Sorry, and thank you.

Apparently there is a word minimum of 500 words so I'll be posting what i am writing at the moments, which is from chapter 16 of Heart-Beat. It's a low fantasy book on a musician trying to make it in world were music is far more important. Anyway it will likely make no sense, but I have nothing else to write here so here's a spoiler of my upcoming project:

Jake held his wristband to the wall and the camera projected a bright blue image onto the wall:

[Personal]

[Knowledge – Hidden]

[Actions- Recorded via video and audio recorders]

[Level 5- None]

[Level 4- None]

[Level 3- Acoustic Guitar, Handwriting, *Singing* ]

[Level 2-Parkour, Football, Basketball, Gaming, Songwriting]

[Level 1- Piano, Swimming, Rugby]

Wait, what? Jake looked at the wall in confusion. Sure he was singing whilst he played the guitar, but he didn’t feel anything special change when he was singing.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

He decided to test it himself, he first tried to see his range. The result were good, it seemed he had done well in discovering some higher pitches and the transition between them was smoother as well. Jake shook his head; he couldn’t think when such a change had taken place. He had trained his voice for the show, but he focused far more on his guitar than his voice.

Jake was not one to say no to a boon, so he smiled at the positive change and continued on practicing. It was now late into the evening and the moon was becoming the brightest object looming in the dark sky. Jake took it as a sign that he should sleep, after all, he had a long day tomorrow and the last thing he needed was to be tired.

Sleep was harder than usual. The stress of going back on the show had returned but this time it decided to be smaller and more annoying. Instead of stab wound, it was 30 papercuts and it seemed to make falling asleep even harder than before.

The ceiling, it was white and smooth unlike his previous one and it looked clean and simple. Yet, after spending a few hours looking at it Jake could not help but notice odd things about it. Images appeared from the few cuts of moonlight escaping from the window.

Dancing shadows, and wandering specks of dust, created patterns of weird creatures moving, no dancing in the darkness of Jake’s room. Or perhaps they were dancing in the space of Jake’s mind, truly they were wonderful.

Jake watched in awe as the phantoms moved like waves, up and down, they moved so naturally and simply they were like ballerinas on dance floor. Maidens of the night, they were creations of Jake’s oppressed mind and he continued to lay awake to stare at these, enchantresses.

Jake felt his body paralysed as these illusions danced, and then he started to hear an all-familiar applause. He distinctly remembered it because it was perhaps the best memory of his entire life. Was his brain just that tired, he was now hearing things.

He saw the shadows then bow, and then wander of the ceiling of Jake’s room. Jake face contorted in confusion, what exactly was he looking at? Then another shadow came on, one from before. It had a hat that Jake remembered and this time when it danced again it seemed clumsy.

Jake then heard a sound he would perhaps rank as least favourite, the booo of an audience. Jake had to admit that the ghost seemed worse then before, had it perhaps set the standard to hig...

Ah, Jake understood what was going on. Reality itself seemed to crumble as Jake focused on one very simple thing: his heart-beat.