Seven Point Eight: The Second Chronicle
by Marie Harbon
Seven Point Eight:
‘The Truth Will Set You Free’
In the second instalment of the Seven Point Eight series, the legacy of the OOBE project weighs heavily on the conscience of Dr Paul Eldridge. Tahra Mamoun needs to muster all her courage and venture back into the alternate dimensions of reality. Through a series of challenging, surreal and frightening experiences, she comes to comprehend the destructive power she can yield and must face her own demons in the process.
Paul continues his quest to understand the ancient knowledge of the cosmos, while dark forces seek to hijack his research to further a secret agenda. With their lives in jeopardy, Paul and Tahra confront their enemies against an international backdrop featuring the pyramids of Giza and the peaks of Switzerland.
Meanwhile, Sam and Ava endeavour to uncover their past, even though it may irrevocably change their lives.
In a tale of courage and tragedy, love and betrayal, their lives are interwoven around the demons of one man, Max Richardson, who’ll stop at nothing to achieve his objectives.
Written in the style of a TV series, Seven Point Eight draws together quantum physics, psychic powers, alternate dimensions, time travel, past lives, ancient wisdom and conspiracy in a soap opera for the soul.
It’s the ideal read for lovers of sci-fi, contemporary fantasy, paranormal, metaphysics, ‘Lost’, ‘Fringe’, ‘Touch’, and Dan Brown books.
Seven Point Eight: The Second Chronicle
The dot mutated into a fuzzy patch that took form as it approached me, morphing into a familiar figure. Its identity threw me, an image that awakened a dichotomy of feelings, exciting and repelling me simultaneously. What was my subconscious trying to tell me this time? The image of Max advanced towards me and met my bewildered gaze, seeming so real that I could almost reach out and touch him. Yet it was a mere representation of him, drawn directly from my mind.
Nobody spoke. I knew it wasn’t really him, but peering into those brown eyes, he seemed very genuine, complete with feelings and memories. He looked slightly younger, exactly as he’d appeared to me when he brought me to The Institute back in 1962. His face expressed accusation.
“Why have you abandoned me?”
Although I had no reason to feel guilty, he made me experience remorse.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you with someone else instead of me?” he continued, uncharacteristically open and transparent, something the real Max could never be.
“I made a choice. Paul gives me what I need.”
It felt strange confronting him with the truth, yet the opportunity to have this conversation with him unburdened me.
“You were supposed to teach me emotion,” he said. “You can’t hide from your responsibility.”
I could barely contain my indignation.
“I have no responsibility towards you. It was never meant to be.”
“We all deny what we’re required to learn in this life,” he responded. “You’re afraid to feel vulnerable too, fearful of opening your heart.”
“I understand my emotions,” I retorted. “It’s you who do not.”
“Then I need to be taught.”
I turned away from him, annoyed at how he teased out some repressed anger by poking me with a guilt stick. For a memory, his presence felt far too real and triggered a whole catalogue of emotions. I recalled his seduction of me through gifts, and our time in Americawhen he’d promiscuously vented his sexual frustration while waiting to claim my virginity. A tear rolled down my cheek, and embarrassed, I wiped it away. He took hold of my hand, which created a vivid touch sensation not quite like skin on skin, but more lucid and electrical.
“Remember when you didn’t suppress your feelings?” he said. “Remember when it was just you and me in New York?”
I found myself at the top of the Empire State building on that windy day in October 1963, looking out over the city. Max stood behind me with his arms around my waist and his cheek resting against mine. How vivid the memory felt, as if I were there in person. I remembered that time, an ideal moment of love and trust in my life, yet how could it be so perfect? Was my memory playing tricks on me?
“Don’t you wonder what it would’ve been like if things had been different?” he said softly, in my ear.
“Misery,” I answered quickly.
“Is that what you really believe? If I make you so unhappy, then why have you summoned me in this world?”
I’d never heard anything so ridiculous!
“I came here looking for my friends, not you.”
“You’re forgetting that memories are both conscious and subconscious. Desire is the same, we’re only aware of the tip of the iceberg. What do you really want?”
“You are not my purpose in life,” I said with vehemence. “You’re a distraction, a…buzzing fly that won’t go away, you’re a…corrosive chemical that destroys everything in its path.”
He almost laughed.
“You hate with such passion. Does Paul arouse you like this?”
I swallowed back my hurt.
“No, he doesn’t make me hate, or make me cry. That’s why I love him.”
“Is that what you want, a life with a man who doesn’t occasionally arouse hate, who doesn’t sometimes make you angry, or who doesn’t bring a tear to your eye? Love is a ride that takes you to the top of a mountain, or the depths of a valley. True love makes you feel the whole range of emotions, not merely a select few.”
I wanted to choke back my tears, get the hell out of this place but he leaned closer, whispering something in my ear.
“You know, we’ve met many times over the course of eternity. In the history of civilisation, we’re old friends. We have baggage, we have history.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Marie Harbon has worked in both the retail and fitness industry. She has a degree in sport and fitness, and taught group exercise for several years, delivering aerobics and Pilates. For two years, she delivered BTEC sport courses and has also instructed dance and sport with children.
Marie is a member of Nottingham Writers Studio, Her future plans include not only completing the ‘Seven Point Eight’ series, but involve writing YA, children’s and adult books, short stories, novellas and scripts.
Aside from writing, Marie is a self-confessed fabric geek and purveyor of beautiful, often ostentatious bags, bustiers and clothing. She lives in the town of Eastwood, Nottinghamshire, which is in England.
Website – http://www.marieharbon.com
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/marie.harbon
Twitter – @marieharbon