#FlashFiction – The Rose and the Heart Part Three

Evening lovely readers 🙂

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?

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#FlashSaturday – The Rose and the Heart Part Two

Evening lovely readers 🙂

As you can see these #FlashSaturday’s are becoming a horrible habit of mine 🙂 As some will know I have been working on my second novel while I wait for the first to come back from the editor. I had decided to turn a flash fiction I previously posted on here, The Rose and The Heart, into my next novel and have since been working on it. Here’s a slice situated about mid way through. Enjoy 🙂

 

The Rose and the Heart

 

Rose had to look at her so called father in pity. He sat there on his gilded throne making commands and expecting loyalty but was he truly happy? He was surrounded by advisor’s and courtiers but was he truly loved? She stood before him, shackled as she was, but she refused to be cowed by the man even if he is the High King of the Fae.

“Tell me Princess,” her father began, “why did you seek my enemies, those that deprived me of my Queen, for your own selfish gain?” Rose sighed,

“Spare me old man,” she replied, sparing her father none of the fake niceties he got from everyone else. “I have no desire to be here. If you’ll remember correctly, you brought me here against my will, you’re the one that sent your lackeys,” and here she glared at Frost. At least he had the grace to look a little guilty. “Why do you hold me here?” She had no desire to answer his questions. The lycans weren’t his enemy; her mother had run when she found out what a maniacal bastard he was, not to mention obsessive. From what she could see he was now delusional, believing that the lycans had taken her away. She really wanted to laugh at that. There had never been another lycan in her life bar her mother and that was because she fought her hardest to protect Rose. She’d never lived to see Rose could hold her own. A single crystal tear slid down her cheek.

“I hold you here child,” he spat the word with venom, “because you are the only heir to this throne much to my disgust. Had you been here we could have burned the wolf from you but now it is entirely too firmly ensconced. You will be taught, whether you wish to be or not, how to rule these realms when my time ends or by the divines I will make you suffer.” Rose had had enough. Her mother had never asked for a fae mate but that’s what fate had given her, the cruel old bugger. She must have had terrible luck to be stuck with the deranged old coot in front of her. She wouldn’t stand anyone tarnishing what her mother was and treading all over the kindness and love she had shown Rose, even at the cost of her own health.

“Well old man,” she was really quite enjoying her new name for him, “as much as I would love to stick around for that I’m afraid I have other plans.” She smiled as she looked at him, surprised he couldn’t guess what was coming. She felt the welcoming rush of heat as her wolf sprang forth ready to protect her. She caressed the wolf’s fur as she receded and the wolf rushed forward. Let her father deal with this. She felt bones pop and reform; her nose elongated into a long elegant muzzle; beautiful purple tinged black fur sprouted and she dropped to all fours. She watched in amusement as the golden shackles fell to the floor. She spent all of a second to see realisation sink into her fathers cold grey eyes before she leapt onto the window ledge and out into the beautiful night. As she landed gracefully on the wooded floor she heard her father scream,

“She can shift even with our magic on her??? FIND HER!!!” Rose smiled even in her wolf form and trotted off. In truth she had no idea where she was going. This forest was entirely new to her in a completely different realm but surely she must have gotten here somehow. She knew how to transport others realm to realm but she had never been able to accomplish it herself otherwise she’d be out of here in an instance. Instead she would have to find the portal her mother had told her about. Not that she had much to go on. How often do you come across a patch of air that shimmered like water. Mentally she sighed and continued on.

Eventually, after she had passed what she was sure was the same rock as twenty minutes ago, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her enhanced senses picked up something very familiar. She felt light headed and a little tingly. No, surely it couldn’t be. She looked around and decided she must be wrong. She shook her head and continued on. She had to stop again however as the feeling grew more intense. Suddenly a shadowed shape dropped from the trees above. She tensed. She was formidable against many opponents but in this new realm she couldn’t be sure. Just in case she added some of her fae magic behind her wolf reflexes in the hopes she would prevail. With bated breath she waited until eventually a great silver wolf came forward. Mentally she gasped. This was the wolf she had seen from the window of her home, the one she had thought must have escaped from somewhere. She’d had the same tingly feeling then, also when a tall and admittedly handsome stranger had walked into her at the news stand. What was this? Why did she feel this way?

She watched with trepidation as he came forward to sniff at her. With a pained groan she uttered back off Fido and singed his nose hairs. He yelped and stepped back,

You even sound like her, he mentally chuckled. What? How the Hell did he hear her?

I heard you because your mother was part of my pack, which makes you part of my pack. He moved towards her again. Rose sniffed indignantly.

I belong to no pack.

You keep telling yourself that, he laughed and got far too close to her for her own comfort.

What do you want from me? Why did you follow me to this God forsaken place? she asked frustrated and she didn’t want to admit, a little attracted.

Your mother was the Omega of my Pack, I the Alpha. We ruled together though we were not mates, but and he sniffed again you however are mine. 

Passion of My Life

Hello lovely readers 🙂

A few days ago when thanking all you lovely people who have followed my blog I promised I would dust off my very questionable poetry skills and write something about my passion. I really love to write and use my imagination for strange and wonderful things, as you’ve probably guessed from previous posts lol 🙂 Forgive the calibre of the poem, it’s been a long time and it only took me thirty minutes to write lol 🙂

 

Passion of My Life

Like many in this life who think
To do what they do love
I pick up my large frosted drink
And thank the powers above.

 

I use my brain to think up stuff
With such a happy fashion,
With a sigh and heave and huff
I carry on my passion.

 

Believe me when I come to say
There’s something just so good and bright
When I spend the entire day
With the beautiful, deadly chance to write.
 
And there you go. I told you I was very rusty 🙂 I hope you enjoyed it. Now I must dash as my eight month old is screaming the house down. I guess it’ll have to be a #FlashSaturday again. Sorry 😦

Thank you 🙂

 

 

Passivity, Get Thee to the Bowels of HELL!!!!!!!!

Hello lovely readers 🙂

Today I’m going to talk about something that plagues my writing; the passive voice. This little devil keeps slowly and lazily rearing its ugly head; I mean its passive, its not going anywhere fast.

Essentially, passive voice is when the focus of the sentence is on the action. Those who perform the action are not important. On average, there is usually some version of the verb be which is coupled with a past tense. For example,
                                                                                          ‘She felt her soul had shattered.’

Now this is the complete opposite of using the more active voice where the subject causes the action of the verb, for example – “I sing a song of the soul”. It’s great because in one sentence you get cause and effect, a solid moving forward of the narrative. I, like every other writer in the known World, always try to write my best and if I’m honest using the passive voice is not done intentionally; it’s just really bloody annoying when it pops up regardless lol.

Lets not forget the fact that by making the object of an action into the subject of a sentence can effectively change how we view the World. What?? I hear you shout. How the Hell does grammar affect our view of the World?? Well consider this, how can we understand the World to begin with when the tool we use to define it can be moulded into such a lacklustre, slow, almost drippy language? For example, Richard Mitchell in Elements of Style, stated it best when he wrote – “You may want to object that a whole view of the world and its meanings can hardly be importantly altered by a silly grammatical form. If so, you’re just not thinking. Grammatical forms are exactly the things that make us understand the world the way we understand it. To understand the world, we make propositions about it, and those propositions are both formed and limited by the grammar of the language in which we propose.” Richard Mitchell. 

From now on I will have to make sure I really do rewire my brain to write in the active voice permanently, which I do do in my writing now but passivity attacks on the rare occasion with a vengeance. Does anyone have any tips? I’m not too proud to say I accept any and all advice 🙂 I’m proud of anything and everything I write 🙂 Tomorrow will be a post on my study on the active voice and how I will apply it to my writing.

Thank you, vent over. My head hurts and I feel like my passive polar bear at the top. Hope I haven’t hurt your head too much 🙂

#Flash…erm…Saturday – The Rose and the Heart

Hello lovely readers 🙂

Thank you for your patience yesterday. Here’s my heartfelt post for today; a yummy scrummy oooey gooey piece of fantastical pie layered with a dash of cynicism (I do love me some cynicism.) It’s a bit rushed as I want it done before my baby wakes up but I will improve it as I go 🙂 Enjoy 🙂

The Rose and The Heart 

 

Rose sighed. She had to admit that even here she is a freak. It seems she will never live the quiet life she had dreamed of, even though she tried damn hard. She sighed once again and stared down at the letter in her hands. How archaic. She laughed at the letter; ridiculous people. Though they weren’t really her people were they? She’d been outcast at birth and she’s damn well happy to remain so.

She read aloud again, just to make sure she had the gist of it.
“Our beloved Rosethorn, high princess of The People,” wait, when did that happen? “Your father King Goldenleaf has asked for your attendance at his Death bed. Do not delay in coming here.” Dammit. She was Rose Thornby, half breed outcast to the Human realms and hated by The People, just how she damn well liked it. She had been quietly working away on her essay, due in tomorrow her logical mind screamed at her, when a puff of silver magic had appeared and the letter floated down to her grasp. Why was this happening now? She’d heard all about her father from her mother and quite frankly she didn’t want anything to do with him. He’s in a whole different realm, there’s nothing he can do to her now.

Ignoring the rest of the letter she threw it in the bin next to her desk with perhaps more venom then she thought she could muster. Okay, maybe there was a tiny, small, insignificant piece of her that still longs for her father’s love but she’d get over it. She’d had her mother until her poor heart had given out and that was enough. The People, known as the Fae in the Human realm, would have to get along without her.

Just as she went back to her laptop she heard a muffled cough behind her and almost watched in amusement as instinct took over. No one should have been in the house with her. She felt her other self rise up and smiled as soft fur caressed her soul. Bones began to pop and elongate, clothes were shredded, she felt her muzzle start to appear and she knew her soft purple tinged black fur appeared. It was over in an instant and where she had been sitting now stood an impressive wolf, her reason to be an outcast and the secret she loved. She looked at the intruder with a cold gaze. She didn’t know this one but he smelled like he was Fae. Oh, she’d never met one but he smelt like her, only stronger. The intruder visibly gulped.

“Ah…” his deep voice stammered. She had to admit he was a handsome one. Tall with golden tinged skin, black hair and a well muscled body. He wore his iridescent wings for all to see unlike her. She had to hide hers solely to live here. He had delicate pointed ears and very soft features for a man. Her wolf sighed; she had better change back instead of scaring the wings off him.

“Rosethorn?” he asked as she allowed the change to come upon her. It was just as quick though she thanked the wolf for coming to her aid. She may have lost her mother and had no father but the wolf had always been with her, a staunch protector.

“It’s Rose,” she answered, uncaring she was naked after the change like she always was. She could see the man blush and look just pass her.

“It is good to see you again your highness,” he said. Um huh? When had they met before? He could obviously see her confusion as he said,

“My name is Frostfall, I am the Prince of the Winter Fae. We met when you were very young and before your mother ran. I have been sent by your father to escort you back to the High Court.” Okay, now Rose knew she’d misheard.

“Well you can just go back to my so called father and tell him I have no interest in seeing him.” She searched round for any clothing she could, anxious to be covered in front of this man now. He wasn’t pack, Hell she’d never had a pack bar her mother and she was long gone. She heard Frost gasp as he caught sight of her wings,

“It is true then, you are your father’s daughter. You carry the pure silver wings of the royal line. I will admit I had my doubts but now…” he trailed off in awe. What’s the big deal? She’d have them removed if she wasn’t in danger of alerting humans to her kind, whatever the Hell her kind was. She’d never even used her wings, she was pretty sure they were useless.

“Yes, yes, well nice to meet you and all but I’m sure you have other places to be now.” She raised her right hand and let it be encompassed by her own brand of purple magic. Just because she’d never flown doesn’t mean she’d not trained in her magic as soon as she realised she’d had it. She’d learned from a very pleasant elderly sorceress and was quite efficient in it. Chanting a spell in her mind she pointed at Frost and watched as purple light surrounded him. Unable to quell her mischievous side she waved and blew him a kiss just before he disappeared, the purple light taking him hopefully back to his own realm. She smiled; now that had brightened her day.

She began searching again until she finally came across some un-shredded jeans and a top. She put them on quickly and got back to her essay. Her mind kept wandering back to her father though. What if he were truly dying and his last wish was to see her? She shook her head. She had enough to do with finishing University, earning money and just living. He’d not paid interest in her in twenty three years she’s sure he’d get over it now.

She finally got her head down and concentrated on work. She knew she could protect herself but what the Hell else could she expect today?

Zero by (the always exceptional) J. S. Collyer

Hi lovely readers 🙂

As most will know I’m a bona fide fantasy nut; give me a World full of magic, swords, sorcery and adventure and I can be gone for hours. However, there are times where even I will branch out my literary interests and diversify to broaden my knowledge; also, who isn’t completely in love with Mr Darcy? 🙂 My first understanding of sci fi came from reading my mothers books. She had a fabulous series by the late Anne McCaffrey called The Tower and the Hive series; the first book The Rowan. I remember being taken by such strong female leads in a World where science and technology runs on the power of the mind. I love creative and original stories along those lines.

To which, Zero is the début novel from my wonderful friend, and admittedly my writing hero, J. S. Collyer. It’s a literary slice of ooey gooey space pirate cake that leaves you not only wanting but needing to know more, especially after your damn lucky eyes have taken in the epic ending. This is a multi layered piece rife with exceptional writing, adventure, in-depth character development, adventure and oh yes, lasers; but did I mention adventure? I was lucky enough to receive an advanced review copy and my goodness all I can say is: as soon as the sixteenth of August gets here buy this book, you won’t be disappointed.

Kaleb Hugo is a Service man through and through; he lives, eats, works and breathes that life like no other. He’s positive he’s the best, most focused soldier… until one fateful day he ignores the commands of his higher ups and moves the ship he’s in command of to attack a perceived weakness in the War. What came over him? To the public face Hugo is disgraced, demoted and hated; but in secret he is promoted to Captain of The Zero, a beat up space ship concealing more than just a dented hull; it’s a ship that can get under the radar and accomplish things most Service ships couldn’t. Hugo has to act as a contact for the Service, keep an eye on the missions and report back to his superiors. He didn’t, however, expect to find those on the ship that were loyal, steadfast and perhaps the only friends he could remember having. What would await them in their coming missions?

I cannot begin to tell you all the things which are great about this novel, but I’ll give it a jolly good go anyway. J. S uses such literary diversity that simply pulls you straight into the Universe she has expertly created. I love the velvety feel of language such as ‘Hugo had admitted to himself long ago that Death was something he’d accepted into his life like a friend. Or a lover. It followed him like a phantom.’ Now before you ask yes this is from the first page. Heck it’s the first few lines. I didn’t want to give too much away about J. S’s stellar narrative. However, this is just a small example of what I love about her language use. Unlike many authors, she doesn’t try to make the language too archaic and stiff (don’t ask me why but some authors think stories are better like that) but she keeps it natural and flowing allowing the narrative to just slip into your subconscious and hold onto your interest for many hours before you even notice. She also has an uncanny ability to not alienate readers by being too scientific, if you catch me. She smoothly traverses into the science part of her science fiction in such a way that even someone as daft as me can understand it and thoroughly enjoy it. This is what makes her such a stunning writer.

The part of the novel I really liked however is that J. S. manages to reach into my chest and crush my heart into a million pieces (God how over dramatic does that sound?). I won’t give any details away but there is a part of the narrative that I’m not ashamed to admit brought a tear to my eye. The crew must endure a soul destroying time and the adversity which follows not only at the time but a year later as well. You can really feel the emotion in the writing which in turn forcibly drags your emotions to the surface and waves them in your face. It’s been such a long time since I’ve felt such a response to a book that it had me enthusing about its author. It’s incredible.

Please, please, PLEASE buy this book when you can. Not only will you be getting a jolly great read but you’ll discover a literary World you may never have experienced before. You’ll love every minute. I’m still going to buy a hard back copy of the book and beg J. S. to sign it, it’s just that great.

Thank you 🙂

The Pustoy by Phillipe Blenkiron

 

Evening lovely readers 🙂

Today I am thrilled to be able to bring you a review of the excellent The Pustoy written by Phillipe Blenkinron and released by the epic Dagda Publishers. Within the intriguing cover, as pictured above, is a poetic journey of dark dystopia, paranoia and the stark rule of the dictatorial upper echelons. We are treat to some intriguing prose depicting various emotions using wonderfully detailed aspects and language. You will not be disappointed by this collection.

The book begins much as a novel does, setting the stage for a diverse narrative to follow. The beginning prose ‘Lev Solokov’ gives you a view of events from the point of view of a child. There seems to be an innocence flowing throughout the beginning, only interlaced with others cynicism but again said with innocence. You are introduced to the protagonist sat on a counter top watching the parents work in the kitchen. The parents indifference to the World around them:

“Dad put down the buttering-knife and strode

in to my Mum Lev Solokov, the new PM,

he read from the telly Well, he can’t be any worse

than the rest of ‘em”

shows a fault present within most societies nowadays: they can be worse than the rest, you only need to wait and see. This early insight into a sinister World is only confounded by the belief that science has cured the economic crisis: it shows what amounts to a witch hunt neatly dressed in political niceties. They claim to have developed a way to detect who had a soul and:

“Not only that, they had found a means

of detecting who didn’t have one.

These people became known as the Pustoy.”

Wham bang, thank you mam… Lets not feed certain people, lets hunt down those who are different… this fantastically written slice of prose pie seems to be the beginning of a dressed up murderer seeking their kicks within legal means. No one will miss those that they fear, those that are perceived to be different.

Now, I picked the beginning prose to go into because it is a wonderful example of setting the scene. You don’t know what is to follow as the very nature of prose poetry is to be as abstract as you like; one moment you could be explaining the environment, the next it could be going into the personal thoughts of a character; but you know that was is to follow will be a wonderfully descriptive dark World of fear, intrigue and misguided politics. The Pustoy will not disappoint in this respect. You are treat to an atmosphere full of literary delights to immerse in and given from many aspects, in depth characters attained while not a lot of personal history given and a protagonist that is questionable in his beliefs and undeniably human.

The thing that really blew me away about this book; aside from the cracking story, the passion written into every line and the ooey gooey language use (anyone that uses the line “They only ever ‘et tu, Brute’ you in the end” is an automatic favourite of mine): was the lay out of each individual prose. Mr Blenkiron had an ingenious moment when he decided to set out each individual prose in an abstract way. There seems to be chaos in each set reflecting admirably the chaos of the World the protagonist now finds himself in. For example,

“Think of nothing.
                                     A box holds empty.

Depthless space –

                          Transcendental blind,

                                                       the 1D implosion.”

Tell me truthfully, how fabulous is that single section? The language use is so exquisite it sends shivers down your spine and makes you feel like you’re rolling in golden caramel… AND is a great example of the previously mentioned chaos. The lines don’t follow the generic set out of a book, they’re almost like scattered thoughts of a person broken by society. This fantastic level of writing is never broken through the book so the intense World never fades. It continues and will stay within your psyche for a very long time.

Please trust me when I say that if you’re a fan of prose poetry, or even if you like a bloody good read, you need to pick up a copy of this book. You’ll be left reeling from its intensity alone and will wish that there was simply more to sink your literary teeth into. You won’t be disappointed.

Thank you 🙂

The Best Medicine by Jessica B Bell

Evening lovely readers 🙂

I’m sorry this post is coming out a few days after I promised it but due to certain health issues I am only coming back to my beloved laptop now 🙂 Just recently I have had the honour of being asked to review the exceptional Helena Hann Basquiat’s writing so every Friday I will post a review giving a thoroughly objective view of the book with a smidgens of personal opinion at the end… Oh who am I kidding? What follows is a passionate view of some amazing work that will keep your attention far longer than when you finish reading and will call you back time and again.

My first review is on the wonderful short story recently published in the above ‘All Hail the New Flesh’ by the epic Dagda Publishers. I can think of many words to describe the ‘The Best Medicine’ by Jessica B Bell; thought provoking, terrifying and heartbreaking to name a few. Could you survive the concequences of the mistakes you made in your life? Are you willing to lose those you love in the name of Science? Could you redeem yourself?

The story begins in such a poignant moment. You literally have no chance from the off set of the narrative; you are treat to such a sense of loss and heartbreak that you gasp and read on quicker to determine what had happened.The sentences ‘… The familiar loops and whirls of Helena’s bloody fingerprints on the glass as the World rushed by were something for Judy to focus on, but they were poor comfort – her daughter was gone. Left behind, and only twelve years old…’ Wait, wait, wait; what??? How fabulous is that language use? Within the first few lines you are given a narrative hook that you can’t tear away from and don’t even want to try. Sidenote; I also like that Jessica went on to kill quite a predominant aspect of her writer life Helena, or Helena Hann Basquiat. I found that an inspired twist 🙂

The story continues as Judy and Helena must escape their diseased dad/husband and try to survive escaping the diseased city to a place of sanctuary. Hang on, did I say diseased? Well it turns out Judy worked for a chemical company and the rest, as they say, is history. Imagine the guilt of knowing something your work contributed to created a race of diseased, zombie like beings. What was worse? The creation of the zombies or the deaths of the innocents they feed upon? The story is really jam packed full of vivid emotion. You feel their terror as they escape as if it were your own; you gasp as their desolation fills you; you cry at the lost soul lost so soon within the narrative. Such exceptional emotive language is used that you feel it within your very soul. Jessica uses description such as ‘mad chortle,’ ‘bloodcurdling laughter’ and ‘distended mask of pain and horror’ which gives you a sense of hopelessness and fear of the monsters that surround them.

One last thing I will mention is the ending; MY GOD the ending… At a first glance you may think ‘hang on, she told us the end at the beginning.’ You are, however, mistaken my friend. In a stroke of pure genius we are treat to a final twist in the narrative that leaves you gasping in fear and awe; it’s inspiring and terrifying and you’ll love it but I won’t tell you what that is here 🙂

I will leave you now by merely stating that you NEED this writer; her work is inspired and you won’t regret reading her. Search her out now.

Thank you 🙂

What The…? How The…? When…? Grrrrrrrrrr … A Frustrated Book Review

Morning lovely readers 🙂

Well, I have to say, like most people that discovered the wonderful World of Kindle I had been merely downloading the books I already knew I liked. Just recently however I began exploring different types of books (usually the ones suggested by the Kindle) and I have to say I’ve found some good ones. Now I don’t mean to sound like a broken record but I have to say the vast majority of them belonged to the Fantasy genre (what can I say, you like what you like lol) but even then they were books I would never have thought to pick for myself. These include The Soul’s Mark series by Ashley Stoyanoff (review to follow), the Eternal Guardian series by Elisabeth Naughton (again review to follow) but this particular review will be focusing on the Pinehurst series by Nicole Grane. Please don’t groan, I know it’s a young adult novel but as the story went along I found myself lost in it for a particular reason which I will later divulge.

The Pinehurst series follows the life of Evie Hollyander, a sixteen year old left at the Pinehurst school for mageia kids with magical talent. She is having abandonment issues as she believes her father left her there for no reason. She is surrounded by magical beings with typical teenage attitudes and an overabundance of confidence. The story begins where she’s experiencing usual teenage aspects of life; crushes, dances and boys; but she soon discovers things aren’t quite as they seem even in a World surrounded by fantasy and magic. Why does she feel so close to Antonio? All of a sudden she learns that her father has been taken to Hell and they embark on a journey that will test even her ‘exceptional’ potential.

One point that may confuse some is in the title of the series it mentions that it is a young Olympian novel. Within the first book it doesn’t really mention an Olympian link but we are treated to that in the second. Evie must now search for a way to cure her father of the disease which is killing him. Evie wants to focus solely on this but she gets constantly distracted by life; why won’t Antonio love her? Why is she still plagued by the kids at school? And how dare Satan be Hades (major spoiler) after she bargained her soul?? Would she find a way to have the ending she seeks?

My frustration comes into play with the aforementioned Hades. I picked this novel up as a distraction and had kept it light hearted until Hades was revealed. Within this series so far he seems to be the most well developed character, revealing a soft and sensual side beneath the undertones of evil. Could he fall in love? Did he want to? His relationship with Evie seems to present two different aspects; he needs her, as the child of light, to release a demon from Hell every night. He also seems to need her to soothe his damaged, maybe evil, soul. He seems so alone that it pulls on your heart and you almost find yourself wishing they could be together. I am now frustrated as dammit I need to know what happens between Evie and Hades next. Will she choose the bad boy over the angelic Antonio? Will she get a choice.

The books are well written in a good strong female voice and description can at points in the novels be used to its greatest advantage. The beginning of the first novel can be a little slow and scream of teenage angst at you but my suggestion is persevere through it. You are treat to intrigue, seduction, love, lust and a heck of a dose of fantasy if you do. You are eventually drawn into a universe where you have to know what happens next, as in my case. You won’t be disappointed if you read this series I promise 🙂

Thank you 🙂

Reslogging the write … er… Rewriting the slog and a New #FlashForFriday

Good Evening lovely readers 🙂

I’m writing, I promise I’m writing. I just have a teething baby, several different musical mobiles going at once and a 6 foot 2 extremely sexy distraction to contend with but I AM writing lol 🙂 I have only two chapters left of my novel to rewrite and then I will just spend the rest of the time going over it and then going over it and then going over it again 🙂 Roll on the end of May and sending this baby off to my editor. I’m so excited so back to the novel I go but I leave you with a new flash fiction piece set in the Worlds of my novel. Please enjoy 🙂 (other flash fiction pieces can be read here)

The Price of Freedom

Lucian placed one foot on the cold hard marble of the temple floor. He knew she would never forgive him for leaving her chamber during the night but if he were to escape his father’s grasp it had to be tonight. His father was off planning his next attack on the Life bearers and thankfully he would not be near enough to sense the power surge of his spell. He could never understand why the War rooms were situated outside of the palace; for the Lady’s sake, they weren’t even situated within the city. It seemed a foolish and weak manouver to him, essentially leaving the palace unprotected despite the few guards milling around. He shook his head.

He moved to leave the bed itself and felt a strange pull on his cursed emotions. Occasionally he wished he were heartless as his father was. He looked back at the prone form shrouded in black lace and silver trim. He did not truly love Illaria; she was a crass shrew of a woman with too much insight and belief in her own power. She may be the high priestess of the Seers but she had not a shade of his mothers power.

Thinking of his mother always brought a black sadness to his heart. She had died far before her time and despite his fathers official declaration of her Death at the hands of assassins, he knew the truth. He knew his father had murdered her because of her attempts to protect Lucian. She did not want him to become like his father and she had paid the ultimate price. Well he would fulfil her wishes tonight, of that he was certain.

He caressed Illaria’s cheek once more. They had shared many years of passion and in a way he would miss her but he would not let that stop him; in truth it would not plague him for long. He placed his other foot on the floor, stood and quickly dressed in his armour. He reached for his silver sword and gun, the gun given to him by his wonderful grandfather, and took one last look around the room. He felt a sense of homesickness already but he knew what had to be done. He could not let his loneliness stop him this time. As he was leaving he came across the portrait of him and his mother. He had to smile at that. She always had worn such a happy temperament in life even though she balked at her destiny. He caressed the name plate underneath and ran his finger along the letters; Queen Aria and Prince Lucian. A tear slid down his cheek,

“Goodbye Mother.”

Lucian left the temple in the cloak of darkness. It was only a short walk to the palace and Lucian raced to perform one last feat for his people before he left. The streets were empty apart from the Nightstalkers and the guard at each intersection. He walked with confidence and grace as was expected of someone of his station. He was the Crown Prince for all intents and purposes and no one had any reason to suspect his plans just yet. Each guard nodded at him, each Nightstalker saluted and even the rare Lady smiled his way. He loathed all of them. He hurried on to the gates of the palace hiding his disgust from view.

His passage to the throne room was simple; the Crown Prince was merely going to check the state of affairs within the kingdom. He projected the air of authority even if he did not feel it. He had one thing to do before he left forever; one thing to ensure that his father’s state of power was broken. He pushed through the great doors and approached the throne quickly. He knew his father was miles away but part of him still feared him knowing. Hanging from one arm of the throne was the royal pendant. He could not understand why his father left it here but he would not moan on such fortune. He grabbed it quickly and placed it around his own neck. Not only would it enhance his own power but he felt that he HAD to take it, he would need it he was sure. Not only that but his father was near invincible with his own power, the power of the throne, the power of the crown AND the power of the pendant. At least this way he would be weakened.

Lucian turned quickly to ensure that no one had noticed him. He took one last longing look around the room; he had grown up here, this was all he knew. He smiled sadly and took the idonbark from his pocket. He would use this as the catalyst for his spell, it did not work as well as tearcrystal but he was in a rush.

“Spirits of the realms above,

on waning wind and searing flame.”

Lucian was stopped mid spell. A heat had started to gather on his chest where the crystal of the pendant fell. A bright black light began to shine and he merely thought of the portal he needed. He was a little taken aback; he hadn’t expected the pendant to work so well so soon. As he had begun to chant he had waved the idonbark much as the conductors of mortal orchestras do. He had felt silly so he was extremely glad his power had taken over. A doorway of black flame swiftly opened in front of him. He took one last look at the throne room, took a deep breath and stepped through the portal. His surroundings went from silver tinged marble to murky towering constructs of metal. He seemed to be in some sort of alley with smoke and puddles adorning most surfaces. There were loud waling noises and bright lights and Death everywhere. He truly was in the mortal realm now. He turned to the portal and moved to wipe it from existence before his father found hm. He would never see his home again…

 

It’s a bit rushed and not very full of action but I hope you enjoyed. It sets the scene for one of the characters from my novel and the hardships he has already gone through. I will be improving this post as time goes on (and when I’m not so tired to own the truth.) Thank you 🙂