tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19752904133982372132024-03-19T06:27:35.247-04:00Hell Is Where The Heart IsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-12612308718418884792019-03-20T08:56:00.001-04:002019-03-20T08:56:49.269-04:00Ghosts, Old and New<i>Ghost</i>, a cautionary tale of why one should never fall in love with an incubus, especially if one is an angel, came out yesterday. It's been one of my favorite "in progress" stories for the last five years, so seeing it out there and finished is bittersweet. I'm glad to finally share Ghost and John with readers, but at the same time I feel I'm losing a little of them myself. I'll never sit down again with these two, never again slip into their heads and live through them. It's that moment of depression at the end of writing a book that I always wonder if other writers experience.<br />
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<i>Ghost</i> also marks a pause - it's the last "big" story that was backed up in my creative pipeline for New Berlin. The third and final volume of The Hunting will be released this summer (exclusively on Smashwords), and after that there will probably be a lull in New Berlin for a bit while I sort through ideas and partials and figure out where my demons want to take me next. Some old ghosts have been slipping through my cracks, reminding me of characters and plots that predate New Berlin and are still hungry for physical form. So I may pursue them a while and let the city breathe new life into itself.<br />
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Assurances that I do intend to return to New Berlin, whether it's tomorrow or in a few months. There's one character's story in particular, the most important character really, whose existence inspired the entire idea of New Berlin. You haven't seen him yet except in glimpses. His name is Sericus Vane. He owns a nightclub on the East Side where he employs demonic performers for bizarre stage acts. He's gathering fallen angels to his club, partly in preparation for the war to come. And partly because he is looking for one angel in particular, an angel from his past, on whom he intends to exact ruinous revenge.<br />
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But the details of this revenge are murky. So I am scrying in my crystal ball, seeking them out, and grasping for the heartstrings of the story.<br />
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Meantime, I hope you enjoy <i>Ghost</i>. My favorite incubus and my favorite angel thus far. May they herald in a beautiful, green Ostara.<br />
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xoxo,<br />
Blake<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-85416741417482042962019-01-08T19:17:00.000-05:002019-01-08T19:17:00.826-05:00Color TherapyWinter has been hard the last few years. In NYC, seasons never really impressed me. My windows let in only the weakest sunlight, so there was no hope of growing flowers. In bad weather, I still took the subway to work - worst case, mass transit shut down and nobody went into the office.<br />
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Moving to a rural area changed that. Now I drive a good forty minutes to work, and my way home involves crazy highway traffic as well as a long metal grid bridge and twisty-turny hills. All of which become extra treacherous in bad weather. Have I mentioned I drive a twenty-year-old sedan that keeps crying uncle?<br />
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But somehow more depressing is the fact that when the outdoors is frozen over in a sheet of white, my garden freezes with it. My fragrant thyme plant becomes a spidery stick; the tulip bulbs are buried and forgotten; even the persistent green of yarrow foliage browns and crumbles. I dream of spring, of crocuses bursting from snow and bleeding hearts dripping from the stem. Chocolate mint releasing its fragrance beside sweet red roses and tomatoes growing swollen on the vine. Snapdragons and dianthus and sweet pea and morning glories and moonflowers and clematis. I am a witch firmly rooted in the earth, and while she sleeps, I become Demeter cold and alone.<br />
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So I lock myself in a room. Surround myself with all the color I can gather, and pray my cyclamen blooms until the sun returns.<br />
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I baby succulents in fabulous planters, and spray too much perfume into the shadows of my home.<br />
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I dye my hair the color of fire and warmth, and my parrot, ahem, I mean my dog, as well.<br />
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And I lose myself at my writing desk, in worlds where sunlight drips over golden skin and the promise of eternal day seems almost within grasp. A world where only the monsters slink in darkness and cold, and even they are seeking the light.<br />
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This is how I survive the winter.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-50634691593479628772018-12-28T09:19:00.001-05:002018-12-28T09:19:49.332-05:00New... Website?I just wanted to drop a note here for any of you who have been checking my website for updates. Paid hosting has been ticking me off lately, and I'm migrating over to using blogger pretty much completely. So this is going to be the site to check for new stories, etc. But not to worry; I don't expect ya'll to read through every blah-blah post. (Yes, dears, I know I'm long-winded... ;) Just check this page and any new releases will appear at the top of the list:<br />
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<a href="https://lfblake.blogspot.com/p/books.html">https://lfblake.blogspot.com/p/books.html</a><br />
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You can also find it on the blog sidebar, of course. And very soon I hope to have plain old www.LFBlake.com pointed there as well.<br />
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Ok, then, righty-o. Now that you all know I'm still here, it's off to work on the latest New Berlin masterpiece.<br />
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After a quick nap.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-28971635028797303032018-12-11T19:37:00.000-05:002018-12-11T19:40:15.794-05:00It Is DoneToday at work I groomed a dog I will probably never see again. He's an older boy at fifteen, and has been blind and mostly deaf for the year and a half that I've been seeing him. And he is such a <i>good</i> boy he breaks my heart. He came in today completely incontinent with a smell that wouldn't wash out even after five baths. And five baths is a hard thing for a poor little old man to go through. Then he's dripping urine and other things while I'm trying to clip pee-soaked hair that doesn't want to clip, and his hips are too stiff for me to lift one leg to get at the really nasty hair, and it's disgusting, I've had his smell in my nose since eight a.m., but worse than that I've had the tears and ache of him clogging me up all day, because I love this little dog, and all I want to do is hug him and tell it will all be all right and it will be over soon. I had to recommend that his parents take him to the vet for his next groom, where medical supervision will be standing by. And even while I'm making this recommendation and his mom is trying not to tear up, I know and his mom knows he will probably not live to see this next grooming appointment.<br />
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None of this has anything to do with today's news posting, except that apparently death punctuates all my new releases. I've just uploaded CURVE OF MOON for sale, Curve of Moon being the rewritten version of Wolves' Blood, my not-so-successful attempt at a straight paranormal romance. There's a long-ass explanation on my reasons for re-writing the novel as a gay romance in the back of it... in brief, it says, because I wanted to. And I like it this way. I like Nico. And I will never rewrite this particular story again.<br />
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Eight months ago I uploaded the final manuscript of Iron and Bone hours before my mother died. Today I'm uploading the final manuscript of Curve of Moon and praying that somewhere out there a little old dog is not dying. Or maybe I'm praying that he is dying, peacefully, going to sleep and slipping away without pain or shame into a beautiful After.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-9429722805282590552018-10-19T19:12:00.003-04:002018-10-19T19:12:53.787-04:00Ok. I get it. I suck.At least, apparently I suck writing about straight people.<br />
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Sorry, Mom. I'll write you another novel another time, under another name maybe.<br />
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Wolves' Blood is going to be removed from Amazon for renovations. I will reimagine our heroine and make her into a hero. Because I'm flexible that way, and I'm pretty sure Gideon Summers is, too. Plus, Lia was always edgy enough to switch hit, and I think she might get a kick out of becoming a boy. So when you next see that story, it'll have a new cover, new title, and new protagonist.<br />
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Part of me would like to just leave it up as is and shrug--oh, well, you win some, you lose some. But honestly that damn story took too long to write (five drafts! 90,000 words!), and I like the actual premise too much to let it die being read by only two people. Speaking of which, hey, two people, whoever you are, thanks! Hugs!<br />
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Ok, so one more try. Back to work. Assuming my dog moves over and shares my own goddamn desk chair with me.<br />
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Cheers.<br />
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Literally. Where's the vodka?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-7473409021039744192018-09-17T12:57:00.000-04:002018-09-17T12:57:04.251-04:00Don't You Ever Write About Straight People?My mother used to ask me that. She never actually told me that I shouldn't, as a female, be writing about gay males. Though she believed on and off again that homosexuality was a sin against God, it probably bothered her more that I'm pagan than that I write about gay rocks stars. Still, she was a voracious reader of romance novels, and I think she wanted to read something of mine without being weirded out because two guys were "doing it." Also, she seemed to think I'd make more money if I wrote about straight people. ;)<br />
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My answer to whether I ever wrote about straight people was usually evasive. I always have written heterosexual romances. But my first novel being a gay love story, it seemed logical to me to continue in that vein when I was working on a story I planned to publish. LGBT culture attracts me, or maybe a better way to put it is that it speaks to me, to something in me I can't quite define. I'm primarily straight in this life, but I've always felt that in another life I was a shy gay man who never got his shit together enough to be happy in his own skin. I'm left with an eroded past self, the ghost of which is still present through all the other layers of me. Not quite accessible. But still seeking expression.<br />
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And really, I try to just write the characters as they appear to me. If a gay werewolf pops into my head, he's getting a gay romance. If a kinky-but-straight witch starts swimming through my brain, she gets a kinky-but-straight romance. Simple as that. The gay ones just get published more often, because I'm a creature who loves familiarity, and hates taking chances.<br />
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Also, it's always seemed like a lot of work to publish a straight romance. So many writers use different names to separate their gay work rom their hetero work. And obviously that's fine, but I just didn't think I had the energy for yet another personality.<br />
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Then my mom died. And I have so many fucking regrets about her death, about her life, that this one thing--<i>don't you ever write about straight people?</i>--suddenly seems like such a simple thing. I can't go back in time and be a nicer person when she was driving me crazy. I can't go back and dig the time out of my schedule to take her on more day trips, or stop griping at her for her love of Hallmark movies turned up to deafening volumes. But I can write a goddamn romance novel she might actually have enjoyed reading.<br />
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Although she'd probably be unhappy that my protagonist is a little bit of a junky, and a lot of a bitch. But what can I say? I like my girls crazy, damaged, and nasty AF.<br />
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And so that is the explanation for why a male/female romance novel is suddenly appearing under my name. Ironically it's a story I wrote almost ten years ago as a cute little novella. It went up online at FictionPress, and some people said they liked it. Enough people that I always thought I'd like to redo the story as it deserved, someday. And now someday is today.<br />
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Tomorrow actually. Wolves' Blood releases tomorrow on Amazon for all you kindle readers. And ironically it fits perfectly into the New Berlin universe.<br />
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I hope some of you enjoy it. And don't worry; I am not turning into a different kind of writer. Just letting ya'll see a different side of me. Meantime, hard at work on the next New Berlin story, about a stoic fallen angel and the glittery cross-dressing exotic dancer he falls in love with. And possibly the final installment of The Hunting will sort itself out before next year. You never know. Miracles happen.<br />
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Cheers, and peace out, yo.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-23321006769537983422018-08-21T15:13:00.004-04:002018-08-21T15:13:56.279-04:00A Blog Post Written on May 29th and Not Posted<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Joy to the world ~ I have a new release out today. <i>Iron and Bone</i>, my first novel since 2015's <i>Sweet</i>. It has all the elements I love. Virgins, hellhounds, slaves breaking their chains, and true love. I'm proud of this novel. It might not be the most amazing thing I've ever written (I say this about every single thing I've ever written), but I'm happy with the end result. And I hope readers are, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But I just can't get excited. Maybe because the last time I posted on this blog about Iron and Bone, it was seven in the morning on April twenty-seventh. Twelve hours later, I sat on my living room loveseat (which is stained with rat piss and sangria and waiting to go in the dumpster as soon as a replacement arrives), putting the finishing touches on the manuscript and uploading the final version to Kindle. This was about ten minutes after I got off the phone with Hospice care. My mother hadn't spoken in coherent words all day, for the first time ever. She wasn't eating or drinking. That was ok, because even though I had to work the next morning, hospice had promised to send a nurse over to check on her. Except now she was moaning, wouldn't stop, and didn't seem to know when I was standing beside her talking to her. So I called her nurse to say hey, she's in pain, should I be giving her something? The nurse said I should give her morphone, because honey, you shouldn't have to listen to that all night. I thanked her and hung up, thinking, honey, I lived in the Bronx and I can listen to anything all night, I don't want my fucking mother to be lying there in pain unable to tell me she's in fucking pain. Before I hung up, the nurse said, it sounds like she's "transitioning" and the end will probably come in 24-48 hours.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So nothing was changing immediately, my mom didn't know if I was in the room or not, and I still had to work the next morning. Might as well finish up the manuscript, pretend I couldn't hear the moaning, and get shit done. Because I AM NOT good with sick <i>people</i>. Give me a sick rat, I'll cup in my hands and kiss its head and feed it pureed sweet potato until the end comes. Give me back my dead dog, and I'll stroke her soft golden ears until she goes cold. But a human is hot yet clammy, prone to strings of saliva and gurgling noises and unsettling changes in the color of skin. I'm a germaphobe, afraid only of human germs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My mother died two hours later. I was in the room, holding her hand. Afraid to touch her anywhere else. Wanting desperately to do something and not knowing what, afraid to get to close, afraid to be there at all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Have you seen the 2004 Dawn of the Dead? There's an obese woman who dies on screen. Her skin changes color; she looks gelatinous and see-through and wrong. This is what dead actually looks like. It looks like your mother changing color in front of you. Like labored breaths that catch and hold, and you wait wait wait for the next breath, and it comes, and then you wait wait wait for the next breath, and finally it comes, and the pauses get longer, and finally the next breath doesn't come. And by that time the color is all shadow and wax.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And when it's finally over and you're waiting for the nurses and the funeral home, all you can think is that you didn't do enough. I didn't do enough to make this easy on her. It's not a stupid thing to think, just the truth. I am not good with sick people. Dying people. I want to have done so much better for her, supported her through this. But if you sent me back in time, I would do just as bad a job, always afraid to get to close.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Time passes, faster than you might think. There are things I can't bring myself to do. Like watch the last few episodes in the first season of Queer as Folk. Which I started watching to encourage my mother to go to bed on those nights when she seemed intent on staying awake forever. The plan backfired. She got interested and started looking forward to each episode. She didn't like Brian Kinney. I was waiting for that last episode where Brain shows up at Justin's prom to see if she changed her mind. She said he'd never stay with Justin. I looked forward to proving her wrong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But I've managed to clear out her room, throw away boxes and boxes of the useless kitsch she collected over 64 years. And discovered that it's too hard to throw away some items, even if I hate them. Because she loved them, and suddenly that seems to mean something.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So now <i>Iron and Bone</i> is out. And I'm glad it's out, glad the writing of it is over. But I can't seem to bring myself to get excited about it, or to get nervous about how people will like it. Maybe they'll hate it and it'll get horrible reviews if any. But really in my head it's always a doomed book. Far too connected to anticipated death and waiting for that very last breath to stop.</span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-73076573552911013442018-04-27T07:02:00.000-04:002018-04-27T07:02:24.371-04:00Coming Soon: Another New Berlin NovelAnd here is the proof that Iron and Bone, which has spun out from a short story into a novelette into an official novel, is actually going to arrive in the world someday. Ladies and gents and whatevs, we have a cover:<br />
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Here's a teaser from chapter one (though you will have to momentarily bear with Matthew's version of an exciting day ;)<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">IRON & BONE (excerpt)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The office had three gray walls, no natural light, and just enough space for a filing cabinet, a desk, and a rolling chair. The chair had two broken casters, and no longer rolled. Whenever Matthew moved in the chair, it made a soft, dragging sound.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The only other sounds in the office were the clicking of Matthew’s fingers across the computer keyboard, and the susurration of his own breath. He was a quiet breather; the noise was all but inaudible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He had once asked if he might bring in a small radio to play while he worked. His employer had rejected him curtly: Absolutely not. Whether he was worried the radio would distract Matthew or if the man simply found music distasteful, Matthew didn’t know, and had better sense than to inquire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So he worked in silence, tallying the receipts from his employer’s four shops, including The Gem Shoppe, where his tiny office was located opposite from his employer’s much larger one. Eight hours a day of compiling figures into Quickbooks and running reports of monthly profits and losses. It was dull work, especially now that tax season was over. Matthew found himself missing the volume of paperwork that passed across his desk in early spring, all the 1099s that had to be mailed by end of January, and then the start of federal forms, February and March consumed by the search for every single tax deduction that could possibly lower his employer’s due. He never felt so happily busy as he did during tax season, the mad rustle of paper its own cheerful song.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It was Monday now, and nearly noon. Matthew had sorted the receipts for two stores already, The Gem Shoppe and Green Herbal. Three more store remained to be sorted before the close of business. It was the same every Monday. He arrived at five minutes to nine, and the store was already unlocked. In the main display room, the crystal specimens were set out on stretches of black velvet, and in Matthew’s office, five identical boxes of receipts waited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There was no sign of his employer, but Matthew knew Mr. Dietrich was there; he was always there. Usually in his office, but sometimes surveying the contents of the walk-in vault. Matthew seldom had reason to be in the vault, and preferred it that way. There was a chill in the room that made his bones ache. The silence there felt different than other silences. It had a waiting quality about it. Matthew couldn’t begin to imagine what the vault was waiting for, but he doubted it was anything good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">There was still time before lunch to begin a new box of receipts. He opened the next in line, which had come from Mr. Dietrich’s pet shop, Familiar. Matthew had a difficult time picturing his employer as the owner of a pet shop. It didn’t seem to fit the man. When he was still new, he’d made the mistake of asking about that, about why Mr. Dietrich spread himself so widely in his business ventures. The gem shop, the pet shop, the health food store, the café, and most bizarrely, the matchmaking service. Was there a connection between them, he had wondered?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Victor Dietrich had fixed him with such a cold look that Matthew felt a ball of ice form in the pit of his stomach. “My interests are my own, Mr. Goode,” the man said in his hard, flat voice, “and your job description does not include questioning those interests if you wish to have a job at all.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Matthew had never mentioned it again. Because of course he very much wished to have a job, even if it wasn’t particularly a dream job. The wage was adequate (though barely). And he liked the regularity of his days, knowing what to expect, and that he would not be pressured into taking on extra work. His previous employer had been a small business owner who expected him to grow with the business, to take on more and more responsibilities and make decisions that affected growth and direction. The pressure had been incredibly stressful. He much preferred Mr. Dietrich’s ways, frosty and controlling. Mr. Dietrich would never permit, much less expect Matthew to begin setting policy on his own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Matthew created a new Exel sheet, copying the format from the week before, and began entering the pet shop’s sales. Briefly and solely for his own curiosity, he glanced at the “items” sold on each receipt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">One black kitten.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It was, Matthew had decided a long time ago, a very odd pet shop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The bell over the front door chimed, echoing down the short hallway where Matthew’s door stood open (per Mr. Dietrich’s order). He glanced out the door, forgetting for a moment the quandary of how one might make a pet of a three week old Komodo dragon, and hoping for a customer. Not that Mr. Dietrich would ever let him speak to the customers, of course. But sometimes he called Matthew out to ring up sales. Mr. Dietrich had a deep aversion to processing credit cards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It wasn’t a customer. It was McCarthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Matthew’s heart executed a peculiar vault and flip worthy of any Olympic gymnast, and then settled into a fluttery beat. The office seemed suddenly warm, spring creeping in from outside as if it simply couldn’t be kept out any longer; perhaps it had come in with McCarthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">What Matthew knew about the man called McCarthy he could count on three fingers. First, that his favorite color must have been black, just like Mr. Dietrich, because that was all either of them ever wore. But where the color (or lack thereof) made their employer appear somewhat corpselike, McCarthy seemed to have been born to it. The soft black leather of his high-collared coat perfectly matched his hair, which was drawn into a long braid that hung halfway down his back. Black jeans seemed molded to him, showing every inch of long legs, muscled thighs. His gloves, too, were black, and also the aviator sunglasses perched on the bridge of his fine aquiline nose. All that darkness ought to have made his white skin look far too pale, and it waspale; but the stark contrast was outlandishly appealing. Matthew thought.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Second, whatever work McCarthy did for Mr. Dietrich, it was dangerous. Every time he appeared at The Gem Shoppe he had some new scar, or limp. Frequently his lovely coat, so soft it seemed to fold around him like wings, had been damaged. Though he seemed to have an endless supply of them, changing one out for another by the next visit. Like the ruined coats, his scars had usually also disappeared by the next time Matthew saw him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The third thing Matthew knew, and perhaps the most important thing, was that he would never in his lifetime meet a man more perfectly devastating to his senses than the man called McCarthy. Or a man more terribly out of his league.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The front door fell shut. Tinted glass cut off the impression of warmth and overcast skies, and the brief lift in the air flattened again. The gems on their shelves went on sparkling, impossibly bright. McCarthy ignored the gems and the empty show room and stalked toward the hall, shiny black boots utterly silent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Matthew looked quickly back down at his desk, trying to remember which entry he’d been in the middle of so that he could resume his absorption in it. He couldn’t for the life of him recall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Good morning, Matthew.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A cool shadow fell across the desk. McCarthy smelled like the threat of rain, and he was tall enough to fill the doorway completely. His voice was dark as midnight, smooth as silk, warmer than his shadow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Without looking up, Matthew said, “Good morning… McCarthy.” As always, with that little pause. Because after six years of working at The Gem Shoppe, he still wasn’t sure if McCarthy was a first name or a last name. McCarthy had never volunteered more, and neither had their mutual employer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Good morning, in fact, was the extent of their typical conversation, with the occasional notation on the weather.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">McCarthy’s shadow lingered. Matthew wondered if he was about to comment on the approaching hurricane, early for the season. Perhaps McCarthy had weekend plans that would now be ruined by wind and rain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yet the other man remained silent. When Matthew glanced up, he found McCarthy frowning down at the stack of receipts on the desk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">His eyes were indigo. Matthew had only been near enough to him to make out their true color once or twice. From any distance, they simply looked black.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Christ. The dragon sold already.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Matthew blinked, and then remembered the pet shop. “Ah, yes. The Komodo. For nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine dollars. Plus tax, of course.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">McCarthy lifted a gloved hand absently to his jaw. “He should have doubled it. The thing’s too much trouble to restock.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">His jaw was smooth and unmarked now, but Matthew recalled a week earlier when McCarthy had come in with a vicious festering wound there that appeared in the shape of a bite.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">McCarthy shook his head as he stepped back out of the office. An errant lock of coal black hair brushed his cheek, softening for a moment the unyielding lines of his face. Matthew’s heart startled again. He tried to formulate a response, any response, but between the lock of hair, the scent of leather, and the notion that McCarthy might actually have gone off to some sweltering island to procure that lizard, he was stuck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">He was still stuck when McCarthy paused again, just outside the door, and glanced back. “By the way—happy birthday, Matthew.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Matthew blinked again, rapidly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">“Thank you,” he said a full minute later, but by that time of course, McCarthy had gone.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-49913777357570134742018-02-21T18:28:00.001-05:002018-02-21T18:28:24.705-05:00Something NewWinter has done it's best to knock me on my writerly butt, but alas, I'm back up and pounding the keyboard. When I'm not getting sucked into my new favorite hobby of embroidery. Just give me my old lady badge already, okay? I forfeit youth.<br />
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Anyway, lots of stories in the pipeline. The one that doesn't spill oil in your prettiest puddle. First up is another faerie story set in, you guessed it, New Berlin! Matthew Goode is a third (or fourth or fifth, he's really not sure) generation fey descendant who's having some trouble with his personal life. Which is to say he doesn't have one. What he does have is a crappy job keeping the books for an ungrateful employer, and a crush on his employer's rough-and-tumble errand boy, McCarthy. Of course Matthew knows he'd never have a chance with a man like that. He's a nice shy boy, maybe a little on the boring side. He understands most men aren't attracted to the quiet, dull type. Which is why he's never tried too hard to find one. What the hay. He's got a pet parakeet named Delilah and she could shit all over any human man.<br />
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And then Delilah dies. Matthew goes off the deep end. Demands a raise, gets turned down for a raise, steals a gemstone worth millions of dollars, and tries to run away to start a new life in England, where boring men like him meet each other over cups of Earl Grey every day.<br />
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What Matthew doesn't know: His employer is a powerful witch not know for being merciful. His crush, McCarthy, is actually one of the dark fey, a changeling adopted by the witch a hundred years ago and serving as his enforcer ever since. And then gemstone he stole? It's a magical talisman beyond any price tag, and the witch wants it back. Now.<br />
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Who better to send after an errant fey than one of the dark fey? Unless that dark fey has a soft spot for nervous reclusive bookkeepers harboring secret dirty fantasies.<br />
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If revisions go well, Iron & Bone will be publishing with a <i>real</i> cover in late spring/early summer of this year. In the meantime, you can check out the in progress second draft at either FictionPress <a href="https://www.fictionpress.com/u/384634/LFBlake">https://www.fictionpress.com/u/384634/LFBlake</a> or Wattpad <a href="https://www.wattpad.com/user/lfblake">https://www.wattpad.com/user/lfblake</a>.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-63627905348318814312018-02-14T09:50:00.002-05:002018-02-14T09:50:43.378-05:00Happy Valentine's DayLife goes on. People live, in a manner of speaking that other people might not call living at all. And caretakers, I have a new respect for caretakers. It is a job that can ruin you, husk you out like rotten corn until the good parts of yourself are dust and only hard crunchy bits of cob remain. Not everyone can do it, and when you come to terms with the fact you can no longer <i>care</i>, you're haunted by the possibility of being a terrible person.<br />
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I refuse to descend into depression on a manufactured holiday which I would likely feel more charitable toward if I were not spending it alone, fighting off a cold, and waiting to be called at any moment into my mother's bedroom to empty her catheter bag. I resent these impositions. I <i>am</i> a terrible person.<br />
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So... Sylvia Plath on Valentine's Day. That's all I have the energy for. The poetry and anger of Otep got me through depression in my early twenties, kicked my ass out of apathy, into righteous fury. But today is not a day for rage. It's a day for tulips.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">How free it is, you have no idea how free——</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down, </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color, </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Nobody watched me before, now I am watched. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins, </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips, </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Before they came the air was calm enough,</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine. </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They concentrate my attention, that was happy </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Playing and resting without committing itself.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, </span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,</span></div>
<div style="border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 1em; text-indent: -1em; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And comes from a country far away as health.</span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>~Tulips (abbreviated), Sylvia Plath</i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-69627531938078412972018-01-13T16:16:00.002-05:002018-01-13T16:24:03.005-05:00Death Comes In ThreesIt occurs to me that could be a good idea for a paranormal novel. Death Comes In Threes. Zombie ménage à trois perhaps.<br />
<br />
Maybe someday. For today it's just me babbling about things I can't say anywhere else, so please feel free to stop reading now, because nothing good will come of this post. There's no takeaway here.<br />
<br />
But it's a new year, right? The old shit is supposed to be over, we're in a fresh new start... To me it feels like the old shit is just rolling right into the new and forming one massive shitstain of a snowball.<br />
<br />
I guess I still haven't gotten over the death of my dog. Maybe because she felt more like a daughter to me, snotty attitude and all. I'm sure she got the attitude from me. As well as the anti-social, don't-touch-me, feed-me-now, yes-I-will-damn-well-pee-where-I-please stuff. Because she was a nice, sweet girl when she arrived at eight weeks old. She arrived when I was twenty-one, my young-mother baby, and she was supposed to hang out for a good long time. Not turn up sick before she hit ten, go into the vet for an inspection and never come back home. Not my beautiful bitchy girl who had me wrapped around her finger, and who I would traded places with in a heartbeat.<br />
<br />
And yet.<br />
<br />
Fast forward a couple of months and I get a call at work. Apparently my grandfather's been found facedown on his living room floor and he's likely been there a couple days. The funeral home is real impressed with themselves for "getting as much of him out of the carpet as we did."<br />
<br />
I've never been close to this particular grandfather. He was artistic, which I admire, and I loved his pottery. But in his old age he always seemed deeply bitter at not having made a name for himself in the art world. And frankly it never looked like he was trying that hard. Which of course makes me worry I'm not trying hard enough (to be a writer, to be an artist), and I'll end up just like him. But then again, the man told me to "put a lid on it" when I was five - "it" being a can of Pringles, and the meaning that I was a loud eater and likely to get as fat as my mother. So.<br />
<br />
But then we had to tell my grandmother. His wife of seventy years, currently in a nursing home and not likely to ever leave. And she kept forgetting who'd died and crying over her obese but still alive border collie. So even if the dead relative doesn't make you sob, the living one probably will.<br />
<br />
The rest of the family is out there now, picking over his belongings, by which I'm sure I mean they're cleaning. And they want me to come collect mementos, and I can't even begin to. Not only because it feels hideously morbid to me (and I'm a pretty goddamn morbid person). But mostly because my mother's in the next bedroom dying, and I just can't seem to find my energy.<br />
<br />
When I say she's dying I think I really mean it. She's said she's dying since I was twelve, but last year, shortly after the sneaky bitch convinced me we should get an apartment together, so that she could escape the physical rehab facility where she was trapped, shit got real. Lots of emergency 911 calls, followed by enrollment in in-home hospice care. Hospice, you know, where patients get six months or less to live.<br />
<br />
Some people die on hospice. Others get better. Despite failing heart, kidneys, eyes, and just about everything else, my angry, bitter-to-be-alive amputee of a mother thrived. Healthier than ever. Never going to die.<br />
<br />
Then she got the flu.<br />
<br />
And now her heart appears to be giving out. Five days and she hasn't gotten out of bed. She doesn't eat. She barely drinks. And in two days she hasn't once turned on the television to blast my brains out with Murder She Wrote or Quincy or Little House on the Prairie or any of that crap that makes me contemplate murder suicides. She sleeps. She mumbles to the imaginary possum on her bedroom wall. (I jest not.) Her body fills up with fluid until she looks like a beached whale, and when she wakes up, she doesn't know what day it is or why I have to leave her to go groom dogs at the shop or why on earth I want her to take her heart pills or drink some goddamn ginger ale.<br />
<br />
Her doctor says she might surprise us and turn it around. But her doctor also says this could be the beginning of the end. And it will go fast, doc says. But how fast is fast? Days? Apparently more than that. A week, two, a month? How long can you survive on one can of diet sprite a day?<br />
<br />
I love my mother. I hate my mother. These are feelings I've lived with all my life, and I have no clue how to resolve them now. I don't want her to die, because we just starting streaming iZombie from the first season, and she still hasn't seen how Game of Thrones ends. The Bachelor just started for christ's sake.<br />
<br />
I want her to die, because she's been in limbo for so long, and I know she believes in god and that she's going to heaven, and I want that for her even if it's all bullshit to me.<br />
<br />
I want her to live, because she trapped me in this expensive apartment that I hate and can't afford on my own, and where the hell am I supposed to find a house for rent that will take me with two dogs, two ferrets, two rats, and four fish tanks, and yes I'm aware I created this particular dilemma all on my own.<br />
<br />
I want her to live, because I have a new dog, adopted from one of my clients, and I want my new girl to have a grandmother. I want my boy Jasper, who loves his grandma probably more than he does me, to keep getting his morning petting sessions and all the yummy people food she sneaks him. I want to hear her bitching again about how Jasper leaves all his favorite balls right in front of her walker as gifts to her and she always thinks she's going to step on them and fall, even though she never actually lifts her feet high enough off the ground to step on a fucking gumdrop.<br />
<br />
I want her to die, because I'm sick to death of living with my angry, sick mother, and I'm ready to be a fucking adult living in my own home, alone, without falling over walkers and wheelchairs and ugly ass furniture I can't stand and listening to that tv going day and night, day and night, until I want to scream.<br />
<br />
I want her to live because she's my mom. And even if there are a lot of ways she failed me as a mother, she always loved me. And I love her.<br />
<br />
My new novel was supposed to be finished a week ago, but I can't seem to write more than twenty words a day on it. All my jewelry orders are overdue. I burst into tears for no reason in the middle of every groom, and the dogs look at me like I'm nuts, dear jesus, why are they stuck with the nutso groomer and maybe a little nip would snap me out of it?<br />
<br />
And I have no idea what to do. None whatsoever.<br />
<br />
Except wait. And do nothing.<br />
<br />
And now - just fucking now while my finger is hovering over the publish button - I hear her rasping and muttering to herself in her empty bedroom, and she says, "I love you, [Lydia]. I always have, I always will."<br />
<br />
Fuck. Me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-65463457265444133012017-12-08T18:29:00.002-05:002017-12-08T18:29:40.881-05:00The Hunting, Vol.2The second volume of The Hunting trilogy is officially up! (Or will be in 24 hours...) Releasing January 9, 2018, you can preorder a copy on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/L.F.-Blake/e/B00H5SGP54/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1">Amazon</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKdWqbVit9Nx5uKzhLSSmHfC38tarpB1Rrk8K-s2tt-jdulzUCqaj144jvCZpu1TaUaK9rgeCTCz5FyztPZMIilr0vabhmTnhHePH28DE4ZtdY-IOQnhyY3zrGDntnX5kWcADbrTEPD1V/s1600/thehuntingvol2cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKdWqbVit9Nx5uKzhLSSmHfC38tarpB1Rrk8K-s2tt-jdulzUCqaj144jvCZpu1TaUaK9rgeCTCz5FyztPZMIilr0vabhmTnhHePH28DE4ZtdY-IOQnhyY3zrGDntnX5kWcADbrTEPD1V/s320/thehuntingvol2cover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<b>PACK: The Hunting, Vol.2</b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Opposites attract, and love is blind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What other hope is there for a werewolf who
can't seem to fall out of love with his werewolf-slaying ex?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jackson thought the hard part of getting back together with
his estranged boyfriend would be convincing Eric not to kill him outright.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, Eric has spent his entire adult
life being brainwashed by the Paranormal Division; he's trained to kill monsters
without mercy or sentiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And whether
Jackson chose to become a werewolf or not, the fact that he ran away and hid
for two years afterward has left Eric in a perpetually pissed off mood.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And yet—he didn’t kill Jackson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He chose, instead, to leave the Paranormal
Division and run away with his wayward ex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But that wasn’t the hard part.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The hard part is living together after.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they’re on the run from a secret and
deadly branch of the government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Camped
out in the middle of nowhere with no decent coffee for miles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Eric won’t touch Jackson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Won’t talk to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will hardly even look at him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Jackson is pretty sure that Eric thinks running away
with him was a mistake.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the Paranormal Division is hot on their heels, and there’s
only one place Jackson can think of where he and Eric will be safe to figure
out their next move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The problem is, it’s
the same place where he spent the last two years hiding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s a wolf’s den.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For two years, Jackson lived with the Beneventi family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From them, he learned how a man and a
werewolf can live at peace in the same skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He ran with them, hunted with them, and called them pack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To a wolf, pack means family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And not every member of his adopted family
has forgiven him for trying to return to his old life and his old lover.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Michael Beneventi thought he’d laid claim to
Jackson, and now he’s fully prepared to take out any challenger, even a federal
agent with a dangerous attitude and the knowledge and skill to put down any
werewolf.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s up to Jackson to stitch together the two sides of his
life—or tear them apart once and for all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If he wants to keep Eric, he’ll have to fight for him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Name="envelope return"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="line number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="page number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Block Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Document Map"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Theme"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 4"/>
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But then… there’s always the thought that Eric never really
left the Paranormal Division at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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____________</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if you missed it, don't forget to check out the first volume of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Hunting-Vol-1-ebook/dp/B01AATE1QE/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">The Hunting</a>!</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cheers!</div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-62082411572662093642017-11-19T17:25:00.000-05:002017-11-19T17:25:24.140-05:00Pack Means Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEmf86Gsor-qngcCG93YNpwQ_mt70W8U8w_HeUI1GPHaFb9YTCjGW7UHDGDoKHBQyH2PKhIvWjrV4LPFAj53vd0ANhljFPb1JTBI-ge5gAab8P-5Du6VWJ-Pf4Ok4kNzJMmfncj0tWM8o/s1600/thehuntingvol2cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyEmf86Gsor-qngcCG93YNpwQ_mt70W8U8w_HeUI1GPHaFb9YTCjGW7UHDGDoKHBQyH2PKhIvWjrV4LPFAj53vd0ANhljFPb1JTBI-ge5gAab8P-5Du6VWJ-Pf4Ok4kNzJMmfncj0tWM8o/s400/thehuntingvol2cover.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
At long last, <i>The Hunting</i> continues - Volume 2, <i>Pack</i>, will be released for Kindle in January 2018. It's taken a lot of drafts, a lot of coffee, and a lot of mumbling to myself, but Eric and Jackson's story has finally sorted itself out.<br />
<br />
To be fair, nothing is simple when you're talking about a werewolf going on the run with his estranged boyfriend, who very formerly made a living killing monsters like the one his lover has become. Not to mention his old employers are on their heels - the Division, the most secret and deadly branch of the FBI. They want Eric back. And if they can't have him, they'll put him down just like they intend to put his boyfriend down. Throw in an old indiscretion of Jackson's, resulting in a dangerously jealous young werewolf dead set on knocking out his human rival... And things are about to get messy.<br />
<br />
<i>Pack</i> runs about twice the length of <i>The Hunting</i>, and forms the midsection of what is intended as a trilogy. Volume 3, <i>Blood</i>, is in the works now and will be out closer to spring/summer of next year.<br />
<br />
While The Hunting books are related to and partially set in New Berlin, they form more of a Division subset which gets a bit darker than stories like, say, Sweet. I have plans for several Division focused novels to be released over the next year or two, werewolves and some undead forays as well. And then it'll be full circle back into New Berlin proper, where the witches, incubi, and angels have been biding their time.<br />
<br />
<i>Pack</i> will be available for presale mid-December.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-79151462776578717922017-09-21T17:56:00.001-04:002017-09-21T17:56:45.117-04:00It's Halloween<span style="font-size: large;">Or almost Halloween. Technically it's the first day of Mabon. I was born at Mabon, which maybe accounts for some of my darker and more woeful inclinations. Call me Demeter. Or Persephone? But I'm trying to look on the lighter side lately, because sometimes the dark is just too dark. So even though I'm releasing my first zombie story in less than two weeks, it's kind of a lighter zombie story. There are even jokes. I can't say whether the jokes are funny. But they're in there. So...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Strange-L-F-Blake-ebook/dp/B075782Q5P/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZbyv2_5p89C6HwKY_hyWQYiLNJ_e0MTzjPA05kd9X3jplvRF_4SGa00okqK5I5oMuE3MgHXsVgNR-Yj-1dJU2eSqTXCwLhKW2F2DW4G-2dYF6vQoKiU8SpCeTv-JVUJqb9tYs2kGGZaTO/s400/strange_cover.jpg" width="266" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Strange</i> is a short story set in New Berlin, though it stands independent of any previous stories. It's a look at the dangers of Craigslist roommate ads, and what might happen if a workaholic chef invited a hoodie-wearing, cash-rent-paying zombie to live in his spare bedroom. It might be weird sometimes, right? Like, who gets the last piece of bacon? And is that blood on my beautiful kitchen floor? But it might also be really convenient, say in the event of a home invasion, to have a roommate with superhuman strength and an insatiable appetite for human flesh. Naturally though it would be a really stupid idea to start crushing on your dead roommate.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">So, yeah, werewolves suck (you guessed it, I'm stalled on the second volume of <i>The Hunting</i> again), and zombies are in. <i>Strange</i> comes out October 3rd.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">And there will probably be more zombie stories to come, because they are somewhat of an obsession of mine. I can't promise they'll all be light, because, you know, Mabon and the influence of the Dark Mother. But there will probably be more. And then maybe some vampires and/or witches. Possibly we'll go back to a werewolf or two. Eventually--eventually--there will be a return to the fey and incubi and fallen angels. Because the angels are really the point of this whole city, if I didn't keep getting so damn sidetracked.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But for now. <i>Strange</i>. You can buy or borrow it from Amazon October 3rd.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Meantime. Happy fall. Go harvest something.</span><br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-7615039610515484232017-07-19T18:44:00.001-04:002017-07-19T18:44:31.989-04:00Christmas in JulyI have it. Definite proof that I am actually working on something.<br />
<br />
Because clearly I have a fetish for redneck werewolves and their uptight, hunter boyfriends.<br />
<br />
Here is the opening of <i>The Hunting, Vol. 2</i>, which I hope will be ready for publication soon. Or soonish.<br />
_______________<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">FROM
THE EDGE of the forest, cool and dark, Jackson watched his lover shiver in the
grip of a nightmare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Shiver, and then thrash—Eric
twisted free of his sleeping bag and kicked it away like a mortal enemy, one
bare foot crunching hard into the side of the truck bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came awake with a low, violent cry,
sitting straight up and reaching for the knife he always carried strapped to
his left calf.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Left behind three hundred miles ago,
abandoned in a bloody field, in a town neither of them would ever return to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If
we’re lucky, </i>Jackson
thought.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">Eric relaxed slightly, the tension
leaving his spine.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">He scrubbed a hand across
his face and stared out bleakly around him.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">His gaze swept the clearing and the woods, passing right over the
shadows where Jackson lingered.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">Even if
he’d known where to look, he was just a man, with human eyes.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">While Jackson was anything but.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">Eric shivered again, and Jackson
imagined he could see the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rise up and stand
on end.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">The mornings here carried
autumn’s bite, today worse than usual.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">The wind howled around the open truck bed, whipping the short, dark
thatch of Eric’s hair.</span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; text-indent: 0.25in;">An overcast sky
warned of a nearing storm, an hour, maybe less, before the heavens burst open.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">It was their fifth day here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Five days camped out in the game lands of
upstate New York, slapping at mosquitos, staring at trees, and sleeping in the
back of the truck together—if together meant lying down together with as much
space between them as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it
meant Jackson waking up each morning while the sky was still dark to find
Eric’s back turned to him, shoulders hunched against him, every line of him
stiff with rejection even in sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 6.0pt; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Jackson didn’t wake for him to wake
up, couldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each morning he slipped
silently away into the woods to hunt, or sometimes simply to run, to wear the
edge off his own tension and forget that Eric hadn’t touched him willingly in
five days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Not since Jackson had changed into
a wolf and slaughtered Eric’s stepbrother while he watched.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">If that killing had been murder,
then so be it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had also been
justice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Jackson was human, he had
worried over morality, right and wrong, and crossing the line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now he was at peace knowing he would not
hesitate to defend himself against any foe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And to protect those he loved, to avenge the wrongs done them, he would
kill without mercy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again and again, he
would kill, until there was no one left to harm them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of figures"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="envelope return"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="footnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="line number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="page number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="endnote text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="table of authorities"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="macro"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="toa heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Bullet 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Number 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Closing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="List Continue 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Message Header"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Salutation"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Date"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text First Indent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Body Text Indent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Hyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="FollowedHyperlink"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Plain Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="E-mail Signature"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Top of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Bottom of Form"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal (Web)"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Acronym"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Address"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Cite"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Code"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Definition"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Keyboard"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Preformatted"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Sample"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Typewriter"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="HTML Variable"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Normal Table"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="annotation subject"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="No List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Outline List 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Simple 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Classic 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Colorful 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Columns 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Grid 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table List 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table 3D effects 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Contemporary"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Elegant"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Professional"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Subtle 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Table Web 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Balloon Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
Name="Note Level 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" UnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" SemiHidden="true" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" QFormat="true"
Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" QFormat="true"
Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" QFormat="true"
Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" SemiHidden="true"
UnhideWhenUsed="true" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="41" Name="Plain Table 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="42" Name="Plain Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="43" Name="Plain Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="44" Name="Plain Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="45" Name="Plain Table 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="40" Name="Grid Table Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46" Name="Grid Table 1 Light"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51" Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52" Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
Name="Grid Table 1 Light Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="47" Name="Grid Table 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="48" Name="Grid Table 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="49" Name="Grid Table 4 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="50" Name="Grid Table 5 Dark Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="51"
Name="Grid Table 6 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="52"
Name="Grid Table 7 Colorful Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="46"
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And that was why Eric wouldn’t
touch him.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-30821358012105925312016-10-28T09:18:00.000-04:002016-10-28T09:20:38.697-04:00Wishing You a Blessed SamhainWe're finally down to three days before Halloween, my favorite holiday of the year, which at first seemed like it was never going to arrive. And then during the last week, as Chrismas decorations suddenly starting popping up like some heinous black magic in stores, the end of October became a freight train intent on splattering across the tracks any unfortunate souls caught off their game.<br />
<br />
Including me, of course, who had intended all year to have another novel out by early October. But sometimes the thing you're writing takes a lot more time than you thought it would, and sometimes the thing you're writing just runs off the tracks and explodes (or gets splattered). There's been a bit of both during the last year. So while the pipeline has got stuff in the works, it's not quite ready to leak into our drinking water yet.<br />
<br />
This is possibly too many metaphors even for me.<br />
<br />
So to all my readers (I know you're out there, lurking under rocks, but it's okay because it's that time of the year), my sincere apologies. I'm writing my brains out right now, and if you're following the New Berlin series, you're going to see some familiar faces from around Chicanery soon. Angels, incubi, some dark fey, and a few other creatures are cluttering up the pages of my first draft pile. They just need a little merciless surgery, and then some further botox and nip/tucking before they're ready to face you.<br />
<br />
On a further note, <i>Sweet</i> is going to be free on Kindle in honor of Samhain, one last gift and one last harvest before the long, dark night. You've probably already read it, in which case thank you! But if you know anybody who'd like to snag a copy, they can get it now through sunset of November 1st. Okay, midnight actually. KDP refuses to let me run promotions based on sunset-to-sunset. But hey, such are the trials of life as a half-assed pagan.<br />
<br />
Now it's back to work for me, so I can pin all my hopes on finishing something in time for Yule.<br />
<br />
Forever love, and may you all enjoy a blessed Samhain!<br />
LFAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-30217090859043345752016-05-23T14:39:00.000-04:002016-05-23T15:33:50.604-04:00Three Years Ago<span style="font-size: large;">Three years ago this week, I was in Pennsylvania on a rescue mission - literally dragging my mother out of her farmhouse where she was intent on letting ketoacidosis kill her. It wasn't the first time I had to bully her into the hospital. This is her pattern, passive suicide followed by the realization she might actually die, followed by a call for me to come save her. And I always do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">But there's an amount of stress that goes along with repeatedly rescuing someone, especially when that someone is the person you feel like you ought to be able to lean on for emotional support, and never have been able to, because all your life they've been too heavily leaning on you, the child/young adult/grown up daughter.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2NCEbCuzqZe7PWvgNScsSaLdn_wTkjUaAhcowlefaqTaGRY-pixvKjn5hQMau42p4vTnbchnrA5LoJBqnTdwNcsYw5nm7sMEFOKLJyvXvjbvhgM0pMOR7LDSJJ28laD5lZ_LhpJfbUiU/s1600/BK_ILuWCcAEv_gP.jpg-large.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2NCEbCuzqZe7PWvgNScsSaLdn_wTkjUaAhcowlefaqTaGRY-pixvKjn5hQMau42p4vTnbchnrA5LoJBqnTdwNcsYw5nm7sMEFOKLJyvXvjbvhgM0pMOR7LDSJJ28laD5lZ_LhpJfbUiU/s320/BK_ILuWCcAEv_gP.jpg-large.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">People deal with stress in different ways. My mother told me that her mother used to feed her whenever she was upset, resulting in her lifelong weight problem. So instead of feeding me, she taught me to shop when I was sad/sick/stressed. Toy shopping when I was a kid. Later, clothes. Mostly I've broken this habit, but occasionally it kicks back in. I head either to Michaels for art supplies, or to the pet shop. If I'm lucky, I leave Petsmart with a sparkly new dog collar, or a bigger fish tank. Four years ago yesterday, I left with a new cage, water bottle, litter pan, Oxbow food, sunflower seeds, yogies treats, and two young male dumbo rats.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPyv2o1mvXER81O2LVWwX6TAUWa0qClPEADgBUCbwboAYypul64YaAqhWkGdglGPZFPeVTmIg9iGcS1jKmAvBUuE5zYHXxHSfYsukaU89SPdDiOt4hOdZNKYawkZPe7CtTVQdMeqKnh8R/s1600/BLCSt9NCAAAjK-U.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPyv2o1mvXER81O2LVWwX6TAUWa0qClPEADgBUCbwboAYypul64YaAqhWkGdglGPZFPeVTmIg9iGcS1jKmAvBUuE5zYHXxHSfYsukaU89SPdDiOt4hOdZNKYawkZPe7CtTVQdMeqKnh8R/s320/BLCSt9NCAAAjK-U.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">On day one I named them: Sam and Dean W. Dean hid inside the empty tissue box I gave them. Sammy explored every inch of his cage and then started watching me instead, grasping the cage bars in his little pink hands and staring out at me with curious dark eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">On day two I opened the cage and offered both rats sunflower seeds. Dean hid inside his tissue box again. Sammy ate all the seeds and then climbed onto my arm in order to slurp coffee out of my mug. Later he did the same with my vodka tonic. I fell in love with him before I'd had him for 24 hours.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">For two and a half years, through three job changes, two major moves, and many more motherly hospital dramas, Sam and Dean stayed with me. While Dean always remained standoffish, his brother was an outgoing bundle of enthusiasm and affection. He was intelligent, learning to spin on command in ten minutes, and he always came when called. He returned kisses with tiny rat licks. He rode on my shoulder while I cooked, and when I worked at my desk, he hunkered down in the corner of the cage closest to me and dozed there, waking whenever a chip bag crinkled or ice cubes clinked. He had to be chased away from alcoholic beverages, because god, he was a lush.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7SBuddCJButyGy-euM5jJzpjw8KIiffqLvOw1W8zTtMcFH-RMXKBmBmRDF8LTbYiJp9h7iCUAVSurTmBNTnmM0FOzY6FOFIUDFnzY4U7W6_h_7GAznKP9Gd141i1hfpWSAo8bw9QBLB1/s1600/BNKEosnCUAA90CT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7SBuddCJButyGy-euM5jJzpjw8KIiffqLvOw1W8zTtMcFH-RMXKBmBmRDF8LTbYiJp9h7iCUAVSurTmBNTnmM0FOzY6FOFIUDFnzY4U7W6_h_7GAznKP9Gd141i1hfpWSAo8bw9QBLB1/s200/BNKEosnCUAA90CT.jpg" width="150" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNWyK7UQ0STaNIrd-txweijYbAd-izd4wobYnQOYlPr3SCRSogaBpbVW6sKZAU-hrnvyF9cdmkzqQhKTdxNS-tbkbu2FdZRf2TPdDF8zg3fNb4tPXN8BsQdpP_t7U3w3DCbfw3H8oMvXp/s1600/BNZhGKeCYAIDVYE.jpg-large.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizNWyK7UQ0STaNIrd-txweijYbAd-izd4wobYnQOYlPr3SCRSogaBpbVW6sKZAU-hrnvyF9cdmkzqQhKTdxNS-tbkbu2FdZRf2TPdDF8zg3fNb4tPXN8BsQdpP_t7U3w3DCbfw3H8oMvXp/s200/BNZhGKeCYAIDVYE.jpg-large.jpeg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFIXkuTtmeYqEwXKfxar2m5wuTG30vb-ghUJry1gSagrE55odZEL8VFzTYhDyNBW6Z29RINE7wbV2bpNDOlQwl2qoyluwD_ZC0W4gawsTJefIaMRhrjjMl5oVRLsko0qKvMn1ld0x0xsb/s1600/BNZhot3CQAIW_oe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyFIXkuTtmeYqEwXKfxar2m5wuTG30vb-ghUJry1gSagrE55odZEL8VFzTYhDyNBW6Z29RINE7wbV2bpNDOlQwl2qoyluwD_ZC0W4gawsTJefIaMRhrjjMl5oVRLsko0qKvMn1ld0x0xsb/s200/BNZhot3CQAIW_oe.jpg" width="150" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Petsmart didn't know the exact ages of the boys, so I estimated their birthday as December 25th. The first year we failed to celebrate, as the living room ceiling caved in that night, and Sammy decided the bucket collecting dirty water from above would make an excellent swimming pool. The next year we had presents, new plush hammocks and a tiny birthday cake made from a banana slice with yogurt for icing, and sprinkles.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">They never made it to their third birthday.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">We had been traveling a lot. My mother, having had a leg amputation, was never going to be able to come back to her two-level farmhouse, so I was in the process of packing up her belongings. In between packing, the rats, the dogs, and I drove into the city to babysit my dementia-challenged grandmother,, who could never remember who I was, why I was in her house, or why I had my "hamsters" with me. For sanity we escaped for a few days at a time to a tiny cabin in the mountains. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The boys were handling the stress with their usual curiosity and hardiness, though Dean had begun to develop health issues, arthritis in his back legs, and cataracts. He longer enjoyed his cage-free time, preferred to remain curled up in a fleecie, but he still loved grooming his brother, and, well, eating. He didn't nip anymore, though of course he only ever had nipped at all, lightly and without breaking the skin, when he was frightened. Now he seemed to have accepted that I was trustworthy. Both rats had weekly baths, and while Sammy resisted his with a passion, Dean almost seemed to enjoy being cleaned and dried and cuddled afterward. Sammy, despite the occasional stiff feet in cold weather, was still energetic and healthy, and I worried how he might grieve if his brother passed on.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">The morning of actual farmhouse moving day, I opened the cage for feeding time. I could see Sammy's head in the entrance to his plastic igloo, where he and his brother always cuddled up at night. He wasn't moving, though his eyes were open. After a few seconds of staring, hand full of food frozen over their bowl, it occurred to me that he looked very strange, very unnatural. Then it occurred to me that Sammy looked dead.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you've lost a pet suddenly, you know that feeling. The shock, the denial. Picking up the body in your hands and feeling the stiffness, the cool of it, but still thinking: No, maybe he's just, maybe I can, maybe.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Sammy is buried in Pennsylvania, in a place I almost never go, his grave very far away from me now. It was mid-November, thirty-eight degrees and me wearing only a hoodie, but it didn't feel cold when I was digging his grave. All it felt like was pain, hollow, heart-and-lungs clenching pain. Private pain, the kind you allow no one else to witness, because it's too deep.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7m_JPeBGT6PqwlT0ew0_ae1moL9cG2xUO_gDdggQrclBQXi0TjjNnP53mp79I5kjhrg_PhNZSsKzBL2OhXJrLalmv08JQI_72TYMdVzlScYq2avcx7uFYsqiYctKKZtad6jqB3Lh0Ibd/s1600/BRvRZmuCYAE8ZZB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7m_JPeBGT6PqwlT0ew0_ae1moL9cG2xUO_gDdggQrclBQXi0TjjNnP53mp79I5kjhrg_PhNZSsKzBL2OhXJrLalmv08JQI_72TYMdVzlScYq2avcx7uFYsqiYctKKZtad6jqB3Lh0Ibd/s320/BRvRZmuCYAE8ZZB.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">I don't know how or why Sammy died that way. Maybe a heart attack, and maybe that's my fault, for letting him get to be too much of a big squishy fat rat. I don't know. Dean followed him a month later, one week before his third birthday. Dean was not unexpected. His arthritis took a hard turn. He couldn't walk, but had to drag his back half. He developed an abscess on his jaw that grew with horrifying speed. I told myself I should take him to a vet and have him put down, but could not do it. So there's guilt for that, too, for letting his pain last days longer than it should have. The night he wouldn't even slurp up his pureed chicken baby food, I knew it was the end. He was gone by morning. And I thought, knowing it was coming, knowing we hadn't been close the way I had been with his brother, it would be easier. It wasn't. He wasn't Sammy, but he was lovely and unique in his own way. In the sly, skittish way he stole food, or cash from my purse, or pens with rubber grips. In the way he stood back and watched his brother learn to do tricks, and then copied them very carefully, hoping he too might get a carrot stick.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I still cry over the boys. Ugly, snotty crying, like I'm doing right now. They left an empty space that has not been filled. Six months, and sometimes I still look to the place where their cage used to be and expect to see tails hanging out through the bars.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCVpnj78ubhWVmTLTj-U_NPZb3q1Z2dstRqiWeXgNbKiUQpl4R11tO7foSliP87r5WUvdwOw8eN_CrDkp8e-uhn6T-bRBJA9hFhKfHjSYhv2rZCloM-gLwWzE2DIDAXEQ27Szb4vqBhVu/s1600/BYLUV8ACEAAR2z0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCVpnj78ubhWVmTLTj-U_NPZb3q1Z2dstRqiWeXgNbKiUQpl4R11tO7foSliP87r5WUvdwOw8eN_CrDkp8e-uhn6T-bRBJA9hFhKfHjSYhv2rZCloM-gLwWzE2DIDAXEQ27Szb4vqBhVu/s320/BYLUV8ACEAAR2z0.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">What makes it worse is the fact they were rats. If I'd lost a beloved dog, other people might understand. But rats are undesirable creatures, spreaders of disease, nasty dirty rodents that should never be kept as pets, much less by a thirty year old woman. Sammy never bit anyone, not me or strangers or even overly curious dogs. When he was physically able, Dean spent more time grooming himself than a cat. Both rats were litter trained in a single day, without ever having seen a litter box in their life. But I cannot share these things with other people unless I want the looks--at best, carefully blank, at worst, disgusted. I cannot understand their narrow-mindedness, and every time someone says something ignorant or condescending, I hate them violently.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">My dogs are alive, thank god, and getting extra hugs and cuddles and healthy treats. I am bonded with them. I was bonded with the rats. There is no difference. I've lost a friend. It hurts.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I thought, when I started typing, there would be a point to all this. But maybe I just needed to get it out. Maybe the only point is that I miss my little guys, that three years ago yesterday I looked into their expectant faces for the first time, and today I cannot stop crying. Maybe the point is that my life is such madness right now, crying for Sammy is the easiest thing to cry for. And maybe the point is that through all the sadness and pain in the world, you have to keep trying to push through and remember the good and the beautiful--about your rats, about your mother, about every single day of this life.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmxXXovypwUfD-LJVErny8nYC8oCb33vJA1dKN328bLvC_sEvvjfhBzw1RXgOw7LaL5doIP5p8eC-yjAfyEb3v4yi6hqY_TbmjNmEWmRGwH_FT8rjsPPNzvL1F1eBw5WjJzzltjC1l15H/s1600/4c0cc7883f65d11a35b6a7ab22462353.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpmxXXovypwUfD-LJVErny8nYC8oCb33vJA1dKN328bLvC_sEvvjfhBzw1RXgOw7LaL5doIP5p8eC-yjAfyEb3v4yi6hqY_TbmjNmEWmRGwH_FT8rjsPPNzvL1F1eBw5WjJzzltjC1l15H/s1600/4c0cc7883f65d11a35b6a7ab22462353.jpeg" /></span></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-79878361120618459852015-08-04T18:34:00.002-04:002015-08-04T18:34:50.917-04:00Tomatoes & Grand Maester Aleister<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Life is like growing tomatoes. You plant them, a whole lot of them, red ones and purple ones and black ones and green ones and ones that are supposed to beat cancer. You fertilize them and mulch them and weed them and every single day you water them (and if you're really crazy, you bring a measuring stick to see how much your little darlings have grown since yesterday). You think: <i>These are going to be the best tomatoes ever. These tomatoes are going to be legen... dary!</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then one day you're inspecting your plant and you see <i>this</i>:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbUWzDkZ6dc8SIAYaXa5KE71HeEb6QW4h97vSaM6VlZj3L366VbLYexNDBxGDfdu99BYru2rRVDuZbN-SZZ88cqWu_jBo5Y6hyphenhyphenBqU4FScCOYJWkybOK14Bly37QSdqhTikgnbR6eaVvC_/s1600/tomatocaterpillar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbUWzDkZ6dc8SIAYaXa5KE71HeEb6QW4h97vSaM6VlZj3L366VbLYexNDBxGDfdu99BYru2rRVDuZbN-SZZ88cqWu_jBo5Y6hyphenhyphenBqU4FScCOYJWkybOK14Bly37QSdqhTikgnbR6eaVvC_/s400/tomatocaterpillar.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
An evil monster. Okay, a tomato caterpillar. Either way, it has invaded the sanctity of your garden and is currently munching down on your beautiful plants.<br />
<br />
And you can't kill it because, you know, you're incapable of killing things. You are the person who finds a mouse in a glue trap and gently, lovingly rinses its tiny hands and tail in warm soapy water to extract it, and then let it go running right back into the hole behind your cupboard where it's presumably been storing all the ramen it steals.<br />
<br />
So a cute little green worm that's all busy trying to look ferocious? Please, bitch. Get out of jail free card.<br />
<br />
But you carry it all the way across the yard to release it elsewhere, and hope that's all there is to the tomato munching.<br />
<br />
Then the leaves of one plant start to yellow and droop.<br />
<br />
Another plant develops black spots.<br />
<br />
A third plant is the victim of a weed-whacker-wielding maniac (you).<br />
<br />
And six whole plants decide to tear their stakes out of the ground and fall over and oh god they can't get up.<br />
<br />
And you despair, you think these plants are never going to yield tomatoes, they are all going to die and all your hard work all your tears and blood yes blood from all the goddamn insect bites and stings, all of that pain is going to mean jack shit.<br />
<br />
And then--<br />
<br />
Then--<br />
<br />
The first tomato ripens.<br />
<br />
At the same time that you have an abundance of fresh basil and a new block of mozzarella.<br />
<br />
And all is right with the world.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhops_BrMHztkCJGGIRWKyAPW73Xb8EO8q1EmRJrJtUhJvn-TnKzvmysVQxaqBRulZ9OxYIrdXX1WnhleZLYzJF-FGZWNLL7sVZf1ZzYPfIY31HoXBRXMFjfW9NT5ctKh5SNZPfNLnGvwOJ/s1600/photo-35.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhops_BrMHztkCJGGIRWKyAPW73Xb8EO8q1EmRJrJtUhJvn-TnKzvmysVQxaqBRulZ9OxYIrdXX1WnhleZLYzJF-FGZWNLL7sVZf1ZzYPfIY31HoXBRXMFjfW9NT5ctKh5SNZPfNLnGvwOJ/s640/photo-35.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The owl, in case you are wondering, is named Grand Maester Aleister. About the same time I picked him up from the Antiques Barn, I found the first owl pellet out back in my herb garden. Full of fur and bones and lovely things. This, after the voles or some other tiny creatures devoured my strawberry crop.<br />
<br />
So I can't kill living things but... beware my loyal attack owl.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure I meant to go somewhere else with this post.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-59044530916960558322015-07-20T21:05:00.000-04:002015-07-21T10:21:59.884-04:00Swwweeeeet.<br />
Sweetness is coming. Like, ferr realll.<br />
<br />
After five drafts, lots of red wine, and even more Cheetos to help me through the dark times, I've finally finished a new novel. <b>Sweet</b> - a paranormal romance (light on the paranormal, heavy on the angst relationship issues) about a fairy, an incubus, and all the reasons best friends should/shouldn't fall in love.<br />
<br />
The fully edited and polished version will be available on Kindle and in print somewhere about mid-August. But if you're impatient like meeee, you can read a slightly more raw version for free <a href="https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3232792/1/Sweet">here on FictionPress</a> right now. The free version will (*frowny face*) go buh-bye when the paid one comes out. But, yes, of course there will be free days to nab the final kindle version later on.<br />
<br />
I leave you with an image of the brand new cover... And then I go curl up on the couch and finish watching The Bachelorette: The Men Tell All, because it's been a hellish day and only drama regarding cute men and red wine and yet more Cheetos and THE THOUGHT OF A NEW NOVEL will make me feel human again.<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-18478781648986605092015-06-12T18:10:00.000-04:002015-06-12T18:10:25.169-04:00Just a Rat and His CookieBecause some days (years), you just need to stare at a picture of an adorable creature eating a yummy cookie until you feel better.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4eQL9WwgLvN0FGp-8t7a2H1IVRvAyhneJsfkrQJ69mGCWN2oZKNNdy-nRIfItQDHHn9rCmIxLI22hyphenhyphenkhTiVviCnc4ER4PnuRKLX3MO-AHshPJs1DMZo5z7ocFiuK3K2tOGpASmdYrgsS/s1600/photo-31.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4eQL9WwgLvN0FGp-8t7a2H1IVRvAyhneJsfkrQJ69mGCWN2oZKNNdy-nRIfItQDHHn9rCmIxLI22hyphenhyphenkhTiVviCnc4ER4PnuRKLX3MO-AHshPJs1DMZo5z7ocFiuK3K2tOGpASmdYrgsS/s400/photo-31.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
This is Sammy. In general he is a healthy rat who prefers to eat carrot sticks, lettuce, and nutritious rat chow. But then, some days a rat just needs a cookie, too.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-42512399408352109522015-02-24T13:14:00.000-05:002015-02-24T13:14:01.668-05:00Do You Believe in Magic?I do. Because after six long, LONG years... I have a new story that I'm in love with.<br />
<br />
Today marks the publication of The Magician's Assistant, a novelette about darkness, desire, atoning for bad decisions... and, yes, real, bone-deep magic.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54QM7BPIWeH82FCCARhnIgUZNtDn_NxtrUX6dw7cOUB-TrNlyL_Bwn0HN29Th8AEM0xbH4eT8zyPe-pys_NJjcI2BxWYt9kXW0CF_1ur4A4BB6hDVT6I48MybevL2lwKGGdvcnoHAKaPf/s1600/TheMagiciansAssistant_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54QM7BPIWeH82FCCARhnIgUZNtDn_NxtrUX6dw7cOUB-TrNlyL_Bwn0HN29Th8AEM0xbH4eT8zyPe-pys_NJjcI2BxWYt9kXW0CF_1ur4A4BB6hDVT6I48MybevL2lwKGGdvcnoHAKaPf/s1600/TheMagiciansAssistant_cover.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
It all starts when a young man named Rain answers an employment ad. <i>Seeking</i>, the ad reads, <i>a discreet young man to assist master magician in live performances. Apply in person...</i><br />
<br />
But when Rain arrives, he finds himself interviewing for far more than a job. This magician is no charlatan. He's as hard and cold as his magic, magic than can send a sword through a man's heart and leave it beating. To take that sword, his assistant must possess unique qualities. Obedience. Loyalty. Trust. And maybe... love.<br />
<br />
If Rain can give all that, and somehow persuade the magician to offer it back, he might just find the life he's been searching for.<br />
<br />
The Magician's Assistant is available for purchase from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Magicians-Assistant-L-F-Blake-ebook/dp/B00TET2W3Q/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Amazon</a>, <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-magicians-assistant-lf-blake/1121260015?ean=2940151340021">Barnes and Noble</a>, <a href="https://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/the-magician-s-assistant-1">Kobo Books</a>, iTunes, and just about everywhere else ebooks are sold.<br />
<br />
And now, being properly exhausted, I shall leave you with an excerpt.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-small;">**Adult material - not for readers under 18**</span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Are
you quite comfortable?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rain
smiled slightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His spine stretched
unnaturally against the drag of his own body, his toes just barely brushing the
floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chains ground against his wrist
bones, and already the strain made his shoulders ache, set his arms on
fire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not… exactly.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
magician nodded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He adjusted neither
chain or hook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And
that, at least, was exactly what Rain had expected of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His smile
hardened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So the magician wanted to hurt
him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could handle it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
magician circled him, chin tipped down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His hair fell forward to shadow his gaze.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The sword,” he said, “is a tool in many
tricks of illusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this is not a
trick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not practice illusion; my
business is magic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you believe in
magic, boy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes,
sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“In
truth?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
believe, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Then
if I were to put this blade through your belly, you believe that I could do so
without causing harm to your body?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rain
sucked in a labored breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“There
is only one matter remaining then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Trust.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The corner of the
magician’s mouth lifted in an acerbic half-smile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He bent to retrieve the mended scarf he’d set
aside earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It trailed silken and sin
black from his hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you trust me,
boy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rain
stared at the scarf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In four years, he
had never been blindfolded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was his
only hard limit, the one thing he would not allow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would do anything, give himself over to
anything—as long as he could see it coming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This
was his last chance to walk away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
with the shut door and the chains locked around him, the magician was giving
him one final chance to leave unscathed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But
he couldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because there was the word,
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">trust</i>, and that was what it all came
down to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he trust this man?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Arctic
eyes gazed back at him with scarcely veiled amusement—and challenge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The gaze and the half-bitter smile told him
he was a fool to trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rain thought he
might be just that, because for the life of him, he couldn’t walk away now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes,
sir.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He let his eyes slide shut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I trust you, sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
air stirred in hot currents as the magician stepped in close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silk whispered against Rain’s cheek and then
settled into place over his eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
could smell the other man on the fabric, a scent of orange and clove that
teased him, that made him wish for the touch of impossibly warm skin against
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His heart beat hard and fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the magician didn’t touch him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not yet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It
was cold steel that found his skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cold
steel that touched and kissed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
slicing, not stabbing, though his body reacted as if it did,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>muscles contracting in an instinctive effort
to pull him out of harm’s way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instinctive and futile, as the chains clanked and pulled tight at his
wrists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sword went on as if he
hadn’t moved at all, the tip of it grazing the ridge of his hipbone, rising to
slowly count his ribs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Light as a
breath, the blade traced over his chest, circling each nipple with a deliberate
closeness that made Rain’s breath catch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“And
still you trust me?” the magician murmured.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rain
forced a hard exhale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .3in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Good,”
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-13093096557253496642015-02-21T08:43:00.000-05:002015-02-21T08:43:56.622-05:00Waiting for the Sun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It occurs to me this morning that I have spent a great many nights sitting awake with my heart pounding, waiting for some sign that the sky is lightening, that dawn is coming. Which is strange, because I'm not afraid of the night. I find it quite lovely and peaceful. The vast spread of glittering constellations, the ghostly arc of the moon. The call of whippoorwills and the great horned owl that lives in my yard, the wild shrieking of a passing coyote pack. These are the things I love about the nocturnal hours.</div>
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Things I don't love:</div>
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Bears. Last summer I was alone at my family's mountain cabin, getting ready to take the dogs for their 10pm walk, when a snuffling sound outside alerted me to the presence of two half-grown black bears in the yard, scarfing down seeds I'd stupidly left out for the chipmunks. I scared them as badly as they scared me, and they bolted. Probably to sleep somewhere nice and cozy. I however, stayed awake all night, jumping at every noise and shining flashlights out into the woods, positive they were going to send their mama bear to get me. (They did not.)</div>
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Door-to-door salesmen. You hear all kinds of horror stories about criminals pretending to be salesmen in order to gain access to your house. So when I encounter one who's a bit too chatty - oh, do you live alone here, ma'am? - I immediately assume they are canvasing the neighborhood and will return under cover of darkness with crowbars, locksmith kits, and bad intentions. Which means... I stay up all night, all week, with lights blazing and special booby traps set up in front of the front door to alert me in case I actually do fall asleep.</div>
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Also, freezing weather. I never feared this until this winter. But then, for the last seven years I've lived in a Manhattan apartment building where the big winter problem was that they cranked the heat up to eighty. Here in the country? Pipes freeze. Even, apparently, if you leave the hot and cold water dripping overnight. Hence you wake up at three in the morning to use the bathroom and discover that your upstairs cold water pipe has frozen. Hence you spend the next several hours wide awake, terrified your pipe (which is buried somewhere in the wall) is going to burst, your landlord is going to make your pay for it, and oh, yeah, he's going to kick you out while you're supposed to be watching the place for your mother who's spending six months in rehab after having part of her leg amputated.</div>
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Hence I am awake this morning, exhausted, and still trying to warm my house up enough to thaw this goddamned pipe. Did I mention the electric heat chose last night to stop working? And we are expecting a fresh snowstorm to commence in three... two... one...</div>
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And, hence, I was awake once again to watch as the night lightened to gray, and color crept slowly back into the world. Dawn is, possibly, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.</div>
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If it's common knowledge that that darkest hour comes right before the dawn... I will be here. Waiting up for it.</div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-79899747778656770312015-02-04T08:29:00.000-05:002015-02-04T08:29:07.259-05:00Tequila Is the New TequilaSo, Tequila Angel. It was first published in 2009 but had been up on FictionPress before that, and readers seemed to either love it or loathe it. I loved it, but you know I'm biased. It was a little bit of an experiment, originally written in second person over the long boring hours when there was nothing to do at my then-job. The style was heavily influenced by all the <i>Sin City</i> graphic novels I was reading at the time. If, of course, the <i>Sin City</i> series had featured gay rock stars having sex instead of thugs and dames with guns. So, yes, it's overblown. But I still love it, possibly because the main character Dave is my truest alter ego thus far. I love Dave. He's a dick. But naturally that's because he's so misunderstood and vulnerable deep down inside. Right???<br />
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In any case, I want to make Tequila Angel available across all platforms, but have to wait for its current enrollment period in KDP Select to expire. So of course I thought, why not use up the last of the freebie days in the meantime? Who doesn't love free? I love free. I have a gazillion free books from BEA, RT, and RWA, not to mention free kindle books, that I'm still trying to slog through from 2014. So yes. By all means, let's do THE FREE THING.<br />
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Have you any desire to do so, you can snag a free copy of the short story <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Tequila-Angel-L-F-Blake-ebook/dp/B00H5DNENU/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">over here on Amazon</a>, from today through Sunday, February 8th. And if you are lamenting because you have no kindle/kindle app, fear not, I shall imminently announce availability on Nook and other platforms.<br />
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This is the incorrigible and ever hopeful L.F. Blake, signing off.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-81292437424827374392015-01-28T14:13:00.001-05:002015-01-28T14:13:22.679-05:00SweetFor the last three years I've been working on the same story on and off. It started off as a short story, about 8k, and altogether unsatisfying. Over the last year especially, I've been rewriting it over and over, letting it get longer and more meaningful (to me, at least). But lately I feel like I'm at that point where I've more or less lost my ability to judge the whole thing. Are my characters shallow? Wimpy? And how shallow is too shallow by the way?<div>
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Clearly this means it's time for second opinions, which means posting it up on my favorite site, FictionPress.com. Years ago, I was there all the time, writing and reading, but I fell away from it as most of my stories seemed to be stalling out and never getting finished. A lot of the people have changed now, but the site itself remains essentially the same, and I'm exciting to get back to it now that I'm writing seriously/happily again. And of course I can't wait to dig through and find some new stories to follow.</div>
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The story I'm posting is <i>Sweet</i>, a novella (novel?) about an incubus and a fey with a self-destructive relationship. It's set in the fictional city of New Berlin, which is where most of my new work is set. New Berlin is every bit as toxic as Connor and David's on-again, off-again romance. A glittering metropolis with a rotten core.</div>
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You can read it here: <a href="https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3232792/1/Sweet">https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3232792/1/Sweet</a></div>
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I'm expecting to post two chapters a week, as fast as I can rewrite them yet again. :)</div>
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I can't even begin to say how glad I am to be able to bury myself in this story right now. My mother has come through her surgery pretty well, but there is so much work that lies ahead of her now, and ahead of me. Sometimes art really does save.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1975290413398237213.post-3799718739663864212015-01-23T10:11:00.000-05:002015-01-23T10:11:30.133-05:00BrittleI cannot stop thinking about starfish. Starfish, sea stars, brittle stars. Many species have the ability to regrow lost limbs. Some can even regenerate all new limbs <i>and</i> the central disk of their bodies - all from a single lost arm.<br />
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Humans cannot do this. When injury or illness causes us to lose a body part, it's simply gone. It can be replaced with a prosthetic, and certainly prosthetics have come a very long way. But they'll never really be you.<br />
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Starfish and brittle stars can chose to shed their limbs. Special connective tissues soften when the star is threatened, allowing it to lose its limb but keep its life.<br />
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If you had to make this choice, could you do it?<br />
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I like to think that I could. I like to think that if I were ever bitten by a zombie, I'd waste no time in taking a hatchet to my own limb. But I don't <i>know</i>.<br />
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Right now my mother is lying in a hospital bed facing a surgery that will amputate her right leg twelve centimeters below the knee. It is, in her case, a true choice of life or death. Diabetic complications have disfigured her ankle to the point where it will no longer bear her weight. The limb is infected. If it isn't removed, it will result in sepsis and death.<br />
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It took thirty-six hours to convince her to agree to the operation. Thirty-six hours during which she asked, <i>Why bother? What kind of life can I have with one leg? </i> Thirty-six hours during which I stared at her in a kind of angry helplessness, and replied, <i>You can have A LIFE. In which you are not dead. In which there is a chance, always a chance, of things getting better.</i><br />
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With the persuasion of one insistent doctor for whom I feel immense gratitude, my mother has finally agreed to the surgery. She has finally allowed herself to feel a sliver of hope that after this operation, she will regain her health, and with the use of a prosthetic, may be more active than she had been able to be in over a year.<br />
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I'm incredibly relieved. I'm deeply shaken. I'm entirely terrified.<br />
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It's not me facing an operation or life without my leg. But for a while I thought I was facing life without my mother. My mother, who irritates me and makes me crazy, who succumbs to her depression more than she battles it, who gets into screaming matches with me over stupid, pointless things and then makes me feel terrible over when she starts crying. My mother who taught me to swim, to makes art out of pine cones and glitter, to love horror movies, and to be a hopeless romantic.<br />
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I don't want to live without my mother. I also don't want to live without my own leg. I don't know now, if the choice were mine, what I would decide. I am not a brittle star, just brittle. And that scares the shit out of me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16365541295980355863noreply@blogger.com0