tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5744147889897610662024-03-05T23:27:50.113-05:00The Raven's QuillI don't live in the same world everyone else does. Let's face it, no one does. I spend about 10% of my time in the real world, going to work, spending time with friends, driving my car...the other 90% is spent in my head: in castles, playing with dragons, casting spells - all of the really awesome things the real world doesn't allow. In an attempt to bring my world to the real world, I write.Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-80197456080910808512012-05-14T07:14:00.004-04:002012-05-14T07:14:43.237-04:00Returning FriendsYou guys are still here? Follow the party!<br />
<br />
Lots of exciting things are happening on the new Raven's Quill<br />
<br />
This morning, Geisha the Assassin is back for her next <a href="http://theravensquill.com/2012/05/14/greylands-part-3-a-rising-tide/">installment</a> in the Greylands project. After a close brush with death, she's been given a new hit...and she's not happy.<br />
<br />
I also had a Q&A with author C.J. Duarte, a follow up of the interview he had here some 10 months ago. He catches us up on life after the Dash Volume 1 and an update on how Volume 2 is progressing. Read it <a href="http://theravensquill.com/2012/05/10/and-hes-back-qa-c-j-duarte/">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Otherwise, even more fun stuff going on, and I'd love to have you join us!Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-87172954886627600322012-05-01T06:14:00.001-04:002012-05-01T17:27:01.597-04:00INHALE - Kendall Grey's Book Launch<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span data-mce-style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: large;" style="color: #eeeeee; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS'; font-size: medium;"><a data-mce-href="http://theravensquilldotcom.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/inhale_cover_large_medium_resolution.jpeg" href="http://theravensquilldotcom.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/inhale_cover_large_medium_resolution.jpeg"><img alt="" class="alignleft wp-image-366" data-mce-src="http://theravensquilldotcom.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/inhale_cover_large_medium_resolution.jpeg?w=200" data-mce-style="margin: 10px;" height="150" src="http://theravensquilldotcom.files.wordpress.com/2012/04/inhale_cover_large_medium_resolution.jpeg?w=200" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; cursor: default; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 10px;" title="INHALE_cover_large_medium_resolution" width="100" /></a><em></em></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">S<em>trangers in reality, inseparable in dreams…</em></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><em> </em><em>After years of suffocating under her boss’s scrutiny, whale biologist Zoe Morgan finally lands a job as director of a tagging project in Hervey Bay, Australia. Success Down Under all but guarantees her the promotion of a lifetime, and Zoe won’t let anything—or anyone—stand in her way. Not the whale voices she suddenly hears in her head, not the ex who won’t take no for an answer, and especially not the gorgeous figment of her imagination who keeps saving her from the fiery hell of her dreams.</em></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><em> </em><em>Gavin Cassidy hasn’t been called to help a human Wyldling in over a year, which is fine by him. Still blaming himself for the death of his partner, he keeps the guilt at bay by indulging in every excess his rock star persona affords. That is, until he’s summoned to protect Zoe from hungry Fyre Elementals and learns his new charge is the key to restoring order in the dying Dreaming. He never expects to fall for the feisty Dr. Morgan…nor does he realize he may have to sacrifice the woman he loves to save an entire country.</em></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<em><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></em></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">I love promoting new authors and new books, and this one is even more incredible because of what it stands for.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">INHALE, an urban fantasy romance by <a data-mce-href="http://www.kendallgrey.com/" href="http://www.kendallgrey.com/" target="_blank">Kendall Grey</a>, is now available in <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Inhale-A-Just-Breathe-Novel/dp/0984887806/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335290990&sr=8-1" href="http://www.amazon.com/Inhale-A-Just-Breathe-Novel/dp/0984887806/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1335290990&sr=8-1" target="_blank">paperback</a> and e-book for <a data-mce-href="http://www.amazon.com/Inhale-Just-Breathe-Novel-ebook/dp/B006TEW7KW/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1335269997&sr=8-3" href="http://www.amazon.com/Inhale-Just-Breathe-Novel-ebook/dp/B006TEW7KW/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1335269997&sr=8-3" target="_blank">Kindle</a> (MOBI) and <a data-mce-href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/inhale-kendall-grey/1108051774?ean=2940014538800" href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/inhale-kendall-grey/1108051774?ean=2940014538800" target="_blank">Nook</a> (EPUB). INHALE is the first book in the <a data-mce-href="http://www.goodreads.com/series/74159-just-breathe" href="http://www.goodreads.com/series/74159-just-breathe" target="_blank">JUST BREATHE</a> trilogy. Kendall is donating all profits from the sale of the trilogy to programs that educate people about whales and the challenges they face. Watch the <a data-mce-href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQfjxacis28" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQfjxacis28" target="_blank">video</a> to find out why.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">In line with her cause, Kendall is encouraging interested readers to purchase an e-book instead of a paperback. E-books save trees, cost considerably less, and bring in much more money for the whales.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Thank you for supporting INHALE, and most importantly, the whales that need our help.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">I'm proud to be a part of this book release and I wish Kendall the very best of luck in her mission! To learn more about the author (and you should, because she's fantastic), check out these sites:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Blog: <a data-mce-href="http://www.kendallgrey.com/" href="http://www.kendallgrey.com/" target="_blank">http://www.kendallgrey.com</a></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Facebook: <a data-mce-href="http://www.facebook.com/KendallGreyAuthor" href="http://www.facebook.com/KendallGreyAuthor" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/KendallGreyAuthor</a></span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Despicable Tweets: <a data-mce-href="http://www.twitter.com/kendallgrey1" href="http://www.twitter.com/kendallgrey1" target="_blank">http://www.twitter.com/kendallgrey1</a></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Goodreads: <a data-mce-href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5108885.Kendall_Grey" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5108885.Kendall_Grey" target="_blank">http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5108885.Kendall_Grey</a></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">Newsletter: <a data-mce-href="http://eepurl.com/hmcmg" href="http://eepurl.com/hmcmg" target="_blank">http://eepurl.com/hmcmg</a></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">*This book contains graphic language, sex, and some violence. Not suitable for readers under the age of 18.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">**The author will donate all profits from the sale of the JUST BREATHE trilogy to programs that educate people about whales and the challenges they face.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', 'Bitstream Charter', Times, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;">
<span style="color: #eeeeee;">~~~~~~~~~~~~</span></div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-3889160226392589902012-04-30T06:51:00.000-04:002012-04-30T06:51:02.176-04:00Greylands, Part 3: The RipplesMaverick shut the door to the shop and leaned back with a grin. That poor girl had no idea what she’d just agreed to. Pops was a kind soul – somewhere under all his gruffness – and hopefully Damsel would get a chance to see it before she stabbed him with a lockpick. Which he wouldn’t put it past her to do.<br /><br />He laughed and pushed away from the door, heading away from Pop’s shop.<br /><br />By the grim expression on Firefly’s face earlier he thought it best to avoid her, so he turned away from the tent city and back towards the library. Jack was in no mood to be played with, either – Fletch had seen to that, the bastard. The smirk disappeared from Maverick’s face, replaced by a scowl. Jack had warned him to watch out for the worm, but had given no reason. Not that he really needed an excuse to stay away from Fletch, but he was curious. What was he planning? Maverick had seen his interest in Damsel – like a cat with its sights set on a mouse. Maybe he’d ask Mosh to keep an eye on the girl. Couldn’t hurt.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Read more <a href="http://theravensquill.com/2012/04/30/greylands-part-3-the-ripples/">here</a></div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-67326568118940981562012-04-23T06:34:00.000-04:002012-04-23T06:34:05.911-04:00Greylands: Fireflyby Chelsea Miller<br />
<br />The ever constant rain helped Firefly wash the seed from her dirty blonde hair. She shuddered as she passed through the silver gates of one of the mansions in the Golden Tracks. Not from the cold rain, but shuddering from her latest client. She closed her eyes and tried to forget his sagging skin and horrible breath.<div>
Read more <a href="http://theravensquill.com/2012/04/23/greylands-part-2-firefly/">here</a></div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-47932797173764234122012-04-19T06:37:00.000-04:002012-04-19T06:37:50.157-04:00Greylands: Fletch part 2A character who is rapidly becoming one of the favourite in the series, Kathi L Schwengel's Fletch is back on The Raven's Quill this week in a new <a href="http://theravensquill.com/2012/04/19/greylands-part-2-fletch/">Greylands post</a>.Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-41300961200914066772012-04-16T06:59:00.000-04:002012-04-16T06:59:14.251-04:00Greylands: Home BaseA new Greylands submission by Jane D'Aoust! Read it <a href="http://theravensquill.com/2012/04/16/greylands-part-2-home-base/">here</a><br />
<br />
Oh, and have you taken a look at the Day of Demons anthology? Inside lies The Serpent's Kiss, my first publication. You can find it <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Day-of-Demons-ebook/dp/B007SYEU52/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1334573894&sr=8-1">here</a>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-24225979671298159032012-04-13T21:58:00.003-04:002012-04-13T21:58:38.992-04:00Day of Demons is Here!Please be advised: no demon names were spoken allowed throughout the course of this anthology.<br />
<br />
I never thought Friday the 13th would end up being such an important day for me, but there you go. I'm officially a published author. It's only my great life dream come true. I want to share it. I want you to know about it, and read it, and keep me motivated to try me hand a getting my novel published ;)<br />
<br />
How can you do this, you might wonder? Go to <a href="http://www.theravensquill.com/">The Raven's Quill</a> to read more and share the word!Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-25099361623099276392012-04-12T06:46:00.002-04:002012-04-12T06:46:58.827-04:00Q&A and Writing Samples!Hi everyone! Lots of exciting stuff going on at <a href="http://www.theravensquill.com/">the Raven's Quill</a>.<br />
<br />
Today we have an interview with T. James about his new novella "My Mirror Self, and I". "Intimate and real, this is a story about finding courage in the face of adversity. Cassie is a young woman struggling to keep herself, and everything else, from falling apart as she tries to deal with breast cancer and depression. Can she find the strength she needs to rescue her marriage and reclaim her life?"<br />
<br />
Also new: two pieces of flash fiction, "Panther" - the winner of the March Flash Fiction on Devin's forum, and "Stolen" - a random piece inspired by a random prompt.<br />
<br />
<br />Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-47242786194709387522012-04-09T06:46:00.002-04:002012-04-09T06:46:29.338-04:00New Greylands Submission Post!But it's not here ... you can find it <a href="http://theravensquill.com/2012/04/09/greylands-part-2-a-stab-in-the-dark/">here</a> - a great new submission by Colin F Barnes. C'mon - promise not to bite!Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-60691296743990396222012-04-02T06:27:00.000-04:002012-04-02T06:28:15.103-04:00...Out with the OldA very large part of me is sad to say this, but I feel as though I've got the most I could out of this particular site. As of today all posts/wordy babble/novel developments can be found at <a href="http://www.theravensquill.com/">www.theravensquill.com</a> (that's right, it's all mine). I hope you'll all follow me over there! For some motivation, you'll find Greylands Part 2: The Shadows waiting for you.Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-66989019880680036362012-03-30T06:41:00.000-04:002012-03-30T06:41:43.954-04:00Muffy Morrigan's The Sail Weaver: Release Day!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I last chatted with Muffy about her Custodes Noctis series back in October (read the interview <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.ca/2011/10/q-with-muffy-morrigan.html">here</a>), but now she's back with a new announcement! </div>
<br /><b>Muffy!!! *waves* hi! It’s great to have you back here for a bit of a chat. I know you’ve been busy, I’ve been following your convention exploits with your amazing costumes and even more amazing book stalls. Did you want to talk about your convention presence a little bit? Let people know where they can find you! Weren’t you in Denmark recently? </b><br /> <br />I love the conventions, it’s a real opportunity to mix and mingle with just about everyone in the science fiction, fantasy, urban fantasy, steampunk… well you name it, they are there. It really gives me a chance to talk to people about what they love about the genres they read, why they are fans and what keeps them coming back. In fact, I am off to Norwescon April 5-9 in Seattle. I’m really excited about this one because it’s the cons that is launching my new book The Sail Weaver. <br /><br /> I was just in Denmark. It was my third trip in fact. I was there not only for research, but for a bit more ink on my left arm and the chance to visit many bog bodies, stone circles and pastries.<br /> <br /><b> You recently had The Summoning released, a Custodes Noctis novella – how’s the gang doing now? More shenanigans in the works? Flash behaving himself? </b><br /><br /> The gang has been busy, in fact they are part of the reason I was in Denmark. The next book in the series, The Berserkers, will take place partially in Denmark and I was looking at the various sites in that country to use them in my book. Flash of course is in love with the idea of going to a country that makes Mead.<br /> <br /><b> But the reason you’re here is (very exciting), because you have a new book coming out! Tell us a bit about Sail Weaver. </b><div>
<b><br /></b><div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIU6fBeBTLFdqeti5-lCCxZLO6cn3EH7rcU0ehyE46FjnKWz9WO4sh6hjwGJKIOS30UirLhlnvhuMoxMP4tRaSaexHuPuOKieFv7VzDiHdQA_NVF_PV_k2-AQg8NHPCEawkLd_5Riirf9l/s1600/Weaverforweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIU6fBeBTLFdqeti5-lCCxZLO6cn3EH7rcU0ehyE46FjnKWz9WO4sh6hjwGJKIOS30UirLhlnvhuMoxMP4tRaSaexHuPuOKieFv7VzDiHdQA_NVF_PV_k2-AQg8NHPCEawkLd_5Riirf9l/s200/Weaverforweb.jpg" width="132" /></a> The Sail Weaver is one of those things that has been stewing in bits and pieces for years. All those bits came together in this book. It’s a blending of science fiction and fantasy with a few other ingredients in the stew as well. It brings combines my love of the genres with my passion for tall ships. Yes, I know that seems an unlikely combination. <br /><br />The story itself focuses on Tristan Weaver and the launch of the ship the Winged Victory. When he is asked to weave the sails for the ship he has no idea of how involved he is going to become with the ship. With his friend, Lokey Fenfyr, the dragon, he ships out on the Winged Victory for her first trip. What happens after that could upset the balance of the galaxy. <br /><br /><b> I had the pleasure of reading the first chapter in preparation for this interview and I already want to read the rest. Did you want to share a bit about how it starts? </b><br /> <br />The story begins when Tristan, Master Weaver, is first asked to create sails for the ship the Winged Victory a ship like no other. He comes close to refusing until the dragons step forward and ask him to be involved in the project as well. <br /> <br /><b> What inspired the story? </b><br /><br /> As I said bits and pieces have been floating around for years—a short story here and there, but always just one piece. Then a couple of years ago I saw a challenge to combine the elements of classic science fiction—the future, aliens, space ships, space stations—with classic fantasy—magic, dragons, wizards and I added my love of tall ships and The Sail Weaver was born. <br /><br /><b> Like <i>Custodes Noctis</i> is this a series you have planned? </b><br /><br /> I certainly hope so. I have fallen a bit in love with Tristan and his world and I want to return and write there many times.<br /> <br /><b> Any characters we should be watching out for in this novel? In other words, anyone Flash should be jealous of for hogging some attention? </b><br /><br /> The character that surprised me the most was Riggan. I’m not sure Flash is in danger, but I know that as I wrote I was continually surprised by Riggan. <br /> <br /><b> Finally: the details of its release! Where can people find it? </b><br /><br />It’s available today!!!! It can be found on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Sail-Weaver-ebook/dp/B007PT1QDO/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1333103842&sr=8-1-spell">Amazon</a> and other internet retailers and on Kindle—the Kindle version is $3.99.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
***</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I sent Muffy the questions, I'd only read the first chapter - I'm now a couple of chapters in and the story is really fascinating. I`m really enjoying it!<br /></div>
</div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-43243460032404428642012-03-29T06:43:00.004-04:002012-03-29T06:43:39.623-04:00Long Time No See!Hi! I've missed you guys :) It feels like a really long time since I checked in just to spill all my thoughts in some vaguely coherent jumble but, as you probably noticed, this is been a really busy place! There was supposed to be another exciting announcement today, but it was a bit delayed. Expect another bonus post this weekend.<br />
<br />
Do you have a minute to catch up? Pull up a chair! I'd offer you tea, but you'd have to get it yourself and that just seems rude, so instead I'll fill you in on all the behind the scenes goings-on.<br />
<br />
Part 2 of <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.ca/2012/03/greylands-adopted.html">Greylands</a> will be posted on Monday. It shouldn't be surprising that I'm in love with this project but...wow. I'll admit when I first threw the idea out there, I thought I'd be lucky to get a few extra readers, but the project got off to a great start. I already know a few people working on subs for next month, as well as continuations of the ones posted already. This amazes me! That people are so willing to contribute their time and such great quality work. So far the reactions have been very positive and I want to thank everyone that's supported it: contributors, editors, readers, brainstormers, etc.<br />
<br />
To the artists out there: Greylands may be a writing project, but if you read it and are inspired, then feel free to sub with your media of choice. The Shadows wouldn't be the same with only one type of criminal. It takes all sorts to form the gang ;)<br />
<br />
I've also been playing around with Raven's Quill blog, and the big reveal will be on Monday. I'm very happy with it - something I've been thinking for awhile and finally got round to doing. I look forward to hearing your opinions.<br />
<br />
Otherwise, April is crack-down editing month. Not only on my own stuff, but a few other projects as well. The trick will be finding a chance to write in the quiet moments - which so far has been my lunch hour. But hey, you use the time you have, right? Thanks to a random prompt on Twitter yesterday, I ended up with a flash fiction piece that turned out kind of neat - a really fun exercise in spontaneous storytelling. I might even post it after some edits and tweaking.<br />
<br />
But I've gone on enough. What have you been up to?Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-14232589310656658092012-03-26T06:27:00.001-04:002012-03-26T20:07:21.587-04:00Submission - Greylands, Part 1: Old Bonesby Chris Henry<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cold rain fell from a steel grey
sky and ran down the shattered faces of old skyscrapers, collecting in the
cracked streets below. The city of Kroeper used to be home to Dieb, where he’d
lived years ago in relative comfort. It was once home to hundreds of thousands.
When the aquifer ran dry and the lights went out, the citizens fled to the
surrounding cities, and when they were turned away, they formed settlements
that now dotted the country side. After the exodus, the city fell into ruin and
the remaining locals rechristened it The Corpse. Few people still lived here
and most of the city was bandit territory. Now Dieb crawled through the ruins
relearning the streets; learning which buildings were shelter or trouble. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A short, lithe man of some 30
years, Dieb was an experienced scavenger. He’d spent a decade crawling the
Corpse, picking through its bones and finding the precious treasures: unspoiled
rations, medicine, and occasionally a bottle of clean water. Stagnant rivers
crept through the countryside, and water was worth more than its weight in gold
in Greylands. Outside the walls, many would eagerly kill for it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Picking through the streets, Dieb
spotted a man on a rooftop a block away. He crouched behind a rusting car and
pulled his binoculars from their canvas bag. He peered at the man through
smudged lenses and studied him. It was a man in rags clutching his own pair of
binoculars. Bandit? he wondered, they usually don’t come out this far. They
both sat there and watched each other for a while. Eventually, the man in rags
gave a meek wave. Dieb waved back, and the Ragman shrugged, but when Dieb drew
his thumb across his throat the Ragman got the idea and disappeared. Dieb
quickly got up and ducked down an alley. If that was a bandit, he thought, he’ll
have friends. He hoped their brief conversation would give them pause. The
bandits in The Corpse were armed, but their weapons were in such disrepair, and
ammunition of such poor quality, it only gave them the advantage at close
range. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This looks promising”, he
whispered to no one as he spotted a crumpled storefront shutter. Masonry from
above had fallen and came to rest against the shutter; the stone’s weight had
pushed it in slightly, forming a narrow gap. He unstrapped his rucksack, fished
out a crowbar, and went to work to widen the hole. The shutter groaned as he
bent the slats. He shoved his rucksack inside, followed by his crowbar, then
clutched a flashlight in his teeth, and squirmed into the dark. Once inside, he
pulled a grenade from his bag and ran a length of fine wire across the
entrance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dieb slid his machete from its
sheath, and swept the flashlight across the darkened store. The shelves were
mostly barren, like the rest of the Corpse. Some canned meat sat on a far
shelf. He was pleased to see the tins hadn’t rusted, and only one of them was
bloated. Carefully he packed them into the rucksack. A bottle of cooking oil,
rice, and a box of stale crackers went in beside the tinned meat. At the back
of the store stood a heavy freezer door with a padlock. A slow smile crept
across Dieb’s face as he went to work with the crowbar. It didn’t last though:
the lock proved too strong. He went back to the front of the store and checked
around the register, searching for a key. In the register, he thought. He
pressed a few keys before prying it open with the crowbar. It popped open with
a chime that echoed in the empty store, and he cringed. The key sat there in
the drawer next to a few bills. He pocketed both and turned to leave. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hear that?” came a muffled
voice. The tone was hushed and urgent, almost like a hiss. Dieb killed the
flashlight and sank behind the counter. Instinctively he reached for his
machete, only to realise he’d left it back beside the locked door. Dieb backed
away from the counter slowly, moving towards the back of the store and his
knife. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Over here”, called a gruffer
voice, “The shutter here. This is new.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I can’t fit through there,”
replied the muffled voice. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Neither can I.” The shutter
rattled, and Dieb held his breath.”It won’t move. Help with this gap.” The
shutter rattled again. Died grabbed his things, slung the rucksack over his
shoulders and gripped his machete tight. He had to hide in the locker, there
was nowhere else to go, no other exit. The key fit the lock, but it wouldn’t
turn. Rust had taken hold, or maybe it wasn’t even the right key. A light
filled the small store, and Dieb froze with his heart in his throat. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey!” came the voice, “Whatcha
got in that bag?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dieb turned to see a man
squeezing through the widened gap in the shutter, a lamp in one hand, a pistol
leveled in the other. He thumbed back the hammer with a click, and before Dieb
could say a word the room filled with thunder. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dieb scrambled to his feet and
started to run. The grenade had blown most of the shutter clear of the
storefront. The man who’d triggered it was a shattered mess; he barely looked
human anymore – bits of meat and clothing peppered the walls and floors. He’d
taken most of the shrapnel, and left Dieb unscathed. He could feel blood as it
ran down the side of his face and his ear rang from the blaste. The man’s
lantern had gone up as well, the kerosene now scattered and burning. Inky,
black smoke filled the store, and spilled out into the open air. A battered
pistol lay near the burning oil, which Dieb snatched greedily. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As he exited the store, Dieb
found the other man in the rain, legs torn. A large bent piece of the shutter
protruded from his shoulder like some grotesque limb. The blood slowly spread
out around him like a fan, and he struggled vainly to move with his one good
arm. Dieb couldn’t stop to help him; he looked too far beyond the help of
anything but a bullet. As he stumbled through the city, Dieb was keenly aware
that darkness would soon take the Corpse. The Ragman had probably sent the men
to find Dieb, and the explosion and smoke would surely bring others. There was
little chance of safe shelter in the Corpse that night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sound was barely audible
through his ringing ears, but the muffled pop and startled stones in front of
him were enough to know someone had shot at him. Dieb began to run clumsily
through the ruined street before he found a car to duck behind. He peeked
around the corner and saw them: a half dozen or so motley men clamouring
through the rubble in pursuit. Dieb pulled one of the round tins from his
rucksack and pitched in their direction. They’d heard the first blast, he
reasoned, maybe... The gamble paid off; when they saw the metal cylinder in the
air, they dove for cover. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dieb was up on his feet again
before they could realise his bluff. If he could widen the gap between them,
they’d have to give up before it got too dark. His lungs burned as he ran
through the streets and alleys towards the aqueduct. He slipped through the
hole in the chain link fence and slid down the slope into the dry concrete
riverbed. From here he could follow it to the dead lake and maybe find a place
to sleep before he began the long walk back to Greylands.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div>
***</div>
<div>
Very Pulp Fiction - I want to know what's in that locked freezer! >:-[ Next installment, I hope!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Read more!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.ca/2012/03/greylands-adopted.html">Greylands: Adopted</a> - by Krista Walsh</div>
<div>
<a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.ca/2012/03/submission-greylands-adopted-continued.html">Greylands: Adopted (continued)</a> - by Anonymous</div>
<div>
<a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.ca/2012/03/greylands-part-1-firefly.html">Greylands: Firefly</a> - Chelsea Miller</div>
<div>
<a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.ca/2012/03/submission-greylands-part-1-fletch.html">Greylands: Fletch</a> - Kathi L. Schwengel</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Next week: Part 2: The Shadows</div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-5611076846523061142012-03-24T12:18:00.000-04:002012-03-24T12:23:46.074-04:00Devin O'Branagan's Show Dog Sings the Blues: a review<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://www.devinwrites.com/images/118_Show_Dog_Small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.devinwrites.com/images/118_Show_Dog_Small.jpg" /></a></div>
<i>Talisman, a pampered show dog with attitude, has a play date with her sister Maddie, who is a hardcore cowdog. Through an unfortunate mixup, the two dogs are switched and Talisman has to cowdog-up for the day. <br /><br />It is an Australian Shepherd Freaky Friday!<br /><br />A hilarious spinoff from the RED HOT series of comic novels, told from the dog's perspective.<br /><br />A portion of the proceeds from this novella will be donated to<a href="http://www.aussierescue.org/">www.AussieRescue.org</a><br /><br />An uplifting, inspiring tale for humans of all ages! </i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
Show Dog<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
A bonus post! Why? Two reasons: a) <i>Red Hot Liberty</i> and <i>Show Dog</i> go hand in hand, so I didn’t want them to get separated by too many posts, and, more importantly, b) <i>Show Dog</i> is a novella in a class of its own and deserved its own spot. Plus, I have a feeling that Talisman would enjoy having a special day all about her. She’s that kind of dog.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
Reading <i>Show Dog Sings the Blues</i> conveniently coincided with this month’s <a href="http://forum.devinwrites.com/post/March-Flash-Fiction-Contest-2012-5734215?trail=#1">flash fiction contest</a> on Devin’s forum (I’ll take a moment to plug – go, read, vote! I’ll wait until you get back), where the prompt was to write from the point of view of an animal. I decided to contribute and realised it's not nearly as easy as I thought it'd be. To get into the head of a being we don’t really understand and make them real without taking away their innate animalness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
This is not a cheesy story. It’s not a children’s tale where the characters just happen to be animals. Tali explores the world exactly the way a dog would. The decisions she makes are based on instinct, on training, and on her understanding of her purpose as a dog. She demonstrates the importance animals have in the human world, the healing power they possess when we need it most. I experienced her fear, her intuition, and was rooting for her from the moment she was cast out to work for the day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
Both <i>Red Hot Liberty</i> and <i>Show Dog</i> follow the same theme of choosing what you want to fight for, but Talisman grabs hold of this theme even better than the characters in <i>Liberty. </i>Through her decisions and actions, she really brings to life the words of her heart person, Val DeMitri: "Courage is a choice". </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
This novella is worth the read. Especially at the end of a really hard day (and let's face it, that usually sums up most Mondays - Fridays, right?), when all you want is to lose yourself in something fun, something that will make you laugh and make you feel warm. Does it need to be read with the others in the<i> Red Hot</i> series? Not necessarily - it holds up as a cute story in its own right - but when taken as part of the whole, there are so many more layers to it. It offers a better understanding of what makes Tali who she is. Honestly, though? I don't think <i>Red Hot</i> is what holds up <i>Show Dog</i>. I think it's the other way around. Tali always does steal the show. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: arial; font-size: small;">
For more information, click <a href="http://www.devinwrites.com/showdogsingstheblues.html">here</a></div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-33942998736266343532012-03-22T06:19:00.001-04:002012-03-22T06:20:04.003-04:00Devin O'Branagan's Red Hot Liberty: a review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSnUO_srM77GIxkjgZsXSA1tfbsezwquS0aMe1EbK9oENjnrl8fwxjkWOr2hK0LNdb3CsIpTmQ6HVxC6-Iak7el7A8blz169_apFzLPtnUP9gd6k4WXNSnnoBjshM_lmLvy2WmLYPVz3m/s1600/RHL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOSnUO_srM77GIxkjgZsXSA1tfbsezwquS0aMe1EbK9oENjnrl8fwxjkWOr2hK0LNdb3CsIpTmQ6HVxC6-Iak7el7A8blz169_apFzLPtnUP9gd6k4WXNSnnoBjshM_lmLvy2WmLYPVz3m/s200/RHL.jpg" width="128" /></a></div>
<i>Molly O'Malley's new assistant, Robin Knight, is a sexy Englishman with mysterious psychic abilities and the gift of animal communication. This comes in handy when Molly's dog becomes depressed over romantic problems, and when she wants to tell her humans the details of a haunted dog show event known as The Twilight Bone Incident.<br /> <br />Robin's mission is to help Molly learn that it is an enchanted world where all things are possible. However, the men in Molly's life are threatened by his powerful presence and pressure her into making difficult choices. <br /><br />Further complicating her life is new client, Liberty True—a tin-foil-hat-wearing, conspiracy-theory-believing, rebel patriot—who invites Molly to a different kind of tea party and drags her, kicking and screaming, into the revolution. Soon, Homeland Security is following Molly and she receives death threats.<br /><br /> Coming to her aid? A Goth colleague who lives on the dark side, a charismatic cowboy preacher who lives on the light side, a quirky psychic who lives between the worlds, and the departed spirit of her best friend. <br /><br />A sassy tale about a woman on the verge of losing everything, who undertakes a quest to slay the dragon of fear and become her own hero.</i><br /><br />Review<br /><br />Sequels often go downhill. My suspicion (and experience) is that the author spends so much time plotting out the first one, falls in love with the characters and wants to do more with them, but doesn’t spend nearly as much time plotting out the second, so it becomes a series of random events made up for the sake of keeping characters alive. <br /><br /> Occasionally, an author gets it right, and the second book lives up to the first. Even more occasionally, the second surpasses the first. That is the case with Devin O’Branagan’s <i>Red Hot Liberty</i>. Perhaps an example of how more time with a character leads to the author knowing her better, <i>Liberty</i> goes deeper into Molly O’Malley’s character, giving her more dimensions as a human being. New people are introduced, old favourites come back for a visit, and once again it becomes a matter of fighting what you believe in, or playing it safe to protect the ones you love. <br /><br /> <i>Liberty</i> also brought into my life another great character to laugh with and love: the goth chick Babylon (I really seem to have a thing for O’Branagan’s goth characters…). She’s tough, dry as sandpaper, knows what she wants and is not afraid to go after it. With her extreme kick-ass ability, she and Molly bring out the edgy side of women that never fails to appeal to me.<br /> <br />Once in a while sliding into the more paranormal, <i>Liberty</i> for the most part stays grounded, focusing on real problems of relationships, politics, grief, and puppy love – literally. <br /><br /> Again I laughed, again I cried, but this time around it was with characters I already knew and have laughed and cried with before, which made the experience that much sweeter. Summer is just around the corner, ladies and gents, and this book should definitely be added to your "summer reads" list.<br /><br /> And of course one of the best parts about this book is that it gave O’Branagan the opportunity to write her novella <i>Show Dog Sings the Blues</i>, which I will be reviewing on Saturday, so come back!<br /><div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Find more information about <i>Red Hot Liberty</i> <a href="http://www.devinwrites.com/theredhotnovels/redhotliberty.html">here</a>. </div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-60185772888226931452012-03-19T06:20:00.000-04:002012-03-22T06:19:51.628-04:00Submission - Greylands, Part 1: Fletchby <a href="http://myrandommuse.wordpress.com/">Kathi L. Schwengel</a><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note: some strong language</span></i><br />
<br />
Fletch stood with one shoulder against the wall, and his arms folded across his chest as he watched Mosh escort his latest stray across the camp. The boy had a thing for waifs. This one looked to be in her late teens, slight, blond, and with that guarded, dirt-smeared look on her face so common on the streets. Desperation mingled with determination. Still, she seemed . . . different some how. Fletch couldn't put his finger on it, but she set his nerves tingling. <br />
<br />
"Watcha doin'?" <br />
<br />
Fletch slid a narrowed glare at Pipsqueak as the boy sidled up beside him. "Baking a fucking cake, Squeak. You?" <br />
<br />
"You're spying on Mosh." <br />
<br />
"And if I am it'd be your business -- why?" <br />
<br />
Pipsqueak shrugged and Fletch turned his attention back to the little parade on its way to Jack's quarters. Maverick had his tour guide hat on, playing it to the hilt, and no doubt scaring the crap out of the girl in the process. <br />
<br />
"What do you know about her?" he asked, jutting his chin in the trio's direction. <br />
<br />
Pipsqueak sat on an upended crate, his feet dangling above the ground. "Her brother got his brains splattered by the coppers trying to lift some groceries." <br />
<br />
"And you guys rescued her?" <br />
<br />
Pipsqueak grinned. "It's what we do." <br />
<br />
Fletch snorted. "What you do is bring us closer to getting found." <br />
<br />
"Jack doesn't mind. Why should you?" <br />
<br />
"Jack's an idiot." <br />
<br />
Pipsqueak's eyes rounded in shock, and he launched off the crate. "You'll be in for it when I tell Maverick what you said!" <br />
<br />
Fletch grabbed him by the shoulder before he could get away. Pipsqueak yelped as Fletch yanked him back and, lifting him off the ground by both shoulders, slammed him against the wall. He resisted the temptation to hold the boy there by his throat. <br />
<br />
"You're not going to cause me any trouble, Squeak," he said, his voice deadly soft. "Because if you do, the rats will be picking their teeth with your bones. You understanding me?" <br />
<br />
Pipsqueak's eyes, tears brimming at their edges, took on a whole different kind of round. His chin began to quiver. <br />
<br />
"Lose your voice, kid?" <br />
<br />
Pipsqueak shook his head. "No," his voice hit the notes of his namesake. <br />
<br />
Fletch cocked his head. "Well?" <br />
<br />
"I got ya," he said. "Loud and clear." <br />
<br />
"Your two pals even look crossways at me, I'll think you told them something. You understand that?" <br />
<br />
"Crap, Fletch!" The boy squirmed in his grip. "Won't say nuthin' to nobody. I swear it." <br />
<br />
Fletch held him a moment longer, then nodded. "Good boy," he said. He lowered Pipsqueak to the ground. "Now make yourself invisible." <br />
<br />
Fletch waited until Pipsqueak angled toward a group of kids before he turned and left his vantage point. There were quicker ways to Jack's private quarters than through the shock zone Maverick had taken, and Fletch knew them all. <br />
<br />
He didn't knock when he reached the door, and Jack didn't turn when he entered the room. Their fearless leader stood in front of a large fireplace, hands clasped loosely behind his back. Not for the first time Fletch considered the chances of success in a quick knife throw. <br />
<br />
"Careful, Fletch," Jack said, and his low voice slithered across Fletch's nerves like an icy-hot finger. "Thoughts like that can get a man strung up and left for the rats. I hear it's an unpleasant way to die." <br />
<br />
"I'm sure there's worse." <br />
<br />
Jack turned and the smile on his narrow, clean-shaven face held not a bit of warmth. "I <i>know</i> there are," he said. "I invented them." <br />
<br />
He walked to an antique sideboard and poured himself a drink, then took a seat in the only leather upholstered chair in the room. Fletch remained standing, his arms folded across his chest. Compared to what existed beyond his door, Jack's quarters were downright opulent. Unlike Jack, they actually gave the impression of warmth and sincerity. <br />
<br />
Jack crossed his legs and took a swallow of the blood red liquid in his glass. He surveyed Fletch with eyes so dark they appeared black. "What are you after, Fletch?" <br />
<br />
"Mosh's latest stray," Fletch said, without a moment's hesitation. <br />
<br />
"Since when are you interested in training?" The dark gaze narrowed. "You're not thinking of building your own little army and taking me down, are you, Fletch?" <br />
<br />
"We both know an army wouldn't work on you, Jack. I believe holy water and a sacred ritual are more in order." <br />
<br />
Jack laughed. "Your sense of humor is what keeps you alive. There are only two reasons a street rat would pique your interest. You're either horny, or up to something." He took another drink, savoring the liquor. "Since I'm well aware you take care of your carnal needs above ground, I'm betting on the second reason." <br />
<br />
Fletch shrugged. "So long as she gets trained and doesn't bring the roof down on your head, I figured you wouldn't give a crap." <br />
<br />
"I don't trust you," Jack said. "There's no disputing your skills, but your motives are always a bit foggy." <br />
<br />
"No more foggy than yours." <br />
<br />
Jack tipped his chin up and Fletch fought to keep the flinch from being obvious. Jack didn't scare him, like he did the rest of his fawning subjects, but Fletch had a healthy dose of respect for what the man could do to him. He forced his breathing steady, kept his stance neutral, and his hand well away from the small of his back where one of his five knives was sheathed. <br />
<br />
Jack placed his glass on the table beside the chair and stood. He crossed the five feet between them with measured steps, and stopped well within Fletch's personal space, but Fletch kept still. They were the same height, nearly the same build, though Fletch probably had a little more by way of lean muscle. In a fair fight he could've taken Jack. <br />
<br />
In Jack's world the term 'fair fight' didn't exist. <br />
<br />
"One of these days," Jack said, "I'm going to take you apart and see what kind of snake you are. Then I'm going to kill you." <br />
<br />
"No doubt you'll try." How Fletch managed to keep his voice level, he couldn't say. It took every ounce of self control just to stop his fight response from kicking in full gear. <br />
<br />
Jack's thin lips pulled up at the corners. "I'll do more than try." <br />
<br />
A knock on the door broke the tension, and Jack turned back to his chair, flicking a gesture that swung the double doors inward. Fletch let out the breath he'd been holding as Maverick led Mosh and the girl into the room. <br />
<br />
"What're you doing here?" Maverick grumbled. <br />
<br />
Fletch looked sidelong at him. "Stand down, Scotty," he replied. "I don't want your job." <br />
<br />
"Like you could ever have it." Maverick stepped in front of him and tipped his head to Jack. "Mosh has a new one for you." <br />
<br />
Fletch moved behind Maverick's bulk to get a better view of the girl. She had to be about seventeen, he guessed, only slightly older than the over-sized sweatshirt that disguised her figure. Both looked to be covered with an annoying amount of grime. <br />
<br />
She turned to look at him. The depth of her blue eyes pulled him in, past the guarded street look and the fear and uncertainty, to that little spark he had felt all the way across the camp. <br />
<br />
If Jack didn't give her to him, Fletch would take her. Either way, the treasure would be his.<br />
<br />
****<br />
When Kathi told me she'd created a new character to add to the Greylands cast, I was excited to see what she'd do with him. Now that I've read it, plot pieces are suddenly falling into place for the rest of the story<span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;">. </span><span style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: 0.5in;"> Read, enjoy, comment and then check out the rest of the story! </span><br />
Greylands, part 1: <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/2012/03/greylands-adopted.html">Adopted </a>, by moi<br />
Greylands, part 1: <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/2012/03/submission-greylands-adopted-continued.html">Adopted (cont'd)</a>, by Anonymous<br />
<div>
Greylands, part 1: <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.ca/2012/03/greylands-part-1-firefly.html">Firefly</a>, by Chelsea Miller</div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-79519426649183751392012-03-15T06:35:00.002-04:002012-03-22T06:19:51.631-04:00Submission - Greylands, Part 1: Fireflyby <a href="http://tinselsthoughts.blogspot.com/2012/03/betrayed.html">Chelsea Miller</a><br />
<br />
Firefly watched longingly as Mosh walked away with Alexis. She hated when he brought new girls to the Shadows. Pipsqueak nudged her from her gazing, “Are you forgetting something?” Firefly sighed and ripped off a wing from the bird she was roasting and handed it to him a little roughly. <br />
<br />
“What has you so fired up?” Bull asked her with a suspicious look. <br />
<br />
“Nothing.” A sideways glance to where Alexis and Mosh had disappeared gave her away. <br />
<br />
“You got a thing for the new girl or somethin’?” he joked and leaned his shoulder into hers with a chuckle. Fly growled and shoved him back. <br />
<br />
“Don’t be stupid, Bull.” Her face reddened, lips a tight line. Pipsqueak sputtered a laugh, bits of meat flying from his mouth. <br />
<br />
“I get it, she likes Mosh!” Pipsqueak said after swallowing the escaping food. Bull rolled his eyes, “Thanks for coming out, Squeak.” <br />
<br />
Firefly bristled and peeled some of the bird meat into her hand. She stood suddenly and strode away from the boys, as they burst into laughter behind her. Tears threatened as she pulled back the curtain that acted as a door to her room.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
****</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Not everything has to be dark in the Shadows ;) Thanks to Chelsea for her lovely submission! </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
To read more Greylands:</div>
<div>
Greylands, part 1: <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/2012/03/greylands-adopted.html">Adopted </a>, by moi</div>
<div>
Greylands, part 1: <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/2012/03/submission-greylands-adopted-continued.html">Adopted (cont'd)</a>, by Anonymous</div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-80817286641129945302012-03-12T06:35:00.000-04:002012-03-12T20:44:13.030-04:00Robert Chazz Chute - Sex, Death & Mind Control: a review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8NAIeNRj1D2r3IhX13O6b0UvmNrk7pbGcutX7HwBdY5uhqRf3A8iDd4DzkTutiF9RMRZi084TACpWJ_M5GP1yN6UTHZ5eRO1tgsqNOZ_jhCLAkoDVTkOvxiCESjZ0B6TZOGBakoUOjBA/s1600/Sex-Death-and-Mind-Control-020312-198x300.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS8NAIeNRj1D2r3IhX13O6b0UvmNrk7pbGcutX7HwBdY5uhqRf3A8iDd4DzkTutiF9RMRZi084TACpWJ_M5GP1yN6UTHZ5eRO1tgsqNOZ_jhCLAkoDVTkOvxiCESjZ0B6TZOGBakoUOjBA/s200/Sex-Death-and-Mind-Control-020312-198x300.png" width="132" /></a></div>
<i>This is perilously close to a how-to book about your favorite things: sex, death and mind control. This collection of eight short stories twists into a deliciously dark warning of how dangerous seemingly ordinary people can be. You might even be one of the dangerous ones. Each tale of psychological horror packs a gut punch of surprise every time. (Two award-winners are included in this collection.)<br /><br />You're thinking about buying this book, but you're not sure. Look behind you. Make sure you're alone. Now look again, because the truth is, you're never alone. They're watching through the keyholes and your computer. They use the pipes under your toilet for antennae. Let them know you're on to them. Make them think you're one of them. Click "BUY." <br /><br />No? Bad news: I'm the grim-faced man standing behind you with something behind his back. And I am not happy.<br /><br />Yes? Welcome to the revolution, friend.</i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
When I picked up Robert Chazz Chute's “Sex, Death and Mind Control (for fun and profit)”, I braced myself for strangeness. This is, after all, the author of a book called “Self-Help for Stoners” and, from the little contact I’ve had with him, is a quirky and hilarious guy. I was prepared for humour, for the absurd, and indeed the introduction, the preface, even the dedication made me laugh, giggle, or roll my eyes. <br />
<br />
Then I hit the stories. <br />
<br />
On a recent post, I talked about my aversion to horror. It prevents me from sleeping and usually leaves me a bleary-eyed mess in the wee hours of the night. Perhaps I should be more specific. It’s physical horror that gets to me. Bugs, ghosts, masked people with chainsaws. *shudder*. <br />
<br />
Psychological horror, on the other hand, I love. Hannibal Lecter is probably my favourite “villain” of any thriller film/novel. The way he gets in your head and twists around thoughts until the irrational seems rational. Sure there was the physical element too, but it was secondary. <br />
<br />
That’s the best comparison I can make to Chute’s collection of short stories. Fortune tellers, psychiatrists who master in hypnotic suggestion, PTSD victims, these shorts are full of manipulation, powerful suggestion and psychological disturbance. In some stories you’re on the side of the mind-bender, wanting his words to sink in, wanting the other character to be twisted around to his will. In others, you take the place of the victims and suffer along with them, just wanting it to be over. While all of the stories kept me reading, some caught me off guard with how powerful they were. “End of the Line”, “Jack and Diane”, and “Sidewalkers”, grabbed my attention and even (prepare yourself) made me think about the message behind him. Thoughts about human nature, my own perspective of the world around me, whether I would ever answer a telephone again – the important questions.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
These stories involve very little sex and a fair amount of death, but by the time you finish reading them, you're left wondering if the mind control was something that happened to the characters...or to you. <br />
<br />
I’m not sure if the author is working on any other projects of a similar ilk at the moment, but when he does I will be there to read them. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Find it on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sex-Death-Mind-Control-ebook/dp/B005XQ595C/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1331548358&sr=8-2">Amazon</a></div>
<div>
Learn more about the <a href="http://allthatchazz.com/">author</a></div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-80398010424354786422012-03-08T06:22:00.000-05:002012-03-12T20:44:53.574-04:00Submission - Greylands: Adopted (continued)I've received two submissions now for my short story series, and I'm thrilled to show you the first of them. Read, comment, show your support! Interested in participating? Read the original story <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/2012/03/greylands-adopted.html">here</a>, write your own (any word count, any genre - art included), email it to me at theravens.quill (at) gmail (dot) com. <br /><br />Enjoy! <br /><br /><b>Greylands: Adopted [continued]</b><br />by Anonymous<br /> <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note: Contains some strong language, intense violence, strong sexual content and alcohol/drug use</span></i><br /><br /> Alexis hesitated, but the man was persuasive: “Y’all right, lass? It’s not that high a staircase. C’mon, Mosh, hurry her up these parts if you got to.”<br /><br />Mosh forcefully but smoothly guided Alexis up the steps. The three of them marched towards the even darker top of this space. Meanwhile, the crackles and hums of the countless city dwellers faded from her psyche like the very flames that kept materializing and extinguishing inside of her. She had a feeling this underworld was where she was supposed to be, or she would have felt the rumble of Jake’s familiar ghost instructing her to run—it didn’t matter where, just as long as she ran.<br /><br />“So what exactly are these ‘Shadows’?” she pressed, after what felt like far too much breathing time between her and the two men.<br /><br />“See for yourself, young lady,” quipped Maverick once they arrived at the top. Mosh, taking a break from the manipulation of his shirt hole, kept sudden guard behind Alexis in case she was so shocked from the sights that she tumbled back. Shocked she was, but slack and disbelieving at the same time.<br /><br />If the ground level was a city, she thought, then this upper level was some kind of a cross between an apartment complex and a jungle, with compressed one-room cells in the filthy walls, bordered by slime and hanging twigs with leaves. There were some pitiful strings of malfunctioning light bulbs, which made this whole forward-stretching abyss resemble some kind of nightmare factory. She could not see beyond the first several rooms on either side; everything far ahead was pitch-black, but she assumed there were simply more of these rooms ahead, since Maverick, ruddy-faced and smug, was now leading her in a very careful way through the deeper darkness. Mosh remained behind them all the same, and swept his black hair out of his eyes—not that it would help much, since one could barely see anything in the hallway, anyway…but in every room was a different story.<br /><br />“Those piggy authorities on the outside, they say we are the evil ones, the uppercased ‘Shadows’ living in these secret slums,” explained Maverick, his arm increasingly secure around Alexis’s terrified body, “but we took that shit name and turned it ’round by applying it to this particular sector: this hotbed of decadence where many of our inhabitants can come and go as they please, cool off, engage in the kind of nastiness that wouldn’t be too comfortable down in the main grounds, even though the condition is goddamn near the same as ’tis up here…”<br /><br />She could feel that small but precious chicken frothing in her stomach and threatening to shoot back up, when she witnessed the kinds of images and acts that she had vaguely seen before in her childhood, but was more protected from in her family environment: old, badly-scarred and bloodied men beating each other to bony pulps in a mud pit, while their significant others watched on in admiration; a young woman being straddled by another woman atop a concrete block, both with disfigured faces and with foul oils slathered all over their naked bodies; two teenagers—they looked to be around Alexis’s age—pricking each other constantly with needles and injecting their sweet heroin into the other’s veins, all while crack-headed obese people in the background sat naked on pillows, their bodies drenched in discoloured beer and wine, with saliva and vomit messing themselves and the walls; people loudly snorting cocaine, their sweat and hyperactivity like blinding, bleeding heart twitches in the darkness; people playing dead while their partners violated them with the help of others, often taunting them with dangerous tools like knives and sparking wires for more dominating; older people taking gleeful advantage of their young counterparts by rolling around on them, and with them, in apparently raw sewage, whipping each other hard with vines and howling over each other’s oozing wounds, while smoke and exotic dance music seeped from the unseen vents of the wide, echoing black corridor…<br /><br />“I’m going to throw up,” Alexis belched; she threw herself into Maverick’s arms, and no longer cared what could possibly happen. Maybe this is the ultimate trap. What if Jake had warned me away from this place but I was ignoring him unconsciously in my sadness?<br /><br />Mosh cleared his throat and tried unsuccessfully to coax Maverick more quickly through this area, even bringing up the tragedy that had recently happened to the girl, to sharpen the man’s senses.<br /><br />“Bloody hell, you waited until now to tell me this?!” hissed Maverick to him, “It’s too fucking late for me to speed through here, now that she’s seen more than enough of it!” He quieted down and was gentler in comforting Alexis now, as she sobbed and choked against his rough attire. “S’all right, sweetheart, there’s nobody here tryin’ to kill themselves, it’s nothing like that,” he half-whispered. Meanwhile, Mosh slipped and rushed over to the cell connected to the hall speaker system, and urged the moaning tenants to turn the music down, for the sake of their “guest.”<br /><br />“No shit—we got another stray?! Mosh, you dumbass, when are you gonna stop being so friggin’ sentimental wi’ that crap…” growled the ugly, bearded, stringy-haired man in rags, spitting through broken teeth while his albino, shell-shocked partner lay curled up in the corner in a black sweatsuit, spent for now. Their cell was papered with old photographs of women and stocked with towels and sanitizing gels.<br /><br />“Look, are you gonna be a bit more respectful, Toxman, or will I have to get Jack to come back here and straighten you out…?”<br /><br />Toxman shivered into a hilariously alert state, his bone-rattling almost on par with the rhythm of the tribal soundtrack. “I-I’ll be good.”<br /><br />Mosh then pulled a small shrink-wrapped sandwich from his back pocket that he had been saving for later, and handed it to the other man. “Here you go, Powell. I can always get one of these some other time. Looks like you need some nourishment now. Keep overstressing yourself with this mess, you’re gonna explode like a tangled mop one day like Toxy here—”<br /><br />“Get out, man, this is our space!” bellows Toxman, in a surprisingly powerful belt.<br /><br />“No it’s not, Tox. We’re all in this together—but by the same token, you get outta your place, and we’ll have to put you back in your place…or worse, if it has to come to that.”<br /><br />He sauntered back out; Maverick had long since disappeared into the deeper Shadows with Alexis, past all these surrounding rooms—which was the better idea all along. He knew his way around, though, even in this more remote and cold end-section where it was literally pitch-black and nothing else. Even minor aids like cigarette lighters or flashlights would drown in the darkness of this spot. The only way one could navigate it was with tell-tale bumps and grooves in the ground that only the most experienced of the people could discern—and it was not a high number of people.<br /><br />Soon enough he found some soft light ahead, illuminating a small and seemingly dead end; it was lit with a few torches on the cleaner, rocky walls, and the ceiling was surprisingly high and pristine-looking. Alexis looked sicker and whiter than ever, of course. Yet Maverick was smart enough to have found her some more nourishment in the form of a few candies and some water from a nearby fountain, rusty but reliable, filled with their own water that they had pilfered and preserved themselves. Also bordering the space were some narrow alcoves and boxes for more storage items, and Maverick was in the middle of patiently lecturing the girl on forms of courtesy and organization in these parts.<br /><br />“…Well,” he could hear Maverick concluding, before nearing a half-hidden door, “we’ve gotten the worst out of the way for this little tour, I think. You ready to meet Jack?”Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-61825177510500031682012-03-05T06:12:00.000-05:002012-03-05T06:18:49.336-05:0011 Questions - I've been Tagged!Thank you to the ever fabulous <a href="http://www.kerilake.com/">Keri Lake</a> for including me on the latest blogging game. I can't say what was more fun: answering Keri's hilarious questions, or coming up with my own. As per the rules of said game, I must answer the questions, come up with 11 of my own, and then tag 11 bloggers to answer them.<br />
<br />
Keri's questions:<br />
<br />
1. Your day has been riddled with one crappy event after the next, starting with the mounds of laundry your lazy-ass stepmom & sisters left for you, and ending with a phone call from prince charming that he’s canceling dinner plans…for the fifth time in a row. It’s enough to make you cry. In the thick of your pity party, a petite woman, looking like she’s had one too many face lifts, appears claiming to be your fairy godmother. Figuring you’ve had a day from hell, she offers to let you have 1 day as the MC in any book of your choice. What character and book would you choose to cast yourself in for a day?<br />
<br />
<b>Valancy Stirling from LM Montgomery’s The Blue Castle. After she leaves her oppressive family to go out on her own, of course. That woman knew how to live.</b><br />
2. You decide to have a little fun and enter yourself in the Paranormal Dating Game show coming to town. Here are the three bachelors you have to choose from:<br />
<br />
<b>Bachelor #1</b> is a brawny guy who loves the outdoors. His favorite pastime is snuggling beside a campfire and running naked through the woods on a full-moon. He’s looking for an adventurous girl who doesn’t mind a bit of shedding from time to time. An incredibly loyal companion who loves a good petting.<br />
<br />
<b>Bachelor #2</b> is a lean and charming guy who lives for the night life. You’ll never have to slave over a hot stove for this one, his diet is simple. He volunteers regularly at the local Red Cross and is looking for a woman who won’t blow a gasket when it comes to sleeping in a casket.<br />
<br />
<b>Bachelor #3</b> is smokin’ hot and will show you one hell of a good time on the town. One night with him and you’ll sell your soul for more! He bakes a sinfully good lasagna and is looking for a sexy little angel who’s not opposed to relocating to a warm climate.<br />
<br />
Who’s it gonna be??<br />
<br />
<b>As good as that lasagna sounds, I think I’m going to have to go with Bacherlor #2. I like my men suave and pale. Fangs don’t hurt either. At least, not in a bad way.</b><br />
<br />
3. As an added bonus, the game show offers you an all-expense paid date to anywhere you’d like (I did say all-expense paid…feel free to book a flight). Where will you go with your smexy bachelor and what will you do?<br />
<br />
<b>Since sunny beaches are out of the question (I hate the sun, and he’s probably not a big fan either), I’d head straight to Ireland.</b><br />
<br />
4. You take a once-in-a-lifetime cruise across the globe. And wouldn’t ya know it? The damn boat sinks and you’re left stranded on a deserted island. An enormous travel chest washes up on shore and you recognize it as the one that belonged to the old rich lady with the yapping Pomeranian who boarded in front of you at the port. You open it and gasp. What’s inside?<br />
<br />
<b>All the books I’ve been wanting to read and haven’t had the time for. And a bottle of water. And a parasol to keep that blasted sun away. </b><br />
<br />
5. You’re given the opportunity to go back in time and redo any embarrassing moment in your life (without the consequence of affecting major events like marriage and birth). What moment would you go back and change?<br />
<br />
<b>Thirty-six ago when I made a boo-boo at work? I embarrass myself on a regular basis, it would be hard to choose…</b><br />
6. In an effort to reduce obesity in the country, the government has decided to ban all junk food and candy from being sold in stores except for ONE single item to be voted on. What junk food would you vote to keep?<br />
<br />
<b>Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Didn’t even hesitate on that one. </b><br />
<br />
7. Your spaceship, that’s been wandering black holes for God knows how long, finally lands on a strange planet in the middle of some undiscovered galaxy. It’s a gorgeous landscape that makes Earth’s paradises look like post-apocalyptic disasters. Waterfalls, tropical breezes and sexy alien clones that think you’re their long-awaited gift from the gods. Funny, they all look strangely like a famous actor you’ve seen before…who?<br />
<br />
<b>My Hollywood crush? Much too personal a question. To answer, I will say Johnny Depp. Would not mind that one little bit. </b><br />
<br />
8. If you could sit and collaborate with any famous author from any time period, who would you pick?<br />
<br />
<b>I’d like to say Shakespeare, but I think we’d argue too much. I’ll go with Jane Austen. We’d sit and laugh and be cynical about the world together.</b><br />
<br />
9. The world is struck by some unseen force that manages to wipe out the internet for the day. What would you do to keep yourself from going insane?<br />
<br />
<b>After celebrating that my leash has been struck from the ever-absorbing world that is the web? Read.</b><br />
<br />
10. Your slave-driving boss just claimed your last weekend off with a Monday deadline for a major project. Because you’re a writer, you decide to vent the only way you know how…you type up a nasty email to your BFF about all the twenty ways you hope he kicks the bucket over the weekend. But instead of selecting ‘Frannie’ from your list of contacts, you accidentally select ‘Frank’…your boss. Do you fess up right away and chalk it up to a brief moment of insanity? Or do you pack up your desktop pictures and decide not to come in on Monday?<br />
<br />
<b>Both? I’d be obligated to go and apologise and try to explain, but probably too embarrassed to ever show my face there again. OR, I could make use of question 5 and have it never happen….</b><br />
11. If you were paid big money to do nothing but follow your favorite band around on tour, what band would you follow?<br />
<br />
<b>Florence and the Machine. I’d never lack for inspiration.</b><br />
<br />
My questions <br />
1) That band you’ve been in love with for most of your life, that broke up and left you devastated is getting back together for a reunion tour. You stand out on the street in sluggish heat with a thousand other people, waiting in line to get your tickets. After three hours, you’re still well down the line and the manager of the box office comes out to announce there are only 10 tickets left. What do you do?<br />
<br />
2) Your birthday is coming up! You’re more excited about this one than you have about the last five and you want a celebration to remember. Because of how completely awesome you are, a wealthy relative you didn’t know you have gives you a blank cheque to throw yourself the bestest themed party ever. Question is: what theme do you pick? <br />
<br />
3) Your friend convinces you to go to a Saturday night séance. You can think of a million other things you’d rather do, but since you still owe her for going to that terrible movie last month, you decide to grin and bear it. Half-way through, the medium’s voice moves out of its false “trance”, into something real, and suddenly you’re communing with your favourite-now-passed-on author. You have time to ask one question. What do you ask?<br />
<br />
<div>
4) You’ve just cleaned out the garage and are finally getting rid of some old stuff that’s been gathering dust since you stored it. You find a collection of antique teacups your grandmother left you and take it to the local pawnshop. The pawnbroker is impressed, but doesn’t want to give you money for them. Instead he wants to trade. He pulls out a chest, sets it on the counter and opens it. You agree without hesitation. What is it? <br />
<br />
5) The opportunity has come up to be an extra in a movie. It’s the middle of winter and there are a lot of outside shots, but it’s totally worth it because of what movie it is. What movie is it? <br />
<br />
6) You are on the starship Enterprise, and get to play around on the Holodeck. Set the scene. <br />
<br />
7) You wake up one morning, but you’re not in your bed. You’re not in your house. In fact, you have no idea where you are. It doesn’t feel like you should panic, so you get up and start exploring. Soon, you bump into a complete stranger. After a few minutes of asking questions, you realise that somehow you’ve woken up in your favourite book! Which book and which character have you just met?<br />
<br />
8) You’re ruler of the world for a day. What law do you impose/remove? <br />
<br />
9) In the middle of the night your fire alarm goes off. It’s probably just a test or a false alarm because the neighbour burned his toast again, but it’s late and you don’t want to take that chance. What’s the one thing you grab before you bolt? <br />
<br />
10) You’re walking down the street when the newsboy on the corner shouts “Extra! Extra! Read all about it – E-Readers have been discontinued!” How do you react?</div>
<div>
11) You’re on a crowded bus happily listening to your tunes to drown out the noise of everyone else. Someone bumps you and your headphones get pulled from your mp3 player. Suddenly the song you were listening to fills the space on the bus and everyone can hear. Who is the artist you’re most likely listening to? <br />
<br />
Tagged: <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.sarahleeblair.blogspot.com/">Sarah L Blair</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://myrandommuse.wordpress.com/">Kathi L Schwengel</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://jaedancer.wordpress.com/">Julie Erwin</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://ladylairaslair.blogspot.com/">LW Mathias</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://annecmichaud.wordpress.com/">Anne Michaud</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amyloverley.com/blog/">Amy L Overley</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://renwaromsumwelt.wordpress.com/">Ren Warom</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://sites.google.com/site/sallyawolf/">Sally Wolf</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://writerjacampbell.wordpress.com/">J. A. Campbell</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://lbdiamond.wordpress.com/">Laura Diamond</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://blog.juliealindsey.com/">Julie Anne Lindsey</a></div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-53494951435017952672012-03-01T06:27:00.000-05:002012-03-12T20:45:13.156-04:00Greylands: AdoptedWith fear and trepidation, I present the first part of the short story series. First of how many? That depends on you. I'll go based on feedback and submissions - and not just on the number of them, but also how the plot works out. I foresee a lot of changes based on what I get back.<br />
<br />
I'm more excited to see what you decide to bring to the table in response. Can't wait to read it!<br />
For the basic plot idea: click <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/2012/02/calling-all-writers.html">here</a>. Quick run-down of how this works:<br />
Have a blog and want to post it there? Email me the link and I'll post it here.<br />
Don't have a blog and want the whole story posted here? Email submissions to theravens.quill (at) gmail (dot) com<br />
Any genre, any word count, just give me a head's up if mom would blush.<br />
<br />
<b>Greylands: Adopted</b><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Please note: Some strong language is used</span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis kicked an empty soup can
along the street. Her hands were shoved deep in the pockets of her grey jacket,
hood pulled up against the rain. The jacket had once been green, faded over years
of too much use. It had been hers since she was ten, and even then it hadn’t
been new – a hand-me-down from her big brother Jake. Back then, the sleeves had
fallen well past her fingertips; at least now she could say it almost fit. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“C’mon, Jake, will you just tell
me where we’re going?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Shut up, loser, we’re not going
anywhere,” he replied over his shoulder. A friendly wink took the sting out of
his words and he fell back to throw an arm around her. “Why? Have somewhere you
gotta be? Saying you don’t just want to spend the day with me?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“I spend every day with you,
loser,” Alexis replied in the same vein, letting a rare smile shine through the
grime on her face. “S’why I know you’re planning something. We never go this
way.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
They couldn’t afford anything this
way. The commercial area of the city had become more of a wasteland than
anything else over the last few years. Dilapidated signage, broken windows,
glass-strewn streets – that’s pretty much all you’d find around here now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Jake bumped against her and
jerked his head towards one of the three shops still open along the street – a
second hand clothing store, a second hand furniture store…and the grocer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis’s stomach grumbled at the
sight of it. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Last night? No, yesterday
morning. A sandwich of stale bread and slightly off lunch meat. It hadn’t done
much to satisfy her then and now she felt it even more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
He leaned in close to her ear,
his breath warm on her cheek. “What do you say, little sister? Feel like
something more than wormy apples for dinner tonight?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
His meaning sunk in and her brow
furrowed. They’d done it before: she’d go in and chat up the chubby grocer
behind the counter while Jake went through and picked up the small items they
needed. That was before, though, when there were still enough grocery shops
that they could make the tour, never hitting the same place twice in a week.
With only one left around here…and they’d just come last week…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“I dunno, Jake. This guy doesn’t
seem as stupid as the others,” Alexis hesitated.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“You going to make me go in on my
own?” he pushed, the teasing in his tone only slightly louder than the
guilt-trip he was trying to pull. “You know I’m useless by myself.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Her stomach grumbled again,
conscience and hunger warring inside of her. As usual, her stomach won. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Fine, but go for the boxed
stuff, all right? He’s less likely to care about that then the fresh food.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Deal,” Jake grinned and took
pulled her ahead. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The streets were crowded with
people rushing to get out of the rain. Not that many of them had anywhere to
go. Doorways were crowded with people who called the streets their home, and
those with actual homes to go to hurried into shops to stare longingly at the
food they could barely afford. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis and Jake pushed through
them all, Alexis feeling like a salmon swimming against the tide. In this city,
she always felt she was going the wrong way in a crowd, pushing against instead
of going with the flow of the world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Outside the door, Jake zipped his
jacket over his ragged t-shirt to appear more like he belonged in the store and
Alexis mimicked him, running her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde
waves and pulling it back into a ponytail. For a moment she was grateful for
the rain; it washed some of the scum from her cheeks and made her hair look
less like a grease-pool. How long had it been since she’d showered? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The door pushed open with a
cheerful jingle, a complete contradiction to the glower of the shopkeeper
behind the counter. Alexis put on her brightest smile and approached him. Jake
followed behind her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Good morning,” she greeted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The man – Chuck, his nametag read
– grunted and responded to her smile with a sullen nod, eyes narrowed. Every
time he was like this and it made Alexis’s stomach tighten. <i>We won’t make it, not this time. He knows
what we’re doing</i>. But so far they had been lucky. She had to believe their
luck would hold one more time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Crazy weather we’re having,
huh?” she started, making sure to stand right in Chuck’s line of sight. “You’d
think it was August or something with all this rain, not February. Where’s the
snow?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
It was mindless babble, but
weather was a good place to start. Usually. Today, Chuck just grunted. “Either
way all it does is drive people into my store who can’t pay for anything,” he
spat, eyes fixed on the mirror in the corner, angled to see the whole shop.
Alexis was familiar enough with the place to know there was a blind spot near
the granola bars in the back, right where Jake was headed. She knew when he
disappeared from view because Chuck’s gaze moved back to her and she breathed a
small sigh of relief. Now time to focus his interest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Have anything new come in this
week? And, you know, cheap?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
He snorted. “Cheap? No. Got some
apples come in, forty bucks a pound.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis let out a loud breath.
That was double what she remembered her parents paying as a kid. “That’s a bit
out of my price range. What about tomatoes?” They were local and sometimes she
was lucky.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The bell at the door chimed again
as someone else came in and Chuck’s eyes jumped to the door. Out of habit Alexis
turned to glance over her shoulder and her heart raced to see two uniformed
officers – one tall and skinny, the other short and fat, just like a bad
nursery rhyme – strutting in towards the fresh fruit section. One of them
hitched up his belt, weapon obvious in the holster at his hip. She worked to
keep her face free of the terror inside of her, not wanting to show Chuck that
the cops made her nervous. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Not for a month,” the shopkeeper
answered, returning his focus back to the tomatoes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
By now Jake should have grabbed
whatever he was going for and another level of tension eased in Alexis’s chest.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
She gave a disappointed shrug. “I
guess that’s it for me this week then. You think you could keep some tomatoes
aside for me next time they come in? I think I could pay for one.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
But Chuck was not one for
sympathetic pleas. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You come in when
there’s food, you can pay, you get it. I’m not saving anything for maybes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis opened her mouth, whether to
thank him or curse him she couldn’t be sure, but Chuck cut her off with a loud
yell. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“You! Stop! Thief!” He pointed
over Alexis’s shoulder and she whipped around to see Jake drop the fruit in his
hands and run towards the door. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Alexis, run!” he shouted at her,
but her feet were glued to the ground. “<i>Run</i>!”
he repeated, and this time his urgency moved her to action. He reached the door
before she did and the first gunshot fired, the second a moment later. The
jingle of the bell was lost in the ringing of Alexis’s ears. She screamed as
Jake crumpled to a heap in the doorway, bits of brain and hair sticking to the
glass of the door, a second pool of blood spread out beneath the second hole in
his chest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Her brother’s blank eyes stared
ahead, met hers and as if from his ghost as he left the world, she heard him
again in her head. <i>Run</i>. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
So she did. She jumped over
Jake’s body, shoved through the half-open door, blood from the glass smeared
across her palms, and began to run. But just like before the crowds were moving
against her, pushing her backwards into the waiting hands of the cops, who
grabbed her wrists and wrestled her arms behind her back, snapping the cuffs on
so tightly in pinched. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Only thing worse than a good kid
turned thief is a pretty one like you,” one of the men hissed in her ear – the
fat one, Alexis guessed by the smell of bacon on his breath. His words
suggested sympathy, but the way his nose brushed against her hair as he inhaled
her scent made Alexis gag. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Her eyes scanned the crowds for
someone who would help her, but it was like she wasn’t there. Everyone’s eyes
focused blankly ahead, or on the ground. No one wanted to notice one more
injustice they couldn’t fix. Their emptiness filled Alexis with bitter fury and
she lashed out, struggling to get away from the strong grip on her arms. Jake
was dead – these bastards had killed him, and now they put their hands on her? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
She kicked and pulled, struggled
and screamed, but the tall one only laughed at her efforts and landed a blow
across her cheek so hard she saw stars.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“That’s enough of that,” he said,
perfectly shaped nail poking in her face. “You come along quietly or you end up
like your friend over there. Those are your options. I’ll give you five seconds
to consider them.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis wanted to spit in his eye.
She wanted to reach her knee high enough to get the pig right in the jewels…but
she was starving. Her anger grew, but her rebellion died and she glared murder
at his boots. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Tears stung her eyes and she bit
down on her tongue so hard she tasted blood. Jake was dead. It meant she was
alone, but it also meant he didn’t have to live in this festering shithole of a
city anymore. She would be happy for him for that. Even if she had to bite most
of her tongue off to stop the tears from falling. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Good girl,” the tall one
approved, and squeezed her skinny arm tight enough to leave bruises. Alexis
dragged her feet between them as they pulled her along the street. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Get out of my way!” a shout
reached them from ahead. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“How about you look where you’re
going, asshole. Move!” came the angry reply. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The street congested with a
growing cluster of oglers as the fight started and the cops exchanged a glance
over Alexis’s head. The fat one let go of her to push through the crowd. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“All right, all right, let’s
break this up, huh?” he called, grabbing one man by his collar to pull him out
of the way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The curses and shouting between
the two people grappling on the road got louder as the fat cop reached them and
grabbed one of them by the hair. In an instant chaos broke out as both fighters
turned on the cop and started yelling and kicking him. Alexis wanted to cheer
them on. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Frank, help!” the fat cop yelled
to the tall one. Frank maintained his hold on Alexis and began to move towards
his partner. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Somewhere in the mass of crowd, something
grabbed Alexis’s hand. She turned behind her to see a boy about ten give her a
wink and smile, and nod for her to follow him. It didn’t take much to escape
Frank with his focus so scattered, and in a moment she was running with the boy
away from the crowds down the length of the deserted street. He took a hard
left into an alleyway and only there did he stop to let Alexis catch her
breath. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The boy disappeared behind her
and a moment later she heard a click and her hands were free. She rubbed her wrists
to get the numbness out of her fingers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Thank you,” she said. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The boy shrugged, as if he hadn’t
just done something like save her life. His mop of brown hair fell into his
eyes and covered the splash of freckles that covered his pasty skin. “We saw
you needed help. Someone has to stand up to those coppers, right?” he
squeaked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“We?” Alexis asked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The boy’s smile widened, showing
two missing teeth, and he glanced back towards the crowd. Alexis followed his
gaze, her own eyes widening in understanding. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“The fighters?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Mosh and Bull,” he said. “That’s
their thing.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
It took her a moment to realise
he was referring to people. “Mosh? Bull? Strange names.” The boy shrugged
again. “What’s your name?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Pipsqueak,” he answered. “Who
are you?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Alexis,” she replied, and
watched as Pipsqueak shook his head in disapproval. Maybe he thought her name
was too boring. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Squeak? You down here?” a
familiar voice hissed from the edge of the alley. Pipsqueak let out a strange
mouse-like call and a hulking shadow moved into the light. Alexis leaned closer
against the wall, suddenly feeling that coming into an alley with a stranger,
even a child, hadn’t been the wisest idea. She wished Jake was with her. He
would know what to do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Her chest tightened and once
again she shoved her tongue between her teeth. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“You get her?” another voice
asked. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“You got eyes, don’t ya?”
Pipsqueak answered, climbing up on boxes of garbage and sitting down on top,
letting his feet dangling over. “She says her name’s Alexis.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Strange name,” the smaller of
the two – and not by much – replied. Black hair dripped with rainwater and
blood ran from his nose, his t-shirt torn across the chest, yet an impish smile
was on his face with no hint of discomfort or anger at his recent fight.
“Mosh,” he said, using his arm to wipe his face. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Bull,” said the other massive
boy. These two looked to be around Alexis’s age, but easily twice her size. For
being the larger of the two, Bull didn’t seem to have done much better in their
skirmish. His left eye was already nearly swollen shut. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Are you guys all right?” she
asked, concerned. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Pipsqueak joined the other two in
a laugh at her expense and Mosh clapped a hand on her shoulder that nearly
brought her to her knees. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Sweet of you to worry, but we’ve
got this covered,” he said. “Glad we could help. Try to stay out of trouble,
all right? These cops, they have no mercy.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Bull nodded his bald head, eyes grim. “Damn
right. Think they own this place now. Forget there are still more of us than of
them.” His expression softened. “I’m sorry about the guy you were with.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“My brother,” Alexis said. “I’ll
be fine.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Jake would have been proud to
hear the strength in her voice. He had trained her pretty well in what she
needed to do to survive. She <i>would</i> be
all right on her own. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“We’d better get going,”
Pipsqueak said to Mosh and Bull. “Jack’ll be angry enough about what happened.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Mosh groaned, lips twisted into a
grimace. “Probably right. Better go and face the ringleader before his brain
explodes.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis blanched and Mosh’s eyes
widened. “Sorry,” he said. Alexis waved him away. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The three boys all gave her a nod
as they walked past her, heading towards the opposite end of the alley – what
appeared to be a dead end. She watched them, trying not to think about what she
was going to do next. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Mosh, the first of them to reach
the end, paused and turned back around. “You have someplace to go?” he called
to her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis wanted to say yes, to not
seem pathetic and helpless. But the truth was she really didn’t. She shook her
head. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Better come with us then,” he
said. Pipsqueak’s jaw dropped and he looked from Mosh to Alexis to Bull. Bull grunted
his agreement and pushed against the wall until something moved and he
disappeared into it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Jack’s going to kill you,”
Pipsqueak muttered. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Mosh shrugged. “He’s welcome to
try. Worst that can happen is he kills her, but he’d at least make it quick.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis stared back at him,
considering. He was right, a quick death by Jack would be better than a slow
death by starvation, or rape and torture by Frank and his fat friend. So she
followed them to the end of the alley. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Mosh stood by to let her go first
and Alexis stepped through what turned out to be a makeshift doorway in the
brick. Bull stood on the other side, waiting for them to pass and go down the
crate-and-stone steps to the cement floor below so he could seal it shut again.
For the second time Alexis wondered if she had made the wrong decision. Sure,
these guys <i>seemed</i> normal and helpful,
but where the hell were they taking her? Secret passageways behind buildings?
Bricked up doorways?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Bull pulled the heavy door back
into place and the cramped space was thrown into darkness. Unable to see,
Alexis’s heart rate sped up again and her palms grew sweaty, feeling like she
wanted to claw her way out of the nothingness. There was a click and light
returned to the world as first Bull and then Mosh flicked on their lighters.
Bull led the way, followed by Pipsqueak. Mosh gestured for Alexis to go next
and he followed behind her. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“It took about ten years to build
this place,” Mosh explained, reading her thoughts. “We’ve got exits all over
this city.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Go ahead and tell her all our
secrets why don’t you?” Pipsqueak snorted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Hey, little man, you volunteered
to help with his. Keep your yap shut and don’t play the innocent bystander, all
right?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“If you guys don’t want me here,
I’m happy to go,” Alexis snapped, tired of them fighting over her. She was used
to not being wanted, but they didn’t have to rub it in her face. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Ignore Squeak,” Mosh answered,
eyes narrowed at the smaller boy. “He’s just afraid of getting spanked by
Jack.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Who <i>is</i> Jack?” By what she’d heard of him so far, he sounded like a
grumpy parent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“The Jack of all Trades. He leads
the way around here. Picks us, trains us, sends us out on errands.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“You don’t like him?” It was a
safe guess, based on Pipsqueak’s fear of Jack’s reaction to her being there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Are you kidding?” Mosh grinned.
“We’d be nowhere without him. Don’t let Squeak’s cowardice fool you. Jack can
be scary, but he only wants to protect us. Our secret is what keeps us safe.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis tried to keep track of the
maze they were in as they walked, but after the fourth left-then-right, she
gave up and accepted that she’d probably never see the sky again.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Another right turn and the tunnel
opened up to a larger, more cavernous corridor. The flicker of lighter fire
glinted off metal below and Bull grabbed the back of Alexis’ jacket as she
nearly stepped over the edge of a five-foot drop. Her hand flew to her chest to
stop her heart from bursting through her ribs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Subway tunnels,” he explained,
nodding to the abandoned tracks, and she backed away from the fall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Thanks,” she gasped, and he,
too, only shrugged in reply. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The squeak and scurry of rats
made Alexis cringe. The transit system had shut down before Alexis was born,
most of the tunnels and street accesses sealed. Large signs were posted outside
of old depots warning people to keep out of the tunnels, warning that they were
monitored 24/7. Clearly, that was a lie. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
As they wandered farther down the
tunnels, Alexis was able to see the domed ceiling more clearly, and echoes
other than the sound of their boots on the pavement reached them. Voices. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Mosh and Bull extinguished their
lighters and let the light of larger fires lead them around the next bend to
what was nothing less than a little city. Tents, blankets and campfires
scattered the area, forts built out of crates, rope, and plywood balanced on
stairs into bunk towers for more people to find places to sleep. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis gaped and she shifted
closer to Mosh, staring in wonder. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“What is this place?” she
whispered. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Mosh grinned. “This is home. I
told you: Jack finds us, he trains us, he keeps us safe. This is where it all
happens.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Trains you to do what exactly?”
Alexis asked, her mouth watering at the smell of meat cooking over a fire. Her
gaze fell on some sort of browned and crispy bird. Her stomach grumbled. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Who’s the chickie?” demanded a
girl no more than fourteen on the other side of the fire. She was tending to
her dinner with lemon and the tanginess added to the flavours already building
in Alexis’s mouth. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Name’s Alexis,” Pipsqueak
answered, sitting down next to her and making a grab for a leg. “Brother just
got shot by the coppers topside.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis focused on the turning
bird. She felt Mosh brace, as if prepared for her to attack, but as far as she
was concerned, they hadn’t said anything. Her tongue started bleeding again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Huh,” the girl replied, swatting
Pipsqueak’s hand away. That was the end to her reaction of the boy’s news.
“Bring me the spices I asked you for, Squeak? If you did, you can share.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Pipsqueak gave his gap-toothed
grin and pulled a plastic bottle from his pocket. “Swiped it before the fight.
I want a wing.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Fine.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“And a leg for Alexis,” Mosh spoke
up, hearing Alexis’s stomach. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
The girl’s eyebrow twitched.
“What’s she done to deserve it?” she asked. “I never seen her hunt.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“And if Jack had said the same
thing when you first got here? Where’d you be, Fly?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
She grunted, her brow twisted.
“Whatever.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“This is Firefly,” Mosh
introduced as he pulled a leg off and handed it to Alexis. She brought the
greasy flesh to her lips and sank her teeth in glory. When had she last had fresh
meat? Months? She moaned in pleasure as she chewed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Nice to meet you,” she said
after swallowing. “You’re an amazing cook.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Firefly’s eyes narrowed, but
Alexis caught a glint of pride within them. “Damn right I am,” the girl
replied, minus a bit of the hostility. “Jack lets you stay here, you bring me
stuff to cook with, you get free share – same deal I got with Squeak.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis nodded her understanding. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“<i>If</i> Jack lets you stay,” she repeated, amused. Her eyes jumped to
Mosh. “Word’s out.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Of course it is,” Mosh sighed.
“People here got big mouths.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Bring us food, at least then
those mouths’d be full,” Firefly pointed out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Mosh turned to Alexis who by now
was ripping the last of the meat off the bone. “Come on. It’ll be worse if he
thinks we’re avoiding him.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis thanked Firefly again,
received another shrug, and then she and Mosh headed off, Bull staying behind
with Pipsqueak and Firefly. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
They hadn’t gone far when another
voice stopped them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“So it’s true. Mosh, when are you
going to learn to stop bringing home strays?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
If the smell of cooking dinner
had made her mouth water, this man’s voice turned her legs to butter. A heavy
Scots accent rumbled through lips surrounded by unshaved bristles. Auburn hair
swept low over his forehead and blue eyes sparked in fun. His arms were crossed
over his chest and he leaned against the wall, one leg propped up behind him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Tell them to stop being so cute
and I would. But come on, look at her.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
Alexis’s face flushed under the
new guy’s closer attention, but she stared back, shoulders squared. He was
older than she was by a few years. Probably a bit older than Jake, too – early
twenties at least. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“You Jack?” she asked, thinking
it likely based on his reaction. She was startled when he let out a guffaw and
pushed himself off of the wall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Me? You must be joking, lass.
I’m not a hard-assed demon like Jack.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“This is Maverick,” Mosh
introduced. “He’s second in command around here.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Aye, that’s about it,” Maverick
agreed. “And who are you?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
“Alexis,” she said. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
His eyes narrowed. “That’s a good
name for a hardened lass, but you don’t strike me as the type. You’re the
damsel in distress and no mistake – blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty. I wouldn’t
worry about Jack throwing you to the hounds. He’ll find good use for you round
here.” He matched the new glare on her face with a grin. “You two follow me,
and I’ll give you the tour before I take you to Jack. More to learn about this
place than you’ll ever have time for, but this’ll teach you what you need to
know.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 27.0pt;">
He gestured grandly to the wide
staircase going up to the higher level. “Well, Damsel, welcome to the Shadows.”</div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-45450123495821522742012-02-27T06:21:00.002-05:002012-02-27T06:22:05.356-05:00Spring is in the AirWe had a nasty snowstorm on Friday that caused 100 car accidents, put buses ridiculously behind schedule, and dropped the temperature about 10 degrees Celsius from what we’ve been enjoying the last week, and in spite of it all, I know it to be true that the seasons are changing. How? No, not because of Phil the groundhog. Although I’m sure he’s a perfectly legitimate source of testing seasonal transition, I choose to trust my own instincts. And my head won’t stop buzzing. <br />
<br />
Winter is great for hibernating – and this year it wasn’t only hiding away in the warmth of my apartment, it was also a time to rest my mind. I focused a lot on edits, on short stories, on tuning up old projects, but I feel like the past few months I haven’t really come up with anything new. Two weeks ago, the thoughts started pouring like melting snow. The ideas won’t shut up. I can’t sleep, shower, work without some new idea or character coming into my head. Which is great – I’m thrilled! – but it’s hard to fit it all in. So, I’m taking it one project at a time. <br />
<br />
The first installment of Greylands gets posted on Thursday, and I admit I’m nervous about it. At worst, it’ll be kind of a cool story that people can read and comment on, but I am hoping it’s enough to inspire a couple of submissions towards it. I was surprised that it came out to be more like chapter 1 in a short novel than a short story on its own, but I still think it works. <br />
<br />
Edits for Bitter Cold are going slowly but surely. With luck (and hard work, focus, etc) I’ll be done a second draft by the end of March and then send it out again for a second batch of edits before I do another read-through. On the whole I’m really enjoying it, but I do wonder if parts of it should be re-written. Do you ever have that feeling? You’re not sure if it’s actually good enough for the public to read, but you’re not quite sure how to change it? How do you get around this? <br />
<br />
Finally, the thing I’m most excited about, I’ve had a few revelations about The Fenwith Trials. You can find a full description of the project <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/p/fenwith-trials.html">here</a>, but it’s about to undergo some major renovations. A new narrator, new format, new POV. A lot of the scenes will stay the same, and most of the characters, but how it’s told will be completely different. Better. I feel it in my bones that I’m moving in the right direction on it. It took me 5 years to finish the first draft, but I’m really hoping it doesn’t take that long for the rewrites…<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So that's everything I'm up to - what are you working on? Share below!</div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-22397059926794313362012-02-23T06:32:00.002-05:002012-02-23T17:41:58.951-05:00Q&A - Colin F BarnesWriter, editor, master-of-all-tradsor, I am very excited to host an interview with the twisted brain behind that revolting, unpleasant (brilliant) City of Hell Chronicles anthology I so recently <a href="http://literary-endeavors.blogspot.com/2012/02/city-of-hell-chronicles-vol-1-review.html">reviewed</a>. But there's much more to this man than horror -- the witty, clever, and extremely talented, Colin F Barnes. <br />
<br />
<b>The “about the author” section on your website never fails to crack me up. It’s probably one of the best I’ve read. Anything else you want to share about yourself? </b><br />
<br />
Thank you, Krista. I have to admit, I only wrote it in that manner because I couldn't think of a 'proper' one. I do wonder if it gives the wrong impression to prospective publishers. But I suppose it sticks in the mind. As for anything else I want to share, I am but a slave to two cats. They force me to have a presence online so that my servitude to them isn't noticed. Although I've kinda let the cat out of the bag now. It'll be just a matter of time before they translate this and I'm punished. But beyond that, I'm a humble writer from England, struggling to make my mark in the world.<br />
<br />
<b>The flash fiction stories you post, Genesis, they all demonstrate a ridiculous talent for causing people to go screaming from the room. Hair on the back of the neck and all that. What is it about horror that interests you?</b> <br />
<br />
That's very kind of you to say, thanks. Horror has always intrigued me from a really early age. Growing up, we didn't have YA books. We had Janet & John books for kids and then Stephen King and James Herbert. From about the age of 10 or so I was reading horror novels, and sneakily staying up at night watching dark, scary films on my little 10" black and white portable TV. I just find the 'dark' more interesting because of the questions it raises. <br />
<br />
<b>Why bugs? (See City of Hell review >:-|) </b><br />
<br />
Because they are creepy and nasty, and probably the only thing that has colonised the planet better than we have. With City of Hell, I wanted an apocalypse that could happen (within a little creative license). If bugs grew to the size of humans or larger, we would be doomed. They are just so incredible in their ability to adapt and evolve. When I was doing research into potential creatures for City of Hell, I was surprised by their level of sophistication and efficiency. They would totally destroy/harvest/mutate with us. <br />
<br />
<b>You have your name as editor as much as an author – do you have a leaning about which role your prefer? </b><br />
<br />
Writing is my first passion. Editing the projects was really just a way of writing a story and getting it out there. Instead of me writing a whole collection, I could write one story and create the world, and invite others into it. I do enjoy the editing side of it, but writing is first and foremost my true love (Although it's run close by English Ale, and goth girls.) :)<br />
<br />
<b>You have two anthologies under your belt right now, and at least another two in the works. What is it about these collaborating projects that appeals to you?</b><br />
<br />
I touched on it in the previous question. I think it comes down to my creation need. I like coming up with ideas, themes and worlds. I have so many that I cant possibly write the stories for them all, so by collaborating, Im able to work on my collections, and expand other ideas simultaneously. Also, I really enjoy working with other authors. In this day and age of the internet, it's easier to find like minded people and share your love of fiction. <br />
<br />
<b>From horror to YA? Seems an extreme jump in genre – what inspired you to try it out? </b><br />
<br />
When I was young, there was no such thing as YA as a marketable genre. Nowadays it's one of the most popular, but also one with a very wide scope of what can be done. As much as I love horror, I'm a story teller, and the genre to me is just the wrapping. I write in most genres and love to explore stories in a wide variety of fields. <br />
<br />
<b>Any other projects in the works? </b><br />
<br />
I've always got more than a few things going on. Day of Demons and City of Hell Chronicles: Volume 2 are coming to a close on submissions, so they'll be out in a few month's time. I'm writing a YA novel currently, and also putting the final touches on a collection of stories about a witch with borderline psychopathic tendencies (Ursa Incantrix). I've another long-ish short story due for release at the end of Feb. Finally, I'll be starting work on the first standalone City of Hell novel (working title of Frostblood) in around May. Beyond that, there will be a third City of Hell anthology before the end of the year, and probably a weird/horror collection or two. <br />
<br />
<b>Maybe a horror writer’s mind works different – what are your writer must-haves to get the words down? </b><br />
<br />
A clean desk, a moleskin bulging with notes and a basic outline, and the loss of an Internet connection. Some fine Ale helps, as does bacon. And a concrete inescapable deadline really helps too. <br />
<br />
<b>I know you involve yourself in a variety of genres, but since horror is fairly new to me, do you have any advice about the genre? Things to watch out for, to avoid, etc?</b><br />
<br />
I don't think there is too much to avoid or watch out for. Horror is quite a trope laden genre, but even so, it's possible to write a cracking story using a worn trope, it's all in the execution. I think like all good literature, your aim is to draw the reader into the story as deep as possible. You want to transport the reader into the head of the character and create that dream like trance where they become sensitive to suggestion. Also, it has to have logic so as not to break this spell. It doesn't have to be the logic of our physical world, but an internal logic that is consistent within the parameters of the story. Once you have achieved that, you can then think about how to deliver the creeping dread. For me, the best stories do it slowly. Drip dripping the unease a bit at a time. Don't be in a rush to expose the monster or the source of the horror, but leave plenty of clues to keep us on the edge of our seats wondering what it could be. The power of our imagination is infinitely more terrifying than reading a description. <br />
<br />
Colin's website: <a href="http://www.colinfbarnes.com/">www.colinfbarnes.com</a><br />
City of Hell website: <a href="http://www.cityofhellchronicles.com/">www.cityofhellchronicles.com</a>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-11919175675712393082012-02-20T10:17:00.000-05:002012-03-12T20:46:00.078-04:00Devin O'Branagan's Red Hot Property: a review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggeuKSPgeNqm0mLjBpzXzO_IsdgRwV1XhdBIqdShv2cyXrhtXVVVPf1upebfYmYXe4um7zQ_GT5kYh9bbMpDUBrpVxMxnegMIABmEmSb478-mjL4tj_WfA72gD2aWSFpXm4li1XnVJ5_bS/s1600/164_RHP_Medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggeuKSPgeNqm0mLjBpzXzO_IsdgRwV1XhdBIqdShv2cyXrhtXVVVPf1upebfYmYXe4um7zQ_GT5kYh9bbMpDUBrpVxMxnegMIABmEmSb478-mjL4tj_WfA72gD2aWSFpXm4li1XnVJ5_bS/s200/164_RHP_Medium.jpg" width="128" /></a></div>
<i>Molly O'Malley is a plucky rookie real estate agent who is learning to swim with the sharks at the town's most cutthroat agency. A former cocktail waitress, Molly uses her street savvy to avoid being eaten alive by vindictive office staff, neurotic colleagues, crazy clients, and an abundance of sexy men. A hilarious tale of a woman trying to become more than she believes possible, and discovering herself in the process.</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
Interested in purchasing? Find more information <a href="http://www.devinwrites.com/theredhotnovels.html">here</a>.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never realised that real estate agents led such exciting
lives! From the first scene to the last, O’Branagan keeps the reader hooked
with a blend of suspense, violence, heartbreak and, most prominently – humour. <i>Red Hot Property</i> is comedic chick lit at
its best. It’s been compared to the style of Janet Evanovich and, while I can
see where the comparison lies (I’m a big Evanovich fan myself), O’Branagan
takes a unique twist that makes it something entirely new. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As always, Devin has created a full cast of loveable (and
hateable) characters that you could easily believe you’d meet in the course of
a day. Molly O’Malley the feisty main character, is a perfect example of a
woman trying so hard to get what she wants out of life – love, a family, a
successful career - that she loses focus on why she wants it. How many of us
can say that we haven’t experienced that kind of tunnel vision at one time or
another. It’s easy to feel empathy for the Lead’s experiences, and that empathy
sucks you right into the rest of the story. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But don’t expect Molly to be the one to keep your interest
the whole way through. There are so many fantastic secondary characters and all
of them steal the show. It comes as no surprise to me that Valentino DeMitri – “The
Queen of Real Estate” – and his dog Talisman have become such favourites of
Devin’s collection. I’m so glad that I finally got to meet them and find out
what all the fuss was about. They certainly deserve it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first in what will soon become a trilogy, <i>Red Hot Property</i> is a great start to
Molly’s story. I can’t wait to pick up the sequel <i>Red Hot Liberty</i>, and Talisman’s exploits in <i>Show Dog Sings the Blues</i>. </div>
</div>Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-574414788989761066.post-13638058386848906582012-02-16T06:28:00.002-05:002012-02-16T06:28:54.162-05:00OMGitssomuchfunA friend of mine on the forum recently reminded me of something. She's been working on a project for the last little while and just been flying through it, posting regularly about her progress and how much <i>fun</i> she's having with it. She's excited as a kid on xmas morning to sit down and throw a few more pages on. So I asked myself how long it's been since I got that kind of innocent pleasure out of my writing.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I've stopped enjoying it. But it seems that somewhere along the road to getting published, I've forgotten that - really - getting published isn't the point. It's the way to make a business out of a talent, absolutely, and a way to spread your writing across a wider audience than you'd probably do otherwise, certainly, but when I was six years old and penned my first story, my thought was not for it to get my name in print. I did it because I was inspired to get the words down, so I did.<br />
<br />
I remember spending a weekend holed up in my dad's office when I was fourteen, taking over his computer, and working six hours straight on a Saturday to write a story of a couple thousand words because I'd had an idea that morning (I still have the story - it was a Days of our Lives fanfiction). Back then I didn't care about editing, I didn't care about drafts, the story just needed to be told.<br />
<br />
In terms of style, structure, vocabulary, etc, I feel (hope) I've come a long way since I was fourteen, but I also feel that I've missed out on something in the meantime.<br />
<br />
There has to be a balance between writing professionally (edits, drafts, more edits, rewriting, edits from scratch of the new stuff you just wrote, marketing, networking, etc) and writing with the abandon of a child who's just experienced pixie sticks for the first time and is riding the rush of a sugar high. I'm not quite sure how to find this again, but I think I'll start with a good old fashioned Hilroy notebook and Bic pen, curl up on my grandmother's sofa while she watches Law&Order reruns and makes me crepes for breakfast, and go from there. It's always worked before...Krista Walshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00887177438174795076noreply@blogger.com4