tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73774866350263138562024-03-13T06:32:55.066-05:00The NickronomiconHorror and Fantasy pieces that evolve and grow into full blown stories, all with you along for the ride.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.comBlogger707125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-12672462806008223582016-10-12T17:52:00.004-05:002016-10-12T17:52:41.770-05:00New Website II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've finally done it!<br />
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The Nickronomicon has it's own website, a place where I can schedule posts ahead of time and keep track of friends and foes alike. If you're subscribed already, visit there through this link and sign up! That way you can get the daily uploads that I have.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.nickronomicon.com/"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_UNvRZfHbX0/V_6-fVD9bSI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/TyA0CteY2B0DuFa-spAANZoFAWiB2IldACLcB/s320/67_511918274765_967_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nickronomicon.com/">Click me to go to new website!</a></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-27113952431478081492016-09-30T22:33:00.001-05:002016-09-30T22:33:22.619-05:00New Webpage<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Finally went and did it, made a web page with Wix. This will be where I post from now on, so follow the<a href="http://paschall18.wixsite.com/nickronomicon"> link</a> to see the stories!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-43335738814513328692016-09-30T08:39:00.003-05:002016-09-30T08:39:42.944-05:00I was a Haunted House Attraction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The London Horror Society is a great blog with many amazing writers who read, review, and share their experiences in the realm of horror cinema and literature. I'm a writer there (I publish once a month) and decided to break away from my normal routine to share my time as a haunted house employee. It was a number of years ago, and I did it multiple years in a row. I think it's really helped me come up with some of the stranger ideas for my stories.<br />
Here's the <a href="http://londonhorrorsociety.co.uk/haunted-house-attraction/">article</a>!<br />
Also, for your enjoyment, a monkey riding a bull!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_gXhtxbe8o4/V-5rCccuBgI/AAAAAAAAAi0/jWrR8e0IIowJPuO7QECCdWUrSliPGIpEQCLcB/s1600/funny-monkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="507" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_gXhtxbe8o4/V-5rCccuBgI/AAAAAAAAAi0/jWrR8e0IIowJPuO7QECCdWUrSliPGIpEQCLcB/s640/funny-monkey.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Horror!</td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-85459897745761889202016-09-26T17:58:00.001-05:002016-09-26T17:58:07.661-05:00Vampire Books for Blood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just signed up to change half the proceeds of <i>Dead and Proud of It </i>given to Red Cross as a donation for the Halloween season. This is a publicity event done by the following group:<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/VampBooks4Blood"><img height="262" src="https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t1.0-9/14199388_746497992155145_6266349650833039571_n.jpg?oh=a2f217528047b8b1dc3516baf2e4080a&oe=58711BD6" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
So if you feel like helping a worthy cause and grabbing a scary vampire novel, do it starting October 1st! Between my posts in October and my appearance at an Indie Book Conference on the 8th, I'm going to be hopping around like mad this October. Hopefully I can handle it!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-70649959477550944982016-09-21T15:27:00.002-05:002016-09-21T15:27:31.255-05:00Hunter's of the Dead: Witches War<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Live on Inkitt, this is a Dark Fantasy set in an alternate universe Earth where the supernatural has existed for as long as man can remember. A secretive order of warriors and mystics have banded together to help eradicate the growing darkness, and they have a new swell in the waves on the horizon.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.inkitt.com/stories/horror/79350?ref=a_75b6d650-5a12-4758-b39a-8db9b4837db6"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MZLFccDv4Rc/V-LsxJwrCuI/AAAAAAAAAh0/bKmwvOh4vpQkdywuWezxPYLXtZBdPGs8wCLcB/s640/unnamed.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.inkitt.com/stories/horror/79350?ref=a_75b6d650-5a12-4758-b39a-8db9b4837db6">Hunter's of the Dead: Witches War</a></td></tr>
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The image is, of course, the link to the site where you can read it for free. Pay it a visit and see if you like what you read. Leave comments and tell me what you like and don't like. Or simply visit to make me feel better.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-45113700150358682612016-09-20T19:54:00.000-05:002016-09-20T19:54:13.749-05:00Update: Going on Hiatus Until October 1st<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I know I was on a small break earlier, but after churning out this last novel (and two others), I'm tired. My leg is hurting more and my painkillers make my head fuzzy. But October is my main month out of the year, so I'll save up my creative juices for October to make certain we have a blast. I'm going to be in the blog hop once more, and I'll have a giveaway set up for one of my novels. I'll link any anthologies that have my work that come out, so just kick back and relax.<br />
See you October 1st!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-70201688292287899182016-09-17T06:52:00.003-05:002016-09-17T06:52:34.084-05:00Stitched Smile Publication<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.stitchedsmilepublications.com/"><img src="http://nebula.wsimg.com/8491e2281b8974601207c719cde60598?AccessKeyId=95ACAD37E597CAF32EC3&disposition=0&alloworigin=1" /></a><br />
A publisher putting out a brand new story of mine in an (of course!) horror-themed anthology this coming October, this group is by far the most friendly to their authors that I've ever encountered. They have a person who is dedicated to answering and helping all of their authors, single shooters and serial writers alike, with anything within her power. They have a Editor-in-Chief/President that is responsive to e-mails, and a Public Relations expert to help market your books, so long as you promise to promote them as well.<br />
Best of all their contracts are simple, to the point, and easy to work with. In this industry, you have some contracts that make you read them two or three times just to freaking understand who is representing whom, so a brief contract that gets to the point is a refreshing change of pace.<br />
I think (not certain) that I'll be in four anthologies this coming October, as one I signed at the beginning of the years has been waiting for the season of scares to release their macabre collection. Then there's this fine publisher that'll be putting out an interesting collection with a story that I can say is honestly one of my more original tales. Siren's Call Publishers has a story of mine that they still need to send me the final proof on, and Jaded Books Publishing will soon be releasing a truly terrifying collection that'll leave you wondering what the hell is wrong with the authors.<br />
If they're all released in October, alongside my own novel on October 8th, I'm going to be a busy freaking bee promoting everything to Hell and back. Expect my twitter presence to double, and to see facebook posts alerting you to my new appearances in paperback.<br />
Finally, the London Horror Society will be publishing an article about my time as a ghoul in the haunted house scene. Right now they have some great articles on <a href="http://londonhorrorsociety.co.uk/film-review-blair-witch/">The Blair Witch</a> and a great rundown of everything to do with the <a href="http://londonhorrorsociety.co.uk/10-things-rec-franchise/">[REC]</a> franchise. They're a great group based out of the UK, and I'm proud to work with them. They're like Cracked, except their articles are all reviews or stories revolving around the horror world, in both print and film.<br />
This little update came because of the fact that my pets woke me up really early, and I'm just so happy to see so many projects finally taking off. When I guessed that I was a winter author, I really wasn't kidding!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-43612294003461116222016-09-02T11:14:00.000-05:002016-09-02T11:14:00.004-05:00Book Preview: Lust of the Damned<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">The first chapter of my upcoming novel, a horror erotica that I must reiterate: this one is not for children! I am not going to be friendly to any parent who sends me an e-mail saying their kid is reading smut produced by yours truly. It was an interesting challenge putting out this particular style of my genre, one that I may do again in the future. As of now, this is a story of a college girl and her adventures into the world of the living dead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">No Necrophilia or oddness like that, I promise. Part mystery, part humor, and a lot of "heated" moments for those who like them. There's even a bit of action tossed in to make the suspense be a big payoff.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">Anyway, I think that's enough rambling. Enjoy the first chapter and be sure to keep an eye out for this to be released early October!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><b><u>Chapter One: Date Fright</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I couldn’t believe my luck! Just as I was walking from the biology labs here across the Rotunda near the fountain, keys in hand for my junker of a car, I was approached by none other than Oliver White. Yes, <i>the </i>Olive White… the first-string center for the football team! Looking rugged in his denim jacket and shining black boots, he asked me if I had plans for tonight, “seeing as its Friday and all,” hitting me with that panty-drenching sideways grin of his.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Of course, I didn’t have any real plans, outside of lying around in my room watching Passion Runway re-runs until Sunday, when I would cram all of my homework into one anxiety-riddled evening. But now I had actual plans for once in my life! I could barely keep my cool when I accepted, giggling behind my hand to control my urge to just throw my arms in the air and scream out to God a thousand thank-you’s. Oliver said we’d go out to the carnival, the one just outside of town near Canyon Lake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Going out to the carnival with Oliver White, I just couldn’t believe my luck! He was a nice guy, with a nice car, and amazing grades. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Plus</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">, I thought to myself with a smile I knew would send my Father into a raging tantrum, <i>Oliver has the cutest eyes and the most amazing ass I’ve seen on a person not in a movie. <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Whenever he wore jeans, all the girls at the university felt a little warm under the collar. Even a few of the teachers had been caught giving him the eye.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Not all of them were women either, I giggled almost drunkenly as I drove home. Briefly signaling at the stop sign just to get old man Higgins, a local auto-mechanic in his rusty old truck riding my bumper, angry. This was a routine thing I did, so I just smiled and waved as he cursed at me from his window, watching as he drove past me and into the Spider Grove Woods. That’s where he owned and operated the local junkyard and garage, while also maintaining a healthy sanctuary for some kind of endangered species of spider. Rumor had it that his house was covered top to bottom in cobwebs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Ok</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">, I think to myself, suppressing a shudder, back to my future husband Oliver. <i>Oh! What am I going to wear?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He’d invited me to the carnival that came to town every year around September, just when the leaves began to fall and the weather began to cool. They’d always been in the same spot, just south of Canyon Lake proper, just across the city limits and to the right by the Lazy John River. People said it was because they wouldn’t have to pay any local taxes, but everyone knew it was just because our town had a ban against fireworks because of the dry summers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They held a fireworks display every night as the carnival closed down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The drive home was a reasonably short one, passing by a few larger homes that had once been ranches, their land now quartered off from the rest of their properties. Every summer college boys would come offering their services, and all the girls would get a show as they would slowly but surely beat back the wild grass and weeds dominating some old woman’s fields.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They usually did this without shirts, knowing we were watching. It was a delightful game of cat-and-mouse, with neither side really knew who was what. It suited me just fin during the long, boring days of Texas summer. Hell, I might’ve gotten a few dates under my belt (or shirt) if it weren’t for Daddy and his incessant need to scare away all the boys that showed even the slightest interest in me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Slowing down just enough for my turn not to be a disaster, I zipped into my neighborhood. Oldest neighborhood in the town, the first set of homes to be built in a central area sometime back before World War Two, supposedly due to the rising urbanization sweeping across the nation. My grandparents live two streets down from us, and my uncle lives near the entrance of the subdivision. We’re a close knit family, who’d originally come here to take advantage of that broad urbanization.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Well, that broom missed us on a few strokes, leaving us with jobs that were local and didn’t pay well. Most people had to drive to San Marcos to earn their keep. San Marcos was only half an hour’s drive, but as a college town they always had jobs a plenty. Whether you’re in construction or teaching, business or babysitting (my job), you could always find work in San Marcos if you tried hard enough. Dad works construction while Mom is a nurse at the local hospital. They’re great parents if you don’t count my Dad’s paranoia about me going out with boys (and the government) and my mother’s insistent nagging about Church and God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">How they got together, my tiny little black-haired mouse of a mother with my titanic bulldog of a father, nobody could rightly say. My father’s arms are bigger than my mom is at the waist, and his heavy slung gut probably weighs as much as she does. His lack of a neck isn’t from fat, but from muscles earned from years of heavy lifting, hammering, and using whatever tool was needed to get the job done. He never complained about his work, and hated those that did. Every day he’d leave at the crack of dawn and come home at dusk, smelling of tar and sweat, while Mom would already be home making dinner, or reading a book while I slaved over the stove.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mom insisted I learn how to cook and clean, seeing as I’ll have a family of my own one day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“A proper wife knows how to have dinner ready when her man comes home after a hard day’s work.” She would tell me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I’ve rolled my eyes so many times I can’t even do it at her old, nineteen-fifties mindset. I often wondered how Mom expected me to find a boyfriend, one I would intend on marrying, with Dad’s bulldog approach to me dating? Quite the question, but then again, so is my parents’ marriage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Turning onto our street I wave to old Stew in his garage, set-up to watch some football game only he got via his expensive satellite dish. Every night his garage/bar would fill up with his friends, all ready to watch some game or something equally as boring. Stew’s wife Charlene is a dear thing, and always lets him stay up as late as the old red-nosed drunk wants, just so long as he gets up every morning at six to go and take on his job of being the local mailman. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">How he can do it, after every night of essentially binge-drinking, I’ll never know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mom and Dad would often offer up my services as a baby sitter to the neighbors on game nights, allowing me to rake in some cash while they got to go over and watch the game with Stew. They’d all drink (Mom and Charlene sticking with wine) and cheer, which could be heard down the entire block. You’d think someone would complain, but seeing as everyone save for me and the half-dozen children I’d been watching were there, it was never an issue.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My Oldsmobile spat and hissed as I pulled into the driveway, the old white pavement stained with oil spots and cracked. I’m the first to get home, thank God, and I hurry into the house, book bag in tow. The house is clean, as always, and our cat yawned as I entered, looking at me with either love or disdain, as all cats do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I kicked open the front door, taking only a second to lock it behind me (Dad always seemed to think I didn’t!) before running upstairs, hugging my bag to my chest. My room is the room on the left, with my parents’ bedroom at the end of the hall and my bathroom just across from my room. Once I turned eighteen and began doing my own shopping online (with babysitter money on a rechargeable card) Dad swore he’d never entre my bathroom again after he walked into my very <i>intimate</i> intimates hanging from the shower rod. He and mom had fought over allowing me to keep them before I pointed out I had them because they made me feel good, not because I was showing off for some nonexistent boyfriend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">That had calmed him down, a little. The fact that I saw them as an investment for the right man to get to see them was better left unsaid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mom had just tortured me with “The Talk” after that, telling me that “God wanted me to save myself for marriage.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Hard thing to sell to an Atheist, but then again, she doesn’t know I’m one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I sometimes think that coming out of the closet as a lesbian would be easier for my mother than me coming out a freethinker. Shame I’m into men... that’s why I’m waiting for my sophomore year of college to tell her, give her something to blame other than herself. My uncle Steve, her brother of forty-seven years, is an Atheist and had secretly been sending me electronic books by Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins for years. I finally “converted” about two years ago, after sitting in church during Mass and realizing that it was just ridiculous. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When I come out as one I know Mom will go ballistic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Those damn liberal colleges,” she’d declare that day, “Corrupting the minds of our young’uns, making them all Atheists and Communists!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I dropped my book bag to the floor and closed the blinds as I began stripping out of my school clothes, a pair of jeans and a sleeveless top (a jacket in my bag for those freezing classes in the History building), leaving me in my school underwear: a strapless bra and *<i>gasp</i>* a thong! Another little change in wardrobe Daddy didn’t like thinking about on his little girl, but panties were for those horrible few days a month when men’s opinions don’t matter and for Church (i.e. Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Walking over to my closet, a sheer piece of vanity I’d all but demanded for my fourteenth birthday that my Father had just rolled his eyes over, my sliding door to my closet is a full-length mirror when closed. I stand there, striking a few poses as I looked myself over. Other than a few pounds here and there (namely my thighs and my hips) I thought I looked great. I know whenever I wore my swimsuit I always seemed to get the attention from the boys around town.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">During the summers I always go by the local pond with some friends and sunbathed, and reveled in the attention I get from the boys from around town. Some came up to see my friends, which was fine, but I had my own fan club of tasty boys that I got to “sample” a bit. With wet hair and sleek muscles, Zack Green was a boy I’d made out with plenty of times, even going so far as to go down on him. The way he’d moaned and groaned…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Made a girl feel pretty!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My sophomore year in high school year has been the year I finally grew into myself, losing the last of my baby fat and going up three cup sizes to my all but daring C-cup status I now proudly bear. My father’s side of the family, all of the women were built like him, only in a more… feminine way. I thank the God I didn’t believe in that I never had to suffer like my Aunts did over their DD-cup breasts and the back pain that went along with them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">While Jennifer said boys like ‘em bigger, I just think boys like them in general.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Jennifer is my best friend in the whole world, and normally the girl telling me how her dates always go. I couldn’t see her outside of school for another two weeks because her mother had found out about her giving Brandon Martinez a blowjob at school, courtesy of a very embarrassed Mr. Shoemaker, the Dean of Medicine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I thought it was only natural, seeing as they’d been seeing each other for like three months and were still declaring their undying love for each other. For college, anything that lasts beyond a semester practically means marriage in the eyes of the socialites.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Like Jennifer and me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I tugged at my hair, still loving the short page-boy cut I went with earlier this week. My brown hair is sleek and shiny, and very easy to manage thanks to the products I’d gotten after splurging my savings. Dad noticed after only two days that I’d had it cut, so it must look good! It took him two years to notice we had a cat, which sometimes made me worry about his mental health. Mom kept on telling me he’d always been like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I pull out a half dozen outfits, throwing them about my room as I look for the perfect one to wow Oliver tonight, doing my best to keep my girlish squeals of delight to a minimum, all the while coming up with reasons that I should be allowed to go out with him (“My grades are good, I’m caught up on my required reading, AND Dad knows his Dad!”)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Oliver White was not going to stand a chance once I got through with him!</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-83821516388432442972016-09-01T13:30:00.001-05:002016-09-01T13:30:12.808-05:00Break<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been taking it easy since my wife had the week off. To fill the gap I'll be posting something fun tomorrow, something a few of you may have forgotten about. I think it's time to pick up <i>Ivan and the Hunt </i>once more, maybe even add a little to <i>Hung</i>. I'll post Friday, Saturday, Sunday and then resume my normal schedule.<br />
In recent news, I'll be a featured author at the first annual Indie Authors Day on October 8th here in San Antonio from 11 AM to 12 PM at BiblioTech South 3505 Pleasanton Road (a local San Antonio Library). I'll bring a few books for people to take a peek in, some magazines I've been in and a list of works I <i>will </i>be in for the next few months. <a href="http://indieauthorday.com/">Here</a> is the site for the national event if you are interested.<br />
My next novel is something I'll be posting up on Amazon on the 8th to celebrate the day, and it will be a tad, ahem, risque so this one will be for adults only. There will be fair warning, so please don't send me angry letters or e-mails.<br />
I've actually received one from some parents who found out their kids downloaded <i>Dead and Proud of It</i>. Didn't think I would have to explain that a story involving an insane vampire working for the undead mafia would be something your eight-year-old should avoid, but hey, this is America.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-23580832324810096132016-08-24T08:00:00.000-05:002016-09-07T10:05:43.826-05:00Fall Harvest, Part One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Kim was walking along the road towards the sunset, to a frat house where the party of the year was being held by the oldest son of the family, Riley Gilpine. The boy was something of an ass, but he was always able to get kegs and liquor for his parties, which made him tolerable. The fact that he was on the prowl for Kim’s older sister made her feel all the better, as the boy was far too brave for his own good.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She’d already had to punch him out once for groping her ass, and she didn’t want to hurt her knuckles again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tonight she was dressed in a pair of low-cut jeans and a black tank top with a splash of red on it, a symbol from some computer game. Her sister Melody was into those games, and she was a little smaller than Kim, leaving her to borrow clothes that stretched over her buxom frame. She didn’t mind though. She had condoms in her purse, perfume on her neck, and lucky panties pulled up high.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tonight she’d finally land the man she’d been fishing for all semester, Brian King. Brian was a Sophomore, like Kim, and spent most of his time reading in the courtyard of the library beneath the autumn leaves. He was really into philosophy, especially the study of religion. Kim wasn’t certain about half of the things he said whenever she got the nerve to prompt a conversation, but she was going to make him see God tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Smiling, Kim skipped a few yards before slowing down to a walk. The streetlamps were on her side of the road, paced ever twenty or so feet, with forest on either side. It wasn’t dense or anything, but the Spruce trees made it seem thicker than it actually was. It was a fairly warm night for Fall, with a slight breeze blowing in the scents of apples and old forest. Birds chirped nearby while a lone owl watched her pass beneath his branch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She may not have liked moving here for college, but she was finally getting to enjoy it. The locals were nice and the town was quiet. The loud ones were the college boys racing up and down the streets in their fast cars for the loose girls, and the town police understood that. They were even kind enough to let most people off with just warnings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Humming to herself, Kim let out a yelp when she heard a yowl come from near her feet. Looking down, beneath the lowest boughs of a Spruce was a large black cat with orange eyes, glinting up at her with what could only be described as annoyed curiosity. She stepped back and watched as the creature slide out from beneath the tree until it could rub against her legs, long furry tail tickling her thigh as the cat walked around her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Aren’t you a pretty kitty?” Kim asked, looking down at the black cat. “And so big! You must weight thirty pounds!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The cat meowed as if answering before pawing at her knee, claws lightly grazing her skin. It turned and started heading down a narrow path between trees, stopping to look over it’s shoulder. It’s eyes all but asked “Well? Are you coming?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Kim smiled. Maybe this was a mother cat and she had kittens she wanted rescued! Now that she lived with just her sister, she could have a cat if she wanted. Her mother always complained when cats were around, her allergies making it difficult for Kim or Melody to ever even pet a cat, let alone house one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Wait for me Little Mama!” Kim said, pushing through the branches to follow the cat as it darted from tree to tree.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She followed it for at least three minutes before she began to feel stupid. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I bet the cat is just playing a game…” Kim muttered as she pushed past another Spruce, catching sight of the fluffy tail waggling from between the branches of another tree not too far off. “This better have a good pay-off cat!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It meowed, long and loud. It was only then that Kim noticed something about the forest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It was silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">No birds cawing, or bugs whistling. The only noise she could hear was her own breathing, and something metallic clinking in the distance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Clink-Clink…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Clink-Clink…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What the hell is that?” Kim asked, stepping away from her tree. She cried out in pain when she felt something solid, thick, and sharp cut through the back of her left leg, just above the heel. Her shoe instantly began filling up with warm blood while her Achilles tendon rolled up her leg like window shades. Dropping to the ground, she clutched at her leg, eyes widening in fright as she stared at the cat, hiding directly behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Only it was different now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Larger, with long canines and bulging muscles made the creature look like some bizarre monster composed of several cats. The cat let out a growl and crawled backward, eyes never leaving her while one glistening paw stained the shade red.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The clinking sound started up again, but she didn’t give a damn. She had to do something to stop the bleeding, and she needed to get to the hospital! Looking around for a suitable piece of timber that could act as a brace for her leg, she frowned when her eyes passed over the clean forest floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Now she wasn’t from around here, but even Kim knew that forests were usually littered with twigs and broken branches. There were only a few Spruce needles here and there, all having fallen recently if she would hazard a guess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Looking up, Kim stared at the big tree blocking the sun, wincing at the few remaining rays shining down onto her face. Raising a hand to shield her eyes, she was able to see the movement just as it happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Whoosh!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A heavy length of chain flew down from high above, clocking Kim soundly across the face with enough force to make her teeth rattle. Dropping to the ground, she struggled to stay conscious. Stepping out from the shade of the tree was a tall man, a featureless white mask covering his face. He wore a long-sleeved trench coat and dark jeans, along with some well-worn sneakers. He carried the length of chain with him and knelt down beside Kim, one knee next to her head. He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head, looking her in the eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hmmm…” He grumbled, his voice sounding far younger than Kim would have guessed. “A little underweight, but a fine haul nonetheless. You did good Sam.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A deep, mournful meow from behind her told her the cat wasn’t a stray like she thought, nor a mother kitty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Staring up into the glacial blue eyes of the masked man, Kim spat out a mouthful of blood.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“H-Help…” She ground out, her head swimming in such a way that she couldn’t pull in the air to scream. She finally fell unconscious when the man’s gloved fingers pressed over her eyes, forcefully pulling the lids down and her deep into oblivion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><a href="http://nickronomican.blogspot.com/2016/09/fall-harvest-part-two.html">Next </a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-28646260437961620542016-08-15T06:03:00.000-05:002016-08-15T06:03:10.092-05:00London Horror Society Post of the Month<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've recently (three months ago) became a member of the London Horror Society, and write a monthly piece for them. This month I highlighted three found footage films everyone should see, in honor of the new Blair Witch Project coming out in theaters.<br />
You can check it out <a href="http://londonhorrorsociety.co.uk/3-unappreciated-found-footage-gems/">here</a>!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-57356998141682929592016-08-12T16:32:00.004-05:002016-08-12T16:32:31.140-05:00The Trials of the Horned One, Part One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Waking up to a crack from a whip across the back isn’t any way any man should be awakened. Alas, dear friends, twas how James was awoken. Shaking his head groggily, he rubbed at his aching head and stinging back, blearily looking around to try and figure out what exactly had happened to him. Last he remembered, he was serving as a guard for a Jewish Caravan traveling through the Northern regions of West Francia towards Bretagne. </span></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Spice merchants, they’d employed him and three others to act as guards for the journey. For forty shekels a piece, we were more than happy to provide the service to the superstitious Heebs. They truly believed the hills of the area to possess mad ghosts of men and women buried at the crossroads, of the beasts that roamed the wood looking for the tender flesh of children, and most of all they feared the Slender. A tall and gaunt figure without a face, the Slender was said to scare you and, in your moment of fright, snatch away your soul through your opened mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Well, judging by the knot on the back of his head, James was willing to bet they’d all been caught up by a group of people that liked spreading the rumors of all the beasties and nasty’s that supposedly haunted the wilds of Gaul. Looking up from his prone position on the ground, he groaned at the sight of iron bars, and a burly looking, whip wielding thug with a sneer full of yellowed teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Great,” James said, letting himself fall prone to the ground once more with a wet splat. “Bandits.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Crack!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James winced as the whip snaked between the bars well enough to crack across his back once more, rolling over and edging his way to the back of his cell, however small it was. Set into unworked stone, he truly had no space to really even stand if so desired, and a crack above him allowed a continual drip of water into his cramped quarters, creating a perpetual puddle that he’d been rolling about in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“We’re not bandits, you simple minded cretin!” The man sneered, twirling the whip loosely about the floor. “We’re followers of the Horned One.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Great, </span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James thought, rolling his eyes, <i>Cultists. Damn countryside is getting full of ‘em.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Cultists to various dark or pagan God’s were commonplace in the wilds of Gaul, far from the bustling urban centers like Paris. The Word of God hadn’t made it this far, or hadn’t made it successfully. Most Cultists were mere lunatics and madmen that polite society had cast away, their only crime being perpetually on the verge of violence or possessing a horrifying temper. Exile was best for them, and sadly they usually ended up beneath one banner, the banner of the craziest amongst them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Judging by the semi-official looking leather jerkin this goon wore, emblazoned with a horned diamond, James could hazard to guess where he was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In a Cultist’s prison.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You’re good with a sword, right?” The jailer asked James, cracking the whip against the wall, a torrent of cries and pleas letting James know he wasn’t alone. “The put you in the fighters block for a reason, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Oh yes, sure!” I said, holding up my calloused hands as if they were evidence. “Been using a sword all my life, why, damn things almost like a second hand to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The guard squints at James before grabbing a rusty ring of keys… three keys to be precise. <i>That is an odd thing to see</i>, James thought to himself as the heavyset man began unlocking his door, <i>you’d think they’d have more keys</i><u>.</u><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James scampers out of the narrow door, standing up with the help of the wall, popping his sore back as he finally got to stand up. He closed his eyes in bliss as he popped his back and stretched his arms before remembering why he was actually standing in the first place. Opening his eyes, he spun to look for the guard and see what the man wanted him to do…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">…only to end up looking about two feet too high. The sneering guard with a whip was almost a dwarf when compared to James, who had an easy two and a half feet on him, as well as half a stone in weight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Before he could get any plan into motion to dole out some justice to the minute man, the whip cracked painfully close to his ear, sending him back against the stone wall, panting as he rubbed at the aching spot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“March pretty boy,” The dwarf chuckled darkly, twirling the whip back for another strike.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James chose to march down the dark, cavernous tunnel, the only light coming from the occasional sconce in the wall, usually a skull with a candle inside it, his only companion a surly sadistic dwarf that seemed to get off on hurting people bigger than him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Namely James.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The sound of their footsteps, along with the dwarf’s labored breathing, was the only thing echoing about the tunnel for what felt like ages until James could finally see a light ahead at the end of the tunnel, and hear the steady hum that came from man voices speaking at once. Looking back at his guide, James decided to give the squat little toad the slip and burst into a dead sprint. Ignoring the foul midget’s cry, he ran as fast and as hard as he could towards the light, until he burst from the tunnel at his fastest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Slamming into a poorly built iron rail, the metal bending loudly as James fell onto his back cursing and swearing everything that he could. Beneath his pounding fists he idly noted that wherever he was no, the floor was at least wooden instead of stone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Brothers! Sisters!” Came a shrill cry from below, echoing up along the curved walls and high cavern ceiling. <i>Oh great…</i> James bitterly thought. <i>More Cultists…</i> “Gather for tonight’s homage to the great Horned One!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">A chorus of mumbling and laughter broke through what sounded like a crowd, James noted sourly as he rolled to his side, pushing himself up to his knees. His friend the jailer had just caught up with him, panting and gasping for air now, with his hands on his knees as the small ball of greasy fat and muscle fought to remain standing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Looking down, James could see he was at what appeared to be the top of a great carving of a human skull with prominent horns leading up from its temples, curling like a rams horns before swooping up and back, almost like antlers. Standing atop the skull, where a small wooden platform had been set coming from its own stone tunnel, was a miserly looking grey-robed man, half his face covered in weeping boils, the other half bearing a brand of the Horned One.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“He must not go out terribly often…” James muttered to himself. James’s own platform sat atop one of the stone horns, and overlooked a great auditorium, filled with grey-robed men and women, and even children, dancing about the seats surrounding a deep looking pit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Tonight the Horned One will dine on the souls of the wicked and the just! If the sacrifice lives, we shall not release the plague upon the merchants. If he dies, the merchants go free to spread the Horned One’s hunger to all they would trade with, those struck down by the illness fodder for our Lord’s unending hunger!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Ok, I don’t like the sound of any of this… dwarf, who’s the sacrifice?” James says, turning to the gasping dwarf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James gets his answer when the wooden floor beneath him drops out, revealing his position atop one of the carved horns to actually be over a chute. Almost by reaction, he lashed out and grabbed the dwarf (who immediately stopped gasping and started screaming) as they both started plummeting down the smooth stone chute, sliding like a pair of greased up geese over a cooks chopping block.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tumbling about in darkness, the chute finally opened up into the pit that had been far below, but was sadly now all too close for James to enjoy. Scattered about the odalisque pit were bits of rusty armor and a smattering of weapons: swords long forgotten, maces half embedded in rock over brown stains, and even a spear or three were all within reach. As well as a gasping dwarf and his whip, which James quickly liberated without so much as a fight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Let the Horned One reveal to us his plan!” Bellowed the disfigured man from above, pulling a lever and walking back and out of James’s line of sight. A horrid cranking of gears and cracking of chains echoed from within the walls around him, seeming to radiate from the front of the Horned One’s edifice, as the lower jaw of the great carved skull began to lower slowly, dripping red hot fluids that seemed almost luminescent. As the maw widened, three figures came tumbling down most unceremoniously from the maw, steaming with the glowing juices and striking the stone floor with a wet slap of fish hitting the pier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James could only watch in horror as the three fallen figures rose bonelessly from the ground, their eyes as black as pitch and their flesh as grey as the stone around them, steam rising from their bodies as they began to awkwardly stumble his way, arms outstretched and a low moan escaping from all three of their lips. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The pitch-eyed dead come at him faster than he'd like, a slow lumbering gate that while not exactly fast, promises that it will never slow down. All three have similar wounds, a simple torn out throat, and a carving of the Horned One’s emblem upon their foreheads. James recognizes one of them to be his comrade in arms Heinrich a fraction too late as he is forced to raise his arm in defense of the grasping fingers of the first of the groaning corpses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As these zombies were once soldiers, all of them seem to have retained their strength and then some. James had hoped the leather handle of the whip would have been enough when draped over his arm, but the hungering maw of the dead merely bit into it, the bloodied teeth scraping so close to James’s arm in the process, and begins to chew through the tough leather like it’s a slice of roasted ham.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Ignoring the jeering crowd above, James kicks Heinrich in the stomach, sending him tumbling back into his fellows, and makes a break for one of the spears lying on the ground some ten feet away. The dwarf squawks in fear, and runs back with me, scooping up a sword with both hands. He looks to James in desperation, the dull gleam that James had grown accustomed to seeing in the dim jailers eyes pleading him for aid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James merely nods before moving forward, slowly. The downed dead right themselves seamlessly, requiring neither hands nor knees to pull themselves up from the ground, merely the muscles of their body working in complete and utter concert together.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“That is not right,” James grumbles at the sight, choking back the bile billowing in his throat from the smell of the rotten flesh pervading the air, as well as whatever fluid they were covered in… ale?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The undead move in unison, shambling forward, one with a whip dangling from its mouth as it continued to choke the weapon down, the long cords of leather slowly disappearing down the dried gullet of James’s former friend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Before they even get within striking distance, James lunges forward with the bronze-tipped spear, sinking it deep into the throat of the largest undead, yanking it to the side to sever the esophagus and vocal cords, but sadly not the spinal column. Some damage was done it would seem, as the ghoul drops to the ground, seemingly forced to drag itself with one arm while kicking out with one leg to propel itself in a truly bizarre shuffle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The Dwarf is trying his best to handle Heinrich, and failing utterly due to James’s former-allies superior strength. The Dwarf sank the blade deep into Heinrich’s hip, causing his right leg to go slack. Sadly, going slack doesn’t prevent Heinrich’s probing hands to gain purchase on the Dwarf’s leather jerkin, ripping into it with the full ferocity of a starving wolf, the whip now waggling about like some obscene tongue. The other undead, a hulking mass of rotting flesh that could have only been Baldric, reached over Heinrich and grabbed at the dwarf as well, his jagged nails tearing a deep gouge into the hapless jailer’s semi-exposed chest, blood spurting out from the wound in thick gouts, splattering across the cold floor in a messy streak that only seemed to excite the dead further.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James whirled his spear around and once more stabbed at his crippled foe, this time scoring a solid meaty wound into the beasts swollen back, the bronze tip sinking into the creatures back like a knife slicing into undercooked meat, black blood welling up from the wound, dribbling onto the cold floor like heated tar. The dead thrashed about at the end of his blade, but it allowed him enough leverage to kick the beast in the side of the head, cracking it’s skull open and dislocating its jaw with a meaty thump. The creature shuddered and collapsed, its energy spent and its body done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">James released the spears haft and made his way to the two undead ripping into the jailer. His jerkin had finally been peeled off; revealing his hairy folds of greasy fat to the hungering dead’s questing fingers. Heinrich, the tail of the whip now dangling past his swollen and torn lips, was twisting and pulling on the screaming dwarfs arm with a fervor bordering on the mad, the arm in question cracking and snapping at the rough treatment it was receiving, already dislocated from a brutal yank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Baldric’s titanic form had pushed Heinrich out of the way, lifting the dwarf bodily into the air as he sank his rotten teeth into the jailers flank, tearing away a wide strip of flesh with wild thrashings of the head, chewing on the meat noisily as the Dwarf screamed and pleaded for aid. Above it all, this disfigured man had begun a sermon concerning the Horned One’s kindness, his love for us all, and how we could repay it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Wrenching the sword from Heinrich’s hip, James brought the gore-spattered blade in a high arc before flashing it low, sinking it deep into the back of Heinrich’s neck, tearing through sinew and spine alike as he yanked it free to stab once more into the rapidly expanding wound. By the third strike Heinrich fell to the floor truly lifeless, his head dangling from his neck by mere strips of worn and leathery flesh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Turning on Baldric as he tore into the Jailer, James took a moment of ignoring the dwarf’s dying screams to take in all that Baldric had become. Pitch black eyes, with skin pale enough to see the dead veins beneath his cold flesh, heavily muscled limbs seeming to strain with every movement as Baldric’s body and muscles moved in complete tandem, unlike James’s own living body, which would scream in agony should he try and move like Baldric.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Despite his terrifying size and strength, he was dispatched easily enough as he was too enthralled by his captured dwarf, the light sword taking four hearty chops to fully remove his head from his taut shoulders, the dwarf falling to the ground like a forgotten chicken bone. James stomped on the poor dead things head, just to make sure he wouldn’t have to fight a diminutive zombie next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“The Champion of Light has showed us the way!” The disfigured priest declared before a distraught audience, silencing their growing anger with his jubilant praise. “The Horned One desires the merchants to be better tested upon later, gifted with a more potent plague perhaps or some other amazing boon from the Horned One. For now, Champion of Light… what is your name?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Uh… James. James Hartglow.” He calls up, a tad embarrassed, and confused. He’d never had so many eyes upon him at once.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Well than praise to James, Champion of the Light of Truth, shining unto us the true will of the Horned One through sacrifice, going so far as top slay the jailer that held him for us.” The disfigured man bellowed, clapping his hands three times in a slow rhythmic way that his congregation followed. “Go now my children, and come back once the New Moon has come, when the eyes of jealous God’s will be closed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As the crowd apparently began to disperse, James looked up to see the smiling face of the disfigured priest. “Go on then Champion, the jaw is also a set of stairs to the kennel. I will have someone meet you there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-9856685038101577262016-07-28T14:45:00.003-05:002016-07-28T14:45:46.260-05:00Earthen Invader Part One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The distant sounds of stone bells roused Maria from her slumber, causing her to groan as she shuffled deeper into the covers of her bed. It was a cold morning in the forest, and she didn’t want to go field-running right now. She sighed as she felt and arm lay over her frame, a supple body press up against her back.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I think they’re calling for you,” Angelina said as she kissed Maria’s shoulder, her mocha colored skin a vibrant difference from Maria’s slightly green hue. Both elves were from the same city, though they would rarely call each other allies in any regard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“But I’m warm! And it’s probably just a false alarm like last time!” Maria whined, turning to scoot into her lovers embrace. “I wanna stay here with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“As do I, but you signed up for the town guard, not me. You respond to the bells,” Angelina said, tucking a few stray blonde hairs behind Maria’s ear. “Tell you what: you go and handle the big baddie like I know you’ll have to and I’ll make us dinner tonight after I close my stand.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The thought of Angelina’s cooking made Maria’s stomach gurgle, causing both women to laugh and slowly rise from the bed. They dressed in silence, Angelina in her market robes and leathers, Maria in her chain shirt and leather padding. After buckling the sword around her waist and Angelina’s dagger at her wrist, Maria swooped down on Angelina for a final kiss before leaving the through the front.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Standing high in the trees, ramps and causeways built into the trees like deep-forest lichen growing off the bark, Maria stared off in the distance of the church and the ringing bells. Her eyesight picked out over a dozen rangers running along the vines towards the western walls for the city below. With a grimace Maria leapt up and onto the vines, some two-hundred feet off the ground, and began running along the thick cord of plant-life towards her destination. As she was running, eyes facing forward so as not to lose her footing, she heard a familiar cry come from her right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Maria?” Called Paulo, another ranger, from his own vine leading from a small market in the trees. “Do you know what this is about?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Something must have approached the western walls,” Maria called back, unsheathing her sword as her vine ended on a terrace overlooking the paved streets below, where human men, women and children shrieked as they fled from some unseen danger. Smoke and ash filled the air as rubble the size of small wagons flew through the air, colliding with the trees hard enough to almost knock a ranger off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Long haired and barrel chested, Donahue stood next to the railing with his bow out, arrow at the ready. “We don’t know what it is. Most of us just got here.” He said to Maria as she walked up next to him. “But whatever it is it’s taken down the wall into pieces. The path to Vita is open for almost anything to come along and attack her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Vita, a divine spirit of the land and the forest, dwelled in a large central tree at the center of the human settlement of Relmut. Due to her presence, the elves had naturally followed and built a city of their own high above Relmut. The two traded constantly, and most of the guard duties fell to the elves, leaving the humans defenseless. Maria sneered as she watched five men, clearly untrained in how to use a blade, march down the street towards the billowing cloud of detritus, blades raised high.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Morsels…” Grumbled an earthen voice, the sound of a landslide over an earthquake. “Tiny specks of flesh and bone that have come to face me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Maria’s sneer fell from her face when a large tail, some forty feet long, and thick as the boughs of one of the oldest trees, lashed out from the clouds of dirt, catching three men by surprise in the sides, their ribs cracking as their bodies were thrown against the stone walls of a store in a heap. None of them moved, and from what Maria could see, none of them breathed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Humans!” Roared the thunderous voice, a cacophony of birds taking flight following its outburst. “Relent and allow me to pass and you shall yet live. I seek no quarrel with your kind, and your foul sweat-flavored flesh is hard enough to pry from between my teeth to make it worthwhile to offer you this chance: stand aside and allow me passage!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">By now the bulk of the rangers had arrived, all with bows gathered and arrows distributed. The dust was beginning to settled over the thick, black plates of iron and flesh that made up the titanic form that dominate the place where the western wall once stood. Perhaps eighty feet wide and a hundred long, the rocky form of an earthen dragon rumbled forward, glittering jewels embedded in its hide from years, decades, of life below ground. The horns, a tainted white ivory, curled like those of a ram, and the eyes, glittering dark orbs of malevolence, were set back in a skull-like head that gave the dragon the appearance of constantly sneering. Perhaps it was. It’s short neck and rocky maw made the creature appear to be a hellish mixture of bat, turtle and mountain, all colored black and brown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The dragon tilted its head up, eyes closing partially as it gazed up at the gathered rangers. “So you are the Rangers of Zac-Haroon,” it said, referring to the orders roots as defenders of a now dead empire’s elite guard. “I must say I’m not impressed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Leave dragon!” Donahue shouted down at him, arrow nocked and ready to be fired. “Leave before we are forced to drive you away!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Drive me away? With what elf, your words? Your feelings? Face it monkey, you don’t have what it takes to stand against a true force of nature. Unlike the humans, whom I actually have a grudging respect for; you can’t change or alter your ways. Your kind are as rigid as the very earth itself. You failed the Emperor, you’ll fail here too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Donahue let loose a scream of rage, shooting down with his arrow at the dragon, prompting a rain of barbed and hooked razor sharp arrows to fall down upon the dragon. Slowly it pulled its extremities into its body, leaving just a rocky shell for the barbed arrows to break upon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Keep up the firing!” Donahue shouted in Elvish before snagging Maria and four others by the shoulder, pulling them away. “We go down, right now, and crawl in its shell and kill it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Are you crazy?” Maria asked, looking at Donahue. “It’s shrugging off our arrows as if it were made of stone. What makes you think our swords will do any different?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“We have to try!” Donahue raged, moving his face an inch from Maria’s. “You weren’t born yet, but I remember the Emperor Zac-Haroon. He was a kind man, a man that took our people in and allowed us the honor of protecting him. We let him down. I will not let down the Vita.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“How do you even know that’s what it’s after?” Maria asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Why else would it have ventured so far into the woods?” Jordan, a hot-headed younger elf asked. He pulled his scimitars and swirled them once. “I’m with you Donahue.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The others murmured an agreement, leaving Maria the lone dissenting voice. “Fine. But if this falls through, I’ll see you on the other side and let you know it’s your fault Donahue.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-79607524403776768252016-07-27T07:29:00.000-05:002016-07-27T07:29:09.212-05:00August Issue of the Horrorzine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The free online horror magazine, the Horrorzine, has a new issue up as of today for the month of August. It looks to be a solid issue with some quality work, so follow Mordecai the Bat, as seen below, to see the Horrorzine.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.thehorrorzine.com/"><img alt="The Horror Zine" src="http://www.thehorrorzine.com/Ads/Bat%20C%20on%20white.jpg" /></a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-88480150876266193622016-07-26T12:45:00.001-05:002016-07-26T12:45:17.983-05:00Coming Soon...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, I'm slated to be published in three anthologies this Fall/Winter, which will be a treat as the cooler seasons are when the book sales really happen. I know I'll be published in an anthology by Jaded Publications in early October, as well as a Siren's Call anthology called <i>What Dwells Beneath</i>. Both contain stories that I've not shared with you as they're a little messed up in nature, so be sure to nab a copy when they come out. The third anthology is a little fuzzy in my mind right now, as per my meds kicking my memory around like a football. But rest assured, there will be blood!<br />
As for novels, I published <i>Dead and Proud of It </i>early. I'd planned on releasing it on my birthday on August 29th. But I'd finished it and given it a polish and said what the hell, and sent it to publication for you all to enjoy. I plan on releasing a dark fantasy novel at the beginning of October, <i>The Hunters of the Dead: The Witches War</i>. This will highlight the Ravens, a paramilitary group that serves as a branch of the Catholic church (at times) and hunts the Damned, demons and other otherworldly creatures, and Lost Souls, undead creatures that prowl the night. It's not your standard fantasy piece as there are no Elves or Dwarves, and all of the magic is considered dark in general, even if it heals wounds or helps people. It takes place in the Wetterstein Mountains during the early days of the Holy Roman Empire, basically an alternate universe of Earth where the supernatural is natural.<br />
The next novel after that will be a vampire erotica novel (I said I would try each branch of the horror world and I damn well mean it). It's done but I'm editing it as I don't like certain scenes. This one will NOT be for children, and will be advertised as such. It gives another look at vampires in my world, as the main character would be considered a Fang by sheer accident. This'll create a new branch of my world as the Dead serve her (no necrophilia or bestiality) while she solves the mystery of attackers against the undead community. I'm thinking the beginning of December or the middle of January, depending on my other publication prospects.<br />
Then, three months after <i>that </i>book comes <i>The Father of Flesh</i>, which is about eighty percent done. This one will define the gods of my world and invite you all into a whirlwind adventure against the servants of a dark god that has long slumbered, but might just be stirring awake.<br />
That should bring me to somewhere around April or May of 2017 for my novels. During the downtime, I'll be working on short stories for anthologies and more novels. This'll make certain I have work for you to read for years to come!<br />
Some novels that I have in the pipeline that I've been worked on a little include a zombie novel, the sequel to <i>Ghost of O'Leary House</i>, and a tale concerning a special spirit known the world over as he appears during Ouija board games. I also have some prompts for my next four novels <i>after </i>I've burned through everything mentioned. If I have them all ready sequentially I should be good throughout 2017 and maybe into 2018.<br />
If you want another anthology from me, such as a <i>Grimlocke Chronicles II, </i>then I'll need to see some more sales of the book (eBook preferably as it is more affordable). The anthology took a good chunk of my backlog and I've been stuck writing stories daily now to try and stick to the upkeep of my site. No complaints, just it's a lot of writing (I'm averaging around 6000 words a day).<br />
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-46085164158796931812016-07-21T06:59:00.004-05:002016-07-21T06:59:42.394-05:00Ghost of O'Leary House get's Shining Editorial Review!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://tiny.cc/mkzvby">Ghost of O'Leary House</a>, my debut novel, has been reviewed by the professionals at Readers' Favorite! You can click <a href="http://tiny.cc/s7q3cy">here</a> to see what they thought of it, or see the professional review on the Amazon page for the book. Until my birthday (August 29th) the Kindle version of the book is on sale for $1.99, so if you haven't read it yet I'd grab it while it's on sale!</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">David is in for a surprise when he visits his Grandma...</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-8260190214366464252016-07-15T10:09:00.003-05:002016-07-15T10:09:33.901-05:00Guest Spot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have a guest spot over on Clarissa Johal's site where she allows me to promote <i>Dead and Proud of It. </i>Have a <a href="http://clarissajohal.blogspot.com/2016/07/guest-author-dead-and-proud-of-it-by.html?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter">look</a>!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-66846514832365168382016-07-11T09:10:00.002-05:002016-07-11T09:10:54.846-05:00A Love So Bold<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A love so bold,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As to pierce the realm of life,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Is romance to make blood run cold,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yet fill hearts with the tune of the lilting fife.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I lay resting in the soil, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Buried at the crossroads,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Despite my life of work and toil,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Left to rot in my cursed bode.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ah, but what song is this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rousing me from slumber,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Forcing fingers to dig and mouth to hiss,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No longer so encumbered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Freedom!” I cry with jubilation,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Bony fist thrust to the sky,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I clamber from my damnation,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Buried deep from when I died.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With naught but a burial shroud about me,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Still I feel the pull,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Of my love and her radiant beauty,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So I allow my senses to lull.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In mere hours I find myself before her manor,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Once-white sheet now in tatters,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Stained with jellied flesh and gore,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am ready to present myself with impeccable manners.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-53577269265594496532016-07-09T21:46:00.001-05:002016-07-09T21:46:21.249-05:00Dead and Proud of It<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Dead-Proud-Nicholas-Paschall-ebook/dp/B01I7HQQQO/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1468118660&sr=8-1&keywords=dead+and+proud+of+it"><img src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41YEDVj8D6L._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
A work that has been long in the making, this is a project that's finally achieved flight. If you're interested in taking a peek, the Kindle version is up right now with the paperback to follow in a few days.<br />
The cover is by the same couple that do all my covers, and I really enjoy what they pulled up for me this time! If interested in the book the link is the image, but as of the day of this posting the book is only on Kindle.<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-66408509933961118862016-07-08T15:59:00.002-05:002016-07-08T15:59:57.177-05:00London Horror Society: Top Five Most Anticipated Movies of 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Got published over at The London Horror Society again, this time with a list of films that are coming out soon and should prove fun. Click <a href="http://londonhorrorsociety.co.uk/top-future-horror-films-2016/">here</a> to read!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-88110493861574768752016-06-29T15:43:00.002-05:002016-06-29T15:43:20.768-05:00Site Updates<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Going to do an overhaul on the site in the next few days where I make sure related stories are linked, old links to off-site stories still work, and that the links I provide are still up and running. I'm still working on "The Father of Flesh", the first of a five-novel series, as well as "Pride", the first of a three-novel series. Taking a break from them for the rest of June to prepare July's book, "Dead and Proud of It!"<br />
<br />
My first step into the vampire's of my imaginary world, where they are known about by the general public. There are vampires, and then there are Fangs. Vampires are the tame and docile versions, not much stronger or durable than a human. They go to blood banks and eat raw beef and pork fresh from the animal.<br />
<br />
Keeps them tame.<br />
<br />
But Fangs are vampires that feed on humans (or other supernatural entities), tripling their strength and speed and making them nearly bulletproof. They consume humans whole, leaving only a scant few bones, their bodies crushing the meat down and incorporating it into their own body for use. Nothing goes to waste.<br />
<br />
This makes Fangs most unwelcome in any civilized areas, and special squads of SWAT teams are designated to taking down Fangs when one pops up on the radar.<br />
<br />
Keep in mind this the same world as POride, the Father of Flesh, and Ivan and the Hunt. I've made this alternate universe where human history occurred with the supernatural already accounted for. I think it makes for some good reading, and I certainly enjoy writing it!<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-32143709422292143632016-06-26T10:45:00.001-05:002016-06-26T10:45:08.194-05:00London Horror Society<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just had the pleasure of writing a piece for the London Horror Society, entitled "Splinter: A Lesson in Originality." It's free to read so feel free to stop by the <a href="http://londonhorrorsociety.co.uk/splinter-lesson-originality/">website</a> and see what I've written, and peruse the other movie reviews to see what other members of the horror community think.<br />
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Splinter, 2008</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-87792755741270250482016-06-24T10:36:00.001-05:002016-06-24T10:36:38.721-05:00Three Little Piggies Part One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Alice screamed as the unknown assailant threw himself bodily against the front door, the hinges rattling from the great weight. Cackling from the other side, cold metal slashed against the oak door, a hollow grating noise echoing throughout the house.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
"I know you're in there kiddies!" The assailant crowed, his voice wavering as if he were crying. "Such delicious skin needs to be treated and cured appropriately, not wasted on the young as they tan and age it's beautiful ivory purity!"<br />
<br />
"This guy is nuts!" Kelly shouted as he and Bade knocked over a bookcase to block the doorway, Alice leaping back into Jeremy's waiting arms, the tall blonde steadying her with a tight smile.<br />
<br />
"Maybe we should look for a place to hide until sun up, hmmm?" Jeremy asked looking at the gathered teens. "I did warn you that this island has a bit of history to it and that there were some locals that weren't exactly altogether there."<br />
<br />
"You didn't mention loony freaks wielding axes and knives looking to harvest our skin either!" Brian screamed, jumping back as the door shuddered once more. All eyes rested on the cracked form of the door, the broken window next to the entryway where a beefy hand wielding a three-foot blade hacked into the woodwork.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, that's not going to hold," Bade said before grabbing Alice's hand. "Come on, let's head upstairs. We can shimmy down into the backyard and make our escape that way."<br />
<br />
"Through the graveyard, and then into the swamp on a night of the full moon?" Jeremy pointed out. "You won't make it a hundred feet before one of those animals is upon you."<br />
<br />
The door frame rattled and a guttural laugh bounced within the empty halls of Blackmore Manor. "Animals are we?" The man said before punching the door. "You'll see boy, you'll see what we are before this is all done!"<br />
<br />
Bade held Alice close to himself as the man stalked away from the door, leaving them all with a few minutes to remember why they were all here.<br />
<br />
+++<br />
<br />
"Blackmore Manor? That haunted mansion on that island out in the bay?" Alice asked, crinkling her nose in disgust. "I was hoping our senior trip would be somewhere more... scenic."<br />
<br />
"I don't know, a haunted house could be a blast," Bade said, taking the printed series of e-mails from Kelly, who was leaning against the railing as Brian tried to do tricks on his skateboard. "How'd you find out about this?"<br />
<br />
Kelly shrugged, his long red hair falling over his pale shoulders. "I don't know, they got e-mailed to me by some guy named Jeremy Rudel. He said that he runs a tour of the haunted island and operates a bed and breakfast that would house us for three hundred in total in the weekend. That's including meals!"<br />
<br />
"Really?" Brian asked, attention turned to the conversation. "That's like, a third of what we were going to spend going to South Padre..."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, and this island is supposed to be pretty remote, so we'll have the <i>whole </i>place to ourselves!" Kelly crowed. "Think about it, we bring the booze, we bring the food, we get to party for an entire weekend with no boundaries next to the Gulf without a care in the world."<br />
<br />
"Maybe we could get some decent tanning in without being leered at," Alice added, slowly warming to the idea.<br />
<br />
"And he guaranteed we were the only ones at his hotel?" Bade asked.<br />
<br />
Kelly nodded. "Yeah, he said that's why he's cutting us a deal."<br />
<br />
"Guess with everyone headed down to Corpus Christi or South Padre for their Senior trip, his island isn't getting much business." Alice said, taking the e-mails from Bade. "The way he describes the Manor is pretty in depth. How often do you think we get to go in there?"<br />
<br />
"It's a haunted house, so I imagine he'd take us in there every day if we really wanted. I just want a place where we can fish, drink, and party!" Kelly smiled.<br />
<br />
"This does look like it could be pretty fun," Bade said.<br />
<br />
"That's the spirit!" Kelly clapped his hands. "I'll cover room and board if you guys load us up on fishing supplies and booze. Bring some cookout food too, I have a grill I'm taking."<br />
<br />
"You really think we'll be able to catch some fish worth grilling?" Bade smiled.<br />
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"So long as I don't have to clean them, go at it," Alice laughed.<br />
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"Do you think Donnie will still want to go?" Kelly asked, think of their friend.<br />
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Bade scratched his head. "I don't know, is this Jeremy guy going to be that uptight about him toking it up?<br />
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Kelly shrugged, taking the e-mails from Alice, eyes scanning over the pages. "He seems like a fairly liberal guy, inviting us to bring whatever booze we want so we don't have to pay for drinks. I think he'll be cool with a little pothead paddling about in the water."<br />
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"Donnie is going to likely be reading instead of swimming," Alice laughed, watching Brian take a spill on his skateboard. "Oh! Brian, are you okay?"<br />
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"Yeah, I'm fine!" He called up from the bottom of the ramp, slowly getting to his feet. The mocha-skinned giant rubbed his back and kicked his skateboard up into his hands. "Kelly talk you all into the island yet?"<br />
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Alice looked at Kelly. "I don't see the harm," she said. "Let's go!"<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-14471192556326418562016-06-23T14:37:00.003-05:002016-06-23T14:37:50.239-05:00Prison of the Soul Chapter Two<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Scott coughed, hacking up frigid slush that was both salt water and half-digested coffee mixed with bile. Crawling on the beach, sand sticking to his soaking wet clothes, he made his way out of the tide with a woozy head and a blank mind. Looking up, he saw that the beach was dryer the further it got from the ocean, and was littered with large pieces of wood. Shivering in the cold wind and light drizzle still falling over him, Scott fought up to his feet. His arms felt like they were full of lead, numb and heavy. His legs weren’t any better, leaving him to stumble forward towards the closest bit of timber, a tree that had been knocked out and somehow ended up on the beach.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Reaching to his belt, Scott pulled his multi-tool, flipping out a knife so he could prune several small, thin roots from the base of the tree where it lay; taking the dozen or so gathered pieces of dried timber, he began erecting a small fire pit in the sand, with the kindling to serve as a supplemental fire to any larger pieces of wood he could gather from the beach. A general look around told Scott that he could easily gather the required wood. His frigid frame shivered with each gust of wind, pushing the storm away from the mystery island that he’d become stranded on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Picking across the beach for half an hour, he let out a muted cry of relief when he dug out a sand encrusted piece of flint. Using the worn stone on the rough steel file of Scott’s multi tool, he was able to produce sparks that created a small flame from the wood gathered. Blowing on it and rearranging wooden pieces to better fuel the small flame, he smiled as it began to grow. He stood up and went looking for other pieces of wood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">For the next half-hour, he gathered larger pieces of wood for the growing fire, along with a long stick and several spiky blue-shelled crabs that he easily subdued with strikes from gathered logs. Carrying the stunned crabs by the claws tucked into his belt he dropped into the sand next to the crackling fire, holding his hands out for warmth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Over the next five minutes the full reality of the situation crashed down upon him. His brother, father, and Marty were most likely dead with the boat submerged beneath the icy waves. Scott’s mother Patricia wouldn’t think to send search parties for a month or so, as Jim was prone to these outings. Likewise Marty had nobody who would report him missing. Would the Alaskan National Guard even be able to find him on this island? How far off course had the boat been blown? Scott didn’t recognize the island at all, and he’d hunted on at least six or seven of the smaller Aleutian Islands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This island seemed different, the trees all capped with snow with no plumes of smoke coming from anywhere he could see. No signs of human life appeared to be on the island, an untouched paradise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Scott snorted. “Paradise? This is a frozen Hell for all; no fresh water and no tools other than my knife and lighter, I gotta find a way to make it during fall in the North. Snow should begin falling soon and I don’t want to get caught unprepared.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He fell silent, listening to the wind howl as it buffeted the tree he was sitting against, the fire protected by the large piece of timber that had somehow made itself out onto the beach. He stared at the downed tree, shivering against the cold wind, wondering what was going to happen. If his father were here he’d call Scott a pussy and tell him to man up! If Kelly were here he’d whine before doing something productive. If Marty were here… Scott tried not to think about what Marty would do as the Algonquin was unpredictable at the best of times. He believed the old stories of how men were warriors and that hunting was man against nature.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Marty would look at this as a challenge to his manhood and tackle the situation head-on. Running a hand over the rough bark of the downed Spruce, Scott noticed that beneath a layer of frost there were indentions in the tree, reaching forward and pulling a burning branch from the fire, he brought it closer to the log, to where the frost would begin to melt so that he could inspect it better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The fire was growing large by this point, the warmth suffusing through Scott’s soaked clothes, drying them against his skin. He could still feel the grit of silt and sand in his shoes and under his clothes, but at least he wasn’t cold anymore. The branch in his hand cracked in half, the burning portion falling down and landing on the tree with a radiant shower of sparks and burning wood. Scott jumped back, wiping away smoldering embers from his clothes before they could singe, laughing at how ridiculous he must seem.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Glad Dad wasn’t here to see that,” Scott said before frowning. “I hope he’s okay…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The burning branch rolled off of the massive trunk and onto the sides, slowly being put out by the running water from the layers of frost that had accumulated on the log. Scott leaned down and brushed aside some built up salt, only to gasp when he realized what he was staring at.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Claw marks. And not like any Scott had ever seen either, these were vertical, with deeper indentions into the wood towards the end facing the ocean, as if it’d been drug from the forest out to the beach. Ignoring the drizzle, Scott stepped away from the fire and walked around the trunk, examining it. Bears would mark their territory by slashing the bark on trees when on their hind legs, stretching out as high as they could reach. That way when other bears came along the markings, they could measure up and see which of the two was bigger. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This led to less bear-on-bear confrontations in the wild and more trails for ambitious hunters to follow. The marks that Scott had seen before were slashed parallel to the ground when the tree was upright, and the trunks were never moved by the bears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But these marks were more like deep gouges, each groove sinking an inch into the tree, spaced apart perhaps a half inch each. There were some smaller marks near the top of the tree, which had broken apart at one point, maybe used by someone for firewood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No,” Scott said to himself, running his hands along the upper portion of the tree. “No clean marks. Whatever happened to this tree caused it to crack in half before something pulled it down to the beach. What it was… maybe Dad would know?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Feeling lost once more, Scott walked over and slumped down next to the fire, folding his arms over his knees as he soaked in the heat from the flames. The darkness of the night seemed to be pressing in from all directions, pushing against the flickering campfire as best it could with the aid of the freezing drizzle. After an hour, maybe an hour and a half, the drizzle let up as the storm moved further south. Sighing contentedly as he savored the warmth, Scott jumped in surprise when he heard a low howl on the echoing from somewhere on the island.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It wasn’t a wolf’s howl either, that he could tell just by pitch and length. This had more bass to it and was longer, ending in coughing barks that seemed to shake the very needles on the trees. Scott looked up at the moon the half-full orb hanging high in the sky. Taking a moment to locate the North Star, Scott figured that traveling deeper into the forest would be going north or northwest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“I can’t just sit by a campfire all night,” he groused as he held his boot-clad feet out to dry. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Whatever that thing was, it sounded hungry, and this doesn’t appear to be a big island.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Waiting fifteen minutes for his feet to be warm and dry, he stood up and took a log from the fire, holding it as a makeshift torch for him to move about the island and explore a little. Walking along the beach, he chose to stick to the shoreline in hopes of finding some wreckage from the boat or, hopefully, his family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Between the light of the moon and his flaming log, Scott was able to walk perhaps a mile when he came across a sight that chilled him to the bone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nailed to a crooked tree overlooking a small wharf that had seen better days, a sign bearing bold letters written in a thick brushstroke shook rattled in the wind. “No Witchcraft,” Scott read aloud, spinning in place to look around him as if a Witch was going to appear right behind him. “Wonder why that was put up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And in that moment where the light bloomed out like a cloud roiling across a meadow, Scott saw a face staring back at him from the darkness that made him nearly drop the lantern. And just like that, when he opened his eyes, the face was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What the fuck was that?” Scott demanded of the darkness, which of course gave no reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Stepping off the warped wood of the wharf, Scott held the lantern high up near his head, scanning the area for any sign of life. The only thing that stood out, other than the old wharf, was yet another tree trunk pulled out from the woods like the one he’d sat near when he built his fire. Walking over to it and running his gloved hand into the frost confirmed it: there were deep gouge marks on this trunk as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“What the fuck is wrong with this island?” Scott asked aloud, scanning the tree line for any sign of animal life. A small rabbit path split between the trees, leading deeper into the forest. Did Scott really want to wander into the woods at night, alone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No,” he said. “I’m going to continue looking for my family. If I survived some of them must have made it as well, and could probably use a bit of warmth right now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Walking past the wharf, Scott scanned the beach for any sign of his boat. After some time wandering beneath the stars he nearly tripped over a few pieces of driftwood that matched the color of the deck. Emboldened, Scott held the lantern high and cupped his mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hey!” He shouted, hoping that anyone alive would hear his voice. “Dad! Marty! Kelly! Are you there?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The wind answered him with the tide crashing on the sands as a rebuttal. Listening to the sounds of the ocean off to the side made his blood boil; this stupid trip had cost him his family, maybe even his life! And all for what? Just for a chance at a fleeting opportunity to “prove his manhood” to three other men? To shoot a bear, or some Caribou? What was the point?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Heaving a sigh, Scott let his arms fall to his sides and turned to walk back towards his campfire, his face chilly from the wind. Walking across the long stretch of beach (with no signs of his family anywhere) Scott very nearly missed the log he’d set up near. He only recognized it by the burnt out branch cracked over the log, Waling forward, he looked at his campfire to try and determine what had happened. Squatting down next to the campfire, he poked his fingers into the ashes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They were wet, as if someone had poured a bucket of water over them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16940238547571128103noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7377486635026313856.post-13082611670997111632016-06-16T07:45:00.002-05:002016-06-16T07:48:58.005-05:00Mei and the Monastery of the Crow Chapter Three<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The descent into the dungeon was slow going, as the cart had to be pushed onto an elevator, which shook unsteadily. Groaning beneath the weight of the cart, Blue-eyes walked over and stood by the crank used to lower the elevator.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You know the rules,” he said as if warning Mei of her choice. “I can’t raise this until the first gong of the bell. That’s at least nine hours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mei shrugged as she slumped onto the elevator. “They have to be fed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The simple statement seemed to stump the hunter, who merely began cranking the crane to lower the elevator down into the crushing, frigid depths of the mountain. The sheer amount of Darkness that permeated the air seemed to make the area more disturbing to enter, figures and faces dancing at the edges of Mei’s sight, while whispers in an ancient language licked at her ear. The elevator eventually hit the flat platform, a stone slab with a ramp that led into a room bearing a statue of Elohim, the angelic part-human always a source of inspiration to Mei. If the figure could be revered by a group dedicated to protecting humanity, perhaps they could accept her one day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">No, </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">she thought as she pushed the cart slowly, <i>best not to get that thought in my head. Like father says, I’m to remain hidden as long as he lives. Then I’m to go into hiding in the forests on the other side of the mountain.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The other side of the mountain was covered in snowy forests near the village of Kongga, a Tibetan village of monks and priests. They didn’t get along with the Order, and the Order rarely ventured over the mountains because of this. Father knew that they would accept her for who she was down there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They had to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Shaking her head, she pushed the cart down the ramp. A fetid pond surrounding the statue made the dungeon damp with a fungal smell. There were four hallways, two going down into the mountain below the statue and pond, along with two going opposite ways from the shrine. Choosing the one going North, Mei pushed the cart onward and made her way down what she knew to be the ward of the possessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The possessed were a unique group that held entities within their minds, creating compulsive actions that was usually violent towards entities that didn’t reek of Darkness. Needless to say, Mei was safe. Using the key to open the door to the large cage holding forty skeletal humans, all dressed in sheets and untanned furs. Their nails long and sharp, with darkened, sunken eyes, these men and women were horrifying to look upon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Breakfast!” Mei called out, using her own voice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They knew her down here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Several of the figures moved in the outer recesses of the darkness of the stone cell, eyes glowing as they eyed her. Several more came scrambling up on all fours, nails creating sparks on the stone as they moved. A young girl, ivory locks long and bountiful, crawled up and stared up at Mei, eyes converted into violet triple slitted orbs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Hello Anna,” Mei greeted the child, smiling as the hair crawled up around her body, caressing her leather clad arms and body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You have yet to awaken child,” Anna replied, her voice far away., hollow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You say that every night Anna,” Mei smiled as she opened one of the ceramic vases and began ladling pork and rice into bowls. “Now here, eat up. I know that you’re just possessing that body but if you want it to live you’ll need to feed it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Anna blinked once before taking the bowl. “I forget the limitations of the feeble flesh. Thank you Mei.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Anytime,” Mei smiled as she passed a bowl to a tall figure who only spoke French. He slurped the rice and pork past sharpened teeth, eyes rolling back into his head in glee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mei spent the next ten minutes feeding the eighty to ninety possessed. The engraved runes in the floor barring the entryway made it impossible for them to cross the line, something that Mei was immune to as she possessed a human soul. She packed the dirty bowls into the ceramic jar as the creatures crawled back into the corners and onto their beds, pulling threadbare blankets over their freezing bodies. Only Anna remained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Is there something you need Anna?” Mei asked, knowing what would come next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“A man blessed by the dark God of Knowledge, he comes to the mountains in a time of flying carts and fire spewing bows. He brings with him one of us who have abandoned our ways, one of you who has embraced our ways, while he is a man who has accepted our ways while turning from yours. They seek to contain the Father. They will be the key to turn the lock.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mei sighed. Another prophecy… Anna was possessed by a former holy man that had turned to some unknown Darkness, growing mad in the process. She could see into the past, the present, and the future. It was often surreal speaking with her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Thank you Anna, now why don’t you go and take a seat on your cot and just rest, okay?” Mei said. Putting a hand on Anna’s shoulder, Mei got a horrid shock as she was plunged deep into an inky darkness. Feeling as if she was pressed through a narrow tube, she closed her eyes and struggled to breathe, fighting the feeling with all her might, Mei could hear the buzzing around her and struggled to fight her way free of whatever had happened to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Anna’s voice echoed throughout the world. “When the time comes, show him where you were banished from.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Show who?” Mei whispered, struggling for air.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“The Nymph, Devil, and Seeker of Knowledge will need access to the door. Grant them what they seek and leave before it all comes to pass.” Anna’s voice bounced, her voice sounding slightly pained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Just as suddenly as Mei had been pulled into the tunnel she was back, holding onto Anna’s shoulder. Only now the child was being held up by Mei, her body slack and swollen as red wasps swarmed around Mei, stinging any who came within reach of her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“No!” Mei cried, willing the insects to calm down. She pleaded with them to calm themselves, that she was safe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Come back my friends, </span></i><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mei thought desperately. <i>Please, don’t hurt anyone!<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But the cries of the possessed around her were only drowned out by the pops of wasps being swatted, the small explosive power within them blowing fingers from hands and chunks from bodies. Mei shucked off her cloak and lifted her shirt, baring her back. The honeycombed openings of what should be a smooth white expanse seemed like bleeding wounds that red and violet wasps crawled in and out of. Slowly, as the possessed moved to the far end of the long cell, away from Mei, the wasps calmed and began returning to her back, crawling into the holes and filling her back. She could feel the Feeders, the violet wasps, were full of meat that they’d taken from the possessed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">She wouldn’t have to eat for a few days at least.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Looking down at Anna, all Anna could do was choke back a sob at the swollen child’s cooling corpse. Her throat and face were bloated purple, leaking clear fluid from where gnashing teeth and claws had torn from her. Her violet eyes were a pale gray, the spirit within her having pulled away with her death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mei sobbed for the child, hugging her body as she thought of how this could have been stopped. The child would have been exorcized at one point… and now she was never to know the peace of the afterlife… no doubt the possessing spirit pulled her soul to whatever pit within the Darkness it dwelled. The girl would languish as the demon thrived on her life essence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But it’d started the encounter by pulling her into the Ether, preaching a prophecy to her that she had no clue on how to interpret.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Pushing the thought to the side, she dropped Anna on her cot and pushed the food cart out before closing and locking the door. She ignored the cries of glee and the terrible, terrible noises of ripping flesh and spattering of blood. While she knew what was happening, she couldn’t bring herself to admit it aloud.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><a href="http://nickronomican.blogspot.com/2016/06/mei-and-monastery-of-crow-chapter-two.html">Next</a></span></div>
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