CYOA – Complete Novel

CYOA, Writing

Dear Readers,

Finally, I have completed my CYOA (Choose Your Own Adventure) novel, with the last chapter’s and epilogue’s fates’ being decided by me instead of the readers. I have formatted the novel in word and converted it to a PDF for you to read. I recommend using this option for computer users.

As well as this, I have created the book formally using a software called Blurb Bookwright. The only free option was to download the book as an Ebook, with files available for Kindle / eReader and Apple iPad. You can find these below!

Saving Audrey – PDF file (for PC / laptop users)

EPUB3 file (.epub), viewable on Apple iPad® devices

KF8 file (.mobi), viewable on Kindle devices and reader apps.

Thanks for all your support and encouragement during the writing process of this book. Enjoy reading and reflection.

Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…

P.S. See here for the category of “CYOA”.

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Chapter 6, PART 1- Reality is Real

CYOA, Homework, Writing

Note:  Thank you all for your comments and contribution to bringing this novella together (sort of!). I have thoroughly enjoyed writing Saving Audrey and have found it immensely beneficial as I was motivated to do something productive while on my computer (this can be hard sometimes!). Unfortunately / fortunately, this is my last formal chapter, however, in the next few days, I will be posting an epilogue to wrap up the story. 

The time restrictions have meant that the participants of the CYOA challenge have had to think and plan their stories thoroughly and improvise in terms of elaboration and an uncomplicated resolution. This story would have involved a lot more content without this time restriction, however, I will make do. I do apologise for the abundance of “things” left unexplained… I have left these for you to imagine.

Last week, we experienced the aftermath of Daphne’s death and Audrey seeking help and support on Facebook. Last week’s votes were:

  1. 1
  2. 5
  3. 2

The obvious winner is option b, which entails Audrey continuing her search for support and finding it, with her new friend (suffering a similar reality) taking her to the places where they find happiness and inspiration together. THIS IS PART 1 OF CHAPTER 6. So the readers don’t have too much to read, it will be split into two parts. Please read on…!

! Audrey, you have one new private message!

I hear my mouse produce a hollow click as I snap to the destination my computer is providing me. Controlling, manipulating, seeming to mock the pain I am drowning in. The pain I am aimlessly flailing in, panic and devastation dragging me under a surface of hope. The surface was unbroken, but as I obey Facebook’s command, the tension is broken, a new hope revealed.

dear NinjaGirl654 i saw your avatar on the “click for support” chatroom last night. So useless. i just wanted to tell you that if you need any support, don’t go to that useless bunch of ignorant morons. i checked out your profile, and am so very sorry about all that has happened. a rough couple of weeks, huh. you guys seemed so close. my mum died a month ago, from a bicycle crash. i miss her so much, she was my best and only friend… I know it’s a touchy topic for us both, but i just thought it might help us both if we maybe met up some time, perhaps have a coffee together? let me know what your thoughts are. i understand if you aren’t up to it though. ❤ J best wishes until we (maybe?) meet? p.s im not some weirdo creepy 60 year old dude…!! my name’s Juliette btw, im 14 and go to school at st john baptist college.

From UnlovedKittie

I brush away the tears with frustration, hope, appreciation for this girl who has offered to help me, to kindle a friendship with one another. I feel my lips form a strange shape, happy, as tear collides with them, my fingers placing themselves cautiously on the keyboard so as to reply.

Reply to Unloved Kittie:

You’ve made me smile for the first time in 3 weeks. since I heard her laugh, saw her smile… can we meet at the café on theron street. 11am tomorrow?

My fingers react prior to my mind. I watch as the page informs me that the message has been sent. Stupid. Really stupid decision. Instantly, the inky blue notification box appears on my screen.

Okay, awesome! Meet you there…

From UnlovedKittie

 

Part 2 will arrive soon! Do you think this is the right decision for Audrey to deal with her pain? Will it pay off, or is a disaster to come, a friend or an enemy? Find out in Part 2!

Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…

Chapter 4 – Tears

CYOA, Writing

Note:  Thank you so much, all my readers for voting and commenting with such encouragement!  I am so sorry this chapter is post SO VERY late and the terrible excuse, however, I have been quite unwell the past week, and needed a break from brain exertion! The votes for last week are as follow:

  1. 6 votes
  2. 0 votes
  3. 6 votes

We have another draw!  Both options were popular with me as well. Option A was the option of which I planned to work with in the novel’s overview, again. However, option c seems to have a less dramatic or severe take, while still having an interesting effect on the story. Option A was the option where Daphne died because of the crash, with option C being Daphne suffered from amnesia.

I am so sorry to have to do this to my readers, but I have to choose option A! Let’s see where this takes us… If you would like to read about the car crash itself, please go to Chapter 2 – Oxygen!

“I see her. All day, every day. I see the pucker of her skin as she smiles. I see the way her eyes gleam with such iridescence, the colour of the sea on a beautiful day, you know? When she forgets all the rubbish she had to put up with and truly laughed.” The path of a single tear is imprinted into my cheek.

“I see her eyes inflame, burning red blood, dripping with the heavy duty mascara as she cries. She was so insistent on applying that mascara. Every morning. She said her lashes were thin, even though they were the most beautiful I had ever seen. They were…” Speaking in past tense creates an agonizing reality, and the pain in my heart intensifies. She was alive. She is dead. Gently, the wind whispers, mocking my grief.

My realization is interrupted by the voice of our new family counsellor, an “esteemed psychologist” who was recommended by the hospital.

“I understand.” She responds, the indifference etched onto her face providing no comfort. I feel my legs take me from the living room in rage. How could she understand? My sister, the person I loved the most in such a life of misery – gone.

Pain numbs my mind as I marvel at the metal entrapment that was my sister’s mini. Daphne. Gently, cautiously, my head rotates towards the wheel, tears gushing from my eyes,  causing my face to sting as the tiny droplets make contact with numerous wounds. Her face is peaceful as the red fluid dribbles into and from her mouth. Her eyes, typically fluctuating between 50 vivacious shades of green lie dull, lifeless and rolled to one side. Her chest barely flitters up. Down. Up. Down. Flat.

The last I saw of her, before her spirit rose to the heavens, free of the pain that haunted her for so long. The last time I saw her before the sirens came and took her away, shaking their heads as they discovered her pulse was non-existent, her deformed sister to discover that reality moments later… That was the last time I sat in the passenger seat of the Mini, as I watched her drive… as I watched her drift into oblivion. As I watched her die.

The tears do not come as I muster the courage to enter her room, the bed still unmade from Tuesday morning. I feel the mattress convulse beneath as I slump onto it, my crushed arm, encased by a dull black cast resting on her pillow. However, the tears will not come.

Daphne’s door creaks open as my parents enter, Mum’s face inflamed with grief and Dad with empty, shadowed bags outlining his eye contour. Not a word need be said. They simply lay on their dead daughter’s bed, her pungent, minty fragrance still lingering. I let them hug me, and for a wholesome 10 minutes, the tears come. For a wholesome 10 minutes, we cry our tear beds dry, until we cannot cry any more. We cry for her, for the life that she lived, and what she would have lived…

Sorry again it is so late! And that it is so depressing! I have some less depressing options for you to vote on! Only two options this week!

  1. Audrey receives a letter from her sister and she leaves home to find her sister, who is alive!
  2. This isn’t a fantasy story. Daphne is very, very much dead. Sorry. Audrey goes onto Facebook to console herself, and meets someone with a similar story. They make friends and this new person takes her on an inspirational journey after meeting where she discovers happiness and beauty in a world of such misery.

Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…

 

Chapter 3 – Quinoa

CYOA, Writing

Note:  Thank you so much all my readers for voting and commenting with such encouragement!  The votes for last week are as follow:

  1. IIII votes
  2. 0 votes
  3. IIII votes

We have a draw!  I do agree with the voters that these are the most likely and relevant options for the current generation, a take I aim to portray. Option A was the option of which I planned to work with as seen in the novel’s overview.

However, option c seems to have an interesting and relevant take, portraying the character to have the typical attitude of a teenager suffering from FOMA (fear of missing out) and attending a party she was made aware of through Facebook, the consequence not worth the negligence in popularity. Since the vote was a tie, I decided to run with option one, however incorporate aspects of option 3! Enjoy!

*****

Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl watchu doin?

NinjaGirl: Sleepin. Sittin. Livin.

Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl. Ma gut is cryin! U got 1 sad life.

NinjaGirl: …thx “bestay”

Anatashia Lockwood: Imma gonna help u get. a. life. Nathan hostiin a partay 9.00 at northstreeet pub. U need to come gurl! Do it 4 u. and me. Don’t wanna be seen with u when u don’t even come to Nathan – the most popula guy in school’s partay. Plz galpal. Say YES!!!!

NinjaGirl: Um… I can’t… res…ist…don’t…do this…to me!!! Fine. I’ll come – 9.00. How could I miss out? 1 word is wat that would be: embarrassing… ;D

My eyes flicker between the breaches of reality and my digital paradise, abbreviated slang appearing on the screen as my nimble fingers glide across the keyboard. I watch as they type an automated response – the reaction any “usual” teenager would expect to such an invitation. An invitation that cannot – should not be overlooked, without the person jeopardizing what is labelled as their “social rating.” I shouldn’t care about my “popularity”. But I do.

The disappointment formed within me evolves into the convergence of various hormonal emotions. I should not have agreed to attend “Nathan’s” party – I’m above that, above the usual teenage influences and attractions…

The iridescence my eyes usually possess dulls as I stare at the predetermined words. Shortly after an agonizing flight, my head begins to throb rhythmically as a tedious mauve vastness suddenly threatens to scald my retinas.I have departed for the day, the motion sickness extreme, unbearable.

Fresh morning air is what I need. The clammy warmth of my room lingers as I thrust my shutters open, a crisp wind sweeping and incinerating any humidity. A golden haze seems as though it has been respired throughout the atmosphere, resting and illuminating the street with an ochre glow. My world is ethereal for 27 seconds, before I am awoken from the temporary stupor by my mother’s squeal.

A series of profanities precedes the attention-seeking explanation for my mother’s anger.

Quinoa! How on earth could I have forgotten QUINOA!” I flinch as what sounds like a plate is thrust to the floor, the result of her temperament. I manage to recover the names of my sister and I amongst the babble.

“Audrey! Daphne – quinoa from Aldi. Now. Every packet in stock.” I stare at the porcelain shards scattered hazardously across the tiles of our kitchen, my mother’s cheeks flushed with frustration.

Little did she know the consequence her impatience would bring.

I watch mockingly as Daphne draws a misshaped silver coin from her pocket. My mother fumes with rage as her daughter’s intentions are revealed.

“Heads.” She ejaculates as the coin is tossed through the air…

*****

I slump into the comforting fabric of my sister’s Mini as she spins the key, jerking the motor to life. The imprint of my mother’s victory fades as I glance at Daphne, barely clothed by a threadbare jersey and tight-fitting jeans. Her hair lies in a bundled mess, twisted messily into a bun. Nothing unusual… is my assumption, until our eyes encounter one another’s.

Concaving circles penetrate her eye contour, sinking miserably and allowing her low cheekbones prominence. Her eyelids droop, little resistance barely exposing the cloudy hazel pigment of her eyes, dappled with red veins that surge through the whiteness. I feel my brow furrow as concern for my sister intensifies. I will purchase the quinoa, we shall drive home and she will sleep. Rest. Rejuvenate.

That’s what would have been, had my sister not taken her daily sedatives not ten minutes prior. The sedatives that should have only taken effect an hour later, but didn’t… Flickering shut for not 5 seconds, my sister’s eyes lose sight of their surroundings, her brain powerless over her actions. I notice this too late. My reaction is delayed and I simply watch as the car swerves towards an oak.

Daphne crashed the car. All because we picked heads.

I do hope you enjoyed this week’s installment of Saving Audrey! Here are this week’s options!

  1. Daphne crashes the car (as in Chapter 2) and emergency services surround the Mini. As Daphne and Audrey are hauled to safety, Audrey wakes up to discover her sister has died from severe head trauma.

2. Subsequent to crashing the car (as in Chapter 2) Audrey and Daphne are rushed to hospital, Daphne remaining comatose for several weeks.

3. After the crash, Daphne and Audrey are dashed to the nearest hospital, Audrey awakening to her sister lying in the bed beside her, one million machines connected to her body. She comes to learn that her sister is suffering from severe amnesia.

Thanks for your support and let me know what you would like to happen below!

Olivia, writing on a whim…