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101 pages

English

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Our world is not always kind to the citizens of all ages. This is the story of only one such "little man". Kindness is not expensive. Caring is a possibility we all possess.
Chase is a small boy who finds himself abandoned on the streets. He is joined by a Russian Siberian cat who becomes his heroine. It seems as if the entire world is out to get him. He is uncertain about why and how he has become the world's youngest fugitive and faces dangers and confusion no child should ever face. Street children are a reality in many countries and, now, in ours as well. His biggest fear comes from a grifter who goes by the name of Boss Man by his crew of misused women. He is sought by BM, social workers, an evil adult street person and the police. What will happen to this misused and abandoned child?

Sujets

Thrillers

Fiction

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Publié par	AuthorHouse
Date de parution	06 janvier 2023
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781665579346
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

CHASING THE LIGHT

SANDRA LEE BRAND

AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: 833-262-8899

© 2023 Sandra Lee Brand. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/05/2023

ISBN: 978-1-6655-7933-9 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7934-6 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS
Preface

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43

Epilogue
Author Notes

PREFACE
W ell readers, you did it, you necessitated book 3. My editors, Gretchen Boehme and Barb Parrish are ready to do the job they are so good at. These two talented ladies are special friends and thought contributors. They help to inspire me. My adopted sister, Colleen Brown shared this book and helped me create it as I wrote it from states away. Jill Ott was available to help me decide on how to publish this third book. She is my professional resource and was part of the content in this book. I am a lucky woman to have such friends.
This book still features the young and vulnerable as well as the amazing breed, Russian Siberians. You will be responsible for Number 4 if it is to be. You write with me as you react to my books with your reviews and help to shape the direction of the story, our story. If you ever wanted to write a book, you are doing so now. I am a story teller from childhood and love to create the story based on my audience. You are now a part of every book I write. I am listening!
As I write this preface, we are being hit by Hurricane Ian and I am shuttered away from potential Hurricane damage. My home in Florida was in the direct hit area, but overnight this hurricane moved a bit to the south. We still are in the cone but farther from the eye. When this book is being read by you, the outcome will be known. For now, I await the full wrath of Ian with possible lightening, rain and wind damage. I fear electrical outages. It will do its worse tonight in my area, Seminole, Florida.
Fear realized, the lights went out, but my computer lives on with its battery fully charged. I do love my lighted keyboard. The book goes on…in the dark. I am shuttered away from potential Hurricane danger. When this book is being read by you, the outcome will be known. For now, I have begun to feel the full wrath of Ian with lightening, rain and wind damage. It will do its worse tonight for Classi and me. This book was written during Florida’s wrath. If you are thinking of moving to Florida, remember, even roses have thorns. With Hurricane Ian in progress and adding to the drama, let us write!
A second Hurricane attacked us, but much milder during the final writing of this book. Hurricane Nicole, the weaker sister of Ian, started on the East side of Florida and hit us with winds and rain but nothing more. As you can see, the drama in the book was amplified by the drama in my environment. Hopefully it will serve as an enhancement and not destruction.

CHAPTER 1
I t was dark, so very dark that it had a velvety feeling, black velvet. One could practically reach out and feel the soft silkiness. A night like this is best appreciated with closed eyes and inner perspective. It must be thought of as magical. Such nights bring a feeling of peace and contentment, either alone or with someone with whom you share a deep everlasting love.
It was also getting colder. Icy fingers of pure chill tickled all who were not prepared. A shabby little figure leaned against the glass on the inside of the entry to an old office building. The front of the building had a glass entry that was too dirty to easily see inside. This allowed him to use this space for a temporary home with privacy. It had a sign on it stating the date of the demolition to come. The sign was posted on the inside of the forward facing window and faced outward for all to read if they were so inclined. It also helped to block view into the shabby entry.
Tall grass hid the sides. The little figure had found a hole in the glass side. He had climbed through it into the dirty deserted entry to the old building. The entry offered solace and some safety. It was the best sanctuary this small being could find. He sought its offering for limited security and safety from winds and breezes and other evils his young mind could easily imagine. Many of his fears were legitimate. Existence was difficult for such a young and vulnerable child. Sleep finally claimed this small being.
The boy unfurled his little body and yawned. He had just awakened and found himself alone and quite chilled. It was the end of the spring. North Dakota offered chill weather during this period in addition to the promise of summer’s warmth to come. His gaze was fact finding. Where was he? Then he remembered. The chill he felt on the outside came home to the very inside of this wee lad. This was his first exposure to invasive fear and isolation tendered at the same time. His security, his mother, was missing. His world was crashing down around him.
He tried to gain control as these feelings of loss and terror took over his very being. He huddled closer to the concrete floor as he slowly pivoted to attempt a visual consciousness of his surroundings. It was so quiet that the silence had a weight of its own. He heard nothing. The night noises he was used to were not apparent. There were new and scary noises now. He tried to listen more carefully for anything familiar and for identification of the new sounds. Was that possible? How could life be so absent of the comforting noises of other familiar warm beings? Those murmurs and soft snores were dearly missed right now. He was not home…at least the home he had become accustomed to in his short life. It had always been a series of new places, but the people had been a constant for him. He belonged with them…or had belonged.
There was no one on the street and most of the stores were dark and closed. What light was offered, was due to street lights. However, they were dim and added to the spooky effect of the area. He moved the piece of card board he had used to keep himself warm…”warmish” he thought. Then he heard it. He froze in instinctive fear of the unknown. He felt a chill that transcended anything he had ever felt before in all of his four years.
Something was moving close to him. However, he couldn’t see anything or anyone. He rolled into a ball and wept softly. He smothered his gasps as he was sure that thing could hear him. There! There were more than one! The sounds of the movements were faint and the entry to his glass home was almost silent other than those sneaky sounds. They came from near the entry hole, then slowly circled the space as they navigated nearer to him. He cautiously rotated his head to help him decide where they were coming from. They were getting closer. Why couldn’t he see what was making these noises? He was scared and even more silent as he held his breath to better listen and because he just couldn’t breathe! He remained frozen and extinguished all sounds made by him. This must be instinct with the helpless. Fawns lie very still and don’t move when their protector, the doe, is not with them. Now he was so very quiet…so very alone…maybe they would think he was dead and move on. Do scary things know if you are alive or dead? Do they think or just eat!
The sounds continued and something touched his foot. His toes stuck out through the holes Mama had cut into his shoes. She had told him that he now had sandals-very classy shoes for very classy boys. Now, these sandals allowed the scary things to touch his toes. He heard and, suddenly, felt the creatures. They were greasy feeling and their movements were furtive. Something small and wet touched those exposed toes. The tiny cold wet thing wiggled. He tried to swallow the scream he felt coming. This made a gurgling sound which caused the thing to back off. He tried to make the sound again. No such luck. So, what other sound would work? Screaming might only excite them.

CHAPTER 2
H e had loved these shoes with the swoosh emblems on the sides even though they had already been too small when he first got them. His mother, Hadley, had gotten such a deal on them from a used a bit store. When she had told him that they were classy shoes for classy boys, he had believed her. He didn’t feel classy now…he felt scared. More movement all around him caused him to cringe. He felt his heart go faster and faster as fear to