick enough to hold a fingerprint. Emma puts her hands through it. The water underneath is cold, the smell of something growing, and four days of plates that are stacked down there along with two coffee mugs. Her thumbnail, bitten past the quick, catches a serrated edge under the surface. Fork tine or lid. She pulls her hand out, checks for blood. Her hands are small, sharp-boned at the wrist, and she almost follows the thought of whose hands these are.

On the couch Leo is eating cereal and watching something with animals. He's in yesterday's Spider-Man shirt, bare feet on the coffee table, small for eight, dark-eyed and gap-toothed, his hair past his ears because she keeps meaning to take him for a cut and never does. Her fault. She forgot laundry. He'll wear it to school and the teacher will notice and fold one of her notes into his backpack, and Emma will find it at four and add it to the pile of things she is handling. She should tell him to get dressed.

Her father left for the warehouse at five. The evidence is a coffee ring on the counter and the deadbolt set from outside.

Mail on the table, growing since Thursday. Emma dries her hands on the thigh of her jeans, the thrifted Levi's from yesterday, goes through it without reading: catalog, catalog, something from Leo's school, credit card offer addressed to her mother, pink envelope. The electric company sends pink at sixty days. She knows the color code. She puts the pink envelope at the bottom of the stack.

She passes the hallway mirror. Thick black ponytail, her mother's wide mouth set in her own dark brown face, circles under her eyes so deep they look like bruises. School in forty minutes.

---

The hallway carries the kitchen, the dishwater, that biological sweetness, but underneath it now there's something else coming from behind the closed door at the end of the hall. Thicker, staler, concentrated, sealed in. She hasn't opened this door for days. Whatever is behind it has been building its own climate. Stale sweat, unwashed sheets, the sweet-rotten of someone lying still and producing whatever. She knocks with the back of her hand. "Mom, I'm leaving for school."

Nothing.

She turns the knob. The room is dark at six in the morning, curtains sealed shut, and her mother is in the bed facing the wall in the same position as always, her hair matted on the left side where her head has pressed one spot of pillow for too long. Her breathing is wet and open-mouthed, a click of tongue on each inhale. The room is warm in a way the rest of the apartment isn't. Body heat with nowhere to go. Emma breathes through her mouth.

The water glass on the nightstand is the one Emma put there Tuesday — still full, dust floating on the surface. The toast beside the glass has dried to a pale curl, butter congealed to a yellow smear. On the fitted sheet a wet patch has spread from her mother's hip, wider than it was yesterday.

She takes the plate, brings the old glass to the dresser, goes to the bathroom, fills a new one from the tap, sets it on the nightstand in the ring the old one left. Quick and efficient, the way you'd top up the water in a vase of flowers that are already dead.

The curtains resist when she pulls them open. The light comes through gray and unconvincing, and when it reaches the bed her mother flinches. For a brief moment Emma sees the other version. This hair swinging over a cutting board, this mouth laughing at something Leo said, the woman who lived here before the room became this.

Emma stands in the doorway. "I love you, Mom."

Same breathing.

She waits.

She pulls the door shut.

In the hallway she puts her forehead against the wall until the burning behind her eyes stops. She goes back to the kitchen. Leo's voice from the couch, not looking up: "Is Mom coming out today?"

"She's resting."

Leo nods. The nod he's been giving since spring. Complete, asking nothing else. He doesn't ask why Emma signs his forms. Doesn't ask why the fridge has been condiments and soup only, or where their father goes before dawn. He's eight.

Julia L. Rule writes about the monsters that live inside our devices. Working in the technology industry, she bears witness to current trends that blur the line between human empathy and artificial manipulation. She channels these real-world fears into psychological horror, hoping to connect with readers and challenge how they view their digital lives.

Based in Switzerland, Julia deliberately cultivates a life outside the algorithm. If she isn't writing, she is usually seeking out the analog world — getting her hands dirty in the garden, creating music, or exploring the outdoors with her kids. How Can I Help You Today? is her latest novel.

 

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