“Meet the author night”

My sister Sue organised a book club “meet the author” evening, my first ever! What an awesome night. We went around the table and each person talked about what they thought of the book, questions to me and their thoughts on what may be the sequel story line (interesting ideas ;-))

Thank you everyone! I loved every moment! A few photos from the night below 🙂

2012 The Final Revelation: Press Release.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

 New novel portrays apocalyptic events of 2012 as foreseen by Mayans

 2012 The Final Revelation by Lisa Flaus shares the stories of two individuals whose lives intersect in mystery, tragedy and love.

AUCKLAND, New Zealand – 2012 The Final Revelation byLisa Flaus follows two characters whose lives are transformed by a cataclysmic event in the year 2012. 

 When American archeologist Andrew Cunningham discovered a rare Maya codex, he knew immediately that he had found something significant. He soon realized that the codex was the key to understanding what would happen when the Maya calendar came to an end in 2012. While Andrew is searching for answers about what will happen on that fateful day, Kathryn Scott from New Zealandis living through it. The victim of terrible trauma, Kathryn sees and feels the 2012 events. 

 “Since civilization began, mankind has been fascinated with the end times,” Flaus says. “These legends and myths reflect man’s fear of death and his search for the meaning of life.”

 Unlike other end-of-days disaster epics, 2012 THE FINAL REVELATION is a fresh perspective for an apocalyptic tale. It relies not on explosions and action sequences, but instead is a harrowing yet uplifting examination of courage, the strength of the human will and the unconquerable power of love.

The book was written after five years of extensive research into Maya history, archeology and other topics.

2012 The Final Revelation is available for sale online at Amazon.com, Kindle and other channels.

My 15th Review. I had a dream!

I had a dream to write a novel that people would like reading. It took 6 years from concept to completion. I wait nervously for reviews and, so far they have been great! I’m bound to get a bad one soon (we all do) and I will try not to cry 😉

My 15th review has gone up. I might pass out. LOL

http://www.amazon.com/2012-Final-Revelation-Lisa-Flaus/dp/1453887644/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1298528023&sr=1-1

“5 stars! My criteria for knowing a book is great, is when I can’t put it down once I start reading. I was recommended this one from a friend and it kept me up after midnight for a few nights. I blame the author for my lack of sleep and being tired at work. What a story! I loved it from beginning to end.”

I’m sorry you were “tired at work” but I’m so pleased you liked it! Thank you!

My 14th Novel Review! Thank you!

I noticed this morning I have another Amazon review. Oooooh, it’s a goodie! I’ve re-read it about 25 times!

After spending so many years writing my novel, to have it out in the world and getting reviews is an amazing feeling. Would I blog about them if they were bad reviews? I’m not sure *laughs nervously*.

I’ve had 10 five star reviews and 4 four stars. This is my latest from “reddy11.”  I’m curious, is the “11” in your name because you see the number 11 or does it have another meaning? Anyway, whoever you are, wherever you are in the world, if you are reading my blog THANK YOU a million times -) I’m so grateful for your feedback and thrilled that you liked my story. I have pasted it here on my blog because I’m so excited! I hope you don’t mind xx

“I purchased this book because the cover caught my eye and the blurb sounded good. I’m so glad I did because it was fantastic. The only one negative thing I can say about it is it didn’t need “2012” on the title. It nearly put me off because I don’t believe in all that hype. In saying that, the book combines archaeology, code breaking, end of the world concepts, dystopia, survival and has an underlying love story. The concept is so original for an apocalyptic tale it made me think about it in a whole new light. The story is amazing and it is one of the best books I’ve ever read and I read alot. I’d give it 10 stars if I was able. Reddy11”

#Samplesunday 2012 The Final Revelation – Chapter 2.

2012 The Final Revelation, by Lisa J Flaus

Chapter 2

Mt. Albert, Auckland City, New Zealand

Thursday, December 20th, 2012

Kathryn Scott pulled into the driveway of her grandparent’s home in Mt. Albert, a central Auckland suburb.

The beautiful house was built in 1960, a common style home for the time, made of solid brick and wood. It sat shielded by opulent gardens crammed with hibiscus trees and red flowering pohutakawa trees, a native of New Zealand.

The home was made up of three floors: basement, ground, and first. The huge basement was built completely underground, windowless, with stairs leading up to the next level. The ground floor contained the kitchen, a large living room, bathroom, and a study. A deck extended from the family room and overlooked a long, well-manicured rear garden. Four bedrooms and a second bathroom occupied the first floor.

As Kathryn got out of her car she could hear the lawn mower purring loudly in the back garden. Chester, her grandparent’s gray tabby, came meandering down the front steps and immediately started the familiar weaving patterns at her feet.

“Hello Chester,” Kathryn said, bending down for a pat. “Come on, help me unload the car. You need some exercise; you’re a bit chubby!” Yeah right! She thought as she watched the animal lumber off into the garden, totally disinterested in hard labor. “Consider yourself on a diet!” she called after him.

Kathryn took her suitcase upstairs and chose one of the smaller bedrooms, the one she had always stayed in as a child. The door was open, admitting a bright ray of sunshine into the hall. It was a cheery room, simply furnished with a single bed and a large oak dressing table.

She dropped her bag on the bed, walked over to the dresser, and picked up a small statue, one of countless adorning the top. A kiwi, New Zealand’s flightless native bird, was her grandmother’s little obsession. It was not an overly obsessive collection, but was certainly enough for anyone to notice a similar pattern throughout the home. There were glass, ceramic, wooden, and fabric kiwi birds in every room. Kathryn swirled the little bird around in her hand, a kiwi on a bicycle. She laughed and picked up another one, a kiwi sunbathing, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and a blue swimsuit. She popped them back down and turned to her bed. It was draped in a pale green blanket; a large stuffed brown kiwi sat on the pillow, its long beak sticking up in the air, like it had detected a large invisible flying insect. Kathryn wandered over to the window, looked outside, and saw her father mowing the back lawn.

She headed downstairs and walked out onto the deck where she perused her new, temporary world. A pretty garden of flowers lined the perimeter fence. Two tall pohutakawa trees stood at each end, their flaming red flowers, some blooming against the vivid blue sky and others fallen onto the grass, amplified the image. The property was a peaceful and private place, and the sparkling day was filled with the sound of birdsong and chirping cicadas. A warm light played across the yard, redolent with the smells of summer, newly mown lawns, and the scent of fresh flowers.

“Hi Dad,” Kathryn called out.

He didn’t hear. His back was to her as he concentrated on emptying the clipper of fresh grass clippings. He was wearing a black cap, yellow sleeveless shirt, white shorts, and gumboots. Little green flakes stuck to the backs of his white legs. He was a vision of non-style.

When he finally looked up, Kathryn waved. “I’ll get you a drink,” she called out.

He signaled a thumbs up sign.

By the time Kathryn returned from the kitchen, her father was stepping onto the deck, puffing slightly.

Kathryn looked him over.

Robert Scott was fifty one. He had thinning brown hair with a small bald patch forming at the back of his head, similar to a well-designed crop circle. He had an average physique for his age and looked healthy. Inside his body was another story. He had smoked cigarettes for over twenty years.

“Why didn’t you mow earlier, it would have been much cooler then?” Kathryn asked.

“I was going to do it tomorrow morning, but your mother wanted me to bring a load of groceries over today, so here I am.” He rolled his eyes. He had sharp, knowing eyes and an easy smile.

Kathryn smiled and nodded. She took in his words. They registered somewhere in the recesses of her brain matter. In the days, weeks, months, and years ahead she would recall the memory and remember his every word vividly. Right now, it was just another casual, unimportant, normal conversation.

“Did Nana and Granddad get off OK?” she asked.

“Yes, all good; we were there in time and had coffee at the airport. They are excited about the trip. Nana is worried about Chester.”

“I’ll take good care of him,” Kathryn replied, looking around for the cat.

“They are very grateful you are looking after him while they are in Ireland.” Robert took a giant swill of drink from his glass. In those few minutes, the ice cubes had melted into little pebbles.

Kathryn watched her father rummage in the back pocket of his shorts and find his packet of cigarettes. He lit one.

“I thought you were giving them up?” she said, with raised eyebrows as her father lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“Yes…soon,” Robert replied nonchalantly, leaning back.

Same old story.

“Anything you want me to do tomorrow?” Kathryn asked.

“One thing, Katey,” Robert replied, using his nickname for her, “in the basement, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing, what?”

“I’ll take you down in a moment and show you. Let me enjoy this first.” He puffed comfortably on his smoke.

Chester wandered by. Kathryn bent down, picked him up, and placed him up on the outdoor table. She deftly examined the little creature, checking his teeth, feeling his bones and looking into his eyes. Chester sat quietly, only emitting a small meow when she squeezed his flabby tummy.

Robert Scott looked on. “How’s veterinary work?” he asked, watching his daughter poking and prodding.

“Great,” Kathryn replied smiling. “I love it. The people I work with are so nice. Some sad animal stories though, and I’m so relieved to finally be on holiday.”

Robert looked at her proudly. “You deserve it.”

“I’ve been so tired lately—late nights and hard work.”

“Well, you can have a good two week break now,” he replied, taking another drag.

Kathryn continued her examination of the now wriggling feline. “Bit of a chubby fella, but ever so cute.” She put him back down on the ground and gave him a pat.

They both watched him saunter off, no doubt puzzled by the sudden intrusion.

“Right…inspection over?” Robert said, stubbing out his smoke in the glass ashtray, kindly left out by his parents-in-law. “Let’s get down there.”

They left the deck and walked through the hallway. Kathryn opened the basement door. The room was in total darkness. She fumbled to her right and found the light switch. It lit the room in a dull pathetic light. As they both descended down the staircase, Kathryn jumped as the spring on the door emitted a loud whistling noise. The door clicked shut behind them.

“Sheesh that gave me a fright!” she exclaimed. “It’s still a bit dark down here too,” Kathryn said, slowly walking down.

“I’ll oil that door on Saturday and put in a new bulb. There is a good lamp over there by the chair. I suggest you use that for now. That main light is on its last legs.”

Originally, the basement contained only the house support beams and dirt. Renovations had seen the excavation of the area and a room had been designed and built into a comfortable space. The foundation beams had been fashioned into large wooden columns which still strongly supported the house above.

As they slowly descended down the stairs, Kathryn waited for the inevitable statement.

“I met your mother down here.”

There it was.

“I know, you’ve told me four hundred times!”

“I was a young, handsome buck of a lad,” Robert continued on, ignoring her comment. “She came floating down the stairs like an angel on a cloud. I felt the spark instantly. That spark is important, Katey,” he said, and meant it. They had been married twenty-seven years.

“Four hundred and one,” Kathryn said quietly.

Kathryn’s father, a builder by trade, had spent his first job and apprenticeship renovating the property. As a young tradesman he had met the pretty young Barbara Kennedy, the family’s daughter. After one year of courting, they had married in the local church.

They entered the room. Kathryn’s eyes spanned the cozy and familiar space. It had a quiet charm. It was chilly. In the winter months, the room was so icy it could turn your skin blue, but now, in the summer time, it was a cool, refreshing reprieve from the scorching day outside.

The carpet was tired and worn. The walls were covered with pale yellow wallpaper and family photographs. There were two completely different sofas. One a soft floral, the other a faded brown leather, worn on the arms. It was her grandfather’s favorite friend, where he spent his time hiding, reading, and watching sports on the television. A deep indent on one of the seats indicated his typical body position. Like tailor-made fitted clothing, the shape perfectly measured and molded to envelop his body.

“Bit musty down here,” Kathryn said, scrunching her nose.

“No windows.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“This bookcase—” Her father walked over to a large wooden bookcase in the far corner of the room. The case was filled to the brim. Vases containing tired faded material flowers and dusty ornaments filled in the spaces between the books, serving as bookends and space fillers. “I need to fix a broken shelf,” he said, pointing at the culprit. “Can you please clear it?”

“Sure.”

“Just pile everything on the floor for now. I’ll do the work on Saturday.”

“OK.”

“You could give it a dust too,” he winked.

“Yip,” Kathryn replied, not intending to. She hated cleaning. Her eyes spanned the room and she spotted her grandfather’s old television set, still in good working order. There was an old record player sitting beside it, with a large pile of dated records and cassettes piled high on the floor. Kathryn smiled as she remembered the times she and her sister Sarah spent in the basement, playing records for hours, singing into broom handles they had fashioned into microphones.

“Oh look…the Christmas tree!” Kathryn said, noticing the cardboard box propped up against the far corner.

“You OK with the bookcase?” her father asked.

“Sure, clear it and dust if I feel like it.”

“Well, try,” her father replied. “Now I’d better put that lawnmower in the back shed and check the tools.”

“I think I’ll head off for a quick run,” Kathryn said. She left her father pottering in the basement and bolted up the stairs, two at a time. She changed into her running clothes: short sleeved white shirt, baggy shorts, and trainers. She unfastened her hair from her clip and re-tied it up into a pony tail to save annoyance when she ran. Grabbing her music player, Kathryn headed outside to do warm up exercises. Her father soon joined her and sat on the front step watching her. He lit a cigarette— an ironic scene.

“How long will you be?” he asked, puffing away.

“One hour,” Kathryn replied.

“I’ll be gone when you get back. I’ll leave the key under the mat. Are you sure you’re alright to run in this heat?”

“Yeah, it’ll burn off some energy,” Kathryn replied. She hadn’t been good to her body lately. As she touched her toes, Kathryn recalled her late nights, parties, and excessive drinking. She began a series of star jumps. Her father took a puff of his freshly lit cigarette. He looked exhausted just watching her.

“Right,” Kathryn said, now ready to head off. “I’ll see you on the twenty-second.”

“Try and get some sleep,” her father called after her.

Kathryn pressed play and ran.

 ###

When Kathryn arrived back at the house, she was hot and thirsty. She headed straight for the kitchen to get a cold drink.

A large yellow note was perched against a packet of tuna flavored cat biscuits on the kitchen table. She picked it up and read. “I put the tree up for you, decorations in box beside it. Don’t forget the bookcase job. I expect a large expensive present. Love, Dad.”

Kathryn smiled. She had bought her father a camera, a car cleaning kit for his new car, and two crime novels.

Kathryn decorated the Christmas tree with lights and tinsel and laughed while Chester tried, unsuccessfully, to capture the little swinging ornaments. She placed some presents underneath it, all beautifully wrapped. The left over wrapping paper, tape, and ribbon remained strewn all over the carpet. She would clean it up tomorrow.

Kathryn watched television, ate a quick meal of chicken salad and chatted to her new boyfriend, Peter, on the telephone for hours. Finally, exhausted, she went to bed at eleven o’clock.

Tomorrow would be the twenty-first of December, 2012.

Her exhaustion would save her life.

My 13th review!! Yahhh… #amwriting

It is so exciting when I check if I have any new reviews and another is there! It’s so awesome…  tears actually came to my eyes when I read it. After 6 years working on this book, I love that people are reading it (and liking it) Thank goodness! LOL 🙂

Thank you Nztebs 🙂

“I had to wait for my husband to finish this novel before I could get my hands on it, but once I did I absolutely consumed it, completing it within 30 hours of commencing reading! Ok, I wasn’t at work for the day so got in more reading time than usual, but I woke early the next day just to get it finished! From that you can obviously take that this was a fantastically engaging read. I lapped up all of the scientific (physics, astronomy, archaeology) and historic fact, which I understand to be incredibly well researched. The parts of the science that were already familiar to me (such as CMEs and magnetic fields) were explained in an easily digestible manner that any reader will be able to grasp and understand; and the parts that were unfamiliar to me, well, they made perfect sense! The 2 streams of the novel focusing on the 2 primary characters kept me turning pages to get back to each one in turn and find out what was developing. I have one question for the author – where will she be on 21st December 2012?”

The answer is I will probably be Christmas shopping…  BUT, as we get closer the time, I may decide to sit down in the basement for the day, just in case 😉  Thank you so much for your review xx

#samplesunday Chapter 1.

2012 The Final Revelation – A novel by Lisa J Flaus

Chapter 1

Palenque, Chiapas, Southern Mexico

One Year Later

Andrew Cunningham swigged warm water from his bottle, wiped his brow, and waved away a pesky mosquito. It was only mid-morning, yet already hot and humid. Rays of sunlight beamed down pockmarks of color, sparkling across the forest floor and dappling through the trees around him.

As Andrew stood, leaning up against his spade, something caught his attention. A light mist was forming. Andrew stared intently. As he watched, he began to see the figure of a man materializing.

Andrew felt an icy chill run through his body. His spade and water bottle dropped from his hands.

What the hell is that?

He cocked his head to the side and blinked twice in quick succession.

It was gone.

Andrew stayed absolutely still, searching, wholly alert.

Was that my imagination?

Eyes still glued to the scene, Andrew noticed an irregularity in the surface of the land, where the figure had been standing. There was a small raised area of earth, a foot or so higher than ground level, camouflaged amongst the carpet of green, tans, and browns of the forest floor.

Curious now, Andrew began walking toward the area. When he arrived, he squatted down and reached out his hand. He gently raked away the vegetation with his fingers, delicately moving the long decayed organic material around the periphery. He sat back on his heels and surveyed the emerging picture.

A flat portion of light gray stone was exposed.

What is this?

Brushing dirt from his hands, Andrew stood up and scanned the immediate vicinity. The lush tropical jungle was an almost unbroken fabric of green, linked by webs of hanging vines and huge towering tropical hardwoods, rising like living skyscrapers into the sky. High up in the canopy, the birds were singing a sweet melody; further in the distance, the loud calls of howler monkeys added to the symphony of sound.

Suddenly Andrew heard another noise, a sharp cracking sound ricocheting through the forest. Before he could register the thought, he felt the earth beneath him give way. The noise of falling debris was like thunder in his ears; he swore loudly, adding to the roar of sound. His body could not respond fast enough and his arms flailed up in a reflex of self preservation. Andrew fell through the earth and landed hard. Material fell around him, cascading down from the ground above.

He lay a moment, gasping for breath. His heart raced.

What just happened?

Finally, he opened his eyes. A huge dust cloud still permeated the air.

In the darkness, Andrew began to analyze the damage to his body. His left side had hit the ground first, grazing away layers of skin from his face and forearm. He rolled slowly onto his back and winced as his injured arm changed position and screamed its loud objection. He could feel warm blood trickling down his face.

Just breathe.

Andrew lay motionless. He could smell the air, ancient, as if it had captured and bound up time inside it.

When the veil of dust finally settled, the fraction of light coming from the hole above illuminated the space in eerie glows and shadows. The structure had walls, one side painted a pale red.

Still lying on his back, Andrew turned to look at the other wall and his eyes widened in surprise. There was a large pictorial mural covering it. The faint image was of a kneeling man, central to the scene, surrounded by ancient symbols and hieroglyphics. Andrew recognized the painting style instantly. It was, most undeniably, Maya.

Slowly, Andrew sat up and looked around the chamber, peering into each of the dimly lit corners. The room appeared empty. He repositioned his body so he could see directly behind him.

Then he saw it.

Andrew’s head swung away in shock and he heard himself gasp. He swallowed painfully, the dust and dry air of the tomb caught in his throat.

There was a human being, long dead and decomposed, sitting behind him. Only the mummy’s face was exposed, a blackened skeletal shell, staring at Andrew through round orbs of darkness. The lower jaw had dropped, fallen by gravity and time, onto the chest, leaving the facial expression as if it was in mid scream. The rest of the remains were covered by a tattered woven cloth. On the ground beside the mummy were strange objects and fragments of pottery.

Andrew stared directly at the face. The orbits stared back their expectation of eternity.

“Was that you I saw up there?” Andrew whispered.

Impossible.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, a sign of respect. “Ki’imak in wo’ol in wilikech. Andrew in k’aaba.” He spoke a formal greeting in the local Mayan language.

Andrew held the pose a moment then looked around the body, resisting the urge to make direct contact with its dark empty eye sockets. He understood the customs of the existing tribes of the ancient ones. Do not disturb our ancestors in their resting places; treat them with respect and honor.

Aware the possibility of breathing in mold spores, typical in a fresh tomb, Andrew painfully removed his dusty shirt and wrapped it around his nose and mouth.

As he gently maneuvered his injured arm to tie the sleeves behind his head, his eyes flicked up, and something caught his attention. It was a grooved out cavity in the wall, a few inches above the mummy’s head. A tiny fragment of cord extended out of the hole. From his angle on the ground, Andrew could make out something tucked inside it. He sat silently, his eyes straining to make it out in the dimness of the tomb.

After a few moments, Andrew rose to his feet to get a closer look. Small flakes of dust and debris fell off his body onto the ground. He took a few small steps around the side of the mummy, purposefully tucking away all knowledge of the rules about a fresh archaeological find. Disturbing the material remains before they have been properly recorded would be sacrilegious. The thought ricocheted around his brain but, at this moment in time, nothing could stop his overwhelming curiosity.

Andrew leaned over and peered into the hole. He could see an old worn object, aged by time. The top cover was painted with a very faint colored drawing. String-like fabric tied the object together, binding it.

It appeared to be a book.

Andrew froze.

It can’t be!

The object was impossible to assess without closer examination. Andrew tentatively reached out to touch it. His hand stopped in mid-air as his mind screamed back into reality.

Do not touch it.

Andrew’s body winced as if in incredible pain, not from his injuries, but from the trauma of suspense. His fingers flexed in his hand. He felt imprisoned by rules, held back by honor, like a deep and secret love that can never come to fruition, he craved the smallest touch.

Don’t touch it.

Andrew acknowledged the thought. He reluctantly walked back to where he had fallen and sat down again. He stayed still in the silence and tried to quiet his mind from the wave of thoughts.

He had fallen into an underground tomb. The room had a mummy, small artifacts, and a magnificent painting on one wall. There was another object, so rare that the very possibility of its existence caused a rollercoaster of emotions.

Only four such books were in existence in the world. Only one had ever been found in its original, archaeological context. The climate of the rainforest was so moist it was believed they could never survive. Fragments of the ancient books had been found in tombs but were so rotted and damaged they had the consistency of ash.

Andrew’s mind flooded with emotion. He closed his eyes and tried to calm.

Be still; take in the moment.

He could hear the familiar sounds of the rainforest echoing down into the tomb. Andrew listened intently. There was another sound, faint but close by. His eyes darted left and right as he focused in on the noise, trying to block out all other interference. It was running water. It was running somewhere beneath the tomb.

After a short time, he began to hear someone calling in the distance.

“Andu.”

Andrew realized the team would have noticed his absence and sent out a search party.

“Andu,” the same familiar voice called.

“I’m down here Afi,” Andrew shouted. After a few seconds, he heard the voice call down in response.

“Andu hurt?”

“No. I’m not hurt. I’m good.” Andrew replied. He smiled. He was more than just good. There was no doubt in his mind that he had just discovered a Pre-Columbian civilization artifact. It was a priceless ancient book, written in hieroglyphic script.

Andrew Cunningham had found a Maya Codex.