Four Hours

Knowledge is the death of research — Walther Hermann Nernst, German Physicist 1864 – 1941

Four hours left…

Tharlia had to stifle a yawn. It had been her choice to work the night shifts at the lab so she couldn’t really complain that she never slept. Working at night not only allowed her to continue her lessons during the day but it gave her almost totally unsupervised access to the specimen. She felt her hearts quiver as she looked at it.

The stasis pod itself was nothing to be excited over. Lacklustre grey metal surrounded what should be clear glass, it was however tainted by the deep frost on the inside. The pod wasn’t of their own design, it had been found floating aimlessly in space. It had collided with one of the military patrol crafts. It was badly scarred but obviously durable as no leaks had appeared. The inside was frozen but it couldn’t have been from the cold recesses of space. Perhaps it was just how this race functioned.

They had set the pod on a course for extremely slow defrost. They didn’t want the being in the pod to have life pushed on it too quickly. What if it couldn’t survive in their World? She sighed and glanced out of the observation decks window. The sky was a deep shade of sapphire, the shades of blue trying to draw her into a sombre mood. She jumped as the comm screen screamed to life. She didn’t know why such an annoying beep was needed. It wasn’t like it was ever loud in here.

She moved to press the accept button and wasn’t surprised at all when she saw it was only the computerised text she was used to. Why waste time actually talking to the scientists? They were only the ones on the front lines doing all the work. In truth she had never met her bosses, she had been hired through the employment bot which had come to the stagnant, depressingly grey hole she lived in. They had apparently read her thesis on life in other Universes and wanted to hire her for their top secret agenda. She could understand why the government wanted to keep this quiet but still it made it hard to talk to others about her work.

She glanced at the screen once again to make sure she had read the message correctly. She was to begin the neural screening. Was that even possible at this stage of deep freeze? Not to mention she didn’t want to think of the pain she would be causing the poor being with the drills. Yet, she was a good little drone and did as she was ordered. Pressing a few buttons she had to admit she watched in fascination as the pod door slowly opened. A few more button presses ensured that the drills were lowered slowly from the ceiling. They neared what she assumed was the head of the being; this process definitely wouldn’t work if it wasn’t. The drills almost tentatively touched the ice as if deciding where best to begin. Finally they plunged deeply into the ice and began their whining movement. They made quick work of the cold barrier but Tharlia felt, much to her astonishment, her stomach churn somewhat when the whining increased at what she assumed must be the skull. Ruby red liquid tried to escape the tracks made but another button press ensured the openings were seared. The drills slowly removed themselves allowing the black wires to carefully enter. A screen lowered to viewing level and flickered to life before her very eyes. She wasn’t sure the being had any thought patterns left in tact but it was worth a try. She sat forward as images began to appear…

There was darkness and pain. It was never ending. The cold harshness of deep, dark black space. Stars sparked to silver infused life and were snuffed out just as quickly. There was darkness. There was pain. An emerald planet with sparkling sapphire blue oceans. A flash of a blade. A mouth screaming. Blood pouring like a river. An attack. An army. So many dead. An explosion. Unending grief, and then… utter loneliness…

Tharlia had to drag her eyes away from the rest of the imagery, momentarily unaware there was tears streaming down her cheeks. Was this what the being dreamt of while stuck in their frozen prison or was it something more? Was this the last moments of it’s existence branded forever in its DNA? Tharlia almost hoped it was the former. No one should experience something like that no matter where they came from.

Shaking off the effects of the screen, she ensured everything was recorded to be sent to the higher ups. Let them think of it what they will. She didn’t want to watch any more so only left the wires in another nano second. Finished, she ensured the wires were properly removed and the wounds seared shut. What if they had caused the being irreparable damage? Her colleagues always laughed that she was too soft for this job. Maybe they were right.

Recordings safely sent she sat back to study more of the life signs of the life form. She felt like nothing more than a keeper, she wasn’t a true scientist. If only there was some way she could prove herself better than her peers.

Three hours left…

Tharlia stifled yet another yawn. She hated to admit she had gotten distracted. The shining sparkle of the moon seemed far more interesting than work that was tantamount to babysitting. The rocky surface outside beckoned her; she was an avid climber, something unheard of for a scientist. Apparently they were all supposed to be geeky. Well nerdy tendencies aside she had outside likes too dammit.

She sighed, looking back towards her frozen charge. Did they have likes, interests, hobbies? Were they even nice? They’d never heard of life on other planets until her thesis and the military discovery. Just because they were out there didn’t mean that they should be sought out. She’d had no reply from her bosses yet about the recordings either. Her damnable curiosity had her wanting to try the drills again, completely forgetting the images had overwhelmed her last time. She theorised the planet she had seen was the one that had exploded. What a shame, it seemed to be a beautiful, peaceful sort of place. Would she do untold damage if she were to use the drills again?

She sat forward in her chair, a daunting yet almost impossible to ignore idea coming to her mind. She wondered if the drills would have less of an effect on the subject if they were more defrosted. It was risky. She didn’t know if the being was peaceful but she was already seeing images of the awards she could achieve if she worked on her charge on her own. What fame and fortune would come!

She moved toward the temperature control, her hand hovering as the last vestiges of good sense left her. She could do this, she would do this. Any danger the subject could prove surely couldn’t be that substantial. They had had the being here for years before Tharlia had come. Steeling her resolve, she pressed the button to increase the temperature in the pod. There was no immediate alarm so evidently her bosses can’t have noticed yet. There was no great difference anyway, apart from the slightly increased condensation on the inside of the glass, probably only noticeable by her due to the fact that her vision had always been really good. At least she told herself that to make her feel better.

She sat down to monitor the beings statistics, noting the blood pressure had risen considerably. Slivers of unease crept through her soul. She was the only one there this night shift. What if the subject was too much for her to handle? Allowing panic to consume her, she decided to administer a sedative to ensure the beings compliance. She watched in fascination as the hyperneedle came down from the same hidden place in the ceiling as the drills had. The pod door again slowly revealed it’s prize. Perhaps she was a sadist, she felt a little amount of satisfaction as the long, lethal looking needle plunged without hesitation into what she hoped was the neck. Sedatives always worked best there, allowing the chemicals to enter the veins quickly. Others preferred to use the hearts but it could prove to be fatal and Tharlia couldn’t afford that in so many ways.

Retracting the needle quickly she let that same original panic spur her to shut the pod even quicker. She sat back, a small sense of relief washing through her at the fact that so far she had been successful. What if she had been caught mid needle thrust? She’d hate to think what would happen.

She shut her eyes, just for a moment, and let her mind wander. The cold and grey landscape surrounding the lab was at a stark contrast to her home. She missed the deep shades of emerald that made the hills the natural beauty spot they were. The deep mahogany chocolate of the surrounding forest had always called to the very essence of her soul. She knew that if she hadn’t been that motivationally driven to become a famous scientist she would have gotten a job somehow linked to the forest. She didn’t however need her fathers mocking tones and condescension if she should have picked anything but scientist. The man was a real demon about science.

A screaming beep tore through her reverie as well as an ice cold bucket of liquid would have. What now? She wondered, somewhat perturbed at being interrupted. She needed to focus on stealing this discovery right from underneath her bosses noses. She grimaced. She was well aware that in a very short space of time she’d gone from a quiet geek to an impassioned usurper but she was desperate to prove herself to colleagues that see her as nothing but a little woman, and a father who thought she would amount to nothing.

The scream of the comm screen sounded again and she pressed the accept button a little harder than was perhaps necessary. It wasn’t the message she had been expecting from her bosses. The text showed it was the engineering team that monitored the equipment of the entire complex. They had noted a change in the systems in the lab. Could she please check and let them know. She glanced quickly at the pod hoping not to see anything too drastic. What if they had noticed because the being had broken out somehow. Instead she saw that everything was the same. Well the same except that the ice was now noticeably thinner. Was that a peach skin tone she could see? She waited an appropriate amount of time then replied that all was okay on her end. She hated lying to them, knowing that now they would spend ages checking all of the individual systems to find where the fault lay. They couldn’t know what she had done, no one could until she had seen it through to the end, come what may.

Two hours left…

Panic was now rising in her throat like bile. Time seemed to stand still. The beings statistics were rising at an incredible rate. Lung function was accelerating but not yet to the degree where they could wake up. She tapped on the screen so she could monitor the beings neural pathways. It appeared the earlier invasive procedure had made little difference as she literally watched signals race across the board. She had never seen so many impulses, it astounded her. Another flick of her finger on the screen and she could see the essence of a DNA strand of the subject scanned by the sensors in the ceiling. It was incredible. There seemed to be the basis of all DNA, the double helix, but seemingly fused to the centre was a third strand, making it a triple helix. There was also so many more hydrogen bonds than was normal. What could this mean? From this information alone she could win prestige but she wanted, no needed, more.

She felt her mouth constrict. She needed things to happen sooner rather than later. She didn’t know what would happen should she be discovered. It was strange, she didn’t really think of whether the being was dangerous, all she could see was the fame and fortune that she needed.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed that some of the ice had fallen away; not enough to show the features of the being but she could see some of the writing at the bottom of the pod. It seemed to be engraved into the dark metal, who would go to such an effort? She moved closer to the pod, straining to determine what it said. She was fluent in a few languages but this resembled none of the modern ones. She knew about a few ancient dialects but again this stumped her. She found herself almost mesmerised by the swirling circular design. It echoed an ancient dialect she had studied in lessons, although it was far more beautiful in orientation.

Squinting, she struggled to remember what she had learned. She sounded out the words to see if they felt right.

“L… Lar…st… Ha… ooo…,” there was ice blocking off the middle of the sentence so she went to the end. “Way… re… Knoe… lege… all.” Tharlia sighed in disgust. That made absolutely no sense to her. Why hadn’t she paid more attention in lessons? Deciding, perhaps ignorantly, that it was nothing to worry about she went back to her console.

Moments later that damn comm screen beep echoed through her skull. She would love one day just to smash the thing up but while she was doing something so dangerous she fought against the urge. She really didn’t want to purposefully draw attention to herself. She pressed the accept button in agitation, willing the sender to disappear. She almost swallowed her tongue when she saw it was her bosses. They were still viewing the recordings but they would inform her of their findings soon. In the meantime they had had reports from engineering that faults lay all over the lab and she was to go into the viewing room to check them out. She should only report back if she found something urgent. She had a little time until engineering finally figured out what was going on. By then she would hopefully have all the knowledge in the World; but actually go into the viewing room when defrost was almost complete? Not in their lifetimes.

Her eyes shot to the pod. She could have sworn there had been movement just then. Was the being finally waking? It was too soon, she wasn’t ready. She could feel hyperventilation trying to set into her psyche. She wasn’t ready… she wasn’t ready…

One hour left…

Things were going from bad to worse. There had been faults she had blindly ignored, feeling they were reporting solely on what she had initiated. She bashed the screen as it displayed something else. The lighting system was failing. Some would consider that a small problem but it did nothing for her piece of mind. Soon another screen popped up, the comm network was failing. That was fine by her, it meant no more beeping headaches at least, though she supposed it should worry her that she essentially couldn’t contact her bosses.

She glanced at the pod, hoping, praying that everything was all right in there. She knew the being would be out soon and she needed them to stay alive. What would happen if life support failed? Her hopes for the future and her dreams of fame would die with the subject. She watched dispassionately as some more ice broke away from the glass. She could now see the entire sentence within the pod but it mattered little as she couldn’t make out its meaning.

Suddenly, a harsh fire broke out within the viewing room. Only then did she notice a warning saying that the wiring was failing for all the machines. How had so many faults gone unnoticed? Had she blindly ignored them in quick succession assuming she was the centre of everything and it was all her doing with the pod? She cursed her own ego and ran into the viewing room willing the water system to come on until she remembered she had had a warning about that too. She looked wildly about for anything that might prevent the fire from spreading. She had no desire to go up in flames but more pressing was that she couldn’t let the being die either. He was her meal ticket. She looked into every lonely corner of both rooms until eventually her eyes landed on the pod and she wondered if their guest was unaffected. They seemed so, though she was now shocked that she could see the features. Their guest was a male, tall with peachy skin and some facial stubble. She moved closer. He would’ve been handsome if he had more resembled her race. Still her hearts gave a little flutter as she stared.

Suddenly, his blood shot chocolate eyes shot open and focused solely on her, a stark contrast to her now fearful deep black ones. His eyes became all that there was. The heat from the flames faded to the back of her awareness. His breath misted on the glass as his eyes stared unblinking and froze her to the spot. She could feel centuries of hate and despair directed towards her and she wondered fleetingly if he even saw her or was he reliving the last few moments before he was frozen. She watched, almost in slow motion, as a gigantic hand shot forth and shattered the glass of the pod. She hadn’t realised she had been bent towards him until his gigantic hand curled around her weak neck. His grip tightened and she knew instinctively that it wasn’t about her, not really. She smiled at the fact that that was the first unselfish thought she’d had all night.

She felt her life slipping from her and thoughts came to her sporadically almost like waves crashing against a cliff… what had she done?… shouldn’t have turned the temperature up… she was so selfish… so blind… what had she unleashed on her World… should have told bosses… should have checked comm screen… …damn warnings… … can hear screaming beep… … … so cold… … … … please help…

Time’s up…

From: Boss C Tulanie

To: Scientist Tharlia Balen

Importance: Extreme Urgency

Scientist Balen, leave the lab immediately. We have had reports that along with the other faults the stasis pod has accelerated its defrost rate, not unheard of in some cases. However we need to isolate that lab. We have finished the viewing of the recordings and found the specimen to be highly dangerous. Our ancient records show it is the last human being, sent into space before their planet Earth was destroyed after an interplanetary War some centuries ago. After decoding the images we could see they implanted the knowledge of their race into that sole being that drove him to insanity and implanted maniacal tendencies. Coupled with the infection in his DNA we cannot risk exposure to our people. Terminate immediately and retreat. That is an order.

Last human being – Beware – Know that the blind pursuit of knowledge destroys all.

Thank You and Goodbye :)

Morning dear friends 🙂

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I have to warn you, this is one melodramatic post coming your way 🙂 I am shutting down my blog for now. Recently,  I received back my novel draft for Incarnate. The person who proofed it for me, I’m not going to lie, was pretty harsh. Harsh but funny, how does that even work? 🙂 Anyway, because I am an over emotional obsessive wreck my heart pretty much ended up like the picture I have added above. Oh I can tell you, it was the end of the World last night, nothing would ever be the same again etc. 🙂 I am such a drama queen 🙂
BUT… I could see the value of every single point he said. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in that situation but when someone points out the flaws in something you’ve spent years loving and doing, it’s heart-breaking but it can open your eyes to points that you were just too blind to see. I hold no grudge against the person that proof read my work. He has shown me that I need to stop and take a look at the direction my writing is going 🙂
SO… I have decided I am going back to basics. I am going to put Incarnate aside and concentrate on improving my writing as a whole. I may go back to it at a later date. There is no way I can stop completely as I just love writing too much. However, I need to research, practice, do something to improve myself. I can’t have distractions from this so I am shutting my blog and closing my twitter account so that I can work solely on something new and focus on that completely. They will be shut tonight. In the mean time I will be posting a sci-fi short story I recently submitted to an anthology that got rejected (no shock there then lol) to make sure it is here for when I come back… if I come back 🙂
Thank you for all your love and support and go see J. S. Collyer, she rocks 🙂

Notebook: Hallam *Update*

Afternoon lovely readers 🙂

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This is just a quick post to say I have now done some more on the first of my Notebook series of posts, Notebook: Hallam (read it here). I began this series with the intent to show how my own personal writer’s mind worked (scary I know lol). I also intended to write the story ideas down before I forgot them, which no matter the desire can sometimes happen with me (elephant I am not, well memory wise anyway 😉 ). Please enjoy the story for what it is and if you can add anything to the author’s notes I have inserted please feel free to comment 🙂

Thank you.

Pen Names: A Post From a Confused Soul

Evening lovely readers 🙂

I have to ask; what’s in a pen name? It seems such an archaic term given writers mainly use computers now. I will however say that I do still whip out the old pen and note pad should a creative spark strike.

As you’ll see from the title of this page I tend to go by A K Hinchey. I have however had work published under Andrea Hinchey. So what’s the big deal I hear you cry; they’re both your name. Well yes they are but how do you decide which version to use? Being published under one then the other, will readers link you to all your work? Should you use one for your main (perhaps most loved) genre while using another to try something new? Do you see where my confusion lies? I have yet to have a book published and am unsure which version to use should Hell freeze over and some unsuspecting publishers pick my novel over others 🙂

I will say one of the most creative pen names I’ve seen is that of one of my friends and a fantastic author. Helena Hann-Basquiat is a dynamic and multi-faceted person with creativity literally oozing from every pore. The writing is layered in excellence coupled with a decadent style few can hope to achieve, myself included. BUT the persona of Helena can act to distance the author from themselves. Given I know the reason I can completely see why Helena did this. Doing this also gives you a sense of freedom to create what you will unencumbered by past attempts and circumstance. It must be very liberating. I still cannot decide however if I would want to stick to one name for everything so people can see my diversity…

Ah well, I’m sure I’ll get there one day 😉

Thank you 🙂

Notebook: Hallam

Evening lovely readers 🙂

Today I want to present to you the first of my Notebook Series of posts. This concept is to portray writing in progress and how the mind of a writer can work. If I’m honest it’s also so I don’t forget the story ideas; hey I’m human, I can admit my faults 😉 Please just keep in mind that the writing might start out rough around the edges but it will improve with time.

My first venture for this series is a sci-fi themed piece centering around Commander Samara Balen and the duties she’s called for in service to The Service. What will happen should the Universe come crashing down around you? 🙂

Please enjoy. Thank you 🙂

Hallam

Sam sighed as her eyes popped open, unfocused as the comm sphere bleeped to life. She had only just finished the graveyard shift in engineering but she knew they needed her for something else. They always did. She could’ve sworn her title was Commander, not General Dog’s Body.

Grudgingly, she swung her legs over the edge of her sleeping platform, her bare feet making contact with the cold harsh metal. Others may shy away from it but Sam welcomed the cruel reality of the bitter cold; it reminded her of the reality of a Universe at War.

Shuffling as she went, she managed to reach the comm sphere after only five beeps. Not bad since she was exhausted. Rubbing her eyes, she pressed the glaringly bright speaker button and said, “Commander Balen here. This better be damn good, Meat.”

*Author’s Note* I had to pause here. Is the name a name, nickname or derogatory term for the person on the other end of the comm sphere? Do I want to turn my character into a hard aggressive woman? Or is she just grumpy when she’s tired? Suffice it to say, for now at least, she’s only grumpy 🙂

“Get your head out of your arse Commander and get to the bridge. The Captain has called a meeting.”

“Ah Meat, I love it when you’re rough with me,” she replied sarcastically. “Where’s the respect earned by my position?”

“You want respect? Join the suits in The Guard.” And with that he pressed disconnect. Sam sighed. She knew being part of…

*Author’s Note* Okay, what do you call the opposing faction of military without it sounding too corny? My brain jumps to The Alliance but that could hark to World of Warcraft (yes I am a gamer) or The Rebels, but that is definitely very Star Wars 🙂

…The Service wouldn’t get her high into the upper echelons of life but still she worked hard at her job. She climbed the ranks faster than anyone had at the tender age of twenty-eight. If the Captain would just up and pissing retire she’d be a force to be reckoned with. He wouldn’t retire though, misogynistic bastard. Damn him for only being thirty-five.

She grudgingly got dressed, ignoring the tempting pull of her mattress. How easy it would be to just curl up and ignore the Universe but she had a job to do, one all the more difficult for the very fact that she was a woman in a male dominated World.

*Author’s Note* The Universe my protagonist finds herself in is a misogynistic one. This doesn’t reflect my personal views as I believe women can do anything just as well as men. It does, however, create tension and I do love me some tension 🙂

She tugged on her knee-high synthetic leather boots, adjusted her waist holster on her black pants, pulled on her black leather jacket over her black tank and tied her waist length purple hair in a band. This was one reason she loved The Service. They weren’t so strict on military wear and weapons. She picked up her dual HZ45’s and placed them almost lovingly in their holster. Next she placed her hypersilver blades in her boots and switch blade in the sleeve of her jacket. Lastly was the hypersilver sword strapped to her back. You can never be too careful when it came to space travel in her own modest opinion. Plus it was far more satisfying gutting someone up close and personal.

Upcoming Stuff

Hello lovely readers 🙂

Here’s just a short post to divulge what I have planned for my little blog page. As you’ll know I try to publish flash fiction, book reviews, some poetry and general crazy writer lady babblings on all things literary (not to mention a good old dash of hero worship for my friend J.S.Collyer).

To add to this I have decided to try my old creaky hand at some poetry again, though that is definately a trait which is rusty for me. I have also determined that I will start to write what will be called my Notebook Series of posts. This will mainly be posts of story ideas as they come to me to be developed as time goes on. I want to use it as an example of how the mind of a writer works, to develop aspects of my own writing and if I’m honest, so I don’t forget them 🙂 I will also attempt to blog more often (or as much as my fifteen month old will allow). Keep your eyes peeled for an upcoming blog post on TalkNerdy2Me, a convention I am going to with the always stellar J.S.Collyer.

Thank you 🙂

#FlashFiction – The Rose and the Heart Part Three

Evening lovely readers 🙂

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As I work on the second in my Angel of Death series, Bound, I find that sometimes for a break my mind wanders back to the story I began a while ago about my half fae/half lycan character Rose. The Rose and the Heart , a tentative title to say the least, follows Rose as she must face down those who seek to control her and inevitably destroy her. I best write down this burst of creativity before I forget it. Please keep in mind this is a very VERY rough copy written solely as a memory jog. I do however hope you enjoy 🙂 Thank you 🙂

The Rose and the Heart – Part Three

Rose took a deep breath as she stood on the precipice, both physically and emotionally. The wind softly blue her long purple locks back from her scarred face. Everything reminded her that she didn’t belong here regardless of her maniac father closing the portal back to her home. She was of the royal line, surely she had enough power within her to open it again? Even if, by some small chance, she could open it where would she go? Her old life had been destroyed. She sighed.

Glancing down the long imposing cliff she could see the silver sliver of a river mocking her with its luminescent beauty. It shouted at her to by all means try her wings to escape, it would welcome her when she failed. Her wolf had been shockingly quiet since they had run into that alpha. Just another man trying to control her. She felt a strong desire from her wolf to follow him into whatever delights he could promise but she had used her magic to quell her for the first time in her life. She felt guilty but also relieved it had worked. Cloaking herself she ran as fast as she could to escape him and it had seemed to work. Now though her wolf refused to come to her aid. Stubborn bitch! Could she use her wings to escape? They had never worked before but to be fair her mother had not been the best teacher; how could a full lycan teach her to fly when she couldn’t herself?

An almost painful sting resounded on her magical subconscious and she knew her father hunted her still; since meeting him he always seemed to register as a nasty little sting. She laughed; she couldn’t understand his determination for her to rule. Surely he though the same as the rest of the fae; she would dilute the royal line with her ‘mongrel’ heritage. Well that was just fine with her, she didn’t want to rule anyway. She wanted to hide from all of it. She ran her right hand down the now jagged line of skin on her right cheek, a reminder that her father was not someone who cared for others but was someone to be obeyed; someone who saw her type as less than nothing. It seemed to tingle the closer he got. The fae fire he used should have scarred her further but her lycan healing ability quickly kicked in. It brought forth another painfully obvious difference on her part; full fae do not scar even with the full force of fae fire, they merely writhed in agony until they begged for death. At least she had denied her father that.

She shook her head willing these thoughts away. Trust her to get distracted when what she saw as evil advanced upon her. She took a deep and soothing breath to try and calm her nerves. She concentrated on her wings, willing them to move. There was nothing, not even a slight sign of a twitch and Rose became despondent. Some fae she was. She turned back to the dark forest which seemed all the more horrifying to her now. Maybe she could hide somewhere until they tired of searching for her. Would they tire of searching for her? Her logical side doubted it; both her father and the alpha seemed hell bent on finding her. She actually wanted to cry, something she hadn’t done since her mother had died.

Lost in her own thoughts she completely ignored the rustle off to her right and the large, looming wolf that appeared from it. She also missed the following transformation from wolf to very large, very naked man. He smiled when he realised she was lost to conscious thought. He moved closer, as silent as an assassin but with very different intentions in mind. His breath caught a little. There was echoes of her mother in her but her beauty was all her own. She had beautiful flowing purple hair and he was intrigued beyond measure that her wolf was purple, an enigma in itself. He knew she was his; mate, lover, soul-bound; but he had to be cautious. There was something strange about her. He was almost directly to her side when he ran up against something solid and painful. He jumped back with a gasp and watched as she turned to him with almost dreamy eyes.

Rose was aware of him now, that smooth like caramel essence which caressed her magical soul. The alpha stood far too near but it was nothing compared to the evil now oozing from the forest.

“He’s here,” she said to him in a voice full of soul and despondency. She started backing up to the cliff once again, her eyes flashing from the alpha to her rapidly approaching father and back. She didn’t know what was worse and truthfully she just felt lost. One thing was for sure, she would submit to neither, determining she would choose death over subjugation.

“Daughter…” her father began in a determined voice, almost as if he could command her like one of his subjects.

“Rose,” the alpha started, something akin to panic tingeing his deep seductive voice. She smirked as she heard both, deciding to give herself up to the harsh reality of fate.

“I guess we’ll see if I am a true fae after all old man,” she said in a sad voice, reaching the edge of the cliff while fighting back the tears. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to get back to her quiet and peaceful home and carry on with her course. She longed to go back to pretending she was human; strangely she felt at home that way though she had no humanity to speak of.

“Goodbye,” she said to both as she threw herself backwards. The alpha knew nothing of her fathers side and her father thought her wings were lame, heck maybe they were, but she would try them anyway. Their dual anguished yells echoed through the wind that rushed by her. How would she come out of this alive?

Yes, I’m Back!!!!

Evening lovely readers 🙂

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I have the new house… I have the internets… I have the passion, the excitement, the drive… I mostly have the energy…

BRING ON THE WRITING 😉

After having spent weeks moving into our new house I was looking forward to some much needed writing. Alas, after a fateful night of lost power, faulty equipment and marine aquarium based nightmare I’m afraid this is all I can manage right now sorry. However, forthcoming will be more about my work, some juicy flash fiction and more about the writers I am fortunate enough to call friend 🙂 Take a look.

Thank you 🙂

Fretensis by Dennis Villelmi

Evening lovely readers 🙂

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Today I get to talk you about the pure indulgent creativeness that is Fretensis by Dennis Villelmi. I have to begin by apologising however; this review should have been released a while ago. Naughty, naughty Andrea. Be that as it may I will say that this book drew me in and caught my attention to the end.

Fretensis is a collection of prose that strikes the reader as dark and almost eccentric in it’s train of narrative. The imagery used is creative and thick like ooey gooey caramel poured seductively over velvet. I particularly liked the author’s use of a curious merging of Roman history, mythology, Christianity and everything in between; and of course the Legio X Fretensis.

For those who ask, the Legio X Fretensis is a legion of warriors that fought and were predominant in the period that saw the dissolution of the Roman Republic. They were, perhaps unsurprisingly, founded by Caesar. As many will know the Roman empire was full of dictators, Gods and debauchery anyway. I enjoy how the author ties all of this together.

There were particular highlights for me, where I felt everything tied together perfectly. For example, this juicy tidbit from the beginning really succeeds in setting the darker tone of the entire piece,

‘ But I am the one in whom reveries perish. I am the cemetery of dreams. Yet, between the east and the west of Caesar & Redeemer I can see the Leaden course of the mission flowing towards me. I can almost hear Jeudayn’s mother weep’

Here the imagery is steeped in a penultimate feeling referencing death and sorrow yet at the same time has a feeling of unjustified decadence, of Lords just out of reach of their peons.

Another section I particularly liked was one that struck very close for me. It’s one that resounds with such empathic emotion. It also signifies a theoretic movement in time from ancient Rome to more modern views. Who wouldn’t enjoy such a celestial comparison?

‘-I see the angel, hiding behind your eyes; I can see heaven, every time you cry.’

I know this could be taken many ways but I choose to see this in a heartfelt almost positive way. It shows that there is perhaps power behind everyone, the ability to make choices, and knowing how to make the right ones will bring happiness to all.

So, buy this book; you need it, you want it. The literary genius of the author, a wonderful friend of mine, shines through on every page from the imagery to language use, heck even to punctuation. Once you start this book you’ll need to finish it. You get drawn into a wonderfully dark World from which there’s no escape, not that you’d ever want to 🙂

Thank you 🙂

WIP Blog Tour – Bound, Incarnate, Teasers and More

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Hello lovely readers 🙂

So, straight to it. My lovely friend and utmost writing hero J.S Collyer has proceeded to nominate me for the WIP blog tour. I am honoured she has done such a thing as I am a relative unknown in the literary World still. J.S herself has had her debut novel Zero published just this last year and she is already working on the sequel Haven which has a release date of October 2015.

Now I’m getting ahead of myself, let me back track. J.S’s debut novel Zero is a wonderful slice of literary sci fi goodness wrapped in sparkly lasers. Hugo is the reluctant Captain of the Zero after a space manoeuvre during a battle went wrong. He doesn’t expect much from this motley crew but he never expected the type of loyalty, trust and sense of family that he finds. How can he carry on with his orders now? For my full review of this fabulous novel please click hereHaven will be just as epic as the first book so please make sure to check her work out.

Now back to the blog hop. The rules (yes there are rules) basically are:

  1. Link back to the post of the person who nominated you.
  2. Write a little about and give the first sentence of the first three chapters of your current work-in-progress.
  3. Nominate some other writers to do the same.

And follow with interest as I break a good few of the rules 🙂

My First Novel – Incarnate

BlackWingedAngel


Incarnate is the first novel in my Angel of Death series. It is currently with the editor getting shined and be-sparkled ready for my searching for a publisher (I’m a little nervous about that but we’ll see how it goes.) You always have the hope that your work will be good enough for a publisher to be interested in but I also believe that I write for myself and I can be proud of what I do.

Alyssia Morgan has dreams of terror and darkness, falling and endless agony. She discovers all she knew was tainted by her mortal stance and everything around her is a lie. She is the last reincarnation of the Angel of Death and her lover… well… who knew he was magical royalty? She finds herself realm hopping, Angel avoiding and battling for her life while the Second Coming begins. Can she find the strength she needs to fight against fate? What will she do now that she knows she may lose this battle? And what stalks her in her dreams?

Incarnate Extracts

Chapter One:

Darkness surrounded her. Cold slivers of wintry hot fire were caressing along her back, making her gasp. Lovingly aggressive hands held her in place, only holding her arms, but she felt shackled by a million chains in a million places. She heard a laugh, close to her ear, from miles away.

Chapter Two:

The darkness surrounded her once more. She was dressed once again in the shining silver armour, her large ebony wings resplendent in the darkness. Aly turned and turned but couldn’t see where to go. She was lost and she would never be found.

Chapter Three:

She stood in the archway of the overtly extravagant Roman home. She was from Gaul and never quite cared for the luxuries these Romans indulged in, however, it made her enforced Roman husband happy; and when he was happy, she was not beaten.

Hopefully that will intrigue enough people to want to read more 🙂

My WIP – Bound

3908f175914bfe9145d3510ae6db8a56 My WIP is the second novel to the above, entitled Bound and continues the trials that Alyssia Morgan and Alethea, the Angel of Death, face.

No longer does Alyssia house the soul of the Angel of Death but the roles are quite reversed. Alethea is now in control and although sworn to stay out of the business of celestial beings she finds that she’s drawn once again into their pathetic power plays. Hell has quite literally frozen over. The once burning halls of Pandemonium are frosty with the cold and Lucifer is bound by impenetrable crystal. Alethea has to deal with Angels demanding her presence (again, sigh), demons, paranormal beings and her own nagging doubt that she shouldn’t be the one in control given her dark nature. Oh, and lets not forget the mortal housed in her head (a disconcerting feeling to be sure), what more did she need? She’s sworn that she will never be held again but doesn’t her duty govern how she acts? Will she ever gain the peace she so desperately longs for?

Bound Extracts

Chapter One:

She stood with her eyes closed, unwilling to open them. She could smell burning all around her and refused to look at the source. She knew what she would see should she open her eyes anyway; a burned battleground, bodies fallen where they had stood and blood seeping into the Earth. This wasn’t a mortal battle, this was of the divine and utterly… completely… fucking pointless.

Chapter Two:

She was on the battleground once again, the eyes of the fallen staring up at her accusingly. She had failed them but it wasn’t her, not really. She watched as a copy of herself split off and readied her weapons. The armour was strange yet somehow comforting and familiar. Her copy was ready and Thea gasped at the blonde foe the other her faced. He was the absolute double of her boyfriend Lucas but how could that be? The armour and weaponry were alien but somehow, disturbingly, the evil glint in his eye was exactly the same.

Chapter Three:

Alethea groaned as she opened her eyes, her body aching and her wings felt knotted. How long had she been laying here in that Him forsaken spell? Gingerly she moved one leg over the side of the ice laden alter, not quite liking the sacrificial implications. After she found this a success she moved the other and mentally berated herself for going slowly.  Rise and shine sleeping beauty, came her voice from the back of her mind. You are not funny mortal, she replied already casting her senses out to see if danger were near. They appeared to be in an ice cave of some sort but why would Lucifer store her here away from his slimy grasp? I would look closer were I you, came the voice again.

Next on the WIP Blog-Hop I Nominate…

… some of the most brilliant authors I have had the honour to be in contact with. Check out their work now, you won’t be disappointed 🙂

Philippe under carpark

Philippe Blenkiron is a British poet and the author of ‘The Pustoy’, a dystopian novella in verse. He holds a Master’s degree in Creative Writing from Keele University and enjoys writing poetry of varying styles, some of which can be found online at
Ink, Sweat and Tears: (http://www.inksweatandtears.co.uk/pages/?s=philippe+blenkiron)
Dagda Publishing: (http://dagdapublishing.co.uk/2014/08/22/faces-curtains/)
and The Screech Owl: (http://www.thescreechowl.com/page-2.html)
as well as in many other print publications.
Philippe’s current projects include adapting ‘The Pustoy’ for the stage/screen, fronting alt-metal band ‘Skybald’, and work of a more theological nature. He also has some ideas brewing for a second novella, but is keeping his cards close to his chest for the moment…

Order ‘The Pustoy’ at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Pustoy-Philippe-Blenkiron/dp/1499238665 

ericEric Robert Nolan graduated from Mary Washington College in 1994 with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology.  He spent several years as a news reporter and editorial writer for the Culpeper Star Exponent in Culpeper, Virginia. Eric’s debut novel is the postapocalyptic science fiction story, “The Dogs Don’t Bark In Brooklyn Any More.”  It was published by Dagda Publishing on November 19th, 2013, and is available at Amazon.com both in paperback and for Kindle. Eric’s poetry and short stories have been featured by Dagda Publishing, Every Day Poets, Every Day Fiction, Illumen, Under The Bed, Dead Beats Literary Blog, Microfiction Monday Magazine, Dead Snakes, The Bright Light Cafe, Aphelion, Tales of the Zombie War, The International War Veterans’ Poetry Archive, and elsewhere.

Order ‘The Dogs Don’t Bark in Brooklyn Any More’ at Amazon UK here.

Find Eric’s fabulous work along side some of my own in Threads and All Hail the New Flesh.

dennis

“Dennis Villelmi was born in Norfolk, VA in December of 1976.  An only child, Dennis very early on developed an imagination that ran the gamut.  But it wasn’t until the age of thirteen, with the discovery of Clive Barker’s ” The Great and Secret Show,” that Dennis realized that he wanted to be a writer, and moreover, like Barker and H.P. Lovecraft before him, a traveler through realms surreal, macabre, and, to a measure, blasphemous.  But it wasn’t until Halloween of 2014 that Dennis Villelmi finally etched his name onto the roster of explorers, both well known and obscure, of those tenebrous avenues that many would choose to ignore with the publication of his book, “Fretensis.”  Dennis Villelmi continues to live and work in Virginia.

Order Fretensis at Amazon UK here.

Thank you 🙂

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