A Last Good Day (A Glass Bottles Story)

By J Dark

Family outings are fun. Getting together, sharing some good times and making good memories. But what kind of memories are made when the world changes?

A loving father, a doting mother, and two children. It’s a rewarding, quiet life.

That life is changed in an instant when the world changes, and an idyllic Friday becomes a shocking nightmare as magic roars to life, changing people, and the world in ways that no one can expect.

A Last Good Day becomes a struggle for survival in a world gone mad, where the merest thought creates a reality that should only belong in nightmares.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paper Angel Press
• Release date: Jul 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781944412746

J Dark

J Dark is a latecomer to the writing profession, but enjoying every moment that life will allow. “The best thing to me is writing a story that someone enjoys. If I’ve made something fun and entertaining for people, it’s a win-win.”J Dark lives with a house full of dreams, three cats, and various friends who occasionally drop by and stay for a while.The author lives in Kansas, where the winds blow all the time, and, if you blink your eyes, the weather changes.

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A Last Good Day

A Glass Bottles Story

J Dark

copyright © 2017 by J Dark

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for the purpose of review and/or reference, without explicit permission in writing from the publisher.

Cover artwork © 2017 by Niki Lenhart

nikilen-designs.com

Published by Paper Angel Press

paperangelpress.com

ISBN 978-1-944412-74-6 (EPUB)

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A Last Good Day

Do you tshink that’s deep enough? the boy running the white and red backhoe shouted.

His tousled brown hair ruffled in the breeze as his bright milk-chocolate eyes glanced over at his father. Dirk, at twelve, was only a few centimeters short of his father’s height, and his large, lean frame hinted at the bulk his father carried. His son looked so similar to him that people often teased Harlan Zachary about having been cloned.

He ambled over to the edge of the trench his son had cut. His own red-blonde hair curled like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket, and hadn’t pulled it out. It peeked out from under his Tim Horton’s hat in fuzzy glory. It curled like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket and hadn’t pulled it out, his weathered features looked at odds with the baby-like curls.

Dirk scratched his nose as his dad looked down at the gash dug in the ground.

Lemme check it, Harlan yelled over the noise of the engine.

He pulled out a yellow tape measure and drew out two meters of tape. Lowering the bare end down into the narrow pit, he carefully tapped the bottom of the trench. Turning the tape toward the sun, Harlan made a show of