Book excerpt from YA sci-fi The Eye-Dancers by Michael Fedison

Today’s feature is a book excerpt from the young adult sci-fi
fantasy novel The Eye-Dancers by Michael Fedison.
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about The Eye-Dancers:
Seventh-grader Mitchell Brant and three of his classmates
inexplicably wake up at the back edge of a softball field to the sounds of a
game, the cheering of the crowd. None of them remembers coming here. And as
they soon learn, “here” is like no place they’ve ever seen. Cars resemble
antiques from the 1950s. There are no cell phones, no PCs. Even the spelling of
words is slightly off.
A compulsive liar, constantly telling fantastic stories to garner
attention and approval, Mitchell can only wish this were just one more of his
tall tales. But it isn’t. It’s all too real. Together, as they confront
unexpected and life-threatening dangers, Mitchell and his friends must overcome
their bickering and insecurities to learn what happened, where they are, and
how to get back home.
The answers can be found only in the mysterious little girl with
the blue, hypnotic eyes. The one they had each dreamed of three nights in a row
before arriving here. She is their only hope. And, as they eventually discover,
they are her only hope.
 And time is running out.
Excerpt from The Eye-Dancers:
(End of chapter 12)
It seemed like hours before he got
to sleep.  The night-beast outside
continued to howl, Duss continued to bark, and Joe had to keep getting up to
hush him.  But eventually, mercifully,
the howling ceased.  And then Mitchell
just lay there, thinking—of worlds upon worlds, layers of existence, side by
side.  And he wondered.  What was he doing in those other worlds right
now?  Did he have a sister?  Were his parents the same?  Did they get along, somewhere?  Were there really worlds out there where his
mom and dad didn’t fight with each other? 
Were there worlds where Mitchell was confident?  Where he could talk with ease, and his tongue
worked as fluidly, as effortlessly, as his mind?
“Good night, Mitchell,” he
whispered, to himself, to all of his selves, in all of the worlds in
existence.  His last thought before sleep
finally took him away was of a line of Mitchell Brants.  They stood, single file, one in front of the
other.  He started to count them in his
mind’s eye, but the line went on and on, forever.  He was infinite, endless.
When he counted the two hundred
sixty-third Mitchell Brant, the line began to melt away, disintegrating into
the netherworld of his dreams.
Author bio
and links:
Michael S. Fedison was born in Rochester, New
York, and now lives with his wife, Sarah, and regal cat, Luke, in the green
hills of central Vermont. Michael has been writing creatively for as long as he
can remember, and has had short fiction published in several literary
magazines, including Iconoclast and The Written Word. He works as a full-time
technical writer and also is a freelance proofreader and copy editor.
Michael has been a lover of imaginative
stories his entire life. He enjoys any story that takes you by the hand, lifts
you up, and transports you to another place, a new and creative way of looking
at the world around us.
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