Blog Tour ~ Day Moon
Author: Brett Armstrong
Genre: Science Fiction/ Fantasy
Dates:29th of May ~ 9th of June
Hosted by: Ultimate Fantasy Book Tours
In A.D. 2039, a prodigious seventeen year old, Elliott, is assigned to work on a global soft-ware initiative his deceased grandfather helped found. Project Alexandria is intended to provide the entire world secure and equal access to all accumulated human knowledge. All forms of print are destroyed in good faith, to ensure everyone has equal footing, and Elliott knows he must soon part with his final treasure: a book of Shakespeare’s complete works gifted him by his grandfather. Before it is destroyed, Elliott notices something is amiss with the book, or rather Project Alexandria. The two do not match, including an extra sonnet titled “Day Moon”. When Elliott investigates, he uncovers far more than he bargained for. There are sinister forces backing Project Alexandria who have no intention of using it for its public purpose. Elliott soon finds himself on the run from federal authorities and facing betrayals and deceit from those closest to him. Following clues left by his grandfather, with agents close at hand, Elliott desperately hopes to find a way to stop Project Alexandria. All of history past and yet to be depend on it.
Amazon.com ~ https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XWDM49Z
From an early age, Brett Armstrong had a love for literature and history. At age nine, he combined the two for his first time in a short story set in the last days of the Aztec Empire. After that, writing’s role in his life waxed and waned periodically, always a dream on the horizon, till he reached college. At West Virginia University, he entered the Computer Engineering program and spent two years pursuing that degree before an opportunity to take a creative writing class, for fun, came along. It was so enjoyable, he took another and in that course he discovered two things. The first was the plot for a short story called Destitutio Quod Remissio, which the others students really seemed to love. The second, he realized he absolutely loved writing. For him, it was like the proverbial light bulb coming on. In the years since, describing that epiphany has been difficult for him, but he found the words of 1924 Olympian Eric Liddell are the most eloquent expression for it: “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure.” God gave Brett a passion for writing, and so feels His pleasure when writing.
After a few years passed, Brett got his Computer Engineering degree, but also completed a minor in each of his real passions: history and creative writing. In 2013, he began graduate school to earn an MA in Creative Writing. During that time he completed the novelization of Destitutio Quod Remissio and entered the 2013-2014 CrossBooks Writing Contest, which won the contest’s grand prize. As of March 2015, Brett completed his MA and is presently employed in the West Virginia Division of Infectious Disease Epidemiology as a programmer analyst.
Brett lives in Saint Albans, West Virginia, with his beautiful wife, Shelly. In the summer the pair gardens together, and each day Brett continues writing his next novel.
Visit him at:
Chapter Seven – The Storm
“Alas, the storm is come again!”
The Tempest, Act II, scene 2, line 38
The door to the creative arts hall swung shut behind Elliott, ushering him into the building with a rush of wind that startled him. He glanced back at the huge glass entry doors and swallowed back the wave of anxiety that rose up. Professor Alsworth’s e-mail was so vague it was hard to fathom what this meeting was to be about. It definitely wasn’t the start to a Monday he would choose.
Only a few other students were out and about on the campus. Columbus Day kept most of the other students in bed till well after noon. Elliott had been up for several hours now.
Each footstep echoed off the tiles of the hall. Through the low lit corridor were arranged a variety of art pieces. The hall wasn’t like those on the downtown campus. It was completely new and its interior reflected the subject matter taught within its enclosure. The walls were a gradient of dark and light tones that drew their inspiration from the school colors. Along the wall were crisscrossing metal beams that intersected at various angles and arched around light fixtures and show pieces. Many of the latter were produced by students or faculty. A long entry hall gave way to an open atrium where the metal wall accentuations soared up and twisted into the next several floors.
At the back of this huge open area was a coffee bar, surrounded by stools and automated dispensing machines. The room’s centerpiece was a square pond where the water was almost precisely at the lip of its container. Long plush benches were arrayed around it and the lights played off the barely stirred surface. The entire effect of this place with its wide acoustic halls and edgy architecture was to evoke the spirit of creativity in sight and sound. Elliott liked coming here, most days.
Instructor offices were on different floors, based on the department, but Professor Alsworth’s happened to be on ground level. Nearing the office, Elliott felt his pulse quickening. A variety of scenarios, good and bad, ran through his mind, most too extreme in one direction or the other to be likely.
A few steps shy of the door to the office, Elliott could hear voices. Both spoke in hushed tones, and he did his best to not focus on the conversation. That another student was meeting with Professor Alsworth meant that this should not be a visit of any concern.
Dropping down onto a hard plastic chair in the hall, Elliott folded his hands together and rested his chin on them. In the hall were a number of paintings. The two closest were abstract, with a wide array of colors, strokes, and seemingly erratic design. One was probably on display for the subtle use of hues and even texture in the painting. It didn’t interest Elliott much. He preferred some level of realism in his work. Even so, one of them caught his eye. It was darker than the other and reminded Elliott of a stormy night.
Inside the office the conversation was cut short, and footsteps could be heard approaching the door at a quick clip. The door swung open with surprising speed and Elliott jumped to his feet to avoid its path. Entering the hall was a girl, whose sniffling Elliott perceived before his eyes reached the dark hair and pallid skin. “Lara?” he asked after the retreating form of the downcast student.
She turned and looked at him. Lara’s eyes glistened with tears and her primrose lips were twisted with a sorrow he had never seen. Without answering him, she turned around and hurried down the hall away from him.
Elliott took a few steps toward her, but hesitated. Lara hadn’t told him that she had an appointment today as well…
Another figure emerged into the hall: Professor Alsworth. His eyes were trained on Lara, his face impassive, but his posture slightly hunched as though he carried a weight that bore down hard on him. His blue eyes flicked to Elliott after a few seconds and he said, “Hello, Elliott. You can come on inside and sit down. I’m going to go get some coffee.”
Nodding to his teacher, Elliott shuffled inside as Professor Alsworth stalked down the corridor toward the atrium. Inside Alsworth’s office it was much brighter than out in the hall. He kept it pristine, without a single paper of his inbox out of sorts in its stack or bit of clutter to be found. Walking slowly toward the large, L-shaped desk roughly a third of the way from the back wall, Elliott could see the display of his professor’s Mac still alight, left on the last thing his teacher had viewed before stepping out into the hall.
Unable to resist his curious nature, he leaned across the desk to get a good view of it. On the screen was an image from an art gallery’s website. The piece he was looking at was titled Dia de la Luna. It was a painting and it looked eerily similar to the drawing he had submitted just last week.