This time of year, the days shorten; the darkening of the
light.
AMC's Fearfest runs in the background as I write and
edit. Sometimes, I'll run modes on the
guitar while zombies shamble and vampires seduce on mainstream television. My DVDs and streaming services get a well-deserved
rest, and I countdown the days until the retail stores mark down all their
festive goodies. Bank account be damned,
my shotgun home needs monsters in every corner.
I've realized that I have a lot of unfinished business,
circles opened that I need to see through.
Clean my slate before Samhain, before the lines between the living and
dead blur. Sweep away chaotic energy before
carving out new lines. The moon wanes,
turning dark on mischief night.
Has there ever been such perfect timing?
TRANSMUNDANE PRESS has launched its own blog with promising
results.
We'll have a lot of
guest posters taking about the craft, their work, and the creative life.
The kickstarter for AFTER THE HAPPILY EVER AFTER
climbs. Please support the project by
pre-ordering. We're offering a limited
hardback that will only happen if we reach full funding.
Pledge today.
Here's an excerpt from TIPPING THE CUP by J. ROSSI:
This darkness caught me by the hair and pulled me back so
violently my neck and back cracked as I hit the ground. The pain shot up all
around me all at once but I was frozen on the cold earth. I wanted to move but
I couldn't. The darkness wrapped around my wrist so gently and tugged.
Then it tugged again, and again until I moved back.
Then I was sliding, slowly backwards. It was taking me back.
And it was singing in the most beautiful voice.
They're in the music.
I saw my feet twitching as it pulled me by one arm slowly
back through leaves and mud and twigs. I remember the cold. It was freezing but
my spine and hair was on fire.
My tears soaked my cheeks and blurred my vision. My little
house faded in the distance. I couldn't turn my head to see it. I could feel
it.
No one saw me. No one was there to help. I was going to that
hole and then, God knows where.
Nowhere.
Everywhere.
I wonder where I went.
Wonder what land.
How about another from BEWARE THE FAIRY'S PRICE by LILLIAN CSERNICA:
"Did you really think your petty little blood magic
would bind one of us? I am the Countess Benaille. I should kill you for your
presumption."
"Leave her alone!" Alisia cried. "What she is
you made her! Just break the spells and we'll never call on you again."
"Why should I? You both lead the lives you deserve. You
in a palace, her in a sty."
"I do not deserve the life you've given me! You've made
me a trained monkey, a freak, a glorified court jester!"
Countess Benaille frowned. "Once I sought to reward virtue
and punish vanity. I see before me a wasted effort. That one is no better than
she ever was. But you." She bent to pick up a single white rose lying on
the dirt. Breathing in its scent, she shook her head. "So ungrateful you
dare insult me. Spoiled, selfish, haughty. Everything I once knew you were
not."
Alisia met that amethyst stare with every ounce of strength
she'd built up facing Queen Sylvia. "You said you wanted to reward virtue
and punish vanity. Is that true? Or are you just one more lord's daughter who
likes to torture helpless animals?"
Countess Benaille flung the rosebud into flowers piled at
Alisia's feet. The flowers withered, shrank, crumbled to dust. "Prove me
wrong, Princess. Prove virtue still dwells in your heart. Give your gift to your
'sister.'"
THE GIVEAWAY:
No one answered yesterday's question, so the prize—THE FACE
by DEAN KOONTZ –rolls over today.
TODAY'S PRIZE:
ENDLESS FEAR a gothic romance paperback by Adrianne Lee.
(not cover of prize--couldn't find correct image) |
For twelve long years, April Farraday has struggled to
recall what happened the night of her mother's fatal fall down a flight of
stairs. Did she push her mother to her death? If she is ever to be free to
spend her life with the man she loves, April must return to scene of the crime
and confront her forgotten past.
But there are those at Calendar House who also fear the
return of April's memory, including the man she loves, and they will do
anything to keep the truth from coming out. Including committing another
murder.
To win this prize, let me know in the comments of this blog
or on facebook who your favorite fictional couple is and why.
Good luck, cats.
Anne Elliott and Capt. Frederick Wentworth, from Jane Austen's Persuasion. Despite all the social and financial pressures thrown into their path, their hearts remained true to each other.
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