Snippet Saturday: a sliver of Halfborn

Marshall sat across from me. We were next to the small pond in the woods from the day we encountered the hunters. Both of us were laughing, but I wasn't quite sure about what. It felt good to laugh.

I looked up, and my eyes caught Marshall's. It was like time slowed. The breath hitched in my throat at the eye contact. The red that lined his eyes made the natural teal stand out, making the color brighter.

He moved toward me an inch. His mind was made up, but he wasn't sure if mine was. He left the decision up to me, whether I wanted to close the gap between us or not. The part of me that knew it was a dream didn't feel comfortable closing that gap. But my dream-self had no doubt in her mind that doing just that was the only option.

I moved to my knees, leaning forward. My lips touched lightly to his. In that small brush of skin, I felt his need, but he hesitated. The next time my lips met his, they lingered. My tongue slipped into his mouth. He responded by pushing me back until I lie on the ground. His lips never left mine.

His hands moved to my shirt and ripped it off. His fingers slid over my skin, causing goosebumps to rise on my body. He began to kiss down my neck. I turned my head to allow him to do so. Then his hand was on the side of my head holding it down in place, and his teeth ripped into my throat.

*If you'd like to read more Halfborn is available in both paperback and ebook formats on Amazon.

Writer Wednesday: Week Nine

Woohoo! We've reached week nine of Writer Wednesday. Everyone's good, I hope? So, there are a couple of differences this week. First off, we have our first male author featured. Not sure how it took so long, but I used a random name selector, so we'll blame it. Secondly, this author doesn't have any purchasable works. I think he's trying his hand at traditional publishing. That doesn't me we can't support him, and I have all the hope in the world for him to achieve his goal.

So, here we go. You folks ready for an awesome horror writer?

This week's featured author is Brian Bogart. I met Brian on Write On (a site ran by Amazon Kindle which is no longer around) where I found his story 'LILY'. I LOVE 'LILY'. LOVE IT. I'd died to get a copy in paperback, but as said above, Brian doesn't have any purchasable works . . . yet. He's been working on a book called 'The Feral Effect' about a small town that has an illness spreading, making the residence—starting with the children—violent and messed up (kind of a zombie-type vibe but not quite), and it's turning into a pretty good read, as well.

Brian also runs a blog and does reviews for Kendall Reviews. He's had a bit of radio silence for the most part lately, but I'm certain he'll be back shortly. You can find Brian and show him your support at the following places:

Brian Bogart's Facebook Page

Brian's Twitter 

Brian's Wattpad (If you're not on Wattpad, I'd seriously think about starting an account just to read his books LILY and The Feral Effect)

Brian's Blog

Kendall Reviews

Oh, also, you can check out Brian's short story 'TOCSIN' in OMP: Thriller anthology, which is sold for charity. Great story, by the way. An Alice in Wonderland tale with a twist.

Thanks for joining me this week. If y'all could share this to Facebook, Twitter, wherever that'd be awesome. Remember we're trying to drum up support for authors, so the more who see these posts the better. See everyone next week for Week Ten.

Short Story Saturday: Mandy

NOTE: THIS POST IS ONE OF THE REASONS YOU GET A DISCLAIMER WHEN CLICKING ON MY BLOG LINKS BEFORE BEING TAKEN TO THE POST. IF YOU ARE QUEASY OR EASILY OFFENDED BY MASTURBATION, MURDER, AND DISMEMBERMENT, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. IF YOU LIKE TWISTED AND DISTURBING, WELL, WELCOME! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE STORY.

MANDY

I've been waiting for this moment all day. I close the door behind me and make my way to my bed, collecting everything I need along the way. Before climbing on and getting comfortable, I pull off my clothes, springing free as I slide my tighty-whities down my legs.

I squeeze a generous amount of lotion on my hand, paying close attention to coat every area of the palm and fingers. They've been so dry lately. I apply some extra lotion along my erected shaft for extra measure.

I slide the hand down slowly at first, getting the feel of it. Making sure I've provided enough lubrication. It's nice. Not as nice as it could be, but still, it feels good—maybe a bit different from last time, but that can always turn out for the best. I allow myself to quicken the pace a little faster.

A couple minutes later, I'm really going at it. I'm so close. A slurry of feelings: tightening, glory . . . so, so close. I can't contain myself. My breathing. My eyes shut. So close. I can feel as my goal's nearly achieved. The sound of the door swinging open startles me, and I expel my built-up tension all over the sheets.

“Sweet baby Lucifer! Tommy! You having fun?” Mason asks me with a laugh.

“God, damn it, Mason! You couldn't have given me two fucking minutes? Now I've gotta wash the sheets.” I sit up, using the already messed linens to wipe at the cum that managed to land above my belly button.

“Hey, who've you got there?”

I lift up the nearly mummified hand I'm holding in my own so he can get a better look. “It's Mandy. Who else would it be?”

I set Mandy down. Then I grab some wet wipes to finish cleaning myself before grabbing my jeans from the floor and putting them on. I use some tissues to wipe down Mandy.

“I still don't understand how you get 'em to last so long. My Mandy lost her ring finger last time I used her, and that was two weeks ago,” he says to me.

“I told you. Rock salt and baking soda. Baking soda to cut the smell. Rock salt to preserve the hand. Make sure you put it in a container that can drain out of the bottom so that moisture has a way to escape.”

“Yours is still starting to look a little ragged, though,” he says to me.

“Yeah, I should retire her with the others. Her skin's starting to crack. Think I might have a blood blister on my johnson from last time I used her.” I look toward my trophy case and admire the six mummified hands there. Tara, Josephine, Cristy, Beth, Yvette, Heather, and soon to be Mandy to make it seven.

Beth was my favorite. She stayed the softest the longest. I'm not sure why, though. Sure wish I knew. Maybe because she was the youngest. She was only seventeen, but we didn't know that until after we killed her. I miss Beth, and I briefly wonder if I gave her another go 'round, would she hold up? Probably not, best keep her where she is.

“Well, I've got good news then. Come on,” Mason says, and I follow him out of the room and down the hall.

I know the direction where we're headed, and I get excited just thinking about it. My newfound erection rubbing its sensitive head against the denim of my jeans. We walk out the back door and to the shed behind the house. Mason walks in first, but I'm on his heels. On the table lays a black-haired beauty. She's gorgeous; even with the old, dirty, greasy rag in her mouth, gagging her. She tries to scream, but it's muffled too well to really have any effect. I feel my dick harden further, and I'm left wanting to drop my pants to the floor and mount her. I rein in my thoughts. That type of thinking could get me killed, and I know it.

“This is Janette. Just look at those hands,” Mason tells me.

“Aww, man, I'm fucking jealous of Jack. She's beautiful. If I could figure out a way to preserve the head, I'd fight him over it. But they always go way too fast. It's not worth it.” I shake my head, thinking about how this perfect beauty would soon be decayed and rotting.

Mason grabs the Polaroid camera from the shelf and snaps a picture, handing it to me. “Here, don't tell anyone.”

“Couldn't we keep her alive a few days? Take turns with the real thing for once?” I ask as I tuck the developing picture in my back pocket, knowing I should've kept the words to myself.

“You know the rules. Jeb'll kick you out, or worse, if he heard that. That body's his, and you know damn well, we ain't allowed to touch it.”

“I know,” I say and then walk over to Janette.

She struggles, but she's not going anywhere. She's tied down too well. I inspect each hand, feeling them. I check their smoothness, their softness, and I make my decision.

“Is it all right if I take the left this time, Mason?” I ask.

“Sure, Tommy. You can have the left.” He smiles at me, then adds, “This time.”




*This short story can be found in my horror, flash-fiction collection, Images from a Wandering Mind: a Sick and Disturbing Collection. Thanks for stopping by. 

Writer Wednesday: Week Eight

How's everything going? Well, I hope. Here we are Week Eight, two months of awesome indie authors. Has anyone found a new read? A new author that's sparked interest for you? Well, here's another to check out.

The author featured for Writer Wednesday: Week Eight is Rachel Wollaston. Rachel is an author of Young-Adult Fantasy, and she's also a fantastic artist. You can find Rachel and her work at the links below; show some support and give her author pages and Twitter a follow.

Facebook Author Page

Twitter

Amazon Author Page

Books available:

Kingdom

Seeing Blue: A Mermaid Mystery

Feathered

That's it for this week's Writer Wednesday. I'll see you back here next week. We'll have our first male author featured. So don't forget to check it out!

Remember to support indie authors. If you enjoy their stories/books/novels, please, leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, and/or any other site for reviewing books. Help spread the word for indie authors. Thanks for stopping by!

Snippet Saturday: A glimpse into my current W.I.P.

A part of me knew it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for me. So, when the knock came at my door, it shouldn't have been a surprise.

I'd heard the movement outside, first. I hadn't heard a vehicle pull down the drive, so I put the sound off as merely an animal. The tingling sensation at the base of my skull let me know otherwise. I knew it wasn't Marshall. Even with the wall up, I could still feel his distance. The sensation differed from the one I could remember of Innocence—when I'd finally realized what I'd felt was her presence, all that time before.

I had a hundred thoughts fly through my mind. One being to open the bond to Marshall and show him my distress, but I quickly squashed the thought.

Should I run? Should I fight? Should I give myself over willingly? How far would I get if I fled? Is it an Inborn, the originals of vampire kind? Or a Wraith, the hunters and executioners? Another Halfborn like Innocence and I? What did they have planned for me? I've slaughtered nearly a hundred people since returning home, most of them known and open cases, would that be a death sentence? Even if it wasn't, would they find out what I was? The unnatural child that was supposedly killed years prior?

I listened closer. The footsteps approached, and I could almost picture the person nearing my front porch steps. I could tell it was one person. They were alone, and I wondered, if they were sent to take me out, why there weren't more?

I heard the first foot make contact with the steps. I went to the window, unlatched it, and worked to wiggle it free. It squealed in protest. The person approaching my door stopped.

“Well, that's just awesome,” I said under my breath. “Man up, Coral. You've brought this on yourself.”

Several moments went by before my uninvited guest began to move towards the door again. I listened as they came closer, and I decided to walk to the door to greet them. Albeit, I tiptoed, trying not to make a sound on my way out of my bedroom and down the hall to the living room. It completely slipped my mind, until it was too late, that if this Born was any good with their senses, they'd know I was getting closer to them even if I didn't make a sound. That knowledge entered my thought process right before I stopped in front of the door.

I briefly wondered why they hadn't knocked. Then I heard a muffled noise coming through the door. It sounded like they were whispering, but I couldn't tell what they were saying because the language was unfamiliar to me and unlike anything I’d ever heard before. What I could tell, though, was my visitor was male.

I stood and waited. I thought about opening the door with a straight-forwardness, demanding what the guy wanted, but the fear that my demise may very well be on the other side of that door kept me from doing that.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. I turned to go to the sofa and sit at fifteen minutes, and that's when the knock rang throughout the living room. I jumped, nearly leaving my skin on the floor if that was at all possible.

I froze for what seemed like an eternity, gathering myself and steadying my heart. I wondered if I still had time to flee, but instead, I drew in a deep breath and released it in a calming fashion. Then I repeated the process until the muscles relaxed in my shoulders.

Finally, I turned back to the door and gripped the handle, turning it as slowly as possible. I pulled the door open, and my eyes fell on the man in front of me.

*This is from the upcoming 'Halfborn' sequel 'Wraith'. Excerpt is unedited.

Writer Wednesday: Week Seven

It seems I'm getting lazy as of late. Maybe I am, but maybe short and sweet is just fine. The point in this blog series is to get the word out for indie authors who've crossed my path at some point or another. So, some of these posts may be to the point while others go into decent detail about the authors and their work. It'll all depend on my mood, what's going on that week, and if I've had the chance to read the author's work.

So, here we go! Week Seven of Writer Wednesday brings you HM Holten (aka Hanne Holten). Hanne is a superstar when it comes to helping other authors promote their works. She is always sharing one author or another's posts on Facebook, and I've only ever seen kindness from her. Her book 'Snares and Delusions' is historical fiction.

Below are links where you can find and follow HM Holten and her works:

Hanne Holten Writes Facebook Page

HM Holten Amazon Author Page

Snares and Delusions

HM Holten Author Blog

As always, support indie authors, and if you enjoy their work, please, leave a review. See you next week for Week Eight!

Snippet Saturday: Silly Humans, Emotions are for Vampires

Daphne was unfamiliar with the tools with the exception of a scalpel that lay next to the silver contraption. A rib-spreader? Daphne guessed. She did notice the lack of sanitary supplies—alcohol, iodine, etc.

“I believe we’re ready. Mrs. Stone, she still sniveling? You’d think humans would be less … emotional? Death is their inevitable end. I don’t understand why they are so affected by the course of life,” Calvin said in disgust.

“You may want to keep it down, Cal. What if she hears you?”

“So what? If we as a species can control our emotions then they should be able to do so, too. We have far more time to develop lasting relationships. I have more right to emotional outbursts than a mere human who lives far too short a life to feel so deeply.”

She didn’t know what to think of his words. A reply sat on the end of her tongue. Something along the lines of the short lives of a human may very well be the reason they feel as deeply as they do. The lack of time forcing them to hold onto every little thing that much tighter, but she just shook her head, not wanting an argument. She took her place on the other side of Terry, across from Calvin and right next to the tray that had been set up in her absence.

“Now, hand me the scalpel,” Calvin said.

“You’re not going to use any antiseptic? No pain meds, either?” Daphne asked, but she complied with his request.

“If he transforms, he won’t need it. If not, well, he’ll be dead, and what good will it do him?” Calvin pressed the blade of the scalpel into the divot of Terry’s collarbone.

            Blood wept from the incision. Daphne restrained herself, refusing to bend down and lap at the pooling crimson.

*Today's Snippet Saturday comes from my short story 'To Save Lives', which is available on Amazon.

Writer Wednesday: Week Six

My mind has been consumed in other thoughts this week, and Wednesday seems to have come out of nowhere. So, this week's Writer Wednesday is going to be short and sweet. Honestly, I didn't research much, but I managed to grab a handful of useful links for this week's author.

Here we go.

The featured author for Writer Wednesday: Week Six is Kim Iverson. She's been on my To Be Read list for a while now, and I have no good excuse why I haven't read her work, yet. I don't get to read nearly as much as I'd like or as often.

Links are posted below, just click on the description, and it'll take you where it says.

Kim Iverson's Facebook Author Page

Website and Blog

An Amazon author page is a bit tricky (I believe there was a name change from Ariana Browning to Kim Iverson), so you can find some of her books at both pages, but just in case, here are a few book links:

Her Soul's Destiny

Dark Illusions: The Beginning

Dark Illusions: The Next Chapter

Dark Illusions: The Final Chapter

Thanks for joining me this week, and I hope to see you again for next week's Writer Wednesday. Remember to support indie authors and, please, review their works if and when you read them.

Snippet Saturday: Slurp, Scorch, Shower a slice from Halfborn

“Make this next right. It'll take us directly behind a little shack,” I said.

“And you're sure there's someone here?” he asked with suspicion.

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

“Well, it doesn't look like it,” he said as he turned down the dirt road. His suspicion boiled through him.

“Really, Marshall? I swear your meal awaits you in that shack. It's not like I brought you here to put you down. As if I knew how to. He's a hobo. It's not like he's going to be in a mansion. He's probably lucky to be able to stay in an old, rotting shed.” Marshall flinched when I mentioned putting him down, but his suspicion faded.

I hoped that the man inside the shack was passed out drunk and didn't hear us pull up, or at least didn't care that we did. I wanted some kind of surprise on his part. Surprising him meant he couldn't run and alert other people to our presence. I mean, sure someone could’ve seen us turn down the road, but we were out-of-towners in a recreational vehicle who could’ve just been lost, for all they knew.

Marshall brought the Winnebago to a stop and turned off the engine. I cracked my window and listened. I heard the soft drone of snores. They were slightly off, but I paid it no mind. I didn't roll the window up fast enough and knew the exact moment the man's scent hit Marshall. His bloodlust smashed at my mental barriers. There was no turning back.

I rose from the seat and ran to the door. Barely slipping past Marshall's grip. I threw the door open and stepped aside. He jumped out behind me. It seemed that he'd almost turned at me, but then he stalked, nearly cat-like, toward the shack. He circled the rotted structure, while I stood idly by the Winnebago. He found a makeshift entrance at the corner and slipped inside.

I listened carefully, wanting to know exactly when I needed to go and get Marshall out of there and back inside. That's when it hit me. Why the snoring sounded off. My mind registered the second heartbeat at almost the same time the woman started screaming.

“Shit!” I shouted.

The woman ran out of the shack. Marshall ran out behind her, dragging the man. In my panic, my mental barrier dropped. I was consumed by bloodlust. Marshall's? My own? It didn't matter. I was its slave.

I ran to the woman and grabbed her. Putting my hand to her mouth, I quieted her. I glanced at Marshall in time to see him rip into the man's throat. Through the haze of bloodlust, I felt both horror and awe at Marshall's actions.

My mind was my own, but my body was driven by the need of blood. I struck. My teeth sank into the woman's neck. My mouth drew upon the fluid that filled it. I closed my eyes as the warm blood slid down my throat.

Fear tugged at me. Sweet delicious fear. I smelled it. Tasted it. I felt it. My mind swam in a pool of emotions. Bloodlust, satisfaction, fear, and worry. The worry was mine. But the fear was all her. I couldn't do it again. The transformation Marshall undertook was too much, too powerful. I didn't want to do that again. I really didn't want my psyche split three ways, either.

I drew harder at the blood coming from the woman's neck wound. Willing every drop into my mouth. I felt movement at my side and opened my eyes in time to see Marshall grab the woman's arm. He brought her wrist to his mouth.

With every pull of blood, the woman's fear faded. With every slowing beat from her heart, her fear died a little more. Until her heart had no more beats to give. Her body, no fear left.

I dropped the lifeless body to the ground. The woman's fear being snuffed out broke something in me. The brief connection we shared, left me empty. I walked to the Winnebago and stepped inside. I went to the set of cabinets by the stove and retrieved a small torch lighter and a container of lighter fluid.

Upon my return, Marshall had moved the bodies inside of the shack. Somewhere along the way, he realized I intended to burn the place. I opened the lighter fluid and squirted just enough to start the flame. The rotted wood lit quickly and began burning much faster than I had expected it to.

Marshall grabbed my hand and led me back inside, closing the door behind us. “Coral, we've got to get out of here before someone shows up, okay?”

“Huh? Oh, right. Um, you drive. I'm going to clean up.”

He stood there, looking at me. Concern oozed from him. I shut it out, trying my hardest not to feel anything. He opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him by holding up my hand.

“Marshall, drive. Now.”

I walked to the tiny bathroom. The Winnebago's engine came to life as I shut the door. Standing in front of the mirror, I didn't find the blood-soaked face I thought I'd see. All there was to be seen was a thin, jagged stream that started at the left corner of my mouth and went towards the middle of my chin. I took a tissue and wiped the blood away. I tossed the stained paper in the trash.

I turned on the shower. Before stripping my clothes, I took one last glance in the mirror, taking in the monster I had become. My eyes were wild, the pupils fully dilated. Though it wasn’t visible just by looking, a part of me had changed, and I'd never be the same.

I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water scald my skin. My back slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor. I opened my mind, reaching out and felt Marshall's concern. That one emotion caused the emptiness in me to flood with so many other feelings. I pulled my knees to my chest and as the water from the shower scorched my skin, I wept.

~~~
Halfborn is available in ebook and paperback formats and can be purchased at Amazon.

Writer Wednesday: Week Five

Welcome to a new week of Writer Wednesday! We've hit week five, so that means I've actually blogged regularly for over a month. Imagine that, I am capable of keeping a schedule. 😆

This next author is super supportive and kind. She has a ton of books available, and she zooms through reading like a maniac. I've watched her book reading habits lately on Goodreads, and man, does she read a lot. I don't know how she does it all.

So, for Week Five of Writer Wednesday, I'm pleased to introduce you guys to Xanxa Symanah. She's author of the Virian Chronicler series. I'm currently reading The Sunshine Acolyte, and it's proving to be a great read. I just wish I had more reading time than what I get.

What's interesting about Xanxa's Virian series is, I'm told, that they don't have to be read in order and each can be read as a stand-alone. I love this concept.

Xanxa also runs a blog on top of her writing, self-editing, publishing, and all that reading she does. Go show her some support! Here are some (quite a few) useful links for Xanxa and her work:

Xanxa Symanah Wallace Facebook Author Page

The Virian Chronicler Facebook Series Page

Xanxa's blog

Xanxa's Amazon Author Page

The Maker Virian Chronicler Book 1

Mind Games Virian Chronicler Book 2

Neurotic Mothers' Battleship Virian Chronicler Book 3

The Virian Fellowship Virian Chronicler Book 4

The Sunshine Acolyte Virian Chronicler Book 5

Malachi's Law Virian Chronicler Book 6

The Crystal and the Nethiyaan Virian Chronicler Book 7

Carrying a Torch Virian Companions Book 1

The Window Man Virian Companions Book 2

Shattered Souls and Falling Stars: A Collection of Dark Poetry


That's it for this week. Remember to support indie authors, and please review their books once you've read them. Reviews are important, and they help encourage an author to continue writing.

Until next time . . .