My first draft of Hemo Sapiens: Awakening is almost finished. Below is a screenshot of my Word document with the navigation panel open to show the chapters, sections, and working titles.
The content from Chapter 5 (with tweaks) was taken from my short story, The Unidentified, published here, so it’s not spoiler to share. Funny enough, I just notices an error in my screenshot. Emily’s daughter Grace is almost five*, so I’ve amended that in my draft.
For those wondering, I maintain a spreadsheet with the birthdates and ages of all of the characters, so I can age-progress them appropriately. And there are certain maturity stages that occur around a certain age, for example, when their fangs come in. Just turning five, Grace won’t have fangs yet.
At this point, I’ve got 250 pages and 37 chapters. I deleted over 1,000 more words today—from 57,641 to 56,616—, but I expect to remain over 50k.
I also started working on the title and subtitle artwork, which I’ll share when I’m done with it. As I already know the title and subtitle of my next book, which is at least 60% done (🤞) in its own right, I am making sure the Hemo Sapiens title art leves space to nestle in the subtitle.
I’m getting excited, but the finish line is still a ways away. I think I’ve reached a major milestone in completing the first draft—99.999%, I feel. I still need to work on the cover art and layout and lining up Beta readers.
* Grace is five in the short story, but she’s been demoted a few months in the novel.
“Sweet dreams, my little star. Tomorrow will be as sunny as your smile,” Emily says, leaning down to kiss her five-year-old, Grace. The room’s dim, nightlights casting soft glows on the walls, filling the air with quiet chatter as other parents do the same for their kids. The air smells like warm milk and laundry fresh from the dryer.
A hush falls as Emily walks back to her bed. The night’s sacred, a calm oasis in a stormy world. Emily sinks into her bed, her mind dissolving into a haze of comfort as sleep takes her.
“Just follow instructions!”
The door splinters open, no warning, just a loud-ass bang. Chaos floods in—uniforms, torchlights, boots stomping.
“Hands up!” someone shouts, too damn close.
Emily dives over Grace, blocking the light with her body. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Just follow instructions!” comes the muffled reply.
The room’s a shambles—footsteps, radio talk, kids whimpering. It’s like a nightmare, but she’s wide awake.
“Mummy, I’m scared.”
Rain mists the courtyard, cold against her fear. Emily’s yanked up, losing her grip on Grace. She scans the place—families clumped together, kids bawling, agents everywhere. More vans pull in, headlights cutting through the rain.
“What’s your name?” An agent barks.
“Emily. Emily Alpha,” she chokes out.
“Alpha? Like all these?” He waves a hand. “Fucking Alpha reunion here.”
Emily clenches her jaw. They don’t get it.
“No moving! No talking!” The agent shouts. Silence falls, broken by kids’ sobs.
“Mummy, I’m scared,” Grace’s voice shakes.
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
“Look, twins?”
“Look, twins?” An agent nudges his mate. Emily passes two women, spitting images of her.
“Twins? Nah. Quadruplets there,” the mate points.
“Quads? Are you daft? Another pair. What’s happening?”
“Oi, no IDs. And it’s all Alpha and Beta. Science experiment?”
“More like a clone farm.”
Emily’s fists tighten. “Clone farm? Like we’re lab rats?”
“Mummy, will we be alright?” Grace’s voice is a thin thread.
“We have to be,” Emily murmurs, catching a sibling’s eye. “We just have to.”
The van doors slam shut. Engines growl, drowning out her spiraling thoughts. Darkness inside, darkness out.
“What happens now, Mummy?”
Harsh lights sting Emily’s eyes. She’s pushed along a taped line on the floor, Grace following like a lost shadow. Different uniforms—Immigration, Social Services, nerdy lab coats—are buzzing around, huddled over clipboards and tablets.
“Step here, extend your arm,” an agent instructs.
Emily complies, wincing as a plastic tag is cinched around her wrist—like she’s livestock.
“No IDs, surnames Alpha and Beta, empty blood bags found,” one agent blurts out.
“Bags of blood? Genetic experiment gone rogue?” another questions.
Grace trembles. “What happens now, Mummy?”
“We get through it, love. We have to.”
“Blood bags and fangs.”
Emily sits across a metal table, a stern interrogator staring back. “I’m on it.” The interrogator puts down her radio.
“Open your mouth,” she orders, leaning forward intently.
“Why?” But Emily complies.
The woman leans in, eyes narrowing. “Fangs? You a vampire or something?”
Incredulous, Emily screws up her face and rolls her eyes. “Vampire?”
“Check for fangs,” the interrogator radios her team.
“We’ve got more here. Same teeth,” a voice crackles back.
“Blood bags and fangs. It’s getting weird,” the interrogator mutters.
Emily feels her spine chill. “We’re not vampires, not experiments, not whatever you think we are,” she snaps.
Weeks go by, more tests, more questions. Emily steals moments with Grace. “Mum, we’ll be alright, won’t we?”
“Some new people have come here, and they want to learn about us and where we live,” Emily says, stroking Grace’s hair. “So we have to go with them for a little while, so they can ask their questions. But we’ll still be together.”
She lifts Grace’s chin gently. “It may feel strange and scary at times. But I’ll be right here holding your hand. And all your aunties and uncles will be close by too. We’re still a family, no matter what.”
Grace’s lip quivers, eyes wide and watery. Emily kisses her forehead. “I know you’re my brave girl. We’ll get through this together, and soon we’ll be tucked back in our own warm beds. But for today, we’ll have a little adventure together. Okay?”
Grace manages a small nod. Emily squeezes her hand, heart swelling and aching all at once. They didn’t understand yet, but someday they would tell their real story.
NB: This was my day today. I ended up with flash fiction rather than a short story. I’ll consider it to be a draft. Perhaps I’ll augment it later. It’s got past midnight, and I am knackered to no end. Can’t even proofread another character. As I’ve noted, short stories are new to me. Evidently, so is flash fiction. It feels a tad short, but I’ll sleep on it. Be that as it may, I am constructing a universe as a foundation for further exploration. Feel free to add comments or constructive criticism.
Ridley Park 