When a rich gentleman finds a beautiful young woman lying in the snow, on the brink of death, he takes her back to his house and, when she has recovered, employs her as a maid. Immediately Elira realizes that Anthony Luther is no ordinary man and nothing about the house she now lives in is as it seems, for Anthony is a powerful wizard.
Inexplicably drawn together, they begin a tentative romance, but it’s not just Elira’s uncertainties and the rules of upper-class society which drive a wedge between them; rivalries and a precious family heirloom, a priceless necklace of unforeseen power handed down through generations, threaten not only the couple’s happiness, but also their lives and the safety of the people around them. http://www.amazon.com/No-Rest-Wicked-M-Sparrow-ebook/dp/B016SBJ9X8 Review: Elira is a young woman who finds herself without a job, when her previous employer makes advances. Homeless, she collapses in the snow and almost dies. She is rescued by Anthony Luther, a rich gentleman who brings her to his home and offers her a job. But Anthony is no ordinary man, he is a wizard. The two begin a relationship but can they ever be together? Elira is a great character. Despite the time period and the fact that she is a servant, she is quite wilful and independent. You don't know how to take Anthony at first, he flirts with Elira and she is worried that the situation will end up like her previous job, but she is attracted to him which is obvious from the start. The two characters were well developed and I thought it was very well written. I would definitely recommend this book and I think this author has a great future. A big thank you to all the authors who took part in this month's event. Season of the Witch was a celebration of authors of witch fiction and I really enjoyed all of your interviews and reading your books.
I plan on doing similar events in the future and I hope that everyone who visited the site over the month of November enjoyed themselves. To keep up to date with future events, feel free to follow my blog. Thank You. 1. Tell us about your witch and the powers she has. Witches appear in many of my stories, sometimes old and sometimes young. My witch Ella in "The Far Horizon" grew up in the forest with her mother. Her mother sheltered her and taught her nearly all she knew. Ella moves to a local village after her mother's death, where the townsfolk treat her like an outcast even as a number of women visit her discretely. She falls in love and has an affair with a young man named James, who is already betrothed. The story opens with his death and follows Ella's choices in the wake of that. She can create a number of potions for anything that ails you, or something to trouble your enemies. 2. Where did you get the inspiration for your character? The story was inspired by a Dido song called "My Lover's Gone." Ella herself is similar to the women in old folk songs such as "The Banks of Claudy" who are so devoted to their true love that they would rather live the rest of their lives alone or die rather than take another lover. The witch for me is a great example of a strong, independent female, so when they appear in my stories they are often strong-willed and sarcastic. Though Ella is more introverted and reserved, she has a strong will and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty. 3. If you had a magical ability - what would it be and why? Stop time. I often find myself with too many projects and not enough time to complete them while maintaining a life, so this ability would be useful. 4. Who is your favorite TV or movie witch? Winifred Sanderson of Hocus Pocus. 5. If you had a familiar what would it be (you can choose any animal) and what would you call him/her? A crow named Merlynne. Bio: J.H. Fleming is the author of "Lifting the Veil: Tales of Discovery and Magic." Her short stories have appeared in anthologies by Evil Girlfriend Media, Seventh Star Press, Mocha Memoirs Press, and Pro Se Productions, as well as Visionary Tongue Magazine and New Realm Magazine. She owns roughly 1,100 books and spends her free time befriending dragons, fighting goblins, and learning the craft of the bards. J.H. lives in the Arkansas River Valley with her husband, two dogs, a cat, and a turtle. 1. Tell us about your witch and the powers she has. In I’d Rather be a Witch, Jordyn is a powerful witch who is descended from a long line of witches back home. Her powers are earth-based, giving her healing abilities and some powerful spells. But she can dabble in black magic when she’s upset – like bringing her boyfriend back from the dead. 2. Where did you get the inspiration for your character? Jordyn was a secondary character in my previous book, How to be a Mermaid, and she kept popping up in my mind, wanting to tell me her story. Her story is very dark, but tragic, so it just kind built from there! 3. If you had a magical ability - what would it be and why? As simple as it is, I’d love to be able to fly. One of my most favorite things in the world is travel, and I’d use that ability to travel around the world. 4. Who is your favorite TV or movie witch? Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer! Willow was one of the first witches I’d ever been introduced to and she grew throughout every season of the series. 5. If you had a familiar what would it be (you can choose any animal) and what would you call him/her? I kind of already a have a familiar in my cat, Scout – she follows me all around the house and sits with me whenever I’m writing or reading. About the Author: Sci-fi junkie, video game nerd, and wannabe manga artist Erin Hayes writes a lot of things. Sometimes she writes books. She works as an advertising copywriter during the day and moonlights as an author. She has lived in New Zealand, Texas, and now in Birmingham, Alabama with her husband, cat, and a growing collection of geek paraphernalia. You can reach her at [email protected] and she’ll be happy to chat. Especially if you want to debate Star Wars. Follow her at: https://www.facebook.com/erinhayesbooks https://twitter.com/erinhayes5399 https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5335865.Erin_Hayes About I’d Rather be a Witch Jordyn wasn’t careful with what she wished for. After making a reckless choice that destroyed her life and the life of her high school sweetheart, Jordyn fled her small town to be a professional mermaid. Being around water suppresses her earth-based magic, something she desperately needs. Yet Jordyn can't suppress who she really is - a witch. When she learns that her mother is dying of cancer, she returns home. But it isn’t until people end up dead and everyone points fingers that she realizes her past is coming back to haunt her. Because her ex-boyfriend Zach has been waiting for her. And he hasn’t forgotten how she brought him back to life that night three years ago. Jordyn will finally have to embrace being a witch to learn the truth. And it will change her life forever. ** I'd Rather be a Witch is a tie-in with How to be a Mermaid. It uses some of the same characters and can be read as a standalone or a complement to it. ** Buy Links: http://www.amazon.com/Id-Rather-Witch-Witching-Collection-ebook/dp/B0166CO0ZG Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26835834-i-d-rather-be-a-witch 1. Tell us about your witch and the powers she has. Bunny Baker is a teen witch living in a magical hidden Twilight World on the edges of our known world, with hot rods and soda shops. She knows all the typical countryside witch lore and practices modern spells, like transformation and teleportation. But thanks to her heritage, she also has the potential to do more. 2. Where did you get the inspiration for your character? When I first thought of Bunny, I wanted something fun, like Archie’s Betty & Veronica and of course their Sabrina. But Bunny became more than that. Her romances are serious and go deeper. I also based her looks on Marilyn Monroe. 3. If you had a magical ability - what would it be and why? Gosh, it would be empathy-triggering. I know that sounds odd, but I guess it would manifest as, pow! Now you two bickering people have switched bodies. Like in the movie, Freaky Friday. It wouldn’t be for long, like it would wear off, but then people would really understand what’s going on with each other. 4. Who is your favorite TV or movie witch? Right now, that may be Kim Novak’s character in Bell, Book, and Candle. She is so sexy in that. And I have a soft spot for Elizabeth Montgomery’s Samantha in Bewitched. I just pretend her witchy life was not so suburban and boring. 5. If you had a familiar what would it be (you can choose any animal) and what would you call him/her? It’ll always be a cat, of course! And I’d like a familiar to tell me its name, rather than me naming it. I’m sure a cat has a more cool name for itself than Mr Fluffykins, or something. Name: Elizabeth Watasin, creator of Charm School, The Dark Victorian series, The Elle Black Penny Dreads, and the Darquepunk books. Bringing you uncanny heroines in shilling shockers and adventuress tales. Bio: Elizabeth Watasin is the author of the Gothic steampunk series The Dark Victorian, The Elle Black Penny Dreads, the sci-fi noir Darquepunk series, and the creator/artist of the indie comics series Charm School, which was nominated for a Gaylactic Spectrum Award. A twenty year veteran of animation and comics, she lives in Los Angeles with her black cat named Draw, busy bringing readers uncanny heroines in adventuress tales. Follow the news of her latest projects at A-Girl Studio. Buy links: Amazon: http://amzn.com/B014HZUCVA B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-wrecking-faerie-elizabeth-watasin/1122581843 iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/wrecking-faerie-charm-school/id1034121929 Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/the-wrecking-faerie-a-charm-school-novella Stalker Links: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ElizabethWatasinX Twitter: https://twitter.com/ewatasin My newsletter: http://bit.ly/1f1NOKM Follow me at my Amazon Author’s Page: http://www.amazon.com/Elizabeth-Watasin/e/B007TYS62O Join my ‘secret’ Facebook group, Elizabeth Watasin’s Club Hecate: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ElizabethWatasinsClubHecate/ Blurb: Teen witch Bunny has a perfectly wicked girlfriend in vampire biker Dean, until a dark faerie comes along. When Bunny resists Fairer Than's charms, what will Fairer Than do about it? Longer synopsis: The Twilight World: where monsters and magical people meet. Teen witch Bunny has a perfectly wicked girlfriend in vampire biker Dean, until a dark faerie comes along. Can Bunny resist Fairer Than's charms? And when she does, what will Fairer Than do about it? Paranormal romance, fantasy, comedy. LGBT YA. ON the very edges of the unknown lies the Twilight World, where the town of Little Salem teems with hot rods, ghouls, and devil girls. Meet magical witch girl Bunny, a good teen witch happily attending Haunt High, drinking milkshakes at Shivers, and dancing her midnights away at cemetery spook fetes. Vampire Dean is her perfect greaser girlfriend, but beyond hot rods and motorcycles lies something more in the Enchanting Forest: faeries. And even among such ancient denizens, they've someone to fear: the notorious heart breaker and home wrecker, the dark faerie, Fairer Than. Fairer Than: gorgeous, red-haired, stronger than a faerie ought to be, and smoldering in more ways than one. Her reputation has Daughters of the Faerie Court flee before her wake lest they fall for her charms. And when Fairer Than comes to Little Salem, she just happens to notice Bunny. “You’re an abomination. A freak. And you’re no son of mine.”
Those were the last words my father said to me before he threw me out of the house. Banished. Exiled. My whole family turned their back on me. I was only sixteen at the time, never had a job, barely finished school and suddenly I was living on the streets. It was hell on earth. Every night I wondered if I would wake up in the morning, or freeze to death in the night. On my dark days, I admit sometimes I hoped I wouldn’t wake up. It wasn’t a life, it was an existence. At night I would lie in whatever hole I could find, shivering, stomach growling after not eating in days, and wonder if I was cursed. They say that don’t they? The seventh son of the seventh son is cursed or unlucky or a witch. They got the witch part right, but my whole family are witches. My brothers all developed their powers early. I was the late bloomer and no one questioned it at first. The runt of the litter, last to everything. That was the running joke in the family. Time went on though and it stopped being funny. Fifteen was the latest anyone had ever heard of someone reaching before their powers manifested. I passed that milestone and still nothing. I would catch Dad staring at me, a look of disappointment on his face. Every day I would practise spells, incantations, even levitating, although that particular power didn’t run in our family, but it didn’t hurt to try. Nothing worked. My sixteenth birthday came and went and the others tried to act like everything was okay, but not Dad. He sat in the corner of the room, refusing to sing happy birthday and turning his nose up at the cake, which I’ve never seen him do before. Mom was over the top, as usual. Fussing and rushing around, making sure everyone had a drink. All the while, Dad had glass after glass of whiskey. A few hours passed, the guests all went home. Mom kept telling Dad to go up to bed, but he refused. He seemed determined to finish the bottle of Jack. I was helping Mom clear up when I made the mistake of lifting one of Dad’s empty glasses. “Leave it,” he growled. I moved my hand from the glass and picked up some plates instead. Dad muttered something I didn’t quite catch. “Did you say something, Dad?” He glared at me, his bloodshot eyes boring through me, “No son of mine,” he muttered. I froze. I knew he was disappointed, confused, upset, but I didn’t think he hated me. “Don’t be silly, Dad,” I said. I stared down at the half eaten piece of cake on the plate I was holding. Red and white frosting, this piece had part of my name on it. Al for Alex. “Your brothers all developed their abilities early. They have more power than I’ve seen in a long time. We come from a long line of witches, a proud heritage. So why don’t you have any powers?” he levered himself out of the chair to tower over me. “I don’t know,” I muttered. I turned my head away from him to avoid his whiskey breath. Mom appeared in the doorway, drying a dish with a cloth. “Aaron? What’s wrong?” she asked. “He’s what’s wrong,” Dad said, jabbing a finger into my chest. I wanted to push it away, but my hands were full and I didn’t want to make him any madder. “Aaron, don’t,” Mom warned. So they discussed this? Or did she just expect him to blow up at me eventually? “No, I want to know the truth. Is he mine?” Dad snapped. Mom face flushed red in anger, “Of course he’s yours. What are you trying to say?” “Is he? Let’s see, shall we?” He grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me towards him, scrutinizing me. The plate was pressed against my chest, cake squashed into my t-shirt. “All the boys have dark hair, he’s fair. Everyone has blue eyes, his are green.” “Stop it, Aaron. You know my mother and brother were blonde and green eyed too,” Mom said. I could feel energy coming off my father. It would happen right before he would cast. Would he really use magic on me? “No matter what level of ability a witch has, they can all deflect. Let’s test it,” he said. “Aaron, no!” Mom cried. She tried to grab his arm, but he shoved her aside. He raised his hand, which was dancing with sparks. He was going to do it. He was going to blast me. “Dad, please,” I said, dropping the plates and pressing my hands to his chest to hold him back. Dad’s face changed from anger to surprise. I felt a strange tingling sensation in my palms. The sparks disappeared from Dad’s hand and he fell to his knees. “Alex, stop,” Mom said. “Stop what?” I said, pulling my hands away. Dad looked as though he was going to collapse. What the hell was happening? Mom rushed to his side. They both looked up at me and I saw fear on their faces. “Sipher,” Dad whispered. The blood in my veins turned to ice. A Sipher was someone who could drain a witch’s powers. They were the scourge of the witch world, lower than vermin. It was an anomaly that affected around 3% of witches. Essentially an anti-witch. Why would he call me that? When Dad regained his senses, he tossed me out into the street. Mom made no move to stop him. * That was over three years ago now. I have since…adapted. Sitting in my little bolt-hole, I watch the revellers as they enjoy the Mardi Gras celebrations here in my new home of New Orleans. It’s one of the many towns I have visited over the last couple of years, but unlike the rest, I find that I fit in here better than I would elsewhere. As a freak I needed somewhere that accepted the weird and wonderful. Growing up, I was taught many skills that didn’t require actual magic. Divination, for example, was something I was particularly good at and it was a great way to make money. Everyone wanted to know their future. My tool of choice was the tarot. The images spoke to me, told me a story. I was incredibly accurate which meant I could charge top dollar. Thanks to my reputation, I earned a spot in a popular local bar. My booth was located near the back, away from the masses. I liked the seclusion. Anyone who came to me also received privacy. The bartender kept me hydrated and I could easily walk away with over $1000 a night, especially on nights like this. Sipping my drink, a vodka on the rocks, (I never was a fan of whiskey) I waited for my next client to appear. There were no appointments here. Some people knew about me by reputation, others heard from the bar staff. The rest…who knows. Dance music pumped through the room which I loathed, but over time I had gotten used to it. Renting a room in any of the local stores would cost a fortune. Someone approached the booth. A young woman around my age, with long, curly black hair, full lips and high cheekbones. She walked with confidence, dressed in black jeans, a dark t-shirt and motorcycle boots. She stopped at the booth. Placing a hand on the table, she said, “I hear you’re a fortune teller.” Her eyes were a violet color. I laughed softly, “Don’t confuse me with those fakers and charlatans. Fortune telling is a game. A parlor trick for people who don’t possess the gift. If you want to know what’s in store for you, no gimmicks, then sit down. If you just want a good laugh and for some old biddy in a head scarf to tell you when you’ll meet your true love, then move along.” A smile tugged at her lips, which she tried to hide. “How much?” she asked. “Fifty,” I said. Discount for a pretty face. She arched an eyebrow, but took a seat nonetheless. Pulling some bills from her pocket she slid them across the table to me. I tucked them away in my pocket and lifted the deck. I handed them to her to shuffle. Most people are clumsy with the cards, because of their size, but she must have worked as a black jack dealer at some point in her life, because she shuffled them like a pro. When she was done, she passed them back. “What do you want to know?” I asked. “I’m in town on business. I want to know if it will go my way.” As I dealt the cards, I wondered what she might do for a living. It was hard to pigeonhole her into a specific job. I doubted she would sit behind a desk all day or serve food to anyone. Whatever she did was important. Once the hand was dealt, I turned over the first card. It was the seven of swords. A thought crossed my mind. I glanced up at her, but she was staring at the card which showed a man trying to escape with a bundle of swords he had stolen. “You think on your feet. This job that you have come here to do, well, let’s be blunt, it’s not entirely legal, is it?” She tried not to react, but gave herself away anyway. Quickly recovering she asked, “Does that bother you?” “No,” I said honestly, “I learned that you have to do what you can to get by in this world.” “Go on, with the reading,” she prompted. I could see that I had gotten her attention now. The next two cards were The Tower and the Judgement card. It wasn’t looking good so far. The final two cards I turned were the ten of swords and the two of swords. “Whatever it is that you plan on doing, you might want to rethink it. This cards shows betrayal,” I said, pointing to the ten of swords. She bit her lower lip. “But you have a choice,” I said, pointing at the two of swords, “You can back out now before anything goes wrong.” She looked as though she was considering it, but then she shook her head. “I’m not backing out. I have a job to do and my employers wouldn’t like it if I backed out. Besides, I don’t really believe in this crap.” She stood up. I reached out and grabbed her wrist, “Believe me or don’t, but I’m telling you that something is going to go wrong tonight. Don’t do it.” She pushed my hand away, “I don’t have a choice.” Spinning on her heel she hurried off through the crowd. The knot in my gut persisted. She was in real trouble. “Screw it,” I muttered, getting up to follow her. She moved fast and was through the door before I could reach the bar. The bartender called after me, but I kept moving. Outside, the street was crowded and I easily lost sight of her. Damn it. Why was I going after her anyway? If she was stupid enough to rush headlong into danger, then that was her problem. I learned a long time ago that you had to look out for number one. Fireworks lit up the night sky and I saw her disappear into an alley. Heaving a sigh, I ran after her. The alley twisted left and I reached the corner in time to see her climb up a fire escape. Was there a point to her cloak and dagger routine or was she just trying to avoid the crowds? I admit that curiosity was what was spurring me on now. Most of the tourists around here were looking for a good time, content with getting drunk and dancing until dawn. This girl was intriguing. And, yes, hot to boot. One thing was sure, she was a lot stealthier than I was when it came to scaling the fire escape. I reached the top to find that she had already moved to another rooftop. I followed at a distance and eventually we reached her destination. A mansion, north of the Quarter. It was surrounded by a six foot wall. Locked iron gates led to a long driveway lined with trees. I stayed about a hundred yards behind her, as she cased the joint. My suspicions were correct. She was going to rob the place. Places like this had hi-tech security systems, probably armed guards too. So many things could go wrong. I had to try and warn her off again. Jogging towards her, I reached the gate in time to see her short out the electronic lock. With her hand. “You’re a witch,” I said. “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed. “I’m trying to help you. Don’t go in there, it’s dangerous.” The gates opened. She gave me a scathing look before running up the driveway. God, she was so stubborn. Walk away, Alex. Don’t be an idiot. “Crap,” I muttered, taking off after her. No lights were on inside the house which I assumed meant that the owner was either out or in bed. I hoped out, but the cards said otherwise. She pulled her little trick on the front door and was inside in seconds. It made me nostalgic for my days at home. My brother Roderick could do something similar. When we were kids he used to screw with the games at the arcade. We would get unlimited free games and never spend a dime. The foyer had marble flooring and a huge crystal chandelier hung overhead. The girl headed for the stairs, but I grabbed her arm. “Will you stop for one second? Look, lady…” “Astrid,” she said. “Look, Astrid, this is a bad idea. If we leave now, we can avoid any trouble.” “Hey, I get it. You’re scared. But no one asked you to follow me. Let me go.” “I’m not scared,” I argued. She raised the eyebrow again, “Prove it.” I guessed that if she was going to go through with it, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone watching her back. We went upstairs into a study. Astrid seemed to know exactly where she was going, which made me wonder how she knew. I was aware of every noise, every movement, waiting for something or someone to leap out of the shadows. Astrid removed a painting from the wall to reveal a safe behind it. “So what’s my cut?” I asked, while she fiddled with the dial. She laughed, “Yeah, right. What makes you think you’ve earned it?” It was worth a shot. “Damn it,” she muttered. “Problem?” I asked. “It’s not just locked. Its spelled shut. I can’t get through it.” I tried to hide a smile. She couldn’t, but I could. “Well, I’d like to help you out, but like you said, I’m not getting a cut. So why bother?” “You can get in?” “Maybe, if the price is right.” She scowled at me, “Urgh, fine. 5%.” “I don’t get out of bed for less than 50%.” “You’re already out of bed, 10.” “40.” “Oh, my God. We can’t stand around arguing. 20% is all you’re getting. Now hurry up and open it.” “Better be worth it,” I muttered. Placing my hand on the safe door, I began to siphon the energy from it. I hadn’t used it in a long time, but there were occasions when it came in handy. “Try it now,” I said. She unlocked it and the door opened. “You’re a Sipher,” she said. “And you are a petty thief. Nobody’s perfect.” “Guess not,” she said, but I noticed that she was keeping her distance. I didn’t blame her. She removed something from the safe. It was about the size of a tennis ball, wrapped in a brown leather cloth. “No cash?” I asked. It was easier to get away with cash. I hated having to pawn stuff. “Not what this job was about,” she said. “So am I supposed to take my 30% from whatever it is you have there?” “We agreed on twenty, and no. I deliver this to my employer and he pays me.” “When is that? Do I have to follow you around until then?” I asked. Not that I was complaining. “No, you won’t have to follow me anywhere.” She lifted a paperweight from the desk and hurled it through the window, which set off an alarm. “What are you doing?” I cried. “You’re on your own. Thanks for the help,” she said, making a run for the door. I tripped her before she could get far, trying to snatch the item from the safe out of her hands. It fell to the floor, the cloth coming free. Under it was a small glass box and inside were a set of human eyeballs. “What the hell?” I said. Astrid blasted me and I fell back, convulsing. She snatched up the eyeballs and tucked them into her coat. “Sorry about this. You really were a big help. I knew you would be, that’s why I tracked you down.” “You set me up,” I hissed, trying to break through the spell. My power was draining the energy, but not fast enough. “I knew I wouldn’t get into the safe without you. The guards will be here soon. Good luck.” “Astrid! I won’t forget this. I’ll find you,” I yelled, but she was already gone. I could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs and in seconds, I was surrounded. I thought back to the cards. Maybe they weren’t for Astrid after all, they were for me. The Guardian
“I banish thee from this earth Your existence here shall not remain I banish thee for evermore Your negativity voided as before I banish your essence from this plane Forever gone, there to remain” My voice raising as the energy began to build, I chanted over and over, the darkness tugging and pulling at me. Ripping at my shirt, I could feel claws scrape the skin on my chest, drawing blood as it fought back. Around me, the room was in chaos, chairs strewn and broken tables upturned. I closed my eyes and focused all my energy into grounding myself as well as harnessing my powers and forcing this entity to leave its hold on the poor family that lived here. The air grew thicker as the energy built, light and dark in its eternal battle. My body begin to fill, a conduit, a weapon for use in this fight, energy filling me as I lifted my arms, my palms skyward as the sound in the room became deafening. The entity screeched and snarled as it fought for its hold within this dimension. I let my head drop back, my face relaxed as I repeated my banishing spell again and again, oblivious now to all around me, all but the darkness that I could sense so close. It was weakening, the light emanating now from my body was beginning to overpower it, pushing it back as it spread throughout the room. I could feel it battle and push as it fought the light but its strength was waning in this fight. I raised my voice, my chant more forceful, more demanding of the negative essence to leave and never return. It gave one last push, one last surge of strength as it lashed out. No visible body could be seen, but the reach of evil clawing in a last ditched attempt to weaken me, deter my efforts. A split second later there was a loud popping sound then everything went quiet. The ferocious wind dulled and died as the terrible sound of the entity disappeared along with it. I mentally reached out, searching the house and the property for any sign of it, any remains of it lingering, but there were none. It was gone. Taking a deep breath then slowly letting it out, I opened my eyes and frowned at the extent of the damage. The room had been wrecked, but I was relieved it was just the room. Had this thing been able to settle, been able to lay claim not just to the home but to the people that lived within it, this would seem clean in comparison. I straightened my shirt as best I could, inspecting the slashes ripped across it and the blood stains that pebbled the white material. Tugging the soft fabric up, I could see three deep lacerations across my stomach, blood oozing from them. I lifted my hand and focused on a spell that would cleanse and heal. I muttered it repeatedly as I felt a crackle of energy grow in the palm of my hand, the chant sped up as I placed my palm just above the slashes. My skin began to tingle then burn as I felt it pull together and knit, the lacerations slowly disappearing before my eyes. Seconds later they were gone with no sign of ever having been there. I heard the front door creak open and footsteps gingerly approach, the soft feminine gasp I heard identified it as the lady that had called me in. “Oh Mary sweet mother of God!” she exclaimed. She had tried getting rid of the 'thing' that had taken her home as its own previously, by calling in the local clergy. This had only resulted in pissing it off and putting an old priest in hospital after he was lifted like a rag doll and tossed across the room. The poor man had to be dragged out and Sarah, the lady in question, had to move in with her sister as it had went berserk after that. She had been scouring the web and found a few articles, one of which was on a lady that lived in the south of Texas that had been having issues with something similar, but not as nasty. After a day or two of contacting/harassing the publisher of the article she had tracked the woman down. Having been given my name and number she had called me that night, telling me the story of how it had happened and begged me to come and help her. “You shouldn't have any more problems, it's gone. It's out of the house and off your property but know that if you mess with that board without knowing what you are doing then this can and will happen again.” I bent down and picked up my jacket, shaking off some of the crap that had fallen on it during the banishing. “I can take the board with me or you can get rid of it, your call.” Looking around the place seeing the destruction, I raised a brow and let out a low whistle, I was actually amazed it wasn't worse. It had been a hard battle fought and one I knew I would need to rest from. One that I would need to build my power back up from as it had all but drained me dry, having left me just enough to heal myself that once and possibly get me home. “No, no you take it Eli I don't want it anywhere near me or my home again. B-but are you definitely sure it's gone?” She entered the room apprehensively and her eyes darted around in search of signs of it lurking or hiding. “It's gone, during the cleansing of the house I placed protection crystals over the doors and by the windows of each room, as long as they stay in those places they will protect the house and those in it from negative energy or entities. I'll finish cleansing in here and do the same and that should be your problem solved.” Moving as I spoke I placed the crystals into position and finished what I had started before the presence had lashed out. I needed to get out, I needed to get home and rest. I was on reserve power now and only had enough magic left to get me there. I took the board and for the fourth time turned down the payment that was offered. With a strained smile I bid farewell and held myself together long enough to walk down the path and around the corner. Out of sight of the house and others around it, I closed my eyes and willed myself home using the last of what I had to accomplish it. I materialised in the living room of my old 18th century manor house and seconds later, totally spent, I collapsed on the floor. My sight dimmed before all went black * I don't know how long I was out but what woke me was a wet nose pressed to mine, a soft tail gently tapping at the side of my head. I blinked awake and groaned as right in my face was Parker, my familiar, his big blue eyes watching me with concern shining in them. He was a beautiful, smoky gray furred cat, larger than most I had seen before, which was one of the things I liked about him. He wasn't all feminine like most witches cats. I used to joke with others in my coven that he was a masculine cat befitting of any strong, powerful male witch and one that others would admire and wish for, but right now he was interrupting my much needed rest and for that I could choke him. “Miss me Kitty?” I teased knowing the reaction I would get. I laughed softly as he hissed and spat at me, his back arching, fur standing on end. “Calm down fella, I was joking!” He stood and raised his head in his feline version of a two finger salute, as he turned and walked of in a huff. Laughing at his abhorrent hate of being teased, I rolled over and pushed myself up on my hands and knees before one last push to my feet. Patting my body down in search of my phone, I found it in the back pocket of my jeans. Checking the date and time, I was amazed to find that I'd been on the floor for two days. Wow that was the longest yet. But then, the more of these things I fought the stronger they seemed to be getting and the more they drained me. It was like I was being pushed, my limits being tested and this last one had been more of an effort than any to date. I tossed my cell onto the table and made my way into the kitchen, my stomach rumbling and reminding me of its starvation these past few days. Pulling the remnants of Monday’s pizza out of the fridge, I zap it quickly in the microwave and wash it down with a cold beer. Food for the soul, I laughed to myself. After feeding the beast, aka my stomach, and the cat, aka the huffy feline, I trudged upstairs to shower and freshen up. It was Coven time. Having gotten myself sorted, I went back downstairs, storing the board alongside others from the houses I had cleansed previously. I found a message on my cell. Leza had called to remind me that we had a gathering tonight and that I wasn't to miss it. I groaned as I knew I was going to have to tell them all what I had been up to. It's not that they disapproved, as a matter of fact our coven had been helping with banishing these entities for centuries now. We each had fought our fair share of battles and even lost a few of our family to the war that raged. The reason I wasn't looking forward to the meeting was because I knew Nora would be there. I know I should have gotten over it by now, but well that was the problem with issues of the heart, unlike all other things, there was no spell to magic the hurt away. Nora and I had been together for over three years and I thought everything was fine, actually more than fine. We had even gotten to the point of talking about a hand fasting ceremony. Funny how appearances can be so deceiving. I had been away for a few days, having been called to a home in the Carolina's, where a young couple had a nasty attachment on the property. It had been a hard battle, well fought, but in the end it had been banished and the young couple were free to continue their life. I had returned home to find all of Nora's things gone, her closet emptied, altar cleared and all that remained was a 'Dear John' letter. In it she said that she couldn't sit back at home any more while I was gone days at a time. That she didn't want to be the partner of a 'warrior witch' and that since I had taken on that role she didn't like what I was becoming. That was a kick in the balls. I worked my whole life within our kind, training to do what I do, after my father had been killed while trying to rid the earth of one of these things and my mother had went mad with the grief. No one within our coven could help her. But Nora knew this, she knew what drove me, she knew from the beginning. Shaking the memories away I chastised myself for behaving like such a pussy, that had been over a year ago and she had done me a favour. It had been exactly what I needed to give me that final push and I had then given my all to destroying and ridding the earth of these abominations. The more I battled and won the stronger and more powerful I eventually became. I pulled up outside Leza's and parked in front of the large oak to the right of her house. The place was in darkness, the only light coming from the lamp lit pathway that I knew led to the clearing and to where the others would be waiting. Locking my door and stuffing the keys in my back pocket, I followed the illuminated path through the dense woods that surrounded her farm house. I could hear the low muffled voices in the distance, it sounded like there was a full turn out tonight. As I approached the clearing I could make out some familiar faces. Eion and Fionna along with some of my oldest friends Mica and Tomas. They were oblivious to the fact that I had arrived and it gave me time to scope the place, checking to see who all was in attendance. There were around twenty that I could count and all gathered in little clumps around the place chatting and catching up with each other. I was about to make my presence known when the voice behind me spoke, “Umm so you gonna stand there all night?” I didn't need to turn to know who it was, that soft, almost musical lilt could belong to no one other than her... Nora. 1. Tell us about your witch and the powers she has. Emily Rand is a “Natural Witch” and can pretty much do anything, so she would be pretty powerful if it wasn’t for the fact that she has no clue how to access her powers or control them when she wants to. She often does magic unintentionally, and then has to scramble to undo the consequences. 2. Where did you get the inspiration for your character? I’ve drawn most of the magical elements of the story from Wicca, so I guess the character just grew from how it would be if an ordinary girl one day discovered she could do that kind of magic, then I threw in a little comedy and romance, and the book just flowed from there. 3. If you had a magical ability - what would it be and why? To fly, that’s a power I’ve always wanted to have. Could there be anything more exhilarating? 4. Who is your favorite TV or movie witch? That’s a tough one, but I guess it would have to be Paige from Charmed, to have both teleportation and telekinesis is a pretty cool combination, plus she has those fantastic outfits. Either that or the crazy one from The Craft, I do think witches should have a little darkness inside them. 5. If you had a familiar what would it be (you can choose any animal) and what would you call him/her? When I was very young I had an imaginary pet fox called Bramble, it would be nice to have him back ;-) Summer Vacation
by Roma Gray Long black hair draped over Sean’s face, hiding the tears running down his cheeks. One trembling hand wiped away the tears while the other hand held his cell phone to his ear. Sean paced the floor of his bedroom, listening to his father’s endless rant. “But I didn’t do it! I’m here!” protested Sean once again. At the other end of the line, his father continued to scream at him without pause or hesitation. He wasn’t listening to Sean; he probably hadn’t heard a single word. "No more staying at your Grandmother's house! You're coming back to New York. We've located a reform school, and your mother is going to enroll you in the school today. No more of this, Sean! No more!" The bedroom door slammed open, hitting the wall with a bang. His grandmother charged into the room, her face angry and tight. Sean took a stumbling step back. He had never seen her angry before. She was Native American and despite her 60 some years, she looked like a warrior about to enter battle. “I just had it out with your mother on the phone downstairs. Let me talk to your father. It’s his turn!” Sean nodded and gratefully handed her his cell. “You listen to me right...Henry, will you please hush up? Henry!” Sean rubbed his eyes again, trying to fight back the tears. He was sixteen, far too old to cry, but it was all so frustrating! The old man never listened! Guilty until proven innocent. Nothing ever changed. “Henry, you can’t possibly blame Sean for this! ...Yes, I’ve been with him the entire time. Now why would I leave the island for a couple days? He didn’t do it, and you know it... I don’t care where the fire started, he’s... Now why would he start a fire on his own bed, that’s ridiculous!” His grandmother looked over at him and, in an exaggerated gesture, rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Sean returned a weak smile. His grandmother always sided with him. He should have never doubted that. “Henry...Henry, listen to me! Sean and I are both still on Elk Island and we have never left. Do you remember where it is? You bought Sean’s plane ticket, so you should! It’s one of the San Juan islands off of the West Coast—the West Coast!—of the United States. You are in New York, all the way on the East Coast. There is an entire continent between us! How in the world would a sixteen-year-old boy...no, I’m sure he didn’t get one of his friends to do it. I don’t think he has—” His grandmother paused and her face froze. Guiltily, she glanced at Sean. He knew what she was going to say. She didn’t think he had any friends in New York. And she was right. Despite living there the majority of his life, he had no one and nothing back there. Sean arrived on Elk Island on his birthday, June 9th, around two months ago. Yet somehow his life in New York seemed so long ago, merely a painful and distant memory. And now he’d have to return and go to reform school! A wave of panic and nausea passed through him at the thought. “Listen, Sean is doing very well here, you leave him alone,” she said. “He’s helping me with projects around the house and he’s making friends with the local boys. They’re good boys. In fact, one of them left a gift for Sean on the porch today.” Sean shot her a questioning glance; she nodded. “I brought it in and left it for you on entryway table. Go down and open it.” She didn’t have to tell him twice. He’d take any excuse to get out of that room and away from his father’s accusations. Sean turned and bolted for the door. “Wait. Sean, wait.” He skidded to a stop. Oh, no! Now what? “Henry, I’m calling you back on the house phone. Make sure your wife doesn’t pick up, I’m not speaking with her.” She hung up the cell phone and handed it back to Sean. “I’m going into my bedroom and talk to your father. Go downstairs and open your present. I don’t want you picking up the language I’m planning on using, you hear?” Sean nodded, grabbed the cell phone and darted out of the room without looking back. He ran down the stairs at top speed, his feet striking the risers with such force and speed that it sounded like rapid gun fire. He had forgotten what his life had been like back home, all the anger and yelling. It was so quiet at his grandmother’s house. And now, with a single phone call, all that ugliness, all the poison from that terrible place hit him full force. Clear across the country and he was still being accused of things! How could he ever stand to return to New York? On hitting the landing, he continued his flight through the living room. He stopped to grab his backpack off of the couch and then turned toward the front door. He managed two determined steps forward before he stopped, frozen in place. Sean remained motionless for a long moment, thinking. Abruptly he turned back to the couch, dropped the backpack, and began rummaging through the contents. His hand stopped. He found it! He extracted a small notebook and pen. A smile crossed his face, and he dropped into a chair next to the couch. The smile grew broader as he leafed through the notebook. Finally, he reached an empty page and began to write. While the words were from a dead language, they flowed easily. He had written them so many times it had become second nature now. The words were a carefully formed incantation, a curse, bringing suffering and misery upon his father, his mother, and sister. Sean paused, thought a moment, and crossed out the name of his sister. He and Stephanie had hated each other for a long time, but a few months ago they became allies in their war against Mom and Dad. No, he didn’t have a problem with her anymore. She'd actually turned out to be pretty cool. Sean looked down at what he had written and his face flushed slightly. The whole thing seemed so silly now. A year ago he had found a book on dark magic at a used books store and created his own journal, the “Dark Journal” as he liked to call it. He used it for creating spells, specifically for putting curses on his family. Not that he believed in this stuff...well, not really. He started dabbling with witchcraft as a practical joke on his overly religious mother. And, man, did it ever work! A Ouija board under the bed, a few books on black magic on his bookshelf and boom! Fireworks! Then, to really twist the knife, he started the Dark Journal. He knew she was reading his diary. That’s the way it was at his house; no privacy. It was like living in a Nazi concentration camp! So, one day he threw out his diary and replaced it with his Dark Journal. Back then he was still writing the incantations in English and he figured, what the hell, if she wanted to read his stuff, he’d give her something really interesting to read. Man, did she ever freak out! Sean sighed. And then somewhere during all of that, he really did start to believe in it. He had created a fantasy world where he actually thought he could control his own fate using these silly spells. Wasn’t that the reason witchcraft started after all? It was how ancient people used to try to control nature, bring about a good harvest and stop plagues. Sean hated his life in New York, then and now. He wanted to change it, that’s all. Sean was a social misfit; no point lying to himself about that. He liked books, hated sports, and hated television. The dumbing down of the masses was so obvious and annoying. He saw himself as a genius, far above the other students at school. No wonder he didn't have any friends back there. And his family—what a nightmare! His father and his endless stories of being the football quarterback during his high school days. And his mother, always trying to get him to go to church and the constant spying! Both of his parents were so convinced he was a complete and total loser! His entire life felt like some nightmarish pit of despair. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to climb up the sides and pull himself out, he’d slide back down to the bottom. Everything seemed so hopeless. And so the magic was a hobby to keep his mind off of things. Nothing wrong with having a hobby. But then little stuff started happening. Mysterious fires, strange accidents. It was a coincidence, he told himself, nothing more. If any of that stuff really worked, it wouldn’t have been fires; he had never wished for fires. Still, for a while there he wondered. And so did his mother. His mother believed Sean had invited evil spirits into their home. And while his father couldn’t quite swallow the whole demon invasion idea, he also suspected Sean was the problem. That was when his parents decided to ship him off to spend the summer with his grandmother. At first, Sean had been thrilled. He thought his grandmother was cool. One hundred percent Native American! None of that creepy Christian stuff like his mother, either. She was true to her heritage and still held to the tenets and beliefs of her tribe. He loved his grandmother, still loved her, but he quickly discovered she had a hundred layers of weirdness, too. Her religion was as freaky as his mom’s! And all those strange stories she told him. But in the end, that didn't matter. He thought she was the best. She always supported him, and he never wanted to leave. All in all, this summer turned out to be the best summer of his entire life! He had made friends. Real friends. It had all been such a blast! Especially after they found it. For weeks, they worked on it, losing sight of everything else. Their every waking moment had been consumed by this one project. Everything was going great until he and Tom had that fight yesterday. But it was going to be okay. He would patch things up with Tom. By the end of the day, they’d be best buds again. Sean sat back in the chair and stared into a mirror hanging above the fireplace. He sure looked different from when he first arrived. He’d lost a lot of weight. His once tight jacket was much looser now, except around his shoulders where he had built up considerable muscle tone from all of the digging. And despite the cool weather on the island, he now sported a tan, another benefit from working outside all day. That, combined with his longish black hair, made him look like a true Native American, just like his grandmother. What a change! Goodbye Pillsbury Dough boy, hello Native American warrior. Awesome! For the first time in his life he felt good, happy. And now, time was up. He’d return to New York, and he'd fall back into that pit of misery. What was going to happen to him? What did he have to look forward to? How could he face that life? The tears began to come again, and he tried to force his mind to focus on something else. And that was when his eyes caught the color red in the mirror. Sean leaned forward to get a better look and saw the reflection of a large present wrapped in red with a black bow sitting on top of the entryway table. The present! He had completely forgotten about it! Sean leaped up, grabbed his backpack and ran into the entryway. He paused, staring at the gift, savoring the moment. The wrapping was too cool! Blood red with a black ribbon! Who sent it to him though? And why? He tore off the wrapping and then stopped. The package contained a wooden plaque with odd symbols carved along all four sides. In the center of the plaque were three long scratches gouged deep into the wood. Sean stared at it for a long moment. The four of them had left the plaque where they found it yesterday, for obvious reasons. Sean felt his heart pound as he realized the implications. A card dropped out of the wrapping, and Sean picked it up. It had one sentence written on it in red ink. “The task has been completed - Tom.” A chill ran up his spine. “Oh, no! No!” he yelled. “Damn it, Tom, it was just an argument! You didn’t have to do this! You’ve ruined everything! Everything!” He heard the bedroom door upstairs close. Sean shoved the wooden plaque into his backpack, swung the pack over his shoulder, and ran out the front door. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about the phone call and he certainly didn’t want to explain the plaque. He needed to get out there. Sean jumped off the front porch and ran across the lawn, directly toward the trees. The woods were only a few hundred yards away. He’d be free and clear if he could make it to the tree line. “Hey! I was coming to see you!” said a voice on his left. “Where are you going?” Sean saw Jimmy running toward him. “Come on!” He yelled. “What?” “Run to the trees! We need to get out of here. My grandmother’s going to be looking for me any second!” “Oh, ok,” said Jimmy, quickly falling in line with Sean. That’s Jimmy, he thought. No questions. Simply goes along with everything. Easy going until the end. The complete opposite of Tom who liked to argue over everything. The two ran hard until they reached the trees. With the house out of sight, Sean stumbled to a stop and Jimmy skidded to a halt beside him. The two stood in the shadows of the towering pines, an ominous silence enveloping them. Sean gulped in air as Jimmy stood patiently waiting for him to recover. It galled Sean that Jimmy wasn’t even breathing hard. Damn country kids! “So what’s up?” asked Jimmy. “I thought you liked your grandmother.” “I do...I just want to avoid her....for right now.” “Ok.” As usual, a simple acknowledgement, no prying questions. Jimmy fell silent for a moment, but Sean knew this wouldn’t last. It never did with Jimmy. “So, I went online and I’ve been reading about our pit!” Jimmy began to babble excitedly. “Well, their pit, really. The Money Pit on Oak Island! It’s almost exactly like our pit!” “That’s what I said when we found it,” reminded Sean. “They said pirates built it! And it had booby traps and they think there’s treasure at the bottom!” “Yep, I told you that, too.” “I read that at about 100 feet down, they found a stone tablet with weird writing. We found ours at 25 feet, but still. Kind of similar.” He had told Jimmy all of this a million times, but it was so pointless trying to get through to him. “Really? You don’t say,” said Sean finally. As usual, Jimmy seemed oblivious to the sarcasm, and continued. “Do you really think our pit has treasure? I mean, really?” “Could be.” A broad smile spread across Jimmy’s face. “We’d be rich! And we could leave this lifeless rock and go someplace cool! A big city like L.A. or New York!” Sean stared back at him speechless. How ironic it was that Jimmy’s dream was so different from his own. Sean wanted to stay! And New York? Geez, he’d never voluntarily go back there. Jimmy’s smile began to fade, and he then added, “But I’ve been thinking...what are we going to do? I didn't see that anyone ever figured out a solution to the trap. They know the pit flooded after they pulled up the log platform under the stone tablet. So...what do we do? We left everything down there untouched so we wouldn't trigger a booby trap, but we can't leave it like that forever! If we want to get to the treasure, sooner or later we have to pull up that log platform. Maybe Tom is right; maybe we should call in some help. What do you think? We need to make a decision.” Sean sighed again. “Actually, I think Tom may have made the decision for us.” Sean pulled the plaque out of his backpack and handed it to Jimmy. An expression of confusion crossed Jimmy’s face. “He left it on my front porch all wrapped up like a gift along with a note saying ‘The task has been completed.’ I think it’s his way of telling us that he’s pulled up the log platform and triggered the bobby trap to flood the pit.” “What? Why the hell would he do that?!" “Why do you think? Because he’s mad at us over that argument we got into yesterday.” Jimmy’s face turned red, and he started breathing harder. “Chill, Jimmy, we’ll work it out.” “We’ve worked for weeks on that damn pit! This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened on this stupid island. It was our own personal archeological dig; a pirate’s treasure no less! And now it’s all been ruined, ruined!” “What’s done is done—” “No, I...I have to see,” blurted out Jimmy, handing the plaque back to Sean. “I have to know.” Jimmy bolted down the path, toward the ravine. “Wait!” Sean called after him, roughly stuffing the plaque back into his backpack as he chased after his friend. Down the path, past the huge blackberry bushes, and through the small stand of birch trees he followed, falling farther and farther behind. Jimmy was too fast; he’d never catch up. Finally, exhausted, with a sharp pain throbbing in his side, Sean reached the top of the ravine. On a stretch of path several yards below him, he saw Jimmy running full speed into the deep ravine. Panting and light-headed, Sean slowed down to a walk. He watched as his friend rounded a hard dogleg in the path, disappearing from view. There was no hurry really; Sean knew where Jimmy was going. Deep in thought, Sean made his way down the path, descending deeper and deeper into the ravine. A few patches of sunlight illuminated his way. The ravine was deep and dark with tall, old growth pines blocking out most of the sky. A chill hung heavily in the air even on the warmest day. And the disturbing silence. Not once had he ever seen a single bird or animal down here. No wonder his grandmother had warned him this was a bad place. And, of course, no wonder he spent all of his time down here. Sean thought about the first day he was down here. He was telling the guys about the Money Pit on Oak Island and how cool it would be if they found something like that on this island. According to the story, on a summer day in 1795, a teenage boy had found a large tree with a thick limb that had been cut off several feet from the trunk. The limb had deep gashes and scrapes as if someone had used a block and tackle on it. Below the end of the branch, the ground had settled into a shallow depression. Amazingly, just as Sean finished telling the guys this part of the story, exactly at that moment, they stumbled across the same scene off a game trail at the bottom of the ravine. What were the odds? It still blew him away. Like the teenage boy who discovered the Money Pit, they too began digging and discovered that someone had dug a deep pit and reburied it. Their pit had turned into a smaller scale version of the pit on Oak Island. And a good thing, too. Sean doubted the four of them could have dug out a hundred foot pit in a year, let alone in a few weeks. Sean was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as he noticed that the patches of light on the ground were changing. The bright yellow light was turning red at the edges. Was he imagining it? He closed his eyes, opened them again, and saw the red color remained. Now the red seemed to be seeping into the yellow. The red swirled and expanded, choking out the natural sunlight. Sean looked up. The entire sky had turned red. A deep red. A blood red. It couldn’t be sunset! It was noon when he left the house! Sean stared up at the sky, stunned. Soon the red began to change. Black, menacing clouds began to emerge, converging to blot out the blood-red sky. The darkness was almost complete. Panic began to rise up into his throat. He could barely see. How would he ever find the pit or even his way out?! And what in the world would have caused the sky to turn that color?! Soon his eyes began to adjust, and he felt a few light sprinkles. BOOM! Thunder! It was a storm coming in off the ocean. In spite of himself, he breathed a sigh of relief. Just a storm. A completely normal storm. Crack. Sean’s muscles tightened. Somewhere, below him in the darkness of the ravine, something was moving. Perhaps Jimmy was coming back for him? Yet for some reason he didn’t dare call out. It had to be Jimmy, who else would be down here? Still, he remained silent and still. A minute passed, then two. Had he really heard anything? Snap. Crack. Crack. Sean took a step back in silent alarm. No doubt about it this time. Something was moving below him, somewhere on the path. His eyes strained to see through the darkness, but there were only trees and an impenetrable wall of black. And then the sound changed. The unidentified thing suddenly picked up speed and charged toward the curve that lead up to him. But still he couldn’t see anything! Is it a wild animal? What do I do? What do I do? Should I run? Should I hide? His mind raced through the options, knowing only too well he didn't have time for either. Something huge, massive, reached the curve, and exploded out of the trees in front of him. A sharp object hit him hard in the forehead and he yelped, turning away. More things hit him, again and again. Sharp things, tiny things. Rocks? Twigs? Too late, he held up his backpack as a shield. His eyes stung, and he blinked hard. And then it all faded away to a whimper. Quiet. It had been nothing more than the wind. A dust devil, perhaps. Sean looked down. Pine needles and dirt swirled around his feet through yellow patches of sun. Yellow? He shifted his eyes skyward. There were still a few black thunder bumpers up there, but they were now floating in a blue sky. “Geez!” gasped Sean. His grandmother had warned him that sometimes storms came in fast and hard, the perils of living on an island. And that’s all it was. Nothing unusual at all. Except that blood-red sky, he thought. Sean began to run down the path. He didn’t have that much farther to go, and while he would never admit it to anyone, he dreaded the idea of being alone on the path a moment longer. On reaching the bottom of the ravine, he took a small game trail obscured by low-hanging trees. The path followed the creek for several yards, then took a sharp left. The ravine opened up into a small pocket of flat ground that no one else seemed to know existed. With the thick growth of trees, blackberry bushes, and ferns, Sean wasn’t surprised that this area had remained hidden for probably over a hundred years. He wondered how the pirates had found it. That is, if pirates had indeed created the pit. At this point, they had no way of telling who created it. As he cleared the trees, Sean found both Jimmy and Bear standing over the pit. They were staring intently down into it, a look of anger and frustration burned into their faces. Just as he had feared, the pit was flooded. “Jimmy told me what Tom did,” said Bear in his husky voice. He was only a year older than Sean, but his tall height of six feet and large, muscular build made him look like he was in his twenties. “Not cool, man.” “Not cool,” repeated back Jimmy, shaking his head. “I think a storm is coming,” said Sean. He paused. He didn’t want to go home, but he didn’t want to stay here any longer either. The place was really creeping him out today. Finally, he added, “Let’s go back to Bear's house and try to come up with a plan.” “It’s the Northwest,” grumbled Bear. “It rains here. Learn to deal.” “Yeah, just got to learn to deal,” sighed Jimmy, nodding his head. “Well, there isn’t really anything we can do out here. We can’t dig anymore.” “We can see where the water is coming from,” said Jimmy, lifting a jar filled with a red liquid out of his pack. Bear gruffly took the jar from him. He grunted as he held the jar up in the light. “What the hell is this?” “Red dye,” said Jimmy. “When the Money Pit on Oak Island flooded, they poured dye down the pit. The dye seeped out and showed them where the water was coming in.” “And exactly how did you happen to bring this today?” asked Bear. Jimmy shrugged. “I figured we’d have to pull up the log platform eventually. So I made this up in my garage before I left.” There was an awkward silence. Jimmy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t pull up the log platform, okay? I was just bringing this in case we decided to go that route.” “Fine,” said Bear. “We believe you. So let’s move on. The dye will help us figure out where the water is coming in, so we can figure out how to block the flow of water. But that didn’t help them at the Money Pit.” “Well, no, it didn’t. Turned out the pirates had built multiple tunnels feeding water to the pit. The pirates even went so far as manufacturing an artificial beach filled with palm fronds to act as a filter to let the water in, but keep the sand from blocking the channels. That’s actually how they knew it wasn’t the Native Americans because there were no palm trees in that area. The people who built it had to have a ship. Totally cool!” Bear sighed and rubbed a spot above his eye. He looked like he had a headache. “I know, man. Sean told us all this yesterday.” “Exactly!” exclaimed Jimmy. Sean and Bear exchanged glances. Exactly what? Jimmy looked between the two of them, growing frustrated with their lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t you see? Pouring the dye down the pit could give us vital clues as to who built this!” “Other than that,” commented Bear. “What will it get us? Even when they found where the water was coming in, they still couldn’t cut off the water completely.” “That’s because the pit was pulling in water directly from the ocean from different sides of the island. Look around here. We’re not that close to the beach and we’re down in a rocky ravine. It’s probably being fed by that creek. If that’s the case, it only has one or two inlets. We should at least have a chance of blocking it, don’t you think?” Sean and Bear nodded in agreement. “Go for it,” said Bear finally, handing him back the jar. Jimmy quickly unscrewed the jar’s lid and dumped the contents into the pit. “Sorry, fish,” said Sean toward the creek. “So now what?” asked Bear. “Should we wander along the creek to see where the dye comes out?” “I guess so,” said Sean. “Let’s give it a couple minutes to filter through,” said Jimmy. “This is going to be great! What if the ground we’re standing on is riddled with palm fronds and some elaborate filtering system? This is an engineering miracle created by people hundreds and hundreds of years ago, like the pyramids, man!” I doubt it’s that old,” thought Sean. He also wondered if this would really tell them anything about the builders. Oh, well, Jimmy seems to be having fun, what the heck. The wind whipped up again and Sean pulled his coat tightly around his body. “Hand me the plaque again for a second,” said Bear. Sean handed it over and Bear examined it. “The Money Pit tablet had writing on it as well,” commented Sean. “I don’t get those scratches in the middle, though. What could it mean?” Bear put his hand over the three scratch marks, stretching his fingers out to match their position. The spread was wide on that end and Bear had some difficulty getting them to line up. Then he followed the scratches down the board, his hand following the lines as they went. Sean and Jimmy watched as Bear’s hand went from being open wide to being pulled into a near fist. “See how it goes wide and then draws in?” commented Bear. “It’s like someone clawed this with their hand.” “Someone missing two fingers. And they had pretty vicious claws, too,” said Jimmy. He then pointed to the middle mark, which was significantly wider and deeper. “The middle claw is bigger than the other claws.” Sean ran his fingers inside the channels in the wood. “Could be claw marks. Whatever made this, the ends of the fingers or tips of the instrument came to a sharp point. See how it’s very narrow at the bottom of the channels and widens out?” The three stood and stared at the plank of wood in silent contemplation for a long moment. “An animal?” said Sean. “But what kind of animal would make a mark like this? And why put it at the bottom of a pit?” “Weird,” stated Jimmy. “Maybe it’s a threat. I bet that’s it.” Sean shrugged. He didn’t have a clue. Sean felt his cell vibrating in his jacket pocket. He fished it out and looked at the caller ID. Stephanie! Why would his sister be calling? But then, maybe it wasn’t her. Dad could have borrowed her phone, knowing Sean wouldn’t pick it up if he saw his number. For a few brief moments, Sean considered his options. He could ignore it. Finally, curiosity won out, and he answered it. “Hello?” “You are such a moron,” his sister exclaimed into the phone. “If you pay me $100...no, $200...I’ll keep your dirty little secret.” “What are you talking about, dufus,” asked Sean, annoyed. “You are here! Or you hired someone to sneak into the house or something,” said Stephanie. “But leaving one of your freaky little curses on my pillow, why would you do that? I thought you and I were doing okay lately. Fine, if that’s the way you want it, war, it is!” Sean scratched his head, baffled. “What? You found one of my old curse pages?” “I don’t know if it is old or not,” she said. “I appreciate that you crossed my name off of it, though. At least that’s some improvement.” Sean felt his breath stop. He had never crossed her name off the list...until today! “Wait a sec,” he yelled into the phone. “What?” He dropped the phone to the ground, opened his backpack and dug through it. He pulled out his journal and frantically leafed through the pages. In his haste, he dropped the book, and it landed on the ground with a thud. The journal plopped open to his last entry...or what would have been his last entry. The pages were gone, roughly torn out of the book. Jagged edges of paper remained behind. Sean stared down at it, shocked. He wrote this entry about an hour ago at most! And the backpack had been on his shoulder the entire time. The entire time! And even if it had left his sight, how could the pages possibly make their way to the house in New York, some 3,000 miles away? He wracked his brain trying to think of another time where he crossed out her name, but nothing came to mind. And who would have put it on her pillow anyway? “Sean, are you ok?” asked Jimmy. Bear and Jimmy were staring at Sean, the drama with the pit momentarily forgotten. “Yeah, dude, you seem kind of freaked,” added in Bear. “Sean! Sean!” his sister was shouting into the phone. Sean grabbed the phone and picked it up. “Stephanie!” he yelled, but no other words followed. He didn’t know what to say. “I’m really more interested in your latest trick,” she continued. “How did you get that red dye in the pipes? Man, you should have seen the look on Dad’s face when he saw it! You better never come home. He’s ready to cream you!” “Red dye?” He gasped. Stephanie laughed. “Totally awesome! Blood-red dye is coming out of every faucet!” There was a pause. “Dad just left. He’s going to the hardware store for something. Wonder how he’s going to fix this! So how did you do it? Come on, you owe me that much, please?” Sean didn’t say anything. It didn’t make sense! It wasn’t possible! It was as if everything he was doing here was somehow flowing back to his house. There had to be some reasonable explanation. “What was that about red dye?” asked Jimmy. Jimmy! thought Sean. What had he said earlier? The red dye would tell us something about the people who had built the pit? And maybe it had. He thought about all the spells he performed, over and over again. He always thought they hadn’t worked, but what if in a way they had? What if they were building strength until they were strong enough to... Sean walked over to the pit and stared down at it. Like pieces of a puzzle, a picture began to form in his mind and he didn't like what he saw. A cold breeze wafted through the trees, stirring the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. First, the fires at the house, and then the journal page. Now the red dye was flowing back to Sean’s house, the house where he had been aiming all of his dark magic. And how had he described his life? A nightmarish pit of despair? That’s what he had always envisioned, how he had always thought of his life in that house. His mind went back to the moment he and the guys discovered the pit. They found it exactly when he was telling them about the Money Pit. It had been such a remarkable coincidence. But what if it wasn’t a coincidence at all? What if they didn’t find it? What if Sean accidentally created it? Is it possible that this pit was a physical manifestation of his darkest thoughts? A real pit of despair? No, that’s impossible! This is a real pit. It’s not like I’m the only one that can see it. Jimmy, Tom, and Bear have spent weeks helping me excavate it. It’s real, made of solid earth. This is all nonsense! As if in answer to his thoughts, the water within the pit began to change. Before his eyes, the muddy brown water turned into a thick blood-red liquid, churning and boiling angrily. The three boys automatically backed away from the edge of the pit as something moved below the surface of the water. “Oh, man, look! Look!” screamed Bear, pointing into the pit. Jimmy shrieked. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” There was something floating in the thick red liquid and Sean didn’t recognize what he was seeing at first. All he could tell for sure was that it looked pretty disgusting. Then it slowly dawned on him that it was a human body. No, I didn't do this! I couldn't have done this! Sean's mind screamed. His stomach churned violently, and he felt like all the air around him had been sucked away. Sean involuntarily gasped and chocked. “Tom! It’s Tom!” yelled Jimmy. “What? No way!” countered Bear. “There! The jacket! That’s the old army jacket he always wears! See the American flag on the shoulder?” “Tom!” gasped Sean, now also recognizing the jacket. Jimmy was right. Tears began to stream down his face. The argument! And Sean knew. The pit had taken its first victim for him. Sean’s spells had manifested into a monster and every person who had ever wronged him would now feel the full wrath of all of his anger. He knew this now beyond any doubt. I killed Tom! He was my friend, and I killed him! I killed him! Sean barely noticed he was no longer gasping, but was instead sobbing uncontrollably. What the hell was I thinking playing with this stuff? And now my friend is dead and everyone I care about is in danger! I have to stop this! But how? How? Jimmy and Bear were also sobbing. Sean looked at the grief etched into their faces and another sharp pain struck him in his gut. What have I done? What have I done? “What’s going on over there?” shouted his sister through the phone. Sean had forgotten about her. “There’s a scratching at the door,” she said. “Is that you?” Sean glanced at the wooden plaque on the ground. The plaque with the three deep claw marks. “Stephanie, no!” Screamed Sean into the phone. “Stay away from the door! Stay away from the door!” But all he heard at the other end of the line was a tortured wail. http://trickortreatthrillers.com/ 1. Tell us about your witch and the powers she has. My witch’s name is Amelia. She is a white witch, a Wiccan, who was born able to see auras. Over time she learned how to use her ability to heal people, using energy medicine, like a form of reiki, to remove their bad energy. Her hands have always been the conduit of magic for her. Amelia’s skill with energy healing is put to the test when a pandemic sweeps the globe. She can see the terrible infection killing, then changing, people. And that magical charge from her hands seems to have a unique effect on the diseased who are now roaming the earth. As I say in my tagline, “harm none, and be ready for zombies.” 2. Where did you get the inspiration for your character? When I was younger, I was very interested in Wicca. I studied the religion and its roots. As a scholar, I’ve given professional presentations on the rhetoric of the religion. I really admire the Wiccan religion and way of life. I imagined Amelia as a teenage devotee of the religion, but someone also very naturally inclined toward magic, someone who had special skills that were brought out by her relationship with the religion. In terms of energy healing, I once had an energy healer work on my back when I was having very serious problems, and she really worked miracles. I’m a firm believer in its effectiveness. 3. If you had a magical ability - what would it be and why? The possibilities are endless! I’m going to go with telepathy. So many problems can be solved if you just knew what in the world the other person was thinking. How many times I look at people and wonder just what in the world is on their minds, good or bad. 4. Who is your favorite TV or movie witch? Sally & Gillian Owen from Practical Magic. I loved the white witch appeal and how they made magic look sexy, fun, and not dangerous (unless you’re a bad guy). I really want to own Sally’s shop. I can see myself selling herbal soap in the daytime and writing books all night. Blissful life! 5. If you had a familiar what would it be (you can choose any animal) and what would you call him/her? I would have Thora, the dog in my novel “Highland Raven.” Thora runs across Andraste, a dark goddess, who calls her Graymalkin…the name one of the weird sisters calls her familiar in the play Macbeth. I have a thing for dog sidekicks. Cricket has Puck. Gruoch has Thora. I need my own black dog! Thank you so much for having me! Witch Wood By Melanie Karsak Novella Description: Witch Wood is a tie-in novella that compliments The Harvesting Series, an award-winning dark fantasy/zombie mashup, by Melanie Karsak. Witch Wood can be read as a stand-alone or as part of The Harvesting Series. Harm none, and be ready for zombies. In the little town of Brighton, Amelia’s practice of Wicca marks her as a curiosity both at home and at school. But Amelia can’t change what she is. Knowing how to see auras, heal, and cast spells comes naturally to her. Only Madame Knightly, the ancient matriarch and owner of Witch Wood Estate, to whom Amelia plays caretaker, doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, the crumbling old mansion is full of oddities. However, when modern treatments fail to make a dent in the flu outbreak sweeping the globe, those who once ridiculed her white witchcraft turn to Amelia for help. While her eucalyptus tinctures prove no more effective than western medicine, her spell-casting is another matter. The residents of Brighton soon depend on the very magic they once ridiculed to save their lives. The Harvesting Series: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B015PRL9UM/ Witch Wood: http://amzn.com/B011AF4WL6 Sample Chapter: Chapter 1 The aura around Mrs. Delaney had faded from vibrant green to dull, sludge-colored green-brown as the last class of the day wore down to its end. Despite the fact she was still standing at the blackboard lecturing, a patient smile on her face, her energy told another tale: she was about to drop. She turned and jotted some notes on the board. I noticed that the chalk tray had left a white line of chalk across the back of her black skirt in a none-too-flattering spot. I hoped the boys wouldn’t notice. “Witch,” a whisper came from behind me. “Amelia…hey, witchy woman.” Nate must have gotten bored. Instead of just texting like everyone else, he was about to launch into his tired barrage. I ignored him, hoping it would dissuade him, but pretending he didn’t exist rarely phased him. He was the glowing center of his own universe. Other people’s perceptions didn’t matter to him. “Ah-meel-ya,” he chanted. “Witch, why don’t you let me put some sex in your hex.” I looked at Zoey who was sitting beside me in the next row and rolled my eyes. I was so over with this day. With half the class out sick, Nate—hipster extraordinaire and total douche—was running low on girls to hit on. Jenna and Sam, who sat behind Zoey and me, usually acted as a buffer. For some reason I never understood, they both liked Nate’s attention. But they were both absent. If I didn’t know it would come back on me tenfold, I’d cast a spell to silence his disgusting mouth. But I was a good witch, Glinda without the bubble, and I had no business casting hexes. “Rhyming? I didn’t know you were that smart, Nate,” Zoey, who was less patient than me, shot back. “Logan, you smell fish?” Nate whispered to Logan who sat beside him. “Zoey, close your legs.” Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Logan. A newcomer, Logan had moved to Brighton at the beginning of the year. I could see him and the soft purple and indigo glow that always surrounded him. Logan shifted uncomfortably then frowned at Nate. “Don’t be a dick. Sorry, Zoey. Nate doesn’t have any manners.” Nate laughed. “Whatever. Oh, Edward Cullen, you’re such a gentleman,” Nate teased him. “Like Zoey and Amelia even matter.” Since he first started school, Logan had always lingered on the outskirts of Nate’s tribe. It seemed that he wasn’t actually a jerk like Nate and his friends. And then there was the other thing about him that set him apart. He was an A student, too busy actually paying attention to what Mrs. Delaney had to say in class to be a jerk. And today, Mrs. Delaney’s lecture focused on Shakespeare’s Macbeth. I scanned around the classroom. Of the less than a dozen students in class, half of them were on their phones. Mrs. Delaney was explaining—mainly to the board at this point—the meaning of the witches’ chant in the play. “Hey, Amelia, can you brew me a love potion to get Jenna to suck me off?” Nate whispered. “Could you be any more disrespectful?” Logan chided just as Mrs. Delaney, who’d finally had enough, turned and faced the class. “In the back…shush. Now, someone tell me, which goddess is said to have been insulted by this play? Anyone actually paying attention? Which goddess cursed Shakespeare’s work?” I glanced back at Logan through my long, wheat-colored hair. Most days we would race to be the first to answer but not today. The last thing I wanted to do was draw more attention to the fact that I knew about witchcraft. While I’d been practicing Wicca since I was thirteen, the year I stumbled across a used copy of Wicca: A Guide for the Solitary Practitioner by Scott Cunningham in a used bookstore, I’d always been different. Being Wiccan meant promoting peace, protecting my environment, and feeling at one with the Great Mother. The idiot behind me, however, didn’t know the difference between a devil worshipper—which I was not—and Samantha from Bewitched. And I wasn’t in the mood to explain to him that I only performed good magic, earth and healing magic. “Zoey?” Mrs. Delaney called. “Sorry, Mrs. D. I zoned.” “Nate?” “Pass.” “Of course. Amelia?” “I…” I began, then glanced up at her. Mrs. Delaney was, by far, my favorite teacher. In the ninth grade, she’d introduced me to Madame Knightly, the owner of Witch Wood Estate, whom I took care of three nights a week and on weekends. I was eternally grateful for the job. I’d already stashed away enough cash to pay for my first year of college. Just the week before, I’d gotten my invite to Claddagh-Basel College for an admission interview. It was really happening. I was going to study Psychology at one of the best schools in the country. And all that had happened because Mrs. Delaney, who kept crystals on her desk and wore a medicine bag around her neck, had seen something in me that the others had ignored. “Hecate,” I said then. “Hecate is the dark goddess named in the play. The editor’s notes said that Shakespeare got the Weird Sisters’ chant from a real witch and that Hecate cursed the play because of it. Some productions remove Hecate just to get rid of the jinx.” “Exactly. Well done,” she said with a smile then glanced up at the clock. My eyes followed hers. Thank the Goddess, the day was done. “All right, class. Please review King’s essay on the use of symbolism in the play and compose a two-page summary.” “You’re kidding, right? School’s gonna be closed next week,” Brant, a football player, grumbled from the front row—where his coach had mandated he sit. “Are you really asking me that?” Mrs. Delaney replied, frowning at him. I could see her aura growing even darker, sadder. She really needed to get out of here. “Thus far, they haven’t announced a closure for Monday. Yes, we’re the last school in the county still open. But still, read, write. It won’t hurt you.” A moment later, the bell rang. “Whatever,” Brant grumbled under his breath then headed out the door. “Let’s get out of here,” Zoey said. Rising, she stuffed her book into her backpack. Nate pushed past. “Sorry,” he said as he pretended to trip, banging his crotch against Zoey’s butt. “Screw you, Nate. Do that again, and I’ll have Amelia cast a spell to rot it off,” Zoey warned him. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Freaks,” Nate said, glaring from Zoey to me, but I couldn’t help but see the look of fear cross his eyes. He wasn’t sure if I could really do something like that. In the end, it was better that he didn’t know I would never, ever practice dark magic. Harm none and do as you will, that is the motto of Wiccans. I wasn’t looking for trouble to come back to me. I dug into my bag. “Almost forgot,” I said, handing Zoey as small, amber-colored vial. “What’s this?” she asked, looking at the bottle. “Eucalyptus and rosemary oil,” I replied. “Put it in your bath or on a cloth to inhale it. It helps keep your respiratory system clear. Should help ward off the cold going around.” “Thanks,” she said, opening the bottle to take a sniff. “Ooh, my nose is burning.” She giggled. Logan walked up behind Zoey and me. “Hey, Amelia…you’re organizing the Halloween dance?” he asked. His dark hair fell over his black-rimmed glasses. He pushed it back then paused to arrange his scarf inside his heavy winter pea coat. For autumn, it was terribly cold and the reports of flu were already out of control. No wonder he was bundled up. His honey-colored eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled at me. My knees went soft. “Uh, yeah. We’ve just started planning. We’re still working on a theme.” “Ms. Flynn says I need another extracurricular. Mind if I help?” “If you want,” I replied, trying to play it cool when inside I was screaming like a tween at a Justin Bieber concert. “The next meeting is Tuesday at six. We meet down at Studio,” I said, referring to the local coffee bar where Zoey worked. When I wasn’t at Witch Wood, I spent all my time there, especially when Mom was at work. The last thing I wanted was to be penned up at home with my stepdad, Larry. “Great. I’ll be there,” he replied then looked at the vial Zoey was holding. “So, a white witch? For real?” he asked. I nodded. “Yeah, I know, it’s weird, but, it’s just, you know…” I said, trailing off. It’s just what, Amelia? You’re a witch. Own it. Logan raised an eyebrow at me. “Yes, I’m a white witch. I do healing and stuff. All-natural lifestyle. That kind of thing.” “Dude?” Nate called to Logan from the door. Logan grinned at me. “You do protection spells? I need one. My sister got that flu. She was puking all night, and I hate being sick.” “I do,” I said then arched an eyebrow at him. “You really want me to—“ “Go for it. Please.” “Okay then. This will just take a minute.” I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and then tried to envision the energy field, the aura, surrounding him. I envisioned white light passing from me to him, surrounding him with a glowing white energy that would protect him. With my mind’s eye, I inscribed this light with a protection rune that glowed with glimmering blue light. In my mind, I chanted: “Goddess Mother, may this light protect him from all harm. May this light keep away all illness. May this light keep him safe from darkness. May this light bring him peace. So mote it be. With thanks, I pray thee.” I exhaled then opened my eyes. I could still see the white light shimmering all around him. “Done,” I said then smiled. Logan grinned. “That easy? Cool. I feel much safer now. Thanks, Amelia. See you next week,” he said then headed toward the door. “What were you doing?” Nate asked Logan. Logan shrugged off the question, not answering, and they headed down the hall. “God, I’m crushing on him so hard right now. That was awesome. You should have seen how he was looking at you. Lu-st!” she said, emphasizing the last word in sing-song. “But I don’t get it. Why in the hell does he hang around with Nate?” Zoey asked as she pulled her long black and mermaid blue tresses out of the back of her jacket. They tumbled down her back to her waist. “Their parents are connected or something,” I replied. “Brianna and Brian said their dads work together. And he’s new. He doesn’t know better yet. You heard him call Nate out. He’s not like them.” “Well, he’s definitely into you,” Zoey said as we moved toward the door. “Na. I’m just a curiosity.” “Did you even register what just happened? All guys secretly dig the weird girls, but I think Logan actually likes you.” “You think?” My heart slammed in my chest. “Guess you’ll find out Tuesday.” “So mote it be,” I said with a wink. About the author:
Melanie Karsak is the author of the bestselling series The Airship Racing Chronicles, The Harvesting Series, and numerous other works. She grew up in rural northwestern Pennsylvania and earned a Master's degree in English from Gannon University. A steampunk connoisseur, Shakespeare nerd, white elephant collector, and zombie whisperer, the author currently lives in Florida with her husband and two children. She is an Instructor of English at Eastern Florida State College. Keep in touch with the author online. www.melaniekarsak.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/melaniekarsak Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorMelanieKarsak Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/melaniekarsak/ Check out my Amazon author page for other works Melanie Karsak on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Melanie-Karsak/e/B009DKGKQG/ |
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About the Author:S. K. Gregory is an author, editor and blogger. She currently resides in Northern Ireland. “Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.” Archives
December 2024
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