Happy Easter all! This week’s #8sunday is a short I’ve been working on. A young girl is hardened from her mistreatment over the years by foster parents and plans to get even.
I stared at the sagging wooden bunk above me; the newcomer was crying again. I used to cry, when I first got shoved into this hell hole; when I still had hope that a nice family would come for me and I would get a happily ever after. I now knew better. This was the last stop for kids like us. The child above me hiccupped a few times and was silent, her breathing evening out. I swung my legs over the bed, pulling the jacket from under my bed and holding my shoes in my hand. Our window looked over the dilapidated garage and I slid it open. For weeks I had been greasing it with the slop the adults slid through the crude flap in our door.It slid open without a creak and I sighed in relief.
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In this snippet Keresa has sought the help of her other sister, Kerenina. Unknown to her, her mother’s hold on power is much more tenuous than she had realised. Her sister gives her a bit of tough love before the two head to meet with a powerful being.
“Oh Resa, why are you always calling mother for the smallest of things? Don’t you know; she has to appear strong – there is much unrest in the underworld,” Nina sipped her drink, the ice clinking as she swirled the dark liquid.
“I didn’t know,” I all but whined.
“Of course you didn’t, you gallivant around earth pretending to fit in, then are too weak to defend yourself against your own siblings. You make Nyx look weak – you make all of us look weak. Mother is struggling to hold onto her power in the underworld and she has to come save you from a trucker,” Nina hissed at me, her breath hot on my face.
My head spun, the bar seemed too loud and too close. I realised Kerenina was hungry and mad; her control slipping on the darkness that she commanded.
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Happy Sunday everyone! A little late in the day – it was a long three hour drive home with a new puppy and many stops.
This is a snippet from a piece I’m working on for a short story submission. Keresa, a death spirit with a conscience, has just been ambushed by her siblings, Kerry and Thane, who delight in her misery. Thane has injured the cop with Keresa and forces her to test her strength.
“There we go Keresa, be a good girl and just take a smidgen,” Thane dropped the man to the ground and I crouched in front of him. I locked my eyes with his, reaching to the root of his fear and tugging. The man sighed and I placed my hand over his heart. I was so empty; his life force flowed into me like a damn erupting. I reached for the medallion around my neck, frantic for help; to pull my hand away but unable to do so. The man listed to the side, his eyes glassy and unseeing before the metal in my hand had even begun to warm. I felt heat radiate through me and I turned to Kerry, who was hovering seductively near the hood of the car and giggling. I spooled the fear I had ripped from the man and threw out my hand, aiming for Kerry’s chest.
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While not categorized as a horror book, Girl on a Train was edgy, dark, and a fabulous psychological thriller.I was unable to put this book down; I flipped each page faster than the last, the nail-biting tension ratcheted high throughout the entirety of the book.
The narration switches between the present, where Rachel struggles with alcoholism and her past, to the past, where we follow Meg’s journey right up until the night of her violent murder.
Hawkins brilliantly captures the neurosis and struggle that occurs in a self-doubting and abused mind. It is easy to simultaneously be disgusted by Rachel’s actions and still root for her, even as she tries to numb her pain at the bottom of a bottle.
Rachel’s quest to discover Meg’s killer takes her from her vision of a sweet couple she sees from a train, to the dark and twisty streets of what had once been a dream home for her.
The book peaks as Rachel confronts her violent and manipulative ex husband, trying to save the woman who displaced her. The two women form an unlikely bond when they “defend” themselves against him.
I recommend this book for anyone looking for a fast-paced, character driven book full of suspense and with an unlikely hero.
“I need to find something that I must do, something undeniable”
This week’s #8sunday features my new favourite character, Lex. This is an earlier scene in Lex’s story. Her brother, revealed as a werewolf to the public, is sentenced to death for his alleged violent crimes. Ordered to stay at home, Lex watches her brother’s fate be determined.
I paced my kitchen, making laps into my living room to check the tv every few seconds. The streets were empty, the world held its breath while they tried the first werewolf on live television. I paused as I saw a familiar face come on the screen, my throat tightening at his bruised and swollen face.
We knew there would be no fairness in the trial, the humans were terrified, united as a species against a single enemy for the first time in history. They didn’t drag it out, their verdict was announced within an hour and my brother was paraded past the crowds that had swarmed to the courthouse. He shuffled past cameras and I closed my eyes. I knew it was dangerous but I couldn’t let him be alone. I reached into that part of me that felt like the earth, smelled of home, and where I could communicate with my pack as easily as breathing.
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For my first 8sunday, I am posting the beginning to an urban fantasy story set in Northern Ontario where werewolf hunting has been legalized. Lex is one of two rogue werewolves hiding in her town. This particular night she has been kept at work too late and is trying to make it home before she turns.
My biceps were burning and shaking, sweat poured down my face as I concentrated on making it to my house. The streetlamp blurred, and I fell to my knee as I felt my ankle pop. I gritted my teeth. I was a half block away and could see my front gate, mostly obscured by the creeper vine I had overtaking my front yard. I pulled myself up using the mailbox and stiffened as a young couple rounded the corner, arm in arm. I limped forward, head bowed; hoping my curtain of black hair would make me unnoticeable. It was not my lucky night.
I am more comfortable writing about magic and witches, but I have to say I kind of loved writing something with a creature beast in it and look forward to where Lex’s story will lead. Happy Sunday all, please check out other writers at www.wewriwa.com
Hey there! Thanks for stopping by and welcome! This is my first blog posting on my first blog…ever. I may be behind the times but I have always been a lover of a sharp pencil and a crisp, clean, piece of paper. I’ve heard that the only way to reach people is online, so, on that note, I’ll keep this first post short and sweet; I don’t want to scare you off just yet.
This past year my grandfather passed away, though I felt that I lost him a couple years before. Alzheimer’s is a scary disease, creeping in in between jokes about misplaced car keys and sighs from listening to the same story for the fifth time. Before the disease progressed, my grandfather was a brilliant, quick-witted, loving and generous man. We all have those loved ones who seem to really “get” us and who encourage our true passions. For me, that was him.My 6-year old stories were just as interesting as whatever mystery novel he was reading – and he made sure I felt that way. When he died in February, I hated the idea of writing or reading, and tried to avoid anything that reminded me of him. I have made too many excuses and procrastinated away too many hours and thought, “why not today?”
Now that I have bared that tiny part of my soul to you, dear reader, I invite you into the darker parts of my mind as we explore.