Welcome, My penname is Evan, Emile, or E.N.S., and these are my works of fiction.

Right now, I'm currently in an IT school, but from time to time the need to write gets me typing. I will eventually put up my own short stoires that I am attempting to turn into novels. My plans are to eventually turn this into a deep site with great organizing, but for now scroll down and look for a title that catches your interest.

Okay, just to get this out real quick, if you think I have taken something from you, shoot me an email at evanstrikerfiction@live.com and let me know. On the flip side, these are my ideas, leave them be, if you really want to do something with them, contact me with the afore mentioned email and we can work something out.

I also welcome all constructive critisim, if you see something out of place, send me an email and let me know. I make lots of mistakes usually, considering that my writing is usally at 3 am.


My Bio


So lets see, theres really not much to me that I'm willing to give out. I live somewhere in California in the USA, I am around 20 years old, I am studing for a career in IT, I have Insomnia and that's when I write, I drink way to much Mtn Dew. There, you now know me in a nutshell. Congrats.


The Works



Contents (Use the search [Ctrl+F for most broswers] function to get to specific stories)

Ripples
Ripples: Chapter 1




Lets start with some of my older little projects. This idea kinda started from a movie I saw trailers for but never the full thing. I don't remember what the name was, but it was about people disaapearing. I think I've done something diffrent. so I present to you:
Ripples
A novel by E.N.S.

So, where to begin...I suppose I could start with the first day I found out about the Rippers. Eh, Good enough place I guess.

-Ripples: Chapter 1: John-


I first noticed the Ripples that a subject makes when I was fourteen, of course at that time I didn't know exactly what was happening. I only knew that I had a pounder of a headache and had just emptied my stomach into the gutter. My friends of course after laughing at me for a bit came over to see what was wrong.

�What's up?� one asked.

I didn't answer I was just staring at where there had been a two story building across the street.

�Did you see that?� I asked in between gasping breaths.

�What?�

�The building, it's gone� I gasped pointing.

My friends shared a look behind my back before turning back to me �What building?�

I finally caught my breath and looked over my shoulder at them. They weren't snickering or anything, they honestly didn't see the building.

�But...� I shook my head �Never mind, must have imagined it.�

They helped me stand up straight and we went along with our plans for that day. But, I never forgot about that building, I even went back many times to see if it was there. The weird thing was when I researched it at my library. I found the building, but if I showed the picture to my friends, they couldn't see it. It was as if it was gone from that moment on, and I was the only one who could see it. To everybody else it was an empty lot.

Little did I know that since that day my movements were being watched.

If I had looked behind me that day, I would have seen a man in black jeans and a Polo shirt watching me with an interested look. If I could have heard what he whispered into his collar, maybe I would have said 'No' four years later.

�I think we have a new recruit�

Fast forward four years, I've just graduated high school and I'm going through that whole College worry breakdown thing when I get a blank envolope in the mail, addressed to me. I suppose I should have just burned it, but hey, I was eighteen at the time.

Inside was a dream come true, an escape from my droll life, away from fast food jobs and roommates, it was an Escape.

�Dear Chris,

This letter is to inform you that you have been chosen for a special project inside the government. We have determined you to have the special skills we need in Section 8 to accomplish the tasks before us. If you accept, we require that you come work with us for a period of fifteen years. If at the end you choose to leave, we will pay your way through any program that you choose. If you succeed in the job your pay will be $100,000 to $350,000 annual.

To accept place this envelope back in your mailbox with Yes written below.


_____________________________________

To reject just throw away and pretend you never got it.�

Sure this should have raised some flags on the weird bar, but once again, I was eighteen and wanted out. I jumped at the first chance I got, and have paid for it ever since.

That letter was signed and in my mailbox before the day closed out.

The next day there was a knock on the door, I answered since my parents were virtual couch potato's and never did anything. When the door swung open I was treated to the sight of a man, maybe late forty at that time, slime athletic build, black jeans with a matching polo, his eyes were small and seemed to be in a constant state of angry glaring, hidden behind red sunglasses I admit they looked kinda evil. His mouth however was twisted into a friendly smile and he held out a black gloved hand.

�Christopher Robertson?� he asked in a pleasant tone.

I took his hand warily and shook it �Yes?�

�My name is John, I'm with Section 8. I'm here to collect you for your training.�

This shocked me, not enough to stop me protesting of course. �So soon, I just replied yesterday, and I didn't know I would be going anywhere.�

�We already cleared it with your parents last night� John replied, I leaned back out of the door way.

�Dad?� I called gently

�YEA WHAT DO YA WANT� He yelled over his shoulder at me as he sat up a little straighter

�Did you talk to some Section 8 people about me leaving.�

�YEA SOMETHING ABOUT GETTING YOU GONE IF THEY ARE HERE ALREADY THEN GIT.� My dad sank back down out of view over the couch, as I turned to John I head my mom call

�Have fun at summer camp sweetie.�

John just chuckled softly �I don't think you're missing to much sport.�

I glanced back at the man in my door, doubt for the first time really clawing its way into my gut. If he was for real, I would go work for some government spook company, section 8. I took one last glance back at my parents who were still watching TV, I turned back to John.

�What do I need to pack?�

John's lips curved into a tight smile. �Nothing.� He said �We will provide everything for you, the only thing you are allowed at the base is one picture to remind you of this world.�

�This world?� I asked him.

John held out his hand �If you take my hand, you'll never see this world in the same way again.�

I glanced at his hand and gestured around at the entrance to my house. �Does it look like I'll miss this?� I asked him as a clasped his hand and shook it.

John smiled a little big bigger before turning and walking down the sidewalk. �Come�

I followed him out the door, slamming it behind me. Outside waiting at the curb was a blacked out SUV. When John reached the SUV he opened the passenger door before walking around and getting in on the drivers side.

I climbed into the passenger and paused one last time as I went to close it. My eyes caught on my house and I just paused.

�You made the right choice kid.�

I nodded and closed the door, and that was the last time I saw my house, or my parents.




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