Cupid's Literary Connection's "The Writer's Voice" Contest

Going along with my topic of fear for this week, I'm going to conquer my fear of getting my work out there, because even though I've submitted a lot of stories since I've started this writing thing, every time is still scary. So I'm entering Cupid's Literary Connection's "The Writer's Voice" Contest. Here are the plot summary that I would put in a query letter and the first 250 words of my middle-grade fantasy novel, Oliver and the Underlings. Blog readers, feel free to comment on my entry. Feedback is always welcome!

Although the morning time slot is filled up by now, feel free to pop over to the following link to find details about the evening time slot for this contest:

http://cupidslitconnection.blogspot.com/

Good luck to all who enter. And here's a hint. Be quick! The time slot fills up fast!

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Oliver and the Underlings Plot Summary:

Oliver Bradshaw wants a normal life. One with a dad, a less freaked-out mom, and no creepy stranger following them wherever they go, or monsters invading his room at night.

When Oliver's classmates begin disappearing, Oliver realizes the monsters are really looking for him. In order to find answers and to save his friends, Oliver must leave the human world and step into the monsters' world, armed with only his wits, his best friend Daryl, and the one monster he has befriended.

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First 250 Words of Oliver and the Underlings:

Oliver Bradshaw stared out the window of the rental car as his mother pulled into a parking lot next to a faded red Colonial house. The top floor overshot the bottom floor in the front, making the building look like it had an overbite. A sign reading "Fred's Variety" dangled like a loose tooth from the overhang.

"Why are we here?" Oliver asked.

"To see about an apartment."

Oliver looked up at the second floor again. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Fully furnished apartments are hard to come by."

His mother had a point. They really didn't have any furniture. How could they when they'd moved three times in the last five years?

The landlord, a tall, wiry man with silver hair growing in a half circle around the back of his head, met them under the sign. He handed Oliver's mother a stack of papers. The name on the top page was "Joseph Shoute". In his head, Oliver called him "Mr. Shout", but the man said, "My name is Mr. Shoute," pronouncing it "shoot" instead. "I'm the landlord."

"Excuse me Mr. Shout," Oliver said, "I mean, Shoute, but the sign says Fred's Variety. Where's Fred?"

Mr. Shoute's blue eyes narrowed. Oliver noticed they were the same murky color as the ocean water he and his mother had passed as they drove up the coast of Connecticut and into Rhode Island. "Fred's dead. If there are no more questions, I can show you the apartment upstairs."