Tomorrow, my sci-fi novelette PROMETHEUS goes live on Amazon.com. To give you a treat, here is the PROMETHEUS official book trailer, plus the first chapter from the book. Want to read more? The ebook is only $2.99!
He waited for them at the foot of the Hanging Tree, an ancient gnarled oak that dominated the treeline, draped with the remnants of frayed ropes that swung like dreadlocks in the late spring breeze.
“Maggie had another bad dream last night,” Aunt Betty murmured over the tinkle of silver spoons on ceramic bowls. Dick’s spoon dipped again into the steaming peach pudding and rose to his mouth.
“They’re getting more frequent,” Aunt Betty pointed out.
Dick swallowed. “So send for a doctor. Find out what’s wrong.”
“Don’t look at the water!” Richard screamed, snatching Margaret away from the edge of the boardwalk. Her skin crawled with cold sweat. He pushed her forward. Her feet slipped on the slime that dribbled at the edges of the warping wooden planks of the boardwalk, which receded into the twilight mist like a road that led to the edge of the world.
Snippets are story excerpts from the latest works in progress, and stories soon to be released.
The Winter Queen's skin was neither transparent like that of the Ice People, nor opaque white like that of the Snow People. Rather, it was colorless, like that of a human woman who had rarely seen the sun. Her frosted, pale hair was wrapped in pearls of ice and studded with glittering six-pointed flakes of snow. A long coat of white fur brushed the blue snow, and opened at her throat to admit the sight of a glittering diamond pendant. If she truly were a thousand years old, no age marked her face or frame. She seemed young, perhaps Enrin’s age.
I've been struggling to continue with my story, Beyond the Void, recently. Partly, that's because my brother has been in the hospital with a ruptured appendix, so normal life is currently forsaken. Partly, that's because I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around this particular story.
After reading it aloud to my brother and one of my sisters, my sister commented, "It's one of those weird, fascinating fantasy stories that reminds me of George MacDonald's style."
My brain jolted. Oh! That was it. That was why I couldn't write the story the way I wanted to. I was categorizing it as epic fantasy (think Tolkien), but the story simply didn't fit. It wasn't fantasy; it was a fairytale for grown-ups.
I write YA/adult fantasy & sci-fi that burns through the darkest realities with truth and redemption.
Learn more here!