Bring Out Your Dead

By Kim Cormack

Owen Steinbeck was an awkward thirteen-year-old girl with ghostly backup...What could go wrong? 
I know some of you love reading short novellas. Here you go my awesome Children of Ankh series readers! Middle-Grade Novella number one. The novella itself is only 60 pages long. I've added a teaser to the first book in the main series, 'Sweet Sleep.' 
Happy Reading XO 
Kim Cormack 

Owen awoke to the sound of Darth Vader's rhythmic heavy breathing. A very cool birthday gift or so she'd thought at the time. It had easily taken her half of the night to fall asleep and it felt like only five minutes had elapsed since she'd managed to tune out the droning voices in her head and closed her eyes. No, no, no…I don't want to get up. Owen misjudged her swing for the snooze button and yanked on the cord. Darth landed right on her face. It hurt like hell. She covered her eye as she wandered over to look at the damage in the mirror. That was going to leave a mark. When your morning starts with a black eye from Darth Vader, you just know the Sith is going to hit the fan. This day was going to suck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mythomedia
• Release date: Apr 19, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393995425

Kim Cormack

Kim Cormack is the dark comedy loving author of the Children Of Ankh Universe. She worked for over 16 years as an Early Childhood educator in preschool, daycare, and as an aid. She has M.S and has lived most of her life on Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia, Canada. Currently, she lives in the gorgeous town of Port Alberni. She's a single mom with two awesome offspring. If you bump into this author, slowly back away. Toss packages of hot sauce at her until you escape. A Note From The Author.I began writing this series shortly after my M.S diagnosis. I had many reasons to fight. I had incredible children, family and friends, but this series gave me purpose. Whenever things become dark, I use my imagination to find the light within myself. No matter what life throws your way, you are stronger than you believe. I hope the character's strength becomes an inner voice for the readers who need it. Stand back up, and if you can't stand, rise within yourself. We are all beautiful as we are. We are all immortal.All heroes are born from the embers that linger after the fire of great tragedy.She slept a dreamless sleep free of dragons for she had slain them once again.

Book preview

Acknowledgments

I WOULD LIKE TO SAY a special thank you to my children and family for your endless love and support. I love you, always and forever.

To my friends for putting up with endless conversations about what I’m writing and to my wicked awesome editors and beta readers, Haley McGee and Leanne Ruissen, You guys rock!

A Letter To My Readers

THIS ONE IS FOR MY younger teen readers. this is a novella side series that will allow you to experience the lives of the teens with abilities before their correction. I’ve made a large print version for the series readers that prefer paperback. Keep up with the new series releases on the series website childrenofankh.com

Chapter 1

Owen Stienbeck Against The World

SHE AWOKE TO THE SOUND of Darth Vader's rhythmic heavy breathing. A cool birthday gift or so she’d thought at the time. It had easily taken her half of the night to fall asleep and it felt like only five minutes had elapsed since she’d managed to tune out the droning voices in her head and squeezed her closed her eyes. No, no, no. I don’t want to get up. Owen misjudged her swing for the snooze button and yanked on the cord. Darth landed right on her face. It hurt like hell. She covered her eye as she wandered over to look at the damage in the mirror. That was going to leave a mark. When your morning starts with a black eye from Darth Vader, you just know the Sith is going to hit the fan. This day was going to suck.

Owen scooted down to the hall to the kitchen, snagging a bag of peas from the freezer as she passed by. She sat down at the kitchen table, holding the bag of frozen peas on her eye. Her mother breezed past her. She was obviously running late again. Here she was, mortally wounded by the Dark Lord Vader and her mother had missed it completely. It was a little bit funny. Owen began to eat the lukewarm, blueberry pancakes that were already sitting in front of her and did acknowledge the fact that her mother had attempted to do something sweet. Blueberry pancakes were her favourite.  She smelled sulphur and scrunched up her nose. Come on, just give me five bloody minutes to eat my breakfast in peace. A hollow-eyed stranger, covered in what looked like blood and by the scent, probably fecal matter was sitting across the table. She fought the comical urge to offer her dead guest a pancake. 

Her mom hollered, See you after school! She slammed the front door behind her.

Owen contemplated the idea of staying home. Who'd even know? To get away with it, all she’d have to do was be there to intercept the automated call that would come at six o'clock that night. She’d already done it ten times this year. Her mother was usually too exhausted to notice. She worked more than one job. That’s how she’d managed to keep a roof over their heads after her father left. Owen appreciated her mother’s hard work but at the same time she resented it. A part of her wanted her mother to catch her doing these things. Owen stood up without acknowledging her undead stalker and wandered into the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror and removed the bag of frozen peas from her swollen eye. Wonderful...this is frigging fabulous. It looked like someone had given her a serious beating. In her reflection, there were now two of them standing right behind her. She’d been seeing the deceased her whole life. It really wasn’t a big deal. It was more annoying than anything else. They did their best to been seen while she did her best to be invisible. Owen’s preference was to blend into the background. Maybe, nobody would notice? She put her hoodie on over her messy hair; she rarely took the time to brush it. Why bother? She didn't brush her hair because five seconds after she strolled through the front door of the school each day, the same mouth-breathing Neanderthal of a douche gave her a frigging birdie. She slid her glasses up over her nose and grimaced at her reflection. Her mom was super-hot. They say the apple does not fall far from the tree but she got no apples. None. Not a one had fallen within a fifty-mile radius of her. Owen Steinbeck was a thirteen-year-old girl with a nasty black eye, messy brown hair and a boy's name. She was a girl with absolutely no apples to speak of. She scowled as she looked at her own chest. It was pathetic; she practically indented. She wandered towards the front door moderately prepared to face the prepubescent firing squad, otherwise known as her peers. She could hear muffled voices, coming from the living room. It was only the T.V. Owen was far too busy feeling sorry for herself to pay attention to the bulletin flashing across the screen. She listened to the monotone voice for only a second before turning it off. Those poor kids stuck on the couch having a sick day. They’d have the sanctity of their Scooby Doo defiled by that tedious monotone voice. She’d never understood why they always seemed to have the one person that could put someone to sleep giving the speeches. They needed someone flamboyant and entertaining if they want people to pay attention.

Owen stopped to lock the front door and then she wandered across the street to her school, with a