Dark Romantic Fiction: The Darker The Better?

Juliet Binoche, Wuthering Heights

Do you take it dark with a twist of weird on the side?

I do!

Why is that? Why do many of us find Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights) so compelling? Why are we caught up in his angst?

Remember the horrific scene when he opens Cathy’s coffin? We condemn it, it’s too awful to contemplate but we understand his awful dilemma: he cannot bear the world without her!

I’m a big believer in using my characters’ motivation to write my fiction. My fiction is character-driven and my character’s reasons for doing things give me the story.

I don’t write with an outline. My characters show me the way.

With regard to Heathcliff, Wuthering Heights is what it is because we understand the characters’ motivation.

However Emily Bronte wrote her classic novel, she was well aware of motivation affecting the plot.

Angst, heart ache, desperation are the ingredients in great romantic novels, and we know with regard to horror, horror and romance go together. 

Further on this point let us contemplate whether horror and romance is more exciting the more twisted it is.

But hang on! Doesn’t horror have to have something twisted in it or it isn’t horror?

I think so.

Someone remarked that the classic gothic romantic book covers of times past were always so intriguing but they never delivered on the darkness aspect, the implied dark of the cover.

They seemed to promise more but somehow it was less than many readers hoped for.

I want those sorts of readers never to feel that way with my fiction!

From the feedback I’m getting, I’m being assured that my aim in redefining gothic romantic fiction is right.

It’s time to push the boundaries. Time to put a dark twist on the sorts of gothic romance that went before, that our mothers and grandmothers read.

Our world is dark and dangerous. Children get massacred at a French school, terrorists lurk in the backs of our mind, ever-threatening, there are wars, atrocities, and horror in day to day life.

Certainly our horror fiction must reflect the times we live in.

Steven King said: “(We) make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.

That is so perfect!

Many of the great classics of gothic romance were penned before World War 2. How can our horror fiction not be dark after the Holocaust?

And in more modern times there have been other genocides. There probably always will be.

Dangerous relationships, dark deeds—intriguing plots with twists and turns, the removal even of comfort zones: that’s what we want! That’s what I want, and I am endeavoring to do it with my fiction.

Actually, I’d like to have people elaborate and tell me in a comment WHY it’s better (if they think it is) as in how dark can it be?!

There you go, people!

Love to love the horror!

Horror Author and Artist, William Cook Guest Posts!

I live in Wellington – the small wind-blown capital city of New Zealand. I have been writing weird stories ever since I was a kid. My first published works were poems in various literary journals in NZ and a few in the States. Back in 1996 I published a collection of verse titled ‘Journey: The Search for Something’ and had the occasional poem and short story published online, but nothing really of note until 2010 when Lee Pletzers from Triskaideka Books accepted my story ‘The Devil Inside’ for the 2010 Masters of Horror Anthology.

I have always loved the Horror genre and dark literature, so this really inspired me to write what I loved rather than what I thought other people wanted to read and it has finally started to pay off. The thing I love about the Horror and Thriller genre is that a good story will get your pulse racing and your heart thumping. I feel it is the best medium to create a world where the reader feels alive because they are experiencing fear of some sort. Sounds sadistic I know, but I find personally that no other genre gives me the thrills I seek when I immerse myself in a fictional world.

Angelic Knight Press published my first novel ‘Blood Related,’ in December 2011. Writing it was a labor of love and took me roughly six years to write and it wasn’t until I changed day-jobs that I had the time to bring it all together as my debut novel.

The novel is about a disturbed young man called Caleb Cunningham, whose violent father is a suspected serial killer and mother, an insane alcoholic. After his father’s suicide, Cunningham’s disturbing fantasy-life becomes reality, as he begins his killing spree in earnest. His identical twin brother Charlie is released from an asylum and all hell is about to break loose, when the brothers combine their deviant talents. Blood Related is a serial-killer/crime novel told in a first-person narrative style from the killer’s (Caleb’s) point-of-view. 

I am currently co-authoring a true-crime book, and finishing a collection of short Horror/dark fiction that I hope to self-publish May/June of this year. My next project is a sequel to ‘Blood Related,’ tentatively titled ‘Blood Trail.’ This work will deal more with the character of Detective Ray Truman, as he struggles with his own demons and his obsessive pursuit of Caleb Cunningham, the main character in ‘Blood Related’.

As a debut novelist, I don’t really feel in a position to offer advice to others, but if I had to I would say that having a ‘thick skin’ and a certain degree of tenacity is crucial if you want to be a published writer. My perseverance has paid off and I have been privileged to have authors I look up to, give me feedback on my book. People like Jonathan Nasaw, Guy N Smith, Laird Barron, Mark Edward Hall, John Paul Allen, and Nicholas Grabowsky, have all been kind enough to read and review my work – something I would never have believed possible until now.

If the readers out there would like more information on ‘Blood Related’, including bibliographical and background information on the extensive research and reading I did while creating the novel, please visit: http://bloodrelated.wordpress.com/ .

If you would like to buy a copy of ‘Blood Related’, either paperback or E-book please visit my Amazon author’s page: http://www.amazon.com/William-Cook/e/B003PA513I/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1

You can check out William Cook’s writing here: http://williamcookwriter.blogspot.com/, and his Macabre Art and book cover design here: http://nzartist.blogspot.com/. Other projects include a Jim Morrison site, which gives an in-depth look at the rock god’s poetry: http://jimmorrisonspoetry.blogspot.com/ and William’s Poetry Site here: http://williamcookpoet.blogspot.co.nz/.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/WilliamCookWriterIllustrator

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/williamcook666

                       

Thank you, William for guest posting here.
It's been great to have you.

Can Real Horror Have Romance In It?

I am moved to write this in response to someone giving their opinion that real horror cannot have romance in it.

I think it can.

And before I go any further I would like very much to quote horror fan,
Rick Youmans on this:

'It is one of the two motivational forces behind the horror genre. Either the return of unrequited love (the other being vengeance for a wrong). Any construct of horror that denies this has no understanding of its real power in the present sense. The abstract nature of vengeance, against society et al, is the predominate foci depicted in the visual mediums, while the search for love in a cruel world is the foci of the written medium...for the most part...'

 Thank you, Rick!

Although the novel, Dracula and the films differ on this issue, I still feel there is an undercurrent of sexuality in the novel. I think Bram Stoker is clearly writing about female sexuality in the character of Lucy and Mina.

I also feel that Dracula's actions with regard to over powering Mina (novel) to force her to feed on him is sexual. It is sexual abuse really  when he restrains her.

Naturally, he's not her knight in shining armor. She's not wanting to have his babies exactly. But it is sexual, albeit darkly so. Can't this be twisted 'love?'
Is sick love some sort of pathological 'love?' Yes?

Well, if that is so then it's sick love or dark romance.
Romance by any other name is romance: sick or not.

With regard to the film (my favorite by Coppola) I think it is quite clear that there is quite a bit of sexual longing and tension present. Mina and the Count want to go steady and right away! That's pretty obvious. It also makes for some great scenes!

We watch it and are fascinated but do we ever doubt for one second that we are watching a HORROR film? No!

With regard to horror fiction in general, there is what I term ‘dude horror’ which is often horror written mainly by men for men. The women depicted in this sort of fiction tend to be victims. There is, in my opinion, little or no ‘romance.’ There may be sex but candlelight dinners and violins, no.

I wonder, though, if sexual longing and desire along with genuine love cannot be present in dark horror.

I write gothic romance but my fiction is very different from what is commonly termed gothic romance. This is not paranormal romance. It is darkest horror with some romance in it (sometimes).

The question is can dark gothic romantic horror be considered horror?

Life has horror in it. And supernatural horror with the worst evil imaginable might have a thread of longing that is a kind of love.

Why can’t the worst demonic being have loved once, whether briefly or for a micro second?

Why narrow the field?

Why define horror with restrictions?

If paranormal romance isn’t horror can darkest gothic romance be considered to be horror?

I’d love to know other opinions on this. Please let me know! Thank you!

Paranormal Romance Author, Wenona Hulsey!

Thank you so much, Carole for letting me stop in and chat.  I love doing guest post because I adore meeting new people.  So after reading this and checking out my books, don't be a stranger, I'm always hanging out at some social network table so come chat with me.  I'm leaving everyone the address to my favorite places at the end of this post!

I'm Wenona Hulsey, mother of two and blue collar worker by day.  But at night I turn into Wenona Hulsey, master of words and worlds.  I’ve always written for as long as I can remember but I really got into writing about a year ago. I was searching for a creative outlet during a time in my life when I felt like I was living in a rut.  I sing terrible, I dance like I'm having seizures and my art looks like stick figures so I turned to what came easiest to me ---writing.  I started working on my first novel, Burden of Blood, and it moved along remarkably fast.  I guess that could be contributed to my recent binge reading of all books labeled paranormal romances but I had an idea of what I wanted and I put it to paper.

As I was nearing the end of my writing frenzy on Burden of Blood a fascinating novelette idea popped into my head and Blood Awakening was born.  It works as a back story to two of the main characters in Burden of Blood, giving you more detail and insight into who Nicole Keenan and her best friend Kat were before their world was turned on its head.  I would consider Blood Awakening more of a thriller, suspense with a dash of paranormal and comedy thrown in.  But Burden of Blood is full on Paranormal Romance with hot warriors and gothic fairies in leading roles.

Now that I've sent both Blood Awakening and Burden of Blood out into the world, I'm working on book two in the Blood Burden series which is titled Blood of Fire.  I'm hoping to have this one published in summer of 2012.

Okay, I'll stop yammering away and give you all the juicy details about my books and a bit on where you can find me if you want to chat.  Thanks so much for letting my join you today!

Blurb:

Nicole, a small town Alabama girl, and her best friend Kat take a weekend trip to Panama City, Florida. Kat looking to have a good time and Nicole hoping to escape the pain of losing her mother for a little while. Little did Nicole know, the escape would awaken an ancient power that is hidden in her blood. A power that evil wants for its own and will do whatever it takes to have it.

This short story is a look into best friends', Nicole and Kat, life before a centuries old grudge and Nicole's emerging powers rips them apart. A power that Nicole wants no part of as it brings her to her knees and forces her to walk away from her small town life and everyone she loves.

Blood Awakening ebook can be found on Amazon 99 cents.

Blurb:

No one wants to know everyone’s darkest secrets, especially not police officer, Nicole Keenan. All she wants is a blissfully normal life in the small, Alabama town where she was born. But as generations of power running through her veins start to wake up, an ancient grudge is ignited that threatens to push her over the edge. She can hardly believe in what she is, let alone that a dark force will not stop until she's joins them. Or is dead.

Nicole Keenan's life enters into a dangerous dance with warriors and gothic fairies. Southern tradition collides with Irish folklore as she learns about love, heartbreak, and The Burden of Blood.

Burden of Blood ebook can be found at Amazon.

.

About Wenona:

Author Wenona Hulsey is a lover of all things written. When she was a child, you could find her reading anything from Edger Allen Poe to the back of cereal boxes. Today you will find her with an ebook reader glued to her hands except for the times when she is writing or spending time with her family. She is also an avid social networker, who loves to meet new people.

You can add her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/wenonahulsey

Like her on Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/WenonaHulseyAuthor

Follow along on her Blog: http://www.wenonahulsey.com/

Or circle me on Google Plus: http://plus.google.com/u/0/112003497868894658312/posts

Thanks so much, Wenona!

NEXT WEEK: HORROR AUTHOR AND ARTIST: WILLIAM COOK

The Villain of Dillonville!

Another Weekly Short Horror Story!

Wes Cres was a retired film star. Well not a star exactly, more like a B movie actor. Still, it was a career and Wes was proud of it.

‘Course he didn’t look like he had at his best. He had put a fair amount of weight on over the years especially around his middle.

Yet many people recognized him.

“Ain’t you, you know that actor?!”

“Sure am!” He’d smile and puff out his chest and eat it up like it was roast beef with gravy.

His wife had died and he was lonely, but he made the best out of it, enjoying visiting old friends many of whom had been bit players.

He hung out mainly in Venice Beach and occasionally visited actors he knew in and around L.A.

Today he was doing something different, though. He was heading out toward the desert. He had planned to visit his son in New Mexico. The sad thing was he would never make it.

For some reason he decided to visit an old film set. He couldn’t recall exactly where it was—he only remembered it was in the California desert, not far from the Arizona border.

“Why I bet that place is older than I am.”

Truth was, it was!      

He had been driving for some time when his car broke down. It was hotter than hell, but he got out to get his bearings.

Naturally he couldn’t get a signal on his cell phone. He was just thinking about what to do when he noticed a rise just ahead with some buildings beyond it.

Man, was he relieved. There was a feller waving like mad at him. He’d get help for sure!                                                                                                                                                       *

Dipster spotted him first. “Hey lookee there! There’s a stranger a comin’ and he's comin' this way!

Dipster was sheriff and it was his job to spot trouble before it started. He took his job very seriously, too.

He was the nicest guy anyone would care to meet but crazier than a fly in horseshit, a Vietnam Vet whose screws had come completely unscrewed along the way.

For example, he had had grown up on westerns. Gunsmoke was his favorite. He absolutely worshipped Matt Dillon. See, he didn’t think that Jim Arness played Matt Dillon, he had come to believe he was Matt Dillon.

And it was all real too. Just as the old film set was no longer a ruin but the town of Dillonville.

                                                            *

When Wes saw someone shouting at him he waved.

“Broke down about 10 miles yonder.” Wes said pointing.

It was when the stranger came closer that Dip recognized him.

“I know you! You near killed Miss Kitty once! They hanged you too! I seen it! But you kept coming back! Yer the devil’s own, that’s what you are!”

Wes laughed although the guy was starting to make him nervous. “Oh, you mean Gunsmoke. Yup I sure did enjoy being on there, they had me on quite a bit.”

He had just begun talking about his film career when he saw a crowd of folk suddenly appear as if from nowhere. Damned if there weren’t at least 100 men and women.

Dipster nodded.  “Them’s the good God-fearin’ folk of Dillonville. You in Dillonville now, boy!”

Wes knew it at once. He had stumbled upon some crazies!

                                                             *

These particular crazies had come years ago, mostly from Hollywood. They were L. A.’s flotsam; homeless and street-punished and genuine, certified wackos.

Eddie (none of them had last names, mainly cause they didn’t remember who the hell they were) had spotted the town first.

“Hey, we got ourselves a home!”

And they did. It was their settlement and he was mayor.

There had been a few buildings in use when it was a movie set but they were long since ruins. Still, they made do. Well, if you’ve been on the street you get less fussy.

They sure were proud of Dillonville.

Mayor Eddie rushed over to see what his sheriff was shouting about. He sounded so excited.

“Yup it’s him alright! A dag burn villain if I ever seen one! You remember him, right?"

The mayor nodded. Then looking at Wes he answered. “Sure do. Didn’t you try to kill Miss Kitty? Why she was Matt Dillon’s girl. Why would you do such a thing?”

The awful realization that Wes was in the deepest shit ever hit him hard. Then it occurred to him to humor them.

“Aww no, it ain’t like that. I was an actor,  only an actor playing a part!”

He thought about making a break for it but was warned:

“Not another step you old varmint or I’ll dee-cap-it-tate yer God darned head!”

Wes was getting more nervous by the second. The so-called sheriff and mayor were conferring now. Things looked bad.

He figured he had nothing to lose so he tried to high-tail it. He didn’t get far though. They caught up with him and slapped his ass in prison.

Dipster laid it on the line for him:

“Whatcha all want for your last meal?”

Wes broke down then. "Please! No! I’m not really a villain. I’m no outlaw. I’m only an actor. Please don’t hang me, I beg you! Here, I can give you money.”

Dipster waved him off. “Did you say, ‘hang?!’ We ain’t gonna hang you, pard. Gonna eat you, cuz you look like one prime, plump dude! Gonna have one bitching barbeque outta ya!”

Wes screamed and he kept on screaming until Mayor Eddie done cut his throat.

“Time to call the vampires!” he shouted.

Yup, some of ‘em folk in a lot of movies were vampires. Well, not everyone acted in Hollywood, some were the genuine article!

© Copyright 2012 Carole Gill

694 words

   

Sci-Fi and Horror Author Lisa Lane's Thoughts on Writing

Horror and Existential Angst

While I enjoy the act of creation, the escape of the story, and the artistic outlet that comes with writing, much of what I write stems from my own need to make better sense of our world.  I can’t imagine I’m that unique in having said motivations, although I do believe I spend more time than most people do in thinking about the abstract and how it applies to life, existence, and death.

There’s no question that the majority of what I write is dark.  This is not because I’m a negative person, although my outlook on humanity might sometimes be bleak.  Truly, I write what I write because it is a way to balance what I see in this world with what I hope it might be.  For example, my dystopian fiction works on many levels, but ultimately I write it as a message of hope—that, by identifying where society has gone wrong, we might find creative and positive ways to change it.  Like my horror, I tend to draw parallels with reality as I see it.  In those parallels always lies a message, a slice-of-life speculation, or a piece of insight I feel necessary to share with whoever is willing to listen.

My works often touch upon my own existential angst, which is my way of sifting through various private fears and beliefs in a very public way.  By sharing them in such a way, through my prose, I feel like I’m not only sharing a part of myself, but also inviting my readers to take part in the process.  It is my hope that, by experiencing the various thoughts and emotions that come with a good work of fiction, my readers and I might share something both enriching and provocative.  It is my hope that together, one work at a time, we might change this dark world into something a little brighter.

So, you might ask, what part does my vampire writing play in all of this?  Put simply, vampires are my parallel to the monsters of humanity.  I use them to sort out the evils of this world, the murderers and rapists, the darkness that exists despite all the light that ever seeks to expunge it.  Vampires are an excellent platform for exploring life and death, the existential angst that exists within us all, and question of why bad things happen to good people.  By writing characters that fall victim to wildly horrific circumstance, suffering evils far beyond the realm of reality, I find myself better able to acknowledge the real evils in this world, which I cannot agree with nor condone, but exist despite my wish that they might not.

About the author: Lisa Lane writes erotic horror and science fiction, and also writes dark speculative fiction, dystopia, and horror under the name Leigh M. Lane.  Her stories often defy conventional boundaries, offering her readers a unique take on the genres.

Her vampire trilogy The Darkness and the Night pushes the boundaries between romance and erotic horror.  The trilogy has received enthusiastic reviews from respected authorities on erotica and horror, such as Penthouse Forum and Bitten by Books.

For more information about Lisa Lane and her erotic horror, stop by her Amazon author page or visit her on Facebook.

For more about her Leigh M. Lane books, check out her website, The Cerebral Writer.

Latest Book:

        

World Mart

'Government and corporate business have merged in an attempt to keep the country from going bankrupt, the effects of global warming and antibiotic-resistant disease having caused a full collapse in infrastructure. The class divide has become profound, leaving most people trapped in an impoverished, working class world with little room for improvement. Complacency and corporate hierarchy control and confound the masses, run by the elite few, collectively referred to as "Corporate." George Irwin remembers a time before the Big Climate Change, back when the airlines were still in business and people still drove their own cars. Sadly, his children have only known an indoor world of endless reconstruction, public shuttles, recycled water, and limited energy. The world has changed much over his lifetime, but he still believes in the American Dream. When an alleged terrorist act lands his wife in the hospital, however, George stumbles upon a Corporate secret that could mean the end of all civilization.'     "I strongly suggest you read this novel that hits close to home." (5 stars) --The Kindle Book Review Thank you, Lisa! Next week: Author of Paranormal Fiction, Wenona Hulsey!

Here There Be Monsters!

warning: some icky scenes! 

I knew I was in trouble when I saw the house. It looked like something straight out of a Hammer film!

It was dismal and forebidding, and worst of all it was terribly isolated with ugly, dense woods full of twisted trees that surrounded the place.



I thought of the menacing landscape in the House of Usher.



Christopher laughed. “Home sweet, home, eh Barbara?”



I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out, only pathetic stuttering.



“Let’s meet Mommy and Daddy shall we? I told them about you, and they can’t wait to meet you!”



An innocuous statement so why did it feel like a threat?



He led me out of the car as if I were a sleep walker. A person really can be too horrified to react to their surroundings.



Three sharp knocks and the door whined open.



Oh yeah, Hammer all the way.



The mother had a face that could stop a clock and the father looked like an evil Gomez Adams. “Charming!” he said as he leered at me.



He kissed my hand but just before he did, he smiled broadly and I thought I saw what looked like a double-pronged tongue like snakes have.



I shrank back in horror.



The mother grinned. Why did her teeth look so terribly sharp? “Come, do not be afraid.”



My knees buckled but Christopher held me up. He and the father half-dragged me inside.

All I could do it seemed was watch my feet as they dragged along the blood, red carpet.



“It’s bleak but we call it home.”



Bleak wasn’t the word. It was Dracula’s Castle and Ed Gein’s kitchen combined.



What were all those artifacts I saw, strange-looking things that looked as though they were made out of body parts?



“Chris does like his art." His mother said pointing toward the curtain rods. "Those are human heads along there, see? They are small but so were the children…”



I fainted then.



When I woke I found myself in a bedroom. It smelled of dust and rot, the sort of rot I could not identify. Before I could think of anything to do, I heard them in the hall.



Suddenly the door opened and they all walked in.



“It’s not like you think.” The mother beamed, licking her lips. “It’s alright Barbara, we won’t hurt you. You’ll come to like it here with us. We like you, you see.” Then turning toward Christopher, she added: “my son wants to marry you and well, if that’s what he wants, then I want it too.”



“No! No!" I screamed as I dashed toward the open door.



Surprisingly, no one made a move to stop me.



“You’re welcome to look around!" the father shouted after me.



I just ran, hoping I would find a way out, but the hall seemed to go on forever. There were doors on either side of the corridor, and they were open.



I was afraid to look inside. I did finally. That’s when I screamed the loudest.



There were girls—hanging on meat hooks. They had been gutted. There were pools of blood beneath them but no sign of entrails or organs.



“No!” I shouted. I turned to flee but ran right into Christopher.



“Nothing is wasted. We eat them. Mother makes the best pies…”



I screamed and didn’t stop. The father held up a syringe. “Just a sting and you’ll sleep it’s really better that way.”



I was unconscious in the midst of a shriek!



They spoke to me for days, each taking turns. I wouldn’t know until later that they were trained in brain washing. The father had trained them. You see he had worked for various intelligence agencies.



“I've been employed all over the world. You name the country and I would venture to say I have advised them on terrorism and all sorts of problems they were having, most of which were internal.”



Mrs. White was beaming. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” she said.



Mr. White looked delighted.  Then turning to me he said: “I can help to make you understand, come now. Let me really kiss you!”



I was right about his tongue; it was like that of a serpent.



I sank into a kind of stupor I guess you could say, and then everything changed. Of course it was all due to our endless ‘little talks,’ the father and I.


I soon found I enjoyed listening to the sound of his voice. By the end of the first week I was having my meals with them.



“Your pies are delicious, Mrs. White. I do enjoy what I am eating here."



Yes, that’s right I sounded like a robot. I was a robot. I realize that now I didn’t realize it then.



I was even letting Mr. White into my room at night. He really had the most remarkable way of kissing…!



Christopher didn’t seem to mind either. He said it was important for me to appreciate his father in every way. “Love and truth, Barbara. They go together.”



It wasn’t long before I was sharing their insane life style.



Mr. White still worked as a campaign manager for some politician. I don’t remember which one. I only know he was out a great deal of the time.



“He is so good at his job. You wouldn’t believe how much he helps various people get elected, people who wouldn't normally have attained office!”



Christopher interrupted her. “Mother really, now you promised, no politics."



She had indeed promised but she was something of a political animal and always managed to bring the subject up again.

*

It’s been ten years since I’ve been with the Whites and it hasn't been bad. Christopher never cheated on me. I’ve given him eight children, four boys and four girls. Each and every one of them is a White in every way—tongues and all.



Yes, we did marry. A couple of highly placed politicians came to witness the ceremony. As a matter of fact, a very famous minister married us, too.



No, I cannot tell you who they were, you’d recognize their names. Sorry.



I think the most important thing I can tell you is my trouble turned to happiness when I accepted my fate, for it called to mind that age-old saying: here there be monsters—!



I suppose you could say my own humble addition to that saying would be ‘and they might very likely become your family.’

By the way, in case you’re wondering, Chris is in every way like his father, just thought I’d add that.

 © Copyright 2012 Carole Gill

1094 words

Author Charity Parkerson on Charity Parkerson and Writing!

                                     

My name is Charity Parkerson, and I write because I have to.  My first book “The Danger from Within” came to me in a dream that wouldn’t leave me alone until it was on paper, and I haven’t stopped writing since. 

My underground world of America’s defense against terrorism has now grown to include an entire world of the paranormal with my “Sinners Series”.  Here is an excerpt from book 2 “Wicked Sinners”

Excerpt from “Wicked Sinners” by Charity Parkerson

A line of blood appeared across Jacques’ throat, and a drop ran down the side of his neck.  He was immortal, but the wound didn’t heal, and Jacques gasped loudly against the pain.  He scrambled and fought to escape the blade, but it continued to press against him. “Do you think to harm her?  I will see you dead first.”

“I did not recognize her, as belonging to you,” Jacques gasped out, through clenched teeth.

“Please, Julien,” Adriana whispered.

Jacques slid to the floor landing in a heap, and Julien focused on her for the first time.  She realized then, that not all his anger was directed at Jacques.

“You may leave us,” Julien’s words were for Jacques, but his eyes never left hers.  With a snap of Julien’s fingers, Jacques disappeared.

“You left me,” he said calmly, but she could feel that he was anything but. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I am so very stupid,” Adriana cried. “I thought that if I gave you everything that I possessed.  If I gave you the pages, you were searching for all these years.  If I gave you my heart you would walk away from all that anger and hatred,” pausing she swallowed past her tears. “I guess that sounds vain doesn’t it?  How could I ever be enough for someone like you?”

His voice came out sounding deadly, and she almost took a step away, as the power crackled around him, making the hair stand up on her arms. “What do you mean someone like me?”

Even knowing all the things that he had done over the years, she had never feared him before that moment.

“You are this powerful man, who has lived thousands of years, and has been worshiped by people all around the world, but look at me.  I’m just this small town girl, who has never done a thing, and is loved by no one.”

The room filled with a bright glow, and she was surrounded by an intense heat.  The room was on fire, but not a single flame burned her skin and no smoke filled the room.  Adriana turned in a slow circle looking at the flames in awe.  They were real, but they weren’t, and it was unlike anything she had ever seen.  It was his fury come to life.  She met his eyes once more.

His voice shook with the power of it and his eyes glowed with the same flames. “You are loved by me.” He took a step towards her, and she had nowhere to go with the fire raging at her back.  Grabbing the front of her shirt, he towed her against his body. “You are loved by me,” he repeated. 

Here are the links to my books on Amazon:

http://amzn.to/zOBESM A Secure Heart

http://amzn.to/zWeWJn A Fighting Chance

http://amzn.to/xFDeWJ The Danger from Within

http://amzn.to/x5m33I Wicked Sinners

http://amzn.to/z1wAAg The Society of Sinners

   About Charity

Charity Parkerson was born in Tennessee where she still lives with her husband and two sons.

She is an award winning author, making the bestseller list with her book "A Secure Heart."

Her paranormal Sinners Series, was voted as one of the top ten "Best books by an Indie author in 2011".

You can like her at:

Facebook Author Page

Charity's Website

Charity's Blog

Thank you for that, Charity!

Next week:

Sci-Fi and Horror Author, Lisa Lane!

Clowns Scare Ya?! Just Say 'NO!'

They weren’t supposed to get out of the panel truck in front of the house. They were supposed to park around the corner and then just go skipping up the path to ring the bell.

Well it was the kid’s birthday for Christ sake.

“Don’t scare’em. Kids are scared of clowns anyway now.”

That, from Joe Reems who ran Party Poppers, the ultimate party service.

We supply all your party requirements.

There used to be a ‘we’ when Joe’s wife, Edna was still breathing, but for the past five years it was only Joe.

He supplied clowns, strippers, witches like from the Wizard of Oz, too. He even had some Frankensteins and Draculas for Halloween. He used to supply clowns like crazy but lately no one wanted them.

“They frighten the children.”

How many times had Joe heard that?

He used to say he didn’t understand the reasoning behind the clown phobia. Well, people change maybe.

Yeah and there were films and books about scary clowns, demonic clowns even effing cannibal clowns.

Joe began to resent it. But since he wanted to keep his business he had to please people.

But business wasn’t so good lately. So when the two guys came in, nicest guys you’d want to meet, to ask if there were jobs with Joe’s Party Service Joe asked them what their specialty was.

“Why, we worked in circuses and amusement parts, shows too. We were clowns!”

Joe’s smile vanished and his cigar fell out of his mouth.

“You were clowns?”

“Yup, we sure were and proud of it.”

They sounded pretty impassioned, too.

They all started to talk then about the prejudice lately. None of them liked it.

“It’s put a lot of guys out of business.”

One of them replied.

“Some committed suicide, even.”

Joe felt sorry for them. “You got pictures of yourselves in costume?”

They sure did and Joe liked them.

“Okay,” he said. “You free on Friday?”

                                                                      *

Friday came and they pulled up in front of the birthday boy’s house. The mother was hovering. They could see her at the window. When she saw them she looked worried.

“Friggin’ bitch, what’s wrong with the way we look? I bet she’s gonna call Mr. Cigar!” Desmond said.

Buck shook his head. “Nah let’s just play along nice like."

So they played along. They acted funny and clumsy and stupid too and the woman looked as though she fell for it.

The kids seemed okay with them too.

They went into their bullshit routine, singing, 'Happy Birthday' and talking to the little kids as though they liked them.

When Mom stepped out of the room they turned. Just like that. Like you’d snap a light switch.

They smiled their big smiles showing their sharp teeth.

Yes, it was just like the clown in IT.

One kid started to bawl so Desmond smacked him one. Damn if the little bastard didn’t roll over backwards.

Mom came rushing in. Soon, all the kids were screaming.

Buck dragged the mother out of the room, “you’re pretty hot for a mommy,” he said.

She was fighting him but he was a hell of a lot stronger.

Man, they enjoyed themselves that day. These were tasty kids. Sweet as anything. Nothing like young flesh.

After gorging themselves on the little bastards they finished off the mother. She didn’t care by then. Poor bitch.

She was plump so they had seconds.

When they heard the car pull up they changed in a second, morphing into those they had cannibalized.

Demons can do that. They can multiply their numbers like nobody’s business.

The blood and gore went too in a flash.

The father came in and smiled. “Did you have fun, kids?”

Desmond liked the father at once and sashayed over to him. “Hi, darling!”

The father beamed after Des gave him a little tongue action. “We all had a great time, didn’t we kids? Come along,” Desmond said, pulling daddy from the room, “I feel like a matinee!”

Buck waited. “Maybe Joe’s got a daughter,” he said to himself.

© Copyright 2012 Carole Gill

679 words