20 of 40 – Half way there

Ohhhh, we’re half-way there

ohhhh oh, livin’ on a prayer

Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear,

Ohhhh oh, living on a prayer….

Sorry, love that song. *ahem* So yeah, I’ve managed to consistently (with a few lost days here and there) make 20 posts in just a little over 20 days. I wish I could say I was half way to finishing my Camp NaNo project but alas…I find that bouncing between the three books (completely not the plan) has my word count all over the map but not necessarily on the fast track to getting any one of the books to total 50K words added.

Honestly, doesn’t bother me much because I’m writing again and that’s what feels good. I have one Camp NaNo badge and two or three November NaNo badges. I’ve got four published books, and at least two, maybe three that will be release ready this year. Mind you, those same three were originally slated for a couple of years ago, but my mojo went missing.  Funny how that works, or in this case doesn’t work.

But it seems to be back. I may have found my way home for sure.

Speaking of which, so I just wrote the final scene in book two. I want so badly to share it but it contains so many spoilers, lol.  I’m wondering, if I tell you now, will you even remember it once the books come out? I believe I’ have just one blog reader who has any of my books, no wait, maybe two, so really, if I share the excerpt here, I don’t run the risk of spoiling it for anyone.

Hmmmm, man. This is a bit of tough call. The scene is by no means polished which in and of itself should prevent me from sharing it. But it’s such a good one to me.

Nope, no…I’ll wait. Let me get it cleaned up a bit and then I’ll casually post it here. I’m telling you, this writing thing is like the best natural high, ever!

Have a great weekend, sending love and light,

Dana

19 of 40 – Another scene

This is more of an excerpt of a scene, but it lit me up as I was writing it…

“So how does all this work?”
“Well, okay. There’s The Source. It is the energy or whatever that created everything. In human science, Its called The Big Bang, in human religions, Its usually called God. Alright, so from that point where The Source came into being, evolution starts up not too long after. Again, modern human science calls them quarks. Those little bits of Source got together with other little bits, and so on and so on. Some form into matter, others form into what we consider to be living beings.  Time, while not being measured then, is passing and things grow, develop, change, and so on. You end up with parts of The Source developing all kinds of housings, then when those housings deteriorate, that bit of The Source is freed to find another housing. Are you with me so far?”
Victoria had a general grasp on what Warner was explaining, so she nodded her head and gestured for him to continue.
“Alright. Now, here’s where it gets a bit tricky. Used to be that when these tiny bits of Source wanted to return, they ascended whole, as they were. And that was all well and good until the larger configurations of The Source formed a version of conscious awareness. You may think of these as souls. As each soul evolved it believed itself to be a separate thing and didn’t want to be absorbed back into the whole. The Source, being self aware all along, understood this development and allowed these new souls to maintain their housings and ascend in tact. Hence the ancient, indescribable beings that dwell beyond our comprehension throughout the realm.”
“Oh. Have you ever seen one?”
“No. And from what I understand, I wouldn’t be able to process what I was looking at anyway. Maybe once I’ve ascended but who knows.”
“Uh huh. Okay, keep going. Man, this would make a great movie.”
“The special effects budget would have to be gargantuan. But anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. So evolution brings about bodies, the Soul’s now having evolved consciousness to the point of curiosity and craving, want to experience bodies. They developed a way to inhabit these configurations for the sake of having experiences. Next thing you know, you get the humans of today.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that none of us is really human, we’re just pieces of the Source out for a joy ride.”
“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

(giggle…now, on to tonight’s writing)

Sending love and light!

Dana

18 of 40 – Another scene

Migraine Fairy is swooping in for a visit. I haven’t had any water today (the first in two, maybe three weeks I didn’t have any water, the third in two weeks that I didn’t get 64 full ounces). There’s also a tropical storm a’brewing in the Atlantic. Doesn’t take much, just the flap of those butterfly wings in Costa Rica and next thing you know, my head’s trying to blow up.

But that’s not what I’m here to share. Nope, I’m here because the voices came back today. Sitting in traffic on two separate occasions today, my characters rose up and spoke three scenes in my head.  Those scenes were on repeat and that’s how I knew it was real. Through the pain building in my head, they acted out the scenes with only minimal variations – their subtle insistence that I get the imagery and dialog committed to the draft. I felt whole – a sensation I haven’t had in a long time it seems.

I was able to capture the majority of the one scene tonight. It’s difficult to write through the pain, but write I must.  It is good, or at least I think so. I’d like to share it if I may…

     “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh, I bet you have.”
“Let me guess. You’ve come to exact your revenge for the death of your master.”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Were you expecting this to be easy? That your righteous anger would give you the tools you need to defeat me?”
“No, I was thinking this sword and my excellent fighting skills would be all I needed to kick your sorry demon ass all the way back to hell.”
“Oh, language. You are speaking to an elder who happens to be your father. There should be a certain amount of respect in your tone and word choice.”
“Sorry, so not going to happen. I don’t respect you and as far as I’m concerned, Warner was more my father than you’ll ever be.”
“Little girl, your education is sorely lacking. Has no one told you how powerful I am?”
Victoria thought just briefly about the conversation she’d so hastily ended with Zanthia. Was she really serious about Victoria not being ready? So be it. She’d do the best she could or die trying. “Fuck you and your power.”

Victoria raised her sword, the movement so swift the blade left light trails in her vision. And then, the world went black. It was as if all the light was suddenly gone. She had the sensation of her eyes being open, but that was all. She thought for no apparent reason, “I’ve slipped between.” She was somehow no longer in her body, but she wasn’t outside of it either. She was for all intents and purposes, nowhere. It was an unsettling feeling, she wished she could feel something, anything, but there was just infinite black. Her thoughts, without the confines of her flesh and bone to hold them began to drift further and further away. Bits of her psyche, just casually floating into the the nothing. She couldn’t call them back but only sense them as they went on their way.
Then just as suddenly, she felt slammed back into her body as all sensation flooded back at once. She experienced vertigo and staggered, the weight of her body causing her surprised legs to react with muscle spasms and shudders.
“Uh oh. Look at what you’ve done.”
Victoria opened her eyes. Tiny’s body lay bloodied at her feet. Her hands were soaked in fur and flesh.
“I had meant for you to kill the child, but your damn brute of a hound got in the way. Oh well, murder is as a murderer does. That makes no sense, but it sure sounded poetic, didn’t it?”
Victoria consciously left her body, her vision taking in the scene from a foot or so above her head. She took in the room around her, a baby’s nursery in some upscale townhouse, who knew where in the city. The baby thankfully lay sleeping in its crib, chubby fist tucked into its mouth, clearly, beautifully breathing. This time, a bird’s eye view of Tiny’s huge Rottweiler frame, now with chunks missing, blood soaking into the decorative throw rug in front of the crib. Victoria’s father, Darian sat in a rocking chair by the window. Left leg casually slung over the arm of the chair, foot slowly swinging back and forth as if he’d had not a care in the world.
“You see little girl, you are flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood so if I want to ride you like a Harley on a warm spring day, I am powerful enough to do so without your consent or even knowledge. I hadn’t done so up to this point because I didn’t think you were foolish enough to ever come for me. I thought surely Zanthia and what’s left of her precious do-gooders would have taught you more about me. But since they were remiss in that portion of your studies, let this be your first, and hopefully only lesson.” He stood up and walked the few short paces between them. Victoria was still observing things from above, so when Darian bent down, slid his fingers through one of the raw openings in Tiny’s body, Victoria could do nothing to stop him from wiping the blood across her lips.

“You are my only child, but don’t think for a moment I won’t drive you mad, torture you for years, before finally killing you in order to prove my point. You are no match for me. You will never defeat me and you will never have the throne. Oh, look at the time. I must be going before the babysitter comes to check on the little hellion. Good bye Victoria. I hope we never meet again.” And with that, he was gone.

Okay, so there you go. Not a boat load of wordage, but considering I’ve felt so not in the mood to work on my Camp NaNo project, this felt like manna from Heaven.

Sending Love and Light,

Dana

Hi Humans,

It’s Me, God (Akal Purakh, Allah,  Elohim, Goddess,  Ja, Jehova, Kaivalya, Krishna, Love, Olodumare, Om, Yahweh, Zeus, and whatever else y’all are calling Me these days. Thank you Wikipedia).

I wanted to stop in to ask you a question. Nothing fancy, this won’t be on a test or anything. Your answer won’t send you to Hell, I promise. There is some thing you do that perplexes Me, and that’s saying a lot considering I’m all knowing and what not. And you’d think I would know the why, but even in My infinite wisdom, there are still things when it comes to humans I just don’t get, so if you’ve got a minute, indulge Me. Please.

Oh, and another side note.  I didn’t authorize any biographies so those books you’re toting around claiming to be “MY Word”, yeah…not so much.  You see, I don’t talk to humans in a straight forward, “here, let me repeat that so you can write it down” kind of  way. I prefer a more free flowing type of prose so I speak in the world as it appears naturally around you. In the grass you see growing, the water as it rises and falls. Animal calls and the circle of life; evolutionary changes and such. I chat through all things in their natural state. Through life – birth, growth, aging; and Death – transition. So, you may want to put those books down, come out of those mega expensive, monster, concrete and glass caves you’ve built supposedly to worship Me in and spend more time OUTSIDE, WITH ME and listen.

But now, back to why I’m here today. What’s with all the hate and using your belief in Me to justify it? You do realize all this fear of the other, of different thoughts, beliefs, and such has NOTHING to do with Me.  That’s all you.  Humans came up with that and it is Humans who continue to practice it. I couldn’t care less because if you recall, I’m EVERYTHING. It’s all ME. How much sense would it make for Me to hate certain parts of Myself to the point that I want to harm, punish, or even kill them? Sure, you humans do that kind of thing all the time. But that’s you. Not ME. Own your bullshit and stop justifying it based on those books I was telling you about that I didn’t authorize nor contribute to. If it occurs in nature, then it’s all right with ME.

So seriously, what gives?

Sincerely and with THE LOVE,

God

This came to me while in that state between fully awake and asleep. I’m not claiming it to be a direct conversation, just some words as I heard them. All of my writing comes from voices in my head. Divine? Who’s to say.

Enjoy you day.

Love, Dana

The Other Side of the Bed – “I AM”

Previous snippets: One, Two

Jessie sat in the middle of the bed. A warm cup of her favorite peppermint tea warming her hands.  Her eyes were closed.  Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window illuminating the left side of the room with soft comfort.  The blank space beneath the bed glowed slightly.

Three meditative breathes later and the voice was there.

“I AM”

“Good morning.  Why are you here?”

“Bound”

“Can you not be released?”

“Bound”

“Are you evil?”

“I AM”

A vision of space, vast, empty, yet alive with the many molecules, atoms, and particles that make up everything in existence floated through Jessie’s mind. She felt overwhelmed. Three more meditative breathes, a sip of the tea from the mug, and a refocusing mantra.

“So, you’re just…”

“I AM. Existing. Bound.”

“Are there others like you?”

“Singular. Many. Bound.”

A sense of sadness became evident to Jessie. She watched the emotion, sipped her tea.

“You can’t leave here, that’s why you need a guardian.”

“Care. Help. I AM”

“Will you kill me?”

Silence. She wondered if it puzzled over the idea of death. If it had any concept in its existence that equaled that state of non-existence. As the minutes stretched on she thought to end the meditation, then the space behind her eyes filled with bright light.

“Care. Help. Exist.”

An image of her aunt Sylvia appeared in the light. Followed soon after by her voice. “We exist but not in this form. Energy goes on forever. Flesh does not. There is no good, or evil, there just is. And that which exists must gather energy to continue to exist as it is. When there is no energy to sustain that form, it returns to its original state.”  Sylvia faded with the light.

“I am.”

The sadness again. This time so big it made Jessie cry.

Later that afternoon, she sat in the library combing through city records.  The town was settled in the late 1500s.  The house she lived in, as close as she could find was built on the remnants of a property deeded to Samuel Crosgrove. His family lived and farmed there for three generations. His great grand daughter was accused of being a witch and was hung in the town square. She was twelve. The family moved away after that and the property was taken over by the church. In an effort to rid the town of evil, all the buildings on the property were burned, the ground blessed, and a church built.  The cemetery came soon after. There was little information after that until in the late 20’s when the church burned to the ground for no explicable reason. No one was hurt; it was two in the morning or so when someone noticed the flames. By then, the building couldn’t be saved. Shortly after that, the congregation sold the land to a developer who built a small section of homes for the few veterans around town who’d found it difficult after WWI to get settled.

There wasn’t any more information about the property.  But in other news, that enclave of homes seemed to experience a string of bad luck. Husbands, wives went missing. Children ran away from home, a lot. Dogs and cats both seemed to run away as well, ending up on other people’s porches, or in their backyards refusing to return to their rightful homes. People moved away, properties went unsold and were eventually abandoned. They fell into disrepair and were eventually knocked down to prevent squatters.

All except the house that Jessie now lived in. For whatever reason, that house had remained occupied. Usually by a single individual who took on hermit status as far as the townsfolk were concerned.

The Other Side of the Bed – A Different Perspective

Not sure if this is going to turn into a short story or not. Sort of feels as if it might be headed that way. We’ll see if any more scenes, snippets, or visuals come to me. You can read the first little bit here. Enjoy.

 

Eh. Not bad for a chick I wasn’t planning on boning. At least not when I first saw her. A little too, I don’t know, low key for me. I mean, she didn’t stand out at first. Not like my other chicks. She was obviously the quiet type in her group. The others were wearing the tight skirts, sky-high heels. I almost went for the big titties but then I watched this one turn down dude after dude. Challenge!  And as usual, I won. Damn, my game is so tight I should be winning awards.

Todd rolled over on his side putting him on the right side of the bed, facing the bathroom into which his conquest had disappeared immediately after he’d cum. He’d pulled off the condom and dropped it casually to the floor on the left while she’d quickly gotten out of bed. Before the slimy piece of latex had hit the hard wood, she’d walked into the bathroom and shut the door. He’d heard the shower come on shortly there after.

He was dozing when she came back out.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to move over.”

“Wha…why? What difference does it make, it’s just for tonight. Come get in. My back’s kinda cold.”  He thought he was being clever.

“Hmph. Look either move over, or get your shit and leave.”

That woke him up. The sex had been pretty good, so he’d already planned on hitting it one more time before he left in the morning. Leaving now was not an option as far as his ego and morning woody were concerned.  “Alright, alright.  Here you go.”

He slid back to the left side of the bed, not paying much attention to how she carefully tucked the sheets back in where he’d pulled them out to make room for his larger frame. By the time she’d gotten in the bed, he was back to a semi-doze, drifting off to sleep on his side with his back to her.

“Thy will be done.” she whispered. Then the lights went out.

At some point he recognized he was hot under the covers. He kicked his feet a bit to loosen the sheets even further, then slid his right leg over his left so it was dangling off the edge of the bed. He was rewarded with a cooling sensation that moved up from his foot to his hip. He promptly drifted back into a deeper, dreamless sleep. He didn’t hear the tapping, or scraping sound begin underneath him. He barely registered the numbness in his exposed limb. He didn’t come awake until his body hit the floor at that odd angle. Wide awake but only for a moment before the nothing under the bed consumed him.

The Other Side of the Bed

Rough draft. Written as it came to me in that space between dreaming and wakefulness.

 

Jessie wasn’t much for one night stands to begin with. Casual sex had never developed into a “thing” for her.  She instead would much prefer to develop a relationship, enjoy being courted, then if the stars aligned, she’d marry and all would be right with the world. Except she remembered what her Aunt had said, “never anyone you love. Love makes it worse.”

But let’s face it, a single twenty-something in today’s world; relatively attractive and fairly out going, she consistently attracted those who just wanted to “hook-up”.  The guys she liked were turned down gently but firmly.  Those who were most obnoxious, well…they tended to get the invtiation they were so adament about.  Jessie often wondered when she woke up the next morning, alone, in the middle of the bed, if they regreted their decision.  She honestly didn’t care.

Jessie inherited the house she lived in from her crazy Aunt Sylvia.  “Crazy” was the only word she’d ever heard repeatedly used to describe her dad’s sister.  She’d run away from home at sixteen, then showed back up at twenty three, married to a man twice her age that no one had been properly introduced to which folks agreed was odd. Girls didn’t do such things back in the day.  They’d settled in this small two bedroom, one bath house out on Sycamore, right next to the old cemetery. Which was of course, odder still. No one was ever sure how they survived seeing as how neither one of them was seen going to work, in town at the grocery store, or out back of the property doing any kind of gardening.

Subsequent stories about them kept Jessie’s proper family members at a great distance. When Jessie was born, or so the story went, Sylvia showed up at their house one evening. Jessie was a little over a month at the time. She was a fussy baby. Especially at night. She’d been screaming since her mom had put her down at seven.  Her parents were just about to call for the doctor when Sylvia showed up.

“I want to see my niece.”

“Sylvia? Oh, um, she’s already down for bed.  We weren’t expecting you. You should have called first.”

Sylvia didn’t look out of sorts. She was in her late thirties by then. Still attractive. Healthy looking, you know?  Her clothes were clean, if a bit out dated. She smelled clean. Obviously not wearing any perfume but not stinking of musk either.

“I’m sorry. I should have called. But I wasn’t given enough time. I have to see Jessica.”

Jessie’s mom and dad supposedly at this point started to feel a little freaked out as they would remind anyone they were telling this story to, they hadn’t spoken to Sylvia in years. They definitely hadn’t told her what the baby’s name was. Granted someone else in the family could have been in touch with her, could have told her but her parents had only shared her shortened name, ‘Jessie’.  They’d never intended to call her ‘Jessica’, the nurse at the hospital who’d filled out the birth certificate had taken it upon herself to put the formal name down instead of what she’d been told. Her parents had planned on correcting it as soon as the excitement of having a new born wore off.

“I’m sorry Sylvia, but you’ll have to come back during the day.” Jessie’s mom was attempting to put her foot down. Didn’t work. According to the tale, Sylvia looked at both of Jessie’ parents, then marched her formidable, five foot – four inch frame right past them and into Jessie’s room.  Within minutes Jessie quieted. Her parents, fearing the worse made their way quickly into the bedroom.  They found Sylvia holding Jessie in her arms, tears on her cheeks. Her lips moving as she uttered a prayer, or a curse. Her parents were never sure as she stopped talking as soon as she noticed them in the doorway.  Sylvia kissed Jessie’s forehead, then handed her to her mother.  She left immediately after.

She showed up again on Jessie’s sixteenth birthday. This was the only meeting Jessie remembered. Sylvia was looking old. She was single by then.  Her husband had reportedly run off in the middle of the night years before. There had been two or three boyfriends but each of them too had disappeared into the night. All those leavings had marked Sylvia.  Unlike her cousins and most of the adults in the family, Jessie wasn’t afraid of Sylvia on site. Instead, she was curious.  She’d wished she’d been able to sit with her aunt, to talk about her life and find out the mysteries that scared her family so. It wasn’t to be. Sylvia walked into the back yard, her presence shocking most into silence. Sylvia didn’t speak to her parents, her brother or sister, nor any of her other nieces and nephews. She walked right up to Jessie, once again, tears on her cheeks.  She placed a kiss on her forehead and handed her a small box. She said Happy Birthday, then with a stifled sob, turned and fled the party.

The box had contained a beautiful hand made necklace. Jessie had worn it ever since.

A lawyer’s letter when Jessie was twenty-five prompted her to have the necklace appraised. It was valued at over six thousand dollars at the time. The silver it was made from was pure, the tiny jewels that made up the pendant were various precious stones. According to the lawyer’s letter, Jessie was now the proud owner of the house by the cemetery and a trust fund of fifteen thousand dollars. She had to take possession of the home, the trust fund would pay for all associated expenses, taxes, utilities, etc.

Walking into Sylvia’s house was like walking into a museum. Clean, neatly appointed, it gave the appearance that Sylvia lead a minimalist lifestyle. Jessie loved it immediately. There was a packet of paperwork along with the keys to the house. A deed, tax notes and such. And a letter addressed to Jessie in what she assumed was her aunt’s beautifully flowing cursive.

Jessie, I’m sorry. I can’t explain how or why, but you were chosen to follow me. To be the next guardian. I tried to run from it but once chosen, life conspires to make sure you fulfill your duty. You’ll be okay. I always was. Just keep your arms and legs inside the sheets at night. There’s never a mess in the morning. There was never an inquiry either. Just make sure it’s no one you love. Love makes it worse. So much worse. But I love you. I know you’ll be safe. I always was. Good bye.

Jessie believed then that Sylvia had indeed been crazy. Delusional, lonely, crazy.  That was ten years ago though. Now, Jessie made sure to keep her arms and legs inside the sheets at night, to never bring anyone back to spend the night that she cared anything about. There never was a mess in the morning, nor an inquiry, and the thing that lived and fed underneath the other side of the bed took wonderful care of its guardian.

Still On Sale

If you haven’t taken a gander, the Smashwords Summer Sale is still going strong which means my erotica collection (Satin Sheet Memoirs, Vol 1.) and my novellas (Let There Be Life and Aphrodite’s Twin) are free while my two novels (Hello Diva & Breaking Point) are 50% off, making them a whopping $ 0.99  :-).

If you’re reading them on a Kindle, the formatting may be off as Smashwords uses a different set of guidelines than Amazon.

There’s no way for me to know who my buyers are, but if you have read ANY of my work and liked it, please drop me a review either here on WordPress or send directly to my email, nowatapress@gmail.com.  Emailed reviews won’t be publicly shared without permission. I’m anxious to get feedback to use in my marketing materials.

Thanks!  And happy reading.

cropped-cropped-07291318141.jpg

 

Doorbell

She woke with a start from a sound slumber. The doorbell was ringing incessantly. As if there was an angry woodpecker who had taken offense with the chimes and was then trying to disable them by jack-hammering its beak against the button.

She grabbed her robe, tossing its familiar warmth over her thin pajamas. She didn’t bother with her slippers. Judging by the sound of that doorbell, her time was best spent racing to the door to get whoever was on the other side to go away.

“Who the fuck is it?” She yelled as she unlocked and then swung the door open. It wasn’t until the corpse’s hands slid around her neck that Chelsea remembered, her apartment doesn’t have a doorbell.

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On a side note.

Why don’t movies or books about apocalypses ever address the problem that is sure to arise when the many nuclear power plants around the world:

  • go unmanned because all the workers are: zombies, suddenly blind, at home dying from the super flu…etc.
  • fall apart during the earthquake
  • find themselves submerged when the tsunami hits
  • freeze when the sudden ice age hits
  • systems fail when the electricity suddenly goes out

and so on?

US-Reactor-Map-anim
copied from http://www.thesurvivalistblog.net

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m in a “mood”. sigh.

Hope you’re having a good day though.

Love,

Dana

O.M.G.

So, I’m typing away at my Camp NaNo project right? Just going along as I usually do, mostly with my eyes closed listening (transcribing) as my characters deal with whatever situation they have me writing about at the time and then this happens,

“And could it be you’ve felt guilty about leaving me all those years ago and this affair is your way of trying to make up for that too?” No sooner than she said it than she felt the truth of it resonate within her. “That’s what this has been about the entire time. You knew I loved you back then, you knew, but,” and this was the hard part, but it had to be said, “you didn’t feel the same way. That’s why it was so easy for you to leave and not talk to me, not try to keep in touch.” Tonya felt weak, as if her body had suddenly gained a hundred pounds. Her legs weren’t up to the sudden increase in weight, she plopped into the chair, lucky it had been so close behind her. Keith didn’t say a word.

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I’m as shocked as Tonya.  All this time I’ve been writing up to this point and I didn’t see that coming. I just knew Keith was going to get his crap together to bring the happy ending but uh, apparently I was mistaken.

Man I love writing :-).  Okay, have to get back to the manuscript. Can’t wait to see what happens next. lol.