Saturday, July 30, 2011
What is a monster? It is supposed to be any fictional creature, normally found in legends or horror films. They are somewhat hideous and their appearance scares people.
Most monster are human sized. People tend to think of Frankenstein's monster first. With the popularity of vampires, they're right up at the front of the line, too. Demons, mummies, ogres, the Golem and werewolves are human-size as well. But there are animals considered monsters, too. King Kong, dinasours, dragons, giant sea creatures, and Godzilla.
And what about those cheapy Saturday sci-fi movies? They're loaded with cheesy monsters--aliens, mutated human beings and legendary creatures.
Some researchers claim that frightening monsters are linked to human beings because they create a sense of fear because they too closely resemble us. I think it would be intereting to turn a monster into a hero in a romance book. Is that a challenge? You bet it is.
I'm sure I missed some important monsters. Which ones are your favorites?
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Sarah Mäkelä
Adara raced over the dense forest floor, trying to escape the shadow closing on her heels. Fear pumped adrenaline through her body as she ran toward her village through the darkness. Panic tangled with the sheer need to survive. If only I'd listened. What was I thinking, coming out alone?
She shot a glance over her shoulder. Her foot smacked against a tree root in the moment of distraction, pitching her body forward. The fall came in slow motion.
Cursing under her breath, she rolled onto her back. Dry leaves clung to her blonde hair. The subtle, musty scent of slow rot rose from the rich soil, mixed with something coming from behind her. The dark shadow loomed. Her gaze rose to take in her pursuer, wondering if the beast would be her doom.
The tall, broad-shouldered creature towered over her. Watching. It wasn't human or animal. The village wise woman had warned her of beings like this, but they'd seemed like fables. How could something so fantastical be real?
Even as she trembled with fear, this creature captivated her. The black and orange stripes covering his shoulders and arms evoked a distant memory, yet the design was uncommon in the Amazon.
His hair hung in straight, black strands like a human's, but his face had the nose, mouth, and eyes of a feline. His muscular, naked body reflected a splendid combination of both species. Sweat-shiny skin glistened through the inch-long fur that covered him. His white chest intrigued her, all the way to the patch of fur barely covering his groin. Leaves and branches framed his face with a lush green background. He crouched over her. His piercing golden eyes focused solely on her. His stare reminded her of a cat from her village staring at a small rodent before pouncing.
As he leaned down, she grabbed her kris from the garter on her thigh and pushed it against his stomach. She didn't want today to be the day she died. Her people needed her. She wouldn't let this beast deny them their princess.
The animal cocked his head at her. He brushed his lips over her throat, whiskers tickling her chin.
Her body stiffened. What is he doing? Bewilderment spread through her as his feline lips touched her neck. Instead of biting her, his canines grazed lightly, gently, from just below her ear down to her shoulder, almost as if exploring her flesh, instead of seeking to rip open her throat.
She tensed. Even with her weapon pressed against the beast's stomach, she still feared for her life. As an Amazon princess, she wasn't easily scared. But this feline made her heart pound. If only she had brought Rubia with her. She wouldn't be in this situation and could've stood a better chance against this feline.
Why does he persist in toying with me? Adara swallowed as a low burn started in the pit of her stomach. These feelings confused her.
A soft sniffing sounded in her ear right before his tongue scraped rough caresses on her skin. Other jungle cats marked their territory. Did this animal believe she was his? She didn't want to find out.
Without waiting for the feline's next move, Adara drove the kris deep into his stomach, meeting resistance as it plunged through flesh and muscle. She forced it further as his blood flowed onto her hands, making the hilt of the kris slick, weakening her grip.
He roared and leapt back with her kris still embedded in his abdomen.
She scrambled to her feet. His scream so near the side of her face made her ear ring. Bringing up a hand to her ear, Adara felt a trail of his wet blood drip along her cheek.
He straightened his spine and strode back to her, her kris still buried in him. It seemed as if it were nothing more than a minor annoyance to him. She clenched her hands into fists and dropped them to her sides.
The reality of what she saw struck her. She froze. How could he act so unaffected? He shouldn't have been able to move around so casually. It wasn't possible. How can I outrun something like that? This can't be happening. Her mother had always warned her to be careful when traveling through the forest. Why hadn't she listened? And how could she feel so drawn to this animal when he intimidated her?
"Who are you?" Gritting her teeth, she forced her voice to resonate with the commanding tones of an Amazon huntress, and fervently hoped it didn't betray the panic racing through her veins. Her people's beliefs restricted them from showing fear in front of strangers. Not that they saw many. But her tribeswomen were survivors in dangerous times. Their history brimmed with reminders.
The feline bared pointed white teeth. "Call me Rei." His husky voice reverberated like a deep growl.
He launched into the air and, before she could react, flattened her to the ground. Air whooshed out of her lungs. Her eyes widened and locked onto his.
He pinned her arms next to her head and pressed his feline lips to hers. His tongue scraped across her lower lip, causing nips of pain to cut through the alluring sensation.
She shook her head hard, breaking the kiss. Her breath rushed out short and quick. Never before had she kissed anyone. His mouth on hers created fiery stirrings within her body that felt almost too good. Her racing pulse only spread the warmth throughout her body that much faster.
Twice a year, her tribeswomen associated with Indian men. The younger girls were forced to stay in a hut during those visits, although Adara had snuck out once with Rubia in a fit of rebellion. She'd spotted one of her kin pressing her mouth against an Indian male's. Could this be what happens?
But men weren't to be trusted. Her kin had learned that the hard way many, many years ago.
Her mind flashed to the tales she'd heard from the wise woman. Horrible reminders assaulted her, memories of the men from long ago, enslaving her kind, killing them ruthlessly with diseases and swords.
She could imagine the cruelty of the conquering, pillaging men as vividly as if she had been there herself, so strongly had the wise woman spoken. It had taken weeks for her to sleep soundly after listening to that story.
Sudden panic swept away the lust that burned inside her. This creature could do the same. He's chased me, after all.
"What do you want from me?" Adara asked, trying to sound forceful, but instead her voice came out husky. She cleared her throat and returned his gaze.
Talking with an animal! Rubia would be jealous. Her tribeswomen would never believe this story... if she survived the encounter.
Rei smiled, warmth emanating from him. "You." His chest rumbled, and he rolled the word off his tongue like an exotic purr.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Hi everyone! *waving*
So while I was coming up with a topic for this blog, I stopped for a moment and wondered why we blog…
I bet everyone has a different reason. Some use it as a journal, a very public journal, while others use it as a promotional tool to hype new releases. I also think there are some who use blogs as a learning tool. (Sorry in advance to those people! I hardly ever blog about “craft”… LOL)
Typically, I’ve always thought of my blog as a place to chat and meet people. I do my best to answer every single comment. I’m sure most people never check back, but some do and even comment back again. I love blog comment conversations. I have made some of the best online friends that way! :)
It’s like an online cocktail party. The blog itself is the entertainment, like a cover band trying to get people to get out there and dance. And the comments are the conversation! When there aren’t any comments, I always end up feeling like I threw a lame party! LOL
Am I the only one who feels kinda blue and loser-y when no one talks at my virtual cocktail party?
So anyway, the cover band in launching into a rockin’ version of Love Shack… Please stay and chat at the party! :) Why do you blog? And do you answer comments when people talk on your blog?
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
So this past week, I created a Regency cover for Pink Petal Books, my first Regency ever. I've done a couple of historicals for MLR Press, but no Regencies. Finding photos for a Regency can be difficult. In this instance, I found the couple almost right away but had trouble with an English manor house. In the end, I found what I needed and the cover is beautiful. The publisher said the authors love it. Nothing feels better to a cover artist than when the author loves their cover.
The other cover I made was for Tales of the Darkworld Volume Two, my next print book. This book contains Sunstroked and Breathe Me In, the most recent two books in the Tales series. Since neither one of them was long enough to go to print, they'll be combined as Tales Volume Two. For those of you who are familiar with my work, you'll recall that Tales Volume One is Shifting Winds and Hot Water together. All the other books in the series were long enough to go to print on their own.
Tales of the Darkworld Volume Two is 80,000+ words of M/M erotic paranormal romance. Both digital editions had hot covers so the creation of the print cover became a daunting task. How could I come up with something that incorporated both of those covers? Or even the best of the two covers? Especially when Sunstroked's cover had been an Ariana Award finalist.
I must have tried at least four different layouts before I realized I was going at this cover all wrong. I wanted a photo to represent Gargoyle Lodge where the bulk of Sunstroked takes place. Not a good idea. For one, every photo I found of lodges that looked like I envisioned Gargoyle...had snow. Since Gargoyle is in California and the book doesn't take place in winter...no snow. For another, I just couldn't blend a lodge with the Eiffel Tower from the Breathe Me In cover.
Once I nixed the lodge idea, I went back to Sunstroked and decided I needed the guy who is the main part of the cover. I found a different pose with the same guy and voila! My cover bloomed in my imagination! I took that pose along with the Eiffel Tower from Breathe Me In and layered them. A luscious bit of cover art began to unfold. I got another image of the model who was on the cover of Breathe Me In, a different pose. Instead of the tribal wolf from Sunstroked, I went with an actual photo of a wolf. The layers came together and...OMG. A hot, hot cover was born. I'm totally in love with it and can't wait for this print book to be in my greedy hands!
All the while I'd been working on these covers, my brain had been whirling with an idea for a cougar story. Now, first of all, you have to understand that I AM a cougar. So for me to make my heroes younger than my heroines is natural. But the idea I had rolling around in my head came about because of my daughter and her roommate who is male. He's kind of the protective sort and he looks out for Nikki, something I appreciate.
I started thinking about a woman who has had to take care of everything and everyone her entire life. Her daughter is in college now and her younger husband decides he wants a divorce. So she's suffering from empty nest syndrome, going through a divorce, and just tired of having to take care of everything. For once in her life, she'd like someone else to deal with all the crap of life. Enter her daughter's roomie's father who, while he is younger than her, is the type of guy who is used to taking charge. He's a widower, a hot fireman, and definitely interested in his son's roomie's mom. Sparks fly. Vulnerabilities are uncovered. Lust rises. Love grows. Perfect combination!
Damned plot bunnies. I've no time to write this story much as I'd like to. I have a plethora of other projects that must come first. But no matter what I have on my plate, the plot bunnies always come to life in my head when I'm working on the toughest cover art. I'm not sure what the correlation is or why this always happens to me, but it does. So I write up a quick plotline or synopsis and file the plot bunny away until I actually have to time to write it. I suppose I should be grateful that I do have ideas. I've seen plenty of authors on the loops bemoaning a lack of them. I don't ever have that problem thanks to my cover art.
Plot bunnies and cover art are forever linked for me. If I'm stressing over a cover you can bet that I'm hatching a plot for a book at the same time! Odd, but true!
If you want a glimpse of what I'm writing currently, stop over at my author blog for my Six Sentence Sunday offering. Hope you all keep it cool this Sunday!
Saturday, July 23, 2011
That got me to thinking, how many times as writers do we not trust ourselves? Self doubt is sadly a major component of what we do. It’s not like in graduate school where you wrote a paper then received a grade and a detailed list of what worked and what didn’t. Here you write and write, never really knowing if you’re good enough. The reasons for rejection are huge, unlimited, and may have nothing to do with your ability. Unless you get a revision letter you will never really know. Sometimes it feels we are screaming into a dark abyss and the only answer back is our own echo.
So what do we do? Do we scream, “I trust me!” and barrel forth into what looks like a certain death? Or do we let the lack of trust in our own skills and thought processes make us hover on the edge?
Now while barreling forward does sound more heroic, it could be argued that nothing will be lost by hovering. Less risk after all.
Here’s why writers have to trust themselves. Lack of trust can destroy the writing. We’ve all seen it, the story where the same point is brought up time and again. Where within three pages the same concepts have been stated and restated numerous times. Those are signs of a writer hovering on the edge. They worry that the reader may not get it. They don’t trust in their own writing enough to take that leap that their craft is strong enough to carry the reader safely to the other side.
Self doubt can affect the writer in other ways as well. If the writer has too many self doubts, they may constantly search for validation. To the point of getting too much feedback on their work and changing it each time. Now don’t get me wrong, I love feedback. There have been many times when someone reading my work has caught things I was too close to see. Or suggested a better way to put something. But for the writer with not enough trust in themselves, this can be devastating to the work.
I read a blog not too long ago where the author said how her agent hated the first three chapters. The ones that had been in contests, crit groups, and polished until they gleamed. All rubbish. The author didn’t trust herself enough to not re-work those chapters after each contact with another person. It turned out fine for her; the agent loved the rest of the book. But the point is that lack of trust could have been fatal for that book.
So the next time you find yourself doubting your skills- find a way to charge forward instead. Find ways to improve your craft through books, conferences, workshops. Don’t give into the mindset of dwelling on a concept or idea repeatedly. Do it once, do it well, and move on.
Be willing to charge your truck into the abyss, you might just save the day.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Just ask Bastian from The Neverending Story. What a little hipster! 'This book doesn't end. You've probably never heard of it.' I am sure I cannot be the only one who has had the experience of finding a copy of that book in a used bookstore or library and being really excited for about ten seconds.
The best books simultaneously celebrate youth and the path to adulthood, don't they? In reading them, loving them, they help us transverse the murky waters of growing up. So, other than the tales of The Boy Who Lived, I am sending this shout out to the books that changed my life. Similar to an Oscar or Rita speech, I am sure, I will leave out important names (or, in this case, titles) but I will buy them a drink later. Oh, right, they are MG/YA series. I will buy them a chocolate milk.
Redwall by Brian Jacques – This man was not afraid to give his stories and characters heart. His characters always managed to find their courage and defeat the multi-layered villains after great struggle and sacrifice. Even though they were talking mice and warrior badgers, Jacques did not use them to create the illusion that life wasn't hard. Life is tough, but worth it!
Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery – Because every girl gets her bosom friend accidentally drunk on homemade wine...
Adventures with the Heroes by Catharine F. Sellew aka “Random Collection of Norse Mythology for Middle-Graders” – I am pretty sure this paved the way for my great Lord of the Rings obsession of '01 – 05'... Oh, who am I kidding? Still obsessed.
Animorphs by K. A. Applegate – I checked these books out of the library when my mom wasn't looking. I did this mainly because I didn't want her to know how addicted I was to them. Mind-controlling aliens? Shapeshifters? Secret fight for humanity's freedom? Thank goodness there were dozens of them!
I sense a pattern of my liking books where the main characters suffered a lot before the end. Morbid kid, much? What were your favorite MG/YA books and have you reread them since then?
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
What at first appeared to be a lump on a gnarled limb, took flight, swooped over my head, and landed on a neighboring tree to hunt for prey. I crept closer to get a better look. Bats darted by, chasing insects. A feathery silhouette against a sky lit by the full moon, the barred owl twisted its head and ignored my presence.
The perfect setting to inspire a paranormal story. Full moon, owls, bats. What if one of the bats is a vampire stalking the campers? He spies a lone woman having trouble lighting her campfire. With a flick of his wings, he shape shifts and materializes behind a nearby tree trunk. He offers the woman assistance and begins his game of seduction.
Hoohoo-hoo-hoo, hoohoo-hoo-hoo-aw. The barred owl cried.
Let your imagination run wild.
What real life settings have inspired a story for you?
The Full Buck Moon shone bright over Lewis Mountain Campground in Shenandoah National Park on Friday, June 15th.
Monday, July 18, 2011
For example: I recently purchased a Kindle and I've been going nuts downloading all kinds of books. As you well know, there are plenty of self-published novels available for very low cost on Amazon, so I've downloaded some. A couple of them have been really good stories that have sucked me in and I couldn't put them down, despite certain structural or craft flaws. There are the inevitable spelling and grammar errors with self-published work, along with places an editor could have helped clean up the repetitiveness, redundancy, or unnecessary bits that would help the story flow smoother and faster. But even with those problems, I still enjoyed the journey of the story itself.
On the other hand, some of the books I've downloaded had stories that were so dull or wooden that despite perfect spelling and grammar I just couldn't get past the first chapter.
Both these issues happen with traditional publishing, as well, though you don't as often find the spelling and grammar problems. Usually the issue is that the story just isn't very appealing. I'm always disappointed when I buy a book and start reading, but just can't sink into the story. (Interestingly, in traditional publishing I'll occasionally find problems with story with authors who are extremely successful and have a long history of best-selling publishing. I suspect it's because they get to a point where they think they're so good they don't need to be edited. As a result their stories can sometimes be rambling and pointless)
As far as I'm concerned, story is more important, but only by a nose. I can forgive some spelling and grammar errors (though I get a little twitchy when I see them), and even some minor plot problems are okay if the overall story is good. There's something magical about a tantalizing tale and engaging characters that makes it possible get lost in the story regardless of a few structural bumps along the way.
So what do you think? Does story trump structure for you? Or do misspellings and grammar issues trip you up and pull you out of the story? Which is more important for you?
Sunday, July 17, 2011
When I arrived at Tokyo Big Sight, Japan’s largest exhibition center, I got in line to hand in my ticket. I had pre-registered and since I was involved with publishing, I only had to turn over two business cards and my reserved ticket slip, and I was given a badge to enter. It appeared to me that the general publish had to pay an entrance fee.
< http://publishingperspectives.com/2011/07/cultivating-japanese-ebook-market/ >
P.S.S. I forgot to add that this is my last post on Sundays. Suzanne Johnson will be back to her regular posting schedule. I want to thank her and all the great ladies at Castles & Guns for inviting us to fill in. I hope you enjoyed my posts. But, you don't have to say good-bye. I will be back with a regular blog post every other Friday, starting August 5th! I am so excited to be joining the Castles & Guns team.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
I have to admit that I read the first in Nalini's series, so I was right there with her characters. Not the case with Anita's, but it didn't matter. The book stood on it's own merits, and you can bet that I'll be going hunting for those other ten. Not that I don't have enough books to read now as it is. What person doesn't?
I've got to finish Terry Goodkinds' series. Need to find out what happens to Richard and Kahlan. I also realized that I started but never finished Jacwueline Carey's Kushiel series. Bad me.
Each one of these four series contains something compelling for me, the reader. I am thoroughly engaged in the characters and their lives. I guess that's what good writing is all about. Is it alright to be jealous? I wish my pinkie had the talent that these writers have.
I'm sure this question has been asked before, but what are you reading right now? What do you want to read?
Friday, July 15, 2011
That is not a comment on the quality of workshops presented at the conference. It's just that I didn't have the time. Everyone goes for something different at conference and my main focus was networking - meeting people and making contacts.
To that end, I did a lot of volunteering (if you noticed the loud-mouthed redhead working either the booksigning or during the editor/agent appointments - yeah, that was me.) I like volunteering. It's a lot easier to talk to people when you have a job backing the talking up. An easy intro, if you will.
But I also talked to people in lines, in the halls, at the table during lunch. Whenever and wherever I could.
Not every conversation was the beginning of a life-long friendship, of course. But I met so many interesting women that it makes me almost giddy to recall the wonderful conversations and laugh out loud moments I've had.
I met some people I've only known through social media, and I gotta say they were just as nifty in person as they are on twitter. I met a NY Times Bestseller just by wandering the halls, and was given a lesson in twang by a fellow epubbed author and native Texan.
I met people at all stages of their career, and all of them were more than willing to share their journey and their advice. I don't believe there exists more generous people than my fellow RWA members. Every single woman I met wanted to help out their fellow romance writers.
So, I did not go to a single workshop, but I learned a ton at conference. I've said it before, but I really want to repeat and stress this - if you go to a conference, make sure you mingle. Get out there. Talk to people you don't know and have no idea who they are. You will have the greatest time imaginable if you expand your comfort zone a little.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
There's a saying that, "writing is 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration." I tried to find out where that came from, but only found what Thomas Edison's thoughts on genius, "Genius is one percent inspiration, ninety-nine percent perspiration." So I guess writers have it made. *laughs*
I agree with the writing quote since I have several ideas for novels and novellas, yet getting them down and then revising them -- let alone finding publication -- can be much more challenging. Why? It involves that large dose of perspiration. Some days it's a concentrated effort to sit down and write, yet it's easy to lean back, daydream for a moment, and get the greatest idea for a new story.
So, what do I feel most comfortable with? That's probably a better term than "easy." I enjoy coming up with new story and character ideas. Meeting new and intriguing people and figuring out what odds are against them and what they want is always really exciting for me.
There's also dialogue. I enjoy writing dialogue because that allows the characters the opportunity to show their personalities through the words they say, or don't say. I've met people who have a hard time writing dialogue, but I just think of it as if I'm watching my hero and heroine talk like I'm watching them on the movie screen in my head. Basically, just listen to the voices in your head. No, you're not crazy. You're a writer!
What about you? What do you feel most comfortable with when it comes to writing? I'd love to hear what y'all have to say.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Hi everyone –
I survived RWA National and didn’t even get lost in New York City!!! YAY!!! Thanks for all the good thoughts…
Now I need to get my pics and write-up done, but instead, my daughter got me set up on Tumblr. I had heard of the site, but I’ve never tried it. Until now!
I feel like I did the first time I tried Twitter. I just don’t get it. You post pictures, videos, news clips, anything you like, and hope that people “reblog” it.
I’ve been using it for a couple weeks now and I think I’m starting to have fun there…
With my first novel coming out next month, I’ve got my eye out for ways to promote the release, and I think Tumblr could help.
So do any of you out there play on Tumblr? If so, can you share some cool Tumblr tips with this newbie?
And let’s get connected there too… I’m at http://LisaKessler.tumblr.com
Looking forward to tumblin’ with you!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
When my father was still living, we spent many hours on vacations searching for and collecting sea glass. I still have our jar full of weathered “gems” sitting on my writing desk. The title of my latest release, Sea Glass and Sand Memories came quickly, when I had only a shred of the plot and setting in mind. It has a double meaning. To me, the title is all about the memories of those family trips, the wonderful times I had with my father who I miss a lot. The second meaning of the title comes with the ending. When my main character, young woman named Kate, returns to a familiar location in search of sea glass, she finds a surprise in store for her.
Sea glass is glass found on beaches of oceans, bays, rivers, and lakes that has been tumbled smooth by the action of waves, water, and sand. The results are pieces of broken glass, frosted and smooth like gems. In a rainbow of colors, the original source determines the color and texture. The most common are Kelly green, brown, and colorless, mostly from bottles used to sell beer, juices and soft drinks. Less common colors include jade and amber (from whiskey and medicine bottles), lime green, forest green, and soft blues (from soda bottles during the 1960s or earlier). The rarest colors are purple, cobalt/cornflower (Milk of Magnesia and Vick’s VapoRub bottles) and aqua (Ball Mason canning jars).
Dad and I aimed for any color other than clear with equal delight. Many great pieces of our collection came from the setting of my story, the western coastline of Lake Michigan, the dunes area. That area of shore has a relaxed, time-stands-still feeling I think made a good setting to harbor a mysterious ghost story. It’s a quaint artsy area, a quiet place where unusual happenings could pass unnoticed for years…until the right person stumbled in like Kate.
Sea Glass and Sand Memories - Blurb:
Looking forward to a relaxing week at a Lake Michigan coastal resort, Kate finds much more than the picturesque dunes she intended to paint. Adventures start when her requested room is switched beside an unusual couple – a witch and her lover, a ghost.
During her stay, the handsome ghost, Anson, tries to ensnare her into helping him escape the witch who killed him and then enslaved his spirit. That witch holds him captive on the property of his mother’s resort. Anson wins Kate’s heart and loyalty, but is that enough to set him free?
Warning: This story contains paranormal sex, pagan abuse of a ghost spirit, nightmares, and happy family memories.
A loud knock on my door made us hush.
I held my breath.
I heard metal scraping, as though the door bolt slide open. A shadow moved across the rug in the main room.
My pulse rang in my ears.
Zandra stood in the bedroom doorway, her face ashen. “Lover, you and I have something to discuss. Leave her!” she commanded.
Anson gathered his clothes and left obediently. With only a chilling look cast at me, she turned and followed him.
What would she do to him? I dressed quickly and quietly, moving to a position under their sitting room window, listening to every noise. Soon, they argued.
“I own your soul,” Zandra pronounced.
“You possess me only by your black deeds.”
“You are my lover. What do you think you’re doing with that girl?”
“I will never love you.” His voice remained composed and assertive.
She declared, “Then, you will never love her.”
I rose up just enough to peer through a slat in the blind.
She stomped across the room, snatched an amber-colored bottle from a shelf, and yanked out the stopper. She turned toward Anson. Her face looked like a corpse, drawn and white. She proclaimed, “Captus anima!”
My mouth dropped open as his form vaporized into smoke sucked in by the bottle. When all his matter entered the vessel, she quickly replaced the stopper.
Her lips curled. “You will never love again.” Then, she looked directly at me.
Horrified, I dropped down. My heart thumped in my chest. Had she seen me? I waited. Nothing happened. Then I heard her footsteps, but they sounded from farther in the apartment. I crept back to my room. I sat on the floor, completely still, listening. Still nothing. A faint glow of dawn shone through the window. What should I do?
Marsha A. Moore is a writer of fantasy romance. The magic of art and nature spark life into her writing. Her creativity also spills into watercolor painting and drawing. After a move from Toledo to Tampa in 2008, she’s happily transforming into a Floridian, in love with the outdoors. Crazy about cycling, she usually passes the 1,000 mile mark yearly. She is learning kayaking and already addicted. She’s been a yoga enthusiast for over a decade and that spiritual quest helps her explore the mystical side of fantasy. She never has enough days spent at the beach, usually scribbling away at new stories with toes wiggling in the sand. Every day at the beach is magical!
Links to Marsha and her books:
Sea Glass and Sand Memories purchase link