Welcome to the Young Adult Scavenger Hunt, fall 2017!
I’m Meg Kassel, your hostess for this stop. And this is me:
This is my second time hosting a stop on YASH and I’m pretty excited about that! If you want to find my exclusive bonus content from, you’ll have to keep searching. I’m on TEAM PURPLE. There are literally 101 reasons to be excited about hunting on team purple! Happy hunting 🙂
SCAVENGER HUNT PUZZLE RULES
DIRECTIONS: Look carefully, and you’ll notice that I’ve listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on TEAM PURPLE, and then add them up (don’t worry, you can use a calculator!)
HINT: THE SECRET NUMBER IS HIGHLIGHTED IN PURPLE!
ENTRY FORM: Once you’ve added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.
RULES: Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian’s permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by SUNDAY, APRIL 8th, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.
On this hunt, you not only get access to exclusive content from each participating YA author, you also get a secret number. Add up the numbers, and enter it for a chance to win a major prize–one lucky winner will receive at least one book from each author on my team in the hunt!
There are SEVEN contests going on. You can enter one or all! I am a part of the PURPLE TEAM but there is also a RED TEAM, BLUE TEAM, ORANGE TEAM, GOLD TEAM, PINK TEAM & GREEN TEAM! Check out each team for a chance to win signed books!
If you’d like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the authors participating, and see the full list of prizes up for grabs, go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page.
Now that all the technical stuff is out of the way, I’ll introduce the author I am hosting on this hunt.
I am thrilled to be hosting…
Joshua David Bellin
Joshua David Bellin is the author of three YA science fiction books: the two-part Survival Colony series and the deep-space adventure FREEFALL. He’s currently branching out into YA fantasy with his new title ECOSYSTEM. Josh likes to read, watch movies, and spend time in Nature with his kids. Oh, yeah, and he likes monsters. Really scary monsters..
The book Joshua is featuring:
Summary: With his friends from the Upperworld, Cam Newell is preparing to embark on a 1000-year journey to another planet, leaving the residents of the Lowerworld behind on a ravaged Earth. But then Cam meets Sofie, a girl who leads the fight for Lowerworld representation in the exodus. When their starships crash-land far off course, Cam and Sofie join forces to survive on an unknown and hostile planet.
And now, Joshua’s super exclusive content…
FREEFALL wasn’t the first otherworld colonization narrative I wrote. That distinction would go to “Frogsong,” a short story I penned almost a decade ago. One of these days, I might get around to publishing it in a collection of science fiction stories. For now, here’s a short sample:
“Frogsong” © 2010 by Joshua David Bellin
It was Stuckey’s third month in-planet. In those three months he’d watched them dredge acre upon acre of swampland, plane the gaping, muddy craters, plug them with concrete. The buildings going up now, girders gaping above the tattered treeline. Much slower work than on Earth, where automated shovels and great hovering cranes could sketch a tower’s outline in a week, polish it to gleaming in two. But with the inhospitable climate and terrain of the place, you had to go back to basics.
Which was, actually, one of the few pluses of this stinkhole. How long since he’d driven a stick—since he’d driven anything? Bullet trains and maglev, roboservers and drivers. On Earth you were in danger of forgetting what your body was for. Here you could pretend you were a pioneer, carving a landscape from pure primal ooze.
Past that small satisfaction, though, there wasn’t enough good about the place to fill a textmess. Sticky, sweltering air. Suffocating canopy, low and close as fume. Bloodsucking bugs that had evolved the capacity to stick you without pinch or sting, so you never knew they were there till you’d been half drained. Days of rain so thick and hot the roofs sizzled and steamed. And that ripe, fetid smell of the place, a smell that penetrated your nostrils like it’d been stuffed up there with a swab. Your face and fingertips puckered as much from the stench as the wet.
And frogs. Countless frogs. By far the dominant vertebrate life-form, vastly more numerous than the turtles and snakes and occasional oddly shaped, shore-stalking bird. Frogs everywhere, squatting in gullies and ditches, balanced like lumps on logs. You wanted to say there were less now that so much swamp had been drained, but that was wishful thinking. They were everywhere, familiar from home, dirty green and brown and leopard-spotted and paunchy and flaccid. Bigger than their cousins on Earth, close to three feet from snout to flippers when you saw them stretched out, pale bellies upward, on the dissecting table. And maybe there was a slightly less protuberant perch to their bronze and nickel eyes, a slightly simian thrust to their thin rubbery smiles. Once you got past the bulk and the eyes and the pale pouty lips, though, they were just frogs: heavy, torpid, filling the road like so many moist turds. The impulse to mash them beneath your wheels was irresistible. But they always jumped clear, in huge, sodden arcs, just before you got the chance.
It was the singing, though, that drove you berserk. These frogs didn’t croak, or chirp, or glug, or gulp. They sang, in searing siren sopranos just this side of deafness. It began at dusk, when even on the wettest days the air held a peculiar clarity of outline and color that seemed to presage the swift decline into gloom, and didn’t abate till dawn. You could plug your ears, blast music, it didn’t matter; their squeals bored into your head, more piercing than the whirr of cicadas, more varied than the repertoire of a mockingbird. He could never tell whether individual creatures mutated the melody, riffing on it, making it their own, or whether the entire gargantuan chorus shifted in response to some synaptic signal coursing through the bog or the blood. Either way it was maddening. And it didn’t seem to lessen with the dwindling of their territory; if anything, it had grown thicker, more insistent as the swamps filled.
Like everyone else, Stuckey hated the singing, but at the same time he was thankful for it. It reminded him that this hellhole wasn’t home. And that home wasn’t here.
Buy Joshua David Bellin’s novel, FREEFALL, HERE!
Don’t forget to check out my book, Black Bird of the Gallows and all the amazing books and authors on TEAM PURPLE!
To enter, you need to write down my favorite number, find all the other numbers on TEAM PURPLE, add them up, and you’ll have the secret code to enter for the grand prize!
Ready to move on to the next link in the hunt?
Then head on over to the next stop, author, Debbie Manber Kupfer.