Monday, October 10, 2011

Fred Warren's The Seer

Fred works as a government contractor in eastern Kansas, providing computer simulation support for Army training. He has been married for 25 years to the girl who should have been his high school sweetheart, and has three kids, three dogs, and a mortgage.

He’s written more than twenty short stories that have been published in a variety of print and online magazines, and many of these are collected in an anthology, Odd Little Miracles, that was published in July 2011. His novel, The Muse, debuted in November 2009 from Splashdown Books, and was a finalist for the 2010 American Christian Fiction Writers Carol Award for book of the year in the speculative genre. The Seer, a sequel to The Muse, will be published by Splashdown Books later this year.

Fred is a weekly columnist at Speculative Faith, an online journal for readers and authors exploring Christian visionary fiction. He blogs his writing experiences and provides book and media reviews at

You can find Fred online at,
Twitter: @frederation,

The Seer

Disturbing visions foretell danger for a father and daughter
wrestling with a heartbreaking tragedy, and they discover that the
greatest threat to their future lurks in their past.

Here's an excerpt of The Seer:

Chapter 1

Siri's hair swirled in the frigid wind as she staggered backward, salt tears mingling with the tiny needles of ice stinging her cheeks. She pulled her sword from the twisted corpse at her feet. Black blood dripped from the silver blade—once, twice. She didn't bother to wipe it. Instead, with a scream powered by months of sorrow and rage, she sent it spinning through the air, over the precipice. Steel clashed on stone somewhere far below as the sword found its final resting place, lost forever.

That was her hope, at least. Siri stared at the body of her adversary, the dark sorceress who had destroyed her kingdom, enslaved her people, and slain Taron.

Taron, her love. The only love Siri had ever known.

Teardrops pattered into the snow.

Wrapping her cloak around her shoulders and over her head, she turned away and trudged down the mountain, toward what home remained to her.

“Goodbye, my sister,” she murmured. “May the All-Father have mercy on you, as I could not.”

A hand gently touched Stan's shoulder, and he spun his chair around, a thrill of joy surging in his heart that subsided as he saw his daughter’s worried face.


“Who else would it be? C'mon, Dad. It's time.”

“Right. Let me save this, and we'll go. Are the breakfast dishes finished?”

“Mm-hmm. Dried and put away, table wiped. Yes, Squick's fed, walked, and snoozing.” Hannah squinted at the computer screen. “How's the story coming?”

Stan switched off the monitor and closed the desk's roll-top. “Almost finished. It's not ending at all like I expected.”

“As if you ever have a plan.” She held out a key ring. “You’re driving.”

“Oh, thank you, your Highness. To what do I owe this great privilege, besides the fact you’re not old enough for a license?”

“Eleven months until I get my permit. Enjoy your time behind the wheel while you can. Even if I had it, I’d probably let you drive. My mind's wandering.”

“Fair enough. Make sure it leaves a trail of bread crumbs, so it can find its way home.”

“You are so funny.”

“Thank you. I'll be here all year. Grab a broom on the way out. We'll need to sweep snow from the stone.”


The Real Goodbye. That’s what Hannah called it, in her private thoughts. There weren’t many real goodbyes left in the world. She had friends who moved halfway across the world who still sent her texts or e-mails, maybe posted a funny picture on her Facebook page. They might well have moved into an adjoining room, for all the impact their absence had on her. Distant relatives had died, an uncle here, a cousin there. They had a funeral, people she hardly knew enveloped her in crushing, watery hugs, promising to stay in better touch, and that was that. Life went on, and memory faded.

This was different. This was the goodbye that never ended, the memorial they reenacted every year, the ache that never quite faded away. She wished her memories were as durable as the pain. More and more, she found herself grasping for the sound of her mother’s voice, the feeling of a moment they’d shared, the warmth of her embrace, the scent of her perfume. Going, going, gone.

She pulled a broom from the closet. Not the big one with the long handle that wouldn’t fit in the trunk, or the short whisk that got snow all over their hands, but the middle-sized one they ended up using for everything anyway. Hannah wondered why they hadn’t bought three of them and been done with brooms forever. She held the broom near the bristles, waving it in a circular motion, like a rapier, then lunging forward to skewer an imaginary opponent. The stupid thing even made a passable sword.

The Goldilocks Broom. Just right, but today, so wrong. She was going to a place she should never have to see, doing something she should never have to do—not now, not at fourteen years old, brushing away another layer of memories along with the snow.

Fred is giving away a copy of The Seer. To be entered in the book giveaway, leave a comment. You can enter the book giveaway twice--once on each spotlight post.


marybelle said...

Thank you for sharing today. I enjoyed the excerpt.


Judy said...

The Seer sounds like a book that would keep you on the edge of your seat. I'd love to win a copy of it. Fred is a new author to me. I had to laugh when he stated he had 3 children, 3 dogs, and a mortgage! Congrats on being married 25 years!

Judy B


Charity said...

Sounds like an intriguing book:) Thanks!

apple blossom said...

please add me to this giveaway thanks

ABreading4fun [at] gmail [dot] com

Caprice Hokstad said...

A sequel to "The Muse"? I am all for that! Cover looks good, Fred. Enter me in the drawing.


Suzanne said...

This sounds like a very intriguing novel. I love books like that and would enjoy reading this book.
Suzanne :O)

Teela said...

I'm wondering about the story behind his wife "should have been" Fred's high school sweetheart. :-) the first chapter hooked me...looks like a good suspenseful read! teelayoung at hotmail dot com

H. A. Titus said...

Sweet! Count me in on this--I loved The Muse!
skribblegurl at gmail dot com

Fred Warren said...

Thanks to everyone who's stopped to leave a comment and enter the drawing!

Teela: I met my future wife the day I walked onto my new high school campus my sophomore year. We’d just moved into town, and I came in to school a week early to talk to the football coach. Some girls were sitting on a wall adjoining the parking lot, near the sidewalk that led to the gym. The girl I would marry eight years later waved and called out to me, and we had a brief conversation. She welcomed me to the school, and I thanked her.

I didn’t think much about it. In fact, I didn’t even remember it until after we got married and she reminded me. We exchanged maybe a dozen words during high school, most of them when we happened to land at the same cafeteria table a week before I graduated. I was happy to see her then. I’d always thought she was a nice girl, but we had different class schedules and extracurricular activities, so we’d never really interacted. I thought at the time that it was a shame I hadn’t gotten to know her better, and of course, I hadn’t a clue that she was interested in me and had been since our first encounter.

We corresponded in college, pen-pal stuff, after our fathers became friends and “suggested” it. One thing led to another, and we were married a couple of years later.

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