This week’s six is a little more of my fantasy WIP who knows what this is..thing. This is a bit of a conversation between King Rakish, the confident king of the Iana who has holed up for the winter in his stronghold, and Goag the giant, his longtime friend and advisor.
“I could counter that you’re too cavalier on this of all nights,” the giant retorted.
For a moment the king considered ignoring the innuendo; the fires were far too warm in the hearths and the meat and drink were flowing far too freely for suspicious thoughts. Still, Goag always strode on the side of caution; it was he that had kept the pair of them alive for so long. “The snow is deep this year and we’ve held them back for seventeen years now. They won’t come.”
“Won’t they?” Goag snorted, tilting his great head as he regarded the king.
***
DUM DUM DUUUUUM….sorry, couldn’t resist. Anywho, you know the drill! If you want more tidbits of stories, check out…
I know, it’s been a while. Time to get back in the saddle!
This week’s six comes from a random, untitled work in progress that is still in development. It’s a little fantasy, a little post-apoc, a little magical. Taking place in the land of Iana ages after a huge war, it takes place on the eve of the Feast of Sunless Days as winter begins and the inhabitants gather inside a stronghold to wait out the acid snow, predators, and a clan of barbaric raiders that have been making threats. Although the story deals mainly with the Princess Kierra, I like this bit about the storyteller Ackis. Maybe it’s the writer in me, but I like the time this passage harkens back to (or forwards to. Or something.)
The Six:
A storyteller is always popular. He knows the news as well as the wisdom through the ages. If he is truly gifted, than the spot closest to the fire is reserved for him. Such was the case with Old Ackis, the feeble, blind man that came round to Iana every few paths of the moon. He was just as unkempt as he was the last time he’d visited, but it wasn’t the rags, smudged skin, or dirty hair that captivated the mob of children. It was the vibrant tales he spun of other times, times that had come and gone long before any of their little lives had begun.
For today’s Six Sentence Sunday, I’m showcasing a bit of my upcoming holiday release with Mocha Memoirs Press, Holly and Ivy. The story is about Holly, a woman in her thirties at a crossroads, who discovers her childhood dryad friend Ivy is living in her parents’ Christmas tree farm. This week’s six is Ivy’s take on Christmas…or rather, Christmas trees.
The Six:
“Once a year when winter comes, as a sacrifice they slash away at the family I have left. My sisters never were keen on coming out to play when mortals were around, and now I cannot blame them. They’re not like you; these people are cold-blooded. They tromp out here with their young and bundle themselves to hide their faces and hopefully in shame. Sometimes they even laugh and sing while they take more of my family from me. They sing about it, Holly; they sing!”
The Blurb:
After losing her job and her boyfriend, Holly returns to her parents’ farm. Embarrassed and hopeless, she doesn’t expect to bump into a forgotten childhood friend that wasn’t supposed to exist. Ivy is not only a dryad, but she lives in the pine trees Holly’s family grows to sell at Christmas. As the old friends reconnect, Ivy not only shares her strong opinions, but gives Holly a charm that will change both their lives. As days melt into weeks and the seasons change, Holly’s life magically turns around. Christmas not only brings surprises, but a choice for the human woman. What’s more important: stability, success, and love, or keeping a promise to an old friend?
Back in the saddle with another Six for Six Sentence Sunday!
This week’s six is in honor of the In the Red tour…which means they come from my novel, In the Red (yeah, I know, way to be obvious)!
This six is from the first Sons of Pandemonium concert, when Jeremiah aka J.K. Asmodeus suddenly gets the feeling that there’s something strange about the boots.
The Six
J.K. landed and his foot stomped in an insistent, beckoning rhythm. Leviathan’s pace on the drums matched him until they were playing and stomping four on the floor. Momentarily perplexed, the guitarist paused as the crowd crammed in closer and began to clap in time. The rest of the group followed as J.K.’s foot forced his leg up and down on its own.
Well, that’s different. He stared down at the spasming limb before trying to cover his shock.
Curious about where to get In the Red? Check out the FB Page for tour info/updates, fun facts, and if you like the page/click on the bookpulse tab it’ll give you all the buy links. For all that and more, go HERE
This week’s six is again from my vampire/horror story Mooner, since we’re getting close to Halloween and all! This bit is where the naive lead character, Bill, just begins to notice what crawled into the bar from deep in the woods.
The Six:
Bill couldn’t stop looking away. The pile of sloughed animals slumped as the man’s head rose. His skin was a cold grey and stretched taught across his face and hands. His hair had all but fallen out, but what was still left of it hung in clumps of long, ragtag strands that were paler than dried straw. His thin-lipped mouth was open and he sucked in air in painful, erratic pants.
“Look at ‘im! Actin’ like a piglet pulled away from its ma’s teat!” Big John sneered.
Like many young men at the end of the 1800s Bill has signed on to work in a logging camp to earn a fast paycheck to start his life. Unfortunately his role model is Big John, the camp’s golden boy known for blowing his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and the lives of so many. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows, something that badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door or does someone have their own plans for his future?
Want to know more about Mooner? Then click the cover!
Because it’s October, you know I’m going to flaunt the vampire story! This Sunday’s six comes from later on, where Bill gets a full blast of confrontation from the mysterious Tom.
The Six:
The ends of what was left of Tom’s hair shook against ears that looked to have been half-chewed off. The longer Bill stood in the man’s presence, the more he noticed his rancid smell. It suddenly occurred to him it may not just be because of the skins. “What can I do for you for a drink, boy,” Tom wheezed. “I’ve got a terrible thirst.” His teeth glistened wetly and he waited in the middle of the room as if he had all the time in the world.
Like many young men at the end of the 1800s Bill has signed on to work in a logging camp to earn a fast paycheck to start his life. Unfortunately his role model is Big John, the camp’s golden boy known for blowing his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and the lives of so many. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows, something that badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door or does someone have their own plans for his future?
In honor of October, this week’s six come from my first release, the historical vampire story Mooner. This bit is where the vampire confronts a group of rowdy lumberjacks in a saloon.
The Six:
Though his head was tilted down towards his task, his eyes were set on their target across the room.
“What…what you want me to do for a drink?” At first it didn’t register that that thing, that man, had actually spoken. His voice was high and reedy, and cracked the way the thinnest ice along the river did.
“Pardon?”
“What you want me to do for a drink?”
The Blurb:
Like many young men at the end of the 1800s Bill has signed on to work in a logging camp to earn a fast paycheck to start his life. Unfortunately his role model is Big John, the camp’s golden boy known for blowing his pay as fast as he makes it. On a cold Saturday night they enter Red’s Saloon to forget the work that takes the sweat and the lives of so many. Red may have plans for their whiskey money, but something else lurks in the shadows, something that badly wants a drink that has nothing to do with alcohol. Can Bill make it back out the shabby door or does someone have their own plans for his future?
This week’s six comes from the novel’s second half, where Jeremiah Kensington’s nightmare world and horrific reality collide and take turns taunting him.
The Six:
What the hell? He held his breath as he continued his inspection. Beeping machines and fussy monitors loomed in his peripheral vision. Tubes and wires snaked and wound out of everywhere: from his arm to the IV, from the call button to whatever it attached to, from underneath the blankets to…
No.
The single word cracked through Jeremiah’s brain and yanked him out of the painful haze into a whole new and awful level of reality.
What can I say, I have a lot of love to give to this book.
This week’s six comes from where we first get to see the alter-ego of Jeremiah Kensington (J.K. Asmodeus), in action on stage.
The Six:
One red foot swung up and knocked the guitarist in the back of the leg, sending him down to his knees by the singer’s feet. Baal managed to keep playing, though for a brief moment it looked like he was going to fall forward and bite it right there onstage. His eyes snapped open and he bared his teeth at the singer in hideous challenge. If he’d still been Jeremiah, the singer would have wondered what the hell he’d done, but instead he just smiled, bent low over the other man, and rested a booted foot on one of Baal’s knees. “Tempt me down and down; tear me up and I’ll bring you down,” he improvised.
Time for another Six Sentence Sunday! And it’s a special Sunday, because it’s also my birthday! (I shall accept any tribute or gratuitous praise throughout the day…)
Anyway, this week’s six again comes from my just-released first novel, In the Red!
This happens at the very beginning of the book, when the protagonist Jeremiah Kensington is stuck doing bar gigs and moping about his life.
Unfortunately, like everyone else that had gathered at Buster’s, the dude was part of Jeremiah’s audience.
“Hey there, boy! How ‘bout some ‘Freebird’?” The guy’s voice broke and had the telltale drawl of someone who was feeling no pain. Jeremiah clenched his teeth and tried to tolerate the Springsteen cover he was playing; it was at least better than the old-school folk songs that were his standard material for lodge meetings and town events. Some days it felt like his whole world was reduced to sets of blue jean rock or Peter, Paul, and Mary.
