Let Me Introduce an Excerpt

This post marks the first public excerpt from an upcoming serialized novel.

What you’re about to read is an opening moment—an interruption, a disappearance, and the beginning of something that does not ask for consent.

This story unfolds in fragments. Some chapters will be grounded, others disorienting. All of them are intentional.

Blog Post 1: The LA Abduction

Category: Fiction / Serial Novel

Content Warning: Disorientation, loss of bodily autonomy, abduction themes

Author: Laura Resurreccion

Excerpt from an upcoming novel

There was a chill in the air that didn’t belong to Los Angeles.

Alice noticed it first in the way her skin prickled, in the way sound seemed to flatten—traffic, voices, the city’s usual hum suddenly dulled, as if someone had turned the world down a few degrees. She thought, absurdly, of a line from Even Cowgirls Get the Blues drifting through her head:

Does the cowgirl ever catch the cowboy in the end?

Does it even matter? Cowgirls don’t need a cowboy anyway.

The thought made her smile—just briefly—before the streetlights flickered.

Witnesses later struggled to explain what they saw. Some said the air bent. Others described a shimmer, like heat rising off asphalt, except it was cold. One man swore the shadows moved before the light did. Another said Alice looked up, as if she’d heard her name called from somewhere above the buildings.

She didn’t scream.

That part unsettled people the most.

Alice felt the pressure before she felt fear—a heaviness in her chest, a pull behind her eyes. Her feet left the ground without permission, without ceremony. The city fell away in pieces: a car horn mid-blare, a half-spoken laugh, the smell of oil and dust.

Then silence.

Metal replaced sky.

She woke on a surface too smooth to be stone, too warm to be steel. The room curved where corners should have been, lit from nowhere and everywhere at once. No seams. No doors. Her body felt present and distant at the same time, like it belonged to someone she used to know.

Above her, shapes moved.

Not human.

Somewhere—farther away than distance should allow—something noticed she was gone.

To be continued.