At last, Fire & Ice Book One: Awakening has escaped in to the wide world.
Book Two: Survival is coming soon, as is ‘Death of Connor Sanderson’ – Fire & Ice Prequel.
At last, Fire & Ice Book One: Awakening has escaped in to the wide world.
Book Two: Survival is coming soon, as is ‘Death of Connor Sanderson’ – Fire & Ice Prequel.
Okay, this week’s Team Challenge was ‘Faeries in Space’ in a maximum of 1500 words. Yes, you did read that correctly… I’m still thinking ‘WHAT’? Anyhow, I took huge liberties with my Welsh heritage and mixed my myths, but here it is. Word Count : 1,447
Cyhyraeth folded the black fabric of her cape around her, and bones protruded from her silhouette like knotted wood covered in tar. Shifting her shoulders hurt where the gnarled stumps of what once supported magnificent wings still ached. “You severed feather and muscle with Arthur’s sword, Auralis.” The yellowed pegs of her teeth gleamed like ivory. “I have kept my promise. This Captain Coraniaid is the last of your descendants.”
Druid Mother Gwiddonod could not return the rainbowed quiver of lustrous feathers to her, but the vision she burned into Cyhyraeth’s anguished brain homed in on Auralis’ blood-line like a magnet to steel. None had escaped in the two thousand years of her hunt. Now, in the year 2303, mankind’s hunger for conquering other worlds had given rise to effortless space flight. The mist-like particles of Cyhyraeth’s spirit drifted through the fleet of moored vessels, finally thickening to imitate flesh and bone when she stood upon the star-craft with ‘VANQUISH’ etched into her hull. The end of her quest was in sight.
Cyhyraeth melted into the deepest shadow of the cargo hold. A layer of ice formed on the steel canisters as the ship warped out of Earth’s atmosphere. Cyhyraeth was accustomed to weightlessness. The filaments of her bones glowed, and, like wisps of ash dance above a bonfire, she drifted slowly from the deck, her cloak billowing in an oil-black cloud. The dry parchment of her skin radiated a golden glow as she closed her eyes and centered her powers on the orb of fire raging in her chest.
The fiery illumination lifted the pitch black of the cargo hold to a vista of shimmering orange light. Opening her eyes, Cyhyraeth scanned the rows of steel crates, locating the few which appeared white-hot where the flicker of her life force reflected back at her. The cowled hood floated away from her skull, and thin lifeless hair clustered over her head in a tangle of silvered strands.
The three crates she stared at vibrated gently. The grey hue of the polished steel faded until the walls of each container resembled glacial ice. Fireflies danced inside their confines, each one a delicate faerie framed by wings which created a haze of movement at their backs.
“There you are, my Ysbrydnos.” Cyhyraeth’s eyes glowed with anticipation. “My kindred souls, soon we will be one.”
As the spaceship hit maximum propulsion, even without seeing them, Cyhyraeth felt the gravitational pull of the stars dragging through space, the streaks of light painting colored stripes across her vision.
“Captain, to the Bridge, entering Docking Station Seta jurisdiction in three minutes and twelve seconds,” an emotionless voice intoned, the sound echoing around the cargo hold.
Docking station? A blaze of white light flooded from Cyhyraeth’s grinning mouth. You no longer have three minutes, Coraniaid. Whipping her body around, the black garb becoming a black tornado, the walls, deck, and bulkhead doors rattled as though a demon’s anger tore at their fibers. The whole ship shuddered and a blood red strobe of an emergency light burst into life. The laser-like beam whipped around the space, staining the walls in crimson rays. The blaring klaxon pulsed in the air, punctuated by the bored automated declaration. “Containment breech in cargo hold D4. All hands to general quarters.
” Cyhyraeth came to rest, the golden orb inside her flaring into a halo of light. Beneath the black cowl, the flesh on her wizened features flushed with rose-tinted blush, and her lead filled gaze gleamed with splinters of sapphire. Her smile illuminated pretty to beauteous.
The pounding of boots on metal walkways rang through the bulkhead partitions. The cargo compartment door hissed as the pressure in the hold equalized before the hatch swung open. Six uniformed men entered, each one armed with a plasma rifle raised to shoulder height, the lens of a retina synchronized data processor covering one eye.
The final soldier through the door tapped on his cochlea communicator and said, “Terminate alarm system in cargo hold D4.” The sudden silence stunned the humans. The red light ceased rotating and spotlights mimicking natural sunlight flooded the room.
A movement behind a steel crate caught Captain Coraniaid’s eye. The plasma rifle hummed as he lifted the barrel and primed the chamber. “Raise your hands and step forward slowly.”
Cyhyraeth took three graceful steps into the light, her silken cloak clinging to a body of enticing curves, her high breasts barely contained beneath the scooped neckline of a shimmering silver gown.
Coraniaid swallowed loudly.
Cyhyraeth drifted forward, the six men parting to make way, as though the force of her presence drove them back.
Staring into the electric blue glint of her sapphire eyes, Coraniaid muttered, “Do not come any closer. Halt.”
The shimmering silver fabric coated her skin like paint as Cyhyraeth paused mid-step. “As my Lord wishes.” Her attention dropped to the captain’s waist and she froze. “My Lord, your sword… it bears the mark of Arthur Pendragon.”
Coraniaid’s hand instinctively reached down to fold around the hilt. “How do you know of my ancestors. Who are you?”
“I am a maiden searching for you, My Lord.”
Falling back a step, Coraniaid called out, “Myrddin.”
A soldier whose dark gaze smoldered with the burden many hundreds of years experience moved to stand beside Coraniaid.
“Myrddin, look into her soul.”
“Ah, Merlin, we meet again,” Cyhyraeth said, shaking her head.
Myrddin extended a clawed hand, drawing a bolt of lightning from Cyhyraeth’s exhilarated gaze. “You know my ancient name.” His throat began to rattle as though his mouth filled with gravel.
Cyhyraeth’s burst of laughter cascaded like shattered glass. The three metal crates lined up along the wall creaked, a rushing sound inside them becoming louder until the group of soldiers looked along the row, their weapons cocked and trailing the path of their eyes.
The fluttering, beating noise grew louder.
For a moment, as Myrddin dropped suddenly to his knees, Cyhyraeth’s eyes dimmed with sadness. “Gwiddonod has spoken. This new world does not need my faerie kin. Their spirits grow dim, fading, the further from our Mother Earth you take them.”
Coraniaid nodded, casting a troubled glance down at Myrddin’s hunched figure, his cramped features bone white. “Then, I will release them.”
Cyhyraeth grinned, taking a step closer to the captain. Her hand settled on his chest.
Myrddin choked, reaching out and gripping the fabric of Coraniaid’s pants. His voice grated in his dry throat. “No, don’t let her touch…”
Cyhyraeth’s soft body radiated an enticing glow as she pressed her it to Coraniaid and kissed him. A blast of white light filled his mouth, his cheeks glowing fiery red as the blood capillaries in his face collapsed and bled into his skin. Crimson billowed into the whites of his eyes, gradually staining them ruby red. His throat shriveled as Cyhyraeth’s cold breath stiffened the tissue, laying ice down into his chest.
As she sucked the life force from him, the hacked stumps of her wings twitched, the fabric of her cloak tore and ebony wings, glistening with blue-edged feathers reared up behind her, casting a chilling shadow as they spread to their eight foot span.
The steel panels of the three crates buckled and fractured, releasing the rainbow colored cloud of Cyhyraeth’s faerie kin.
Releasing her grip, letting Coraniaid’s cold body drop to the deck, Cyhyraeth’s rose gracefully into the air. The klaxon shrieked once more, and the red light bathed her ghoulish smile. She punched her way through the metal skin of the cargo hold, through the hull and was swallowed by the diamond littered expanse of deep-space.
The glittering dust cloud of her faerie kin followed swiftly in her wake.
The soldiers pressed oxygen masks to their panicked faces and dragged Myrddin, and Coraniaid’s dead body, through the door and into the air-lock. The last soldier through slammed his gloved hand on the button which sealed the inner door.
Resting for only a moment, Myrddin struggled to his feet.
“What do we do now?” the stocky sergeant asked.
“We wait until she has gone.” Turning on his heel, Myrddin’s footsteps echoed on the steel floor plates lining the vessel’s corridors. Descending in an elevator which dropped so fast it slammed his stomach up into his diaphragm, he was striding out of the elevator before the doors had fully disengaged.
Pressing his palm to a bio scanner, Myrddin entered a room lined with opaque white pods. One pod glowed, with the shadowed mass at its centre indicating it was occupied. Stopping beside it Myrddin swept a hand over the glass panel on the top, clearing away the condensed moisture, and peered inside. Cloning his master had seemed like a journey into madness, but now, he was glad he had agreed.
“Coraniaid, you were right. She came for you. Sleep now, until we reach the Vespasian Star System. Then you should be safe.”
Another Writers Carnival challenge. This week; You’re proud parents of a newborn who grows at an accelerated rate, in fact, overnight she has aged three months. You know no one has swapped the child. So what happens next? Where do you go and what’s going on? Use no more than 1,500 words.
<><><><> ADULT CONTENT <><><><>
I opened my eyes and stared at the bedroom ceiling. The pearl grey light suggested it was the early hours of the morning. The mewling sound drifting through the house, originating from the crib down the hall, demanded my attention and pulled at my gut. I loved her, this baby, even though she was my death warrant.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I took a moment to absorb the ‘normal’ feelings. The soft pile of the carpet beneath my feet, and the breeze from the window cooling my skin. I left Aiden sleeping and went to the nursery. Even though I expected it, I inhaled sharply at her appearance.
Her rounded, soft limbs carried the rosy-tinted healthy flush of a three month old baby, even though my body still ached from the birthing of this child a mere twenty four hours ago. Leaning over the crib, a flood of warmth surprised me. Her smile, the kind that shone in eyes which captured every shade of blue in the spectrum, defied description. A cooing breath completed the spell, like an arrow piercing my heart. I love this child.
It felt weird, when I knew would never see her grow to adulthood. That had been the deal. A human lifespan of health, happiness and shining good fortune, and He gets a child.
Instinctively, I had known the time was coming, and that He would demand the bargain be sealed. The shadow of his presence had been thicker these last few weeks. Aiden suffered three accidents. Near misses, really, of the ‘you could have been killed’ variety. I knew they were warnings shots across the bow. Reminders that He could take away my ‘happiness’ in one stroke.
“I’ve given you a queen. Can’t I keep the rest? Still live?” I stared into Lilith’s eyes, and seeing the blue hue turn to flint took my breath away. The answer was no. Reaching into the crib, I picked up the child. Her soft body fit into mine. My stomach cramped and my breasts ached as the primal bond of mother and child swept through my body. Sitting in the armchair, I settled Lilith into my lap and held her to my breast.
The cramps in my belly became stronger with each hard pull of her suckling mouth. Her tiny fingers moved over my soft skin in a clutching action, all part of Mother Nature’s design to make a baby’s needs undeniable. Looking down at the determined jaw moving in rhythmic demanding strokes, the feeling of having my life drained from me was real, I knew. It was not just milk Lilith took from me.
As her eyes drifted closed, I stared out of the window over the pink dawn streaking across the sky. How many of these would I get to see? I didn’t know if Aiden truly understood that I would be leaving him to be a lone parent. I only ever told him what I needed to. He had a lot to get his head around in the last three weeks. Telling him his wife carried a child which could not be his had shocked him. He adjusted very quickly. He knew his life of plenty had a darker underbelly. The unwritten pact between us to not ask questions came to an end, and now he knew everything.
The house and grounds had been my prison for three weeks. My skin still hurt from the accelerated growth of the baby, where the lower layers of the derma tore, leaving blood-red stretch marks. I smiled. My stomach looked as though the Devil’s claws had dragged over my flesh. In a way, they had.
I awoke on the morning of Lilith’s conception, feeling violated. The vivid dream of being stalked and forced to succumb to His attentions became reality. I buried the shame that I could not label it ‘rape’. I enjoyed it, His attentions. The bruised feeling between my thighs mocked me, and I suspected evidence stained the sheets deliberately, just in case I was in doubt.
I never had any doubt. Twenty years passed too quickly, in the end. The sixteen year old girl He liberated from a prison cell certainly made the most of those years. My ‘john’s’ blood still stained my soul, and maybe that’s why accepting death felt right. The guy earned a lifetime in Hell when he beat Jess to death. He should’ve been my trick, not hers, but shit, I did too much coke that afternoon and dragging my ass out of bed felt like crawling out from under a bear’s carcass. And that’s what the guy looked like too, after I buried a knife in his back. A bear carcass, crushing the bloody pulp that had been Jess. It should have been me. I would’ve gutted him with switch blade I kept under the pillow.
But, when I was gone, Lilith would still have Aiden. That thought chilled my flesh. I pushed away the sudden scene of seduction He put in my head. They were not related by blood, after all.
In a blinding moment of clarity, I realized I’d been used. Tricked. The trappings of a bountiful life had always been overshadowed by the price I would have to pay. That feeling of waiting for the debt collector to come banging on the door haunted me. I found a strong, healthy mate with whom I could never have children — another part of the bargain — I built an affluent lifestyle, and my career as a lawyer rose quickly to glittering heights. All His doing, I knew.
Aiden turned out to be my match in every way. He enjoyed limitless power as a CEO of a bank. He sat on the board of many companies, including a heavy hitting pharmaceutical research facility. Everything he touched turned to gold. Were Aiden’s gifts a coincidence? I didn’t think so. And now, having given birth to His daughter, my death would leave Lilith with a father and formidable protector who would be molded to her will.
I laughed. Yes. I’d been used. I was nothing more than a pack mule. He must have found me pathetic and amusing.
I looked down into Lilith’s drowsy features. She was fully fed and relaxed, her soft rosebud lips still pursed, but no longer latched on. Cradling her in my arms it took more effort than I expected rising to my feet. The newborn of yesterday morning was15lbs heavier and much more solid. Settling her in the crib, I padded through the dark house in bare feet.
Will I get to choose how to die? The gossamer fine net drapes billowed as a breeze wafted through the house. My skin prickled at the sudden chill. I fancied I heard the word ‘No’ drifting on the air.
“No.” I smiled, tasting the bile churning in my stomach. “Of course not.”
The challenge on Writer’s Carnival this week was to use the prompt ‘GETTING INKED’. Write a story of 750 words or less, ending in the sentence ‘And that’s how I got the tattoo’. At just over 1,100 words, I failed… hey ho.
*WARNING – MATURE CONTENT – STRONG LANGUAGE*
I rested my elbow on the bar and let my attention slide around the nightclub.
With one hip hitched up onto a barstool, my bare legs looked about a mile long and I knew it. Shit, where is he? Scanning faces was proving to be a pointless exercise in the shadow cluttered basement. The bass of the music vibrated the floor beneath my stiletto, and breathing clean air seemed to be a thing of the past, the odour of salty sweat so strong I could taste it. The decision to arrange my thick hair into a pleated up-do was a blessing in the cloying heat.
“You don’t have to do this.”
I dragged my attention away from the sea of gyrating bodies and looked into Ryan’s frowning face. “Yes, I do.”
Running his meaty hand over the back of his neck knotted his bicep. “Let me take care of the prick.” His fingers were warm as they reached for mine. I didn’t resist as he drew my hand forward, extending my arm. My pale skin glowed in the glare of the bar’s backlighting. Ryan’s finger stroked over the crook of my elbow where my tattoo of a metal needle appeared to extrude from my vein, the ascending shaft becoming a green stem bearing leaves, which twisted around my upper arm. Sprouting small flowers as it crossed my shoulder blade, it reappeared over my shoulder, meandering down and disappearing beneath the fabric of my tight dress.
“This was a bad idea,” Ryan muttered.
Raising a brow, I pointedly looked over the tattooed sleeves on both his arms featuring snakes and demonic faces.
His voice roughened as he said, “You know what I mean, being bait.”
I gently disengaged the fingers he had woven through mine. “Please, don’t worry.” I smiled. “You’d never get to him. They call them ‘bodyguards’ for a reason.”
Straightening and tugging the bar cloth from his shoulder, he picked up a glass and began polishing it. “You’re right.”
“Just get Sampson to hit the light show when you see him. I’ll take it from there.”
Easing down from the stool, my swaying stride took up the beat of the music as I crossed the room and moved on to the dance floor. The heavy thrum vibrated through my chest as I picked up the pounding rhythm. Raising my arms above my head, my hips followed the circling flow of my body. The lifted hemline of my dress bared acres of silk smooth leg, exposing the tattooed stem spiralling down around my thigh, ending in a rosebud behind my knee. Letting my head drop back, I pretended to zone out.
I registered the flow of figures moving between the scattering of round tables beyond. With my stomach churning, I waited. Suddenly, the tempo of the light show changed, a rainbow of harsh color bursting into life. He’s here.
My skin crawled, damp heat chilling my flesh when I caught sight of him. The tightness in my chest felt as though the tattooed stem was real and applying choking pressure to my body and limbs.
Fluid grace deserted me as the flashing colored lights passing around the room picked out his features. Lounging back, with an arm extended along the padded backrest of a curved bench, he was just as I remembered. Shit, this is it. Deliberately leaving my dress riding high, the shadow darker between my thighs, I crossed the room. His eyes glittered as they stared at my crotch and I knew he was wondering what, if anything, I wore underneath.
My hips rolled as I slowly walked over. Sliding my knee down into the space between his spread legs until it rested on the seat cushion, I pulled on his tie, leaning in and whispering, “I’m not a fan of underwear.”
He grinned as his hand closed on the back of my thigh.
“Not here.” I eased smoothly away from his stroking fingers, my sensual appraisal promising excitement.
His breath hissed as, turning around, I gave him a tantalising glimpse of my barely covered ass and it took all my willpower not to look back as I sauntered away. Glittering sparks erupted behind my eyes and I realized I’d forgotten to breath. Pull yourself together.
The metal bar of the fire exit chilled my palms as I shoved the door open. The evening air tightened my skin into goosebumps, and I shuddered as I felt his warm hand slide round my midriff. The heat of his body smothered my back. I swallowed the bile in my throat and turned in his arms. His hand gripped my backside as I shuffled him sideways, out into the alley, letting the heavy door thump shut.
“Outdoor girl, then. Thought so, by the flower tattoos. Nice.”
His wet mouth sucked my neck as I pushed him back against the wall.
“You haven’t seen the best part,” I whispered.
He stopped clutching at my body, his hands dropping to his side as he leaned back into the wall. His voice catching in a tight throat, he said, “Show me.”
My fingers closed over the zipper tab sitting in the deep V between my breasts. I stared into his face as I slowly pulled it down, enjoying the moment when the tight mask of lust faltered.
“What the fuck.”
Stroking my hand up over his tense shoulder, my sharply manicured nails dug into his flesh.
“Shit,” he hissed, his hand gripping my wrist, the force making me wince. “What are you? A psycho bitch? No one would want to touch that.”
I took a step closer. “But you did, once.”
He finally looked into my face and his slack jaw dropped open. I slipped the four-inch metal spike from my hair, letting the weight of it tumble down. In a smooth fast action, I drove the needle-sharp point into the side of his neck, using the heel of my hand to ram it home. The blood sprayed like water from a blocked faucet, the splatters cold against my flushed skin.
Stefan Ashworth, Internet site developer, psychopath, and tattoo fetishist, slid down the brickwork, the rough edges grating over his body until he came to rest sitting on the ground. His head flopped over, and, if it weren’t for the claret waterfall staining his shirtfront, a passer-by would think he’d passed out, drunk.
I smiled as my fingertip smeared through the wet droplets scattered over my bare torso. The stem running down over my shoulder ended in a cluster of dew drenched rosebuds. The centre point of each one framed a puckered scar dug into my flesh where, the first and last time I had met Stefan, he buried a blade in my chest five times and left me for dead.
Pulling up the zipper, I turned on my heel and repaid the compliment. And that’s how I got the tattoo.
In light of it being Friday the 13th AND a full moon, and the fact that it won’t happen again until 2049, Writers Carnival celebrated by throwing a midnight challenge to post a SCARY story using NO MORE than 750 words.
*WARNING : ELEMENTS OF HORROR – but this is ‘scary pants’, Friday 13th BADGE entry!* (Word count 590)
The desk lamp cast a pool of light over the black laquered surface of the desk. The nape of my neck prickled and, slowly turning my chair on its spindle, I gazed out over the muted city lights. Shit, it’s late. Pink blood-like streaks stretched across the dark grey canvas of an evening sky.
Leaning back and clasping my hands behind my head, I eased out my neck muscles, frowning at the tightness which pulled them back into knots. With a sudden explosion of movement, I stood up. Yanking my jacket from the back of my chair, without tidying away the spread of papers scattered over the desk, I headed for the door.
As I left the office, I scanned the open plan workspace beyond, relieved to find there were only two halos of lemon light glowing above the partitions of distant cubicles. Okay, I can get out of here. I walked carefully out to the deserted reception area, the measured stride of my footfalls echoing on the solid wood floor. A rush of heat made me sweat, and, running my finger around the inside of my collar, I cursed under my breath because it was tighter than it had been this morning.
The thin cotton of my shirt felt like sandpaper against my skin. I shifted my shoulders, grumbling gently as I stopped at the elevator.
With the side of a clenched fist, I hit the call button. The boldprint black ‘G’ became ghost grey as the safety glass fractured. I closed my eyes, listening to the whine and swish of the straining cables which, on a normal day, I could not hear, and began chanting. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.
A musical chiming sound announced the arrival of the elevator, and I snapped my eyes open once more. For a moment, I stared into blood red eyes shining back at me from the mirror finish of the polished steel doors.
Glancing quickly over my shoulder as the elevator doors parted with a sigh, I strode swiftly forward into the brushed steel box. Letting my jacket drop onto the plush ruby red carpet at my feet, I leaned against the back wall, my unsheathed claws scraping over the metal panel. The doors swished as they began to close, smoothly narrowing the gap.
Jerking into movement, I reached for the button displaying the ‘door close’ symbol, my lip folding back on my distorted features, a muzzle unleashing a rumbling growl.
A manicured hand slipped between the doors. “Wait. Please.”
I recognised the red nail varnish. I backed away. “Catch the next one, Kate.”
Her arm pushed into the car first, swiftly followed by a sidestepping body dressed in a cream silk blouse and tight black skirt.
“Pheww, that was close. Jason, why didn’t you hold the…”
She turned to look at me, the blond curtain of her hair swinging back. Her features froze in sudden terror and she jolted back against the sealed elevator door.
I killed the scream in her throat as my canines punctured her windpipe. My arms closed around her, holding her close in a macabre dance as her blood flowed down between our clamped bodies. When her flesh was cold, I lifted my chin and howled at the full-moon, which I felt like the burn of ash stroking over my skin, even though I could not see it. A tear lay a damp trail over the fur covering my cheek as the human mind trapped inside me screamed.
I was challenged to answer the MYSTERY CAVE prose prompt on Writer’s Carnival.
Write a story, no more than 500 words, that tells about finding something in a cave. What is it and how did it get there?
This is what I came up with… bending the rule a little? I don’t think so, no one said who ‘finds’ whom. (Word Count 495)
<><><><><><><> WARNING: HORROR CONTENT <><><><><><><>
The noise of crumbling stone snapped my head around. My clawed grip on the rock lined ceiling of the cavern held me secure as my body swung gently, the jerking action tensing my muscles. The coal dust atmosphere billowed as I eased my eyes open, but it was the sound that made the walls of the cave come to life. Like a disrupted signal from my sonar, it bounced around the space and mapped it in my mind.
The membrane cocooning me felt tight, and the dehydrated skin crackled as I eased the tight embrace I had wrapped around my body. I felt the cold dank air of the cave whisper over my outstretched limbs.
The scraping grew louder, the pitch hurting my ears when an avalanche of dust and rock fragments erupted into the air. I recognised the sound. It had the same jarring resonance I heard when I became sealed inside this rock encrusted space. The grit I had breathed in still lined my nose. Survival instincts taking over, I resorted to preserved my energy by hibernating.
“Give it another shove, Riggs. We’re nearly in.”
The creature’s screeching call grated like splintered glass through my head. I detected the waft of a familiar salt-laden scent. It flavored the smooth skin on my food source, which slept at night. They were easy to feed from when asleep. My long tongue flicked out, tasting the air.
“Well if you’d give me a hand, we’d be in there a lot quicker. Bloody storm is coming.”
“Can’t we find another cave?”
“Don’t be so soft. We’ve only got to shift a few lumps of rock, they’ve hardly even settled. Just put your back into it.”
The smell of blood plumed into the darkness as the rocks shifted and a glittering shaft of light, like a blade of silver, illuminated the packed mud floor. Empty drink cartons and a rusted oil lamp were all that waited for the scavengers when they finally broke in.
“For God’s sake Pete, wrap something round it and stop whining. It’s just a graze.”
The air inside the cave suddenly tasted of dirt as the currents inside whipped into frenzy. The silver light faded to the dullness of molten lead and stones clattered… no, not stones, rainwater splattering, pummelling the rocks.
“Quick, I’m getting soaked, get inside, get in.”
The creature, it’s succulent pink skin gleaming, fell through the hole. It crawled across the ground, the blood staining its hand making my mouth water. The crinkling sensation of spreading dry wings grated through my muscles. I released my grip on the rough hewn ceiling, and dropped like a stone. The rushing torrent of falling rain drowned out the animal’s gargling scream when I buried my fangs in its neck.
The ruptured throat bubbled, and its spluttering mouth oozed blood which ran down its body.
“Be careful in there, Pete. I hear there are some bloody huge bats living in some of these caves.”
I started out writing, by the seat of my pants, about three years ago. I have no idea why, or where the inspiration came from, but my first set of novels are dark horror with a central theme of romance. The series is called ‘Fire and Ice’ and The Awakening is where we begin.
The premise for book 1: ‘Fire and Ice : The Awakening’ is set out below:
For centuries, vampires were content to exist as creatures of myth and legend, barely making a footprint in the shifting sands of human consciousness, until Mother Nature unleashed a global influenza pandemic which wiped out most of humanity.
Vampire survival instincts have an edge of desperation as humans are dying out, forcing them out of the shadows. The London of 2010 has become a vampire hive as they cluster around their decimated food supply, and “survival of the fittest” is a stark reality.
Humans are left wishing their world had ended, when, as a protected species, they are imprisoned, farmed as cattle, and siphoned for their blood.
The biggest cloud on the vampire horizon is that humans age and die, and will choose sacrifice rather than surrender their unborn children into vampire hands.
Suddenly, vampire immortality has an expiration date.
The books in the series (three completed and two in progress) are:
Book 1: ‘Fire and Ice : The Awakening’.
Book 2: ‘Fire and Ice : Survival’.
Book 3: ‘Fire and Ice : Earth Walker’
Book 4: ‘Fire and Ice : Heart of Stone’
Book 5: ‘Fire and Ice : Invasion’.
The prequel to the series, ‘Death of Connor Sanderson’, is set in 1910 and tells the story of Doctor Connor, the main character in the ‘Fire and Ice’ series, and how he became a vampire.
I have secured a literary agent for my writing projects. This blog will follow the journey of ‘Fire and Ice’, and my other endeavours.