Blog tour alert! And I have an extract to share with you!
Girl. Boy. Sea. follows the unpredictable ocean, survival, and the unlikely friendship between two very unlikely people.
British teen Bill survives the sinking of his yacht during a terrible storm off the coast of Morocco. After many days alone at sea, Bill is saved by another survivor from the same storm. Aya, from the nomadic Berber tribe, was on a migrant ship. As the two survive the vast empty sea, hungry, sea burnt and with no idea on what to do, Aya tells the tales of Shahrazad of the Arabian Nights, who told 1000 stories to stay alive from the murderous Persian King.
As they, somehow, find the strength to survive, they discover a small desert island. But a shadow is on the island, as there is in the deep blue, waiting...
I am intrigued over this our it feels both very out of my comfort zone and yet, very comfortable within it. And I think you guys will enjoy the adventure! As I said, this is an extract and the rest of the tour will give you a mix of reviews, extracts, guest posts and interview so follow away.
Now, before I give you the extract, I just want to thank Jade from Head of Zeus for asking me if I wanted to be involved in this tour. Now, if you want to say hi to Chris Vick, you can pop over to his website - christophervick12.wixsite.com - or say hi to him on Twitter at @chrisvickwrites. Plus, if you want to know more about Girl. Boy. Sea., you can go over to Head of Zeus website.
Now, ONTO THE EXTRACT!!!
The storm roaring and shrieking. Endlessly furious.
I used my cap to bail. Every time I got some out I’d get hit again, or the bow would dive into a wave, and water would flood in.
I had to keep the boat upright. Shifting my weight to one side or the other wasn’t enough. So I tried using the oars, to keep the boat on an even keel. But one was snatched in seconds. It vanished in the gloom.
Another wave whacked the boat.
I bailed and bailed. My muscles nagged. And the wind screamed:
You cannot carry on. I am endless.
On and on and on.
Every wave was going to be the last. The one that got me. The one that filled the tender and tossed me into the sea.
After hours of it I got kind of used to it, but more and more tired, from holding on and bailing. Kind of used to it. I got over and down another wave and shouted: ‘To hell with you.’
‘You haven’t got me!’
Another wave – every wave – that didn’t get me was a victory.
‘I’m going to live. You hear me? I’m going to live!’
I tried to look brave, while my gut churned sick with fear. I know that’s crazy, I was alone. But I had to look brave, I had to show it.
Hours passed. I couldn’t see the waves. I couldn’t see the end of the boat.
I bailed and bailed.
But I slowed too.
Muscles became dead weights.
It was winning. I was losing.
I wasn’t fighting the storm any more. I was fighting my own body. Its weakness, its smallness.
I hated myself. And almost cried.
‘Stop snivelling. Stop!’
I believed I was going to die.
At some point things changed. It let me live. That’s how it felt. Whatever it was had been toying with me.
And the monster calmed. I bailed till there was only a little water in the hull, bracing myself for another storm to come out of the dark. But it never did.
I remember staring into the night, holding my cap in my hand, my head spinning.
I don’t remember losing the cap. Or passing out.
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