Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 293

In The Rush – #MusicandMuseMonday

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Amid the soft serenade of light

Caressing the hands of frozen time

Stark impressions transform from night

Melodic wonder in tempestuous Rhyme

Delight of endless eons past

Spinning in the mercurial void

Shimmers that dance through moments that last

Majesty ringing, once long ago employed

Diabolic treachery Singing through the Hush

Mysticism reminding what we’ve neglected

In the Rush

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~Morgan~

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The Music and Muse category by Morgan shares Poetry and the Music which Inspired it.

Exquisite Original Music by:  Thomas Newman

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Filed under: Poetry Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Memory, Music Inspirations, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, relationships, spirituality, time, ~Morgan~

Observation and Fragmentation: A Writing Exercise

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THIS IS A REPOST OF SUE ASHBY’S MARVELOUS BLOGPOST/WRITING EXERCISE.  I found it so intriguing and inspiring that I did the exercise myself, picking a quiet place to sit and listen, see, smell, taste and touch. (of course, it should come as no surprise that it was nearly midnight, but those of you who know me, realize that finding me somewhere in the sunshine of a summer’s day is about as rare a thing as stumbling across a zebra-stripped unicorn wearing a fedora)…but I digress.  MY observations are listed below the copyright info by Sue.  PLEASE stop by her beautiful photography/poetry blog to enjoy more of her unique insights and observations :  https://perpetualessence.wordpress.com/

Sue Writes:

When my mind gets stuck on the outer beauty of anything, my writing suffers horribly.  Even more so, my entire tank of creative juices drain away until I find my self channel surfing for a distraction from my own stagnation.  Consequently, I get absolutely nothing accomplished.

Back in the early 1980’s I did a lot of backpacking in Colorado’s magnificent wilderness areas, and never went anywhere without a journal and pen.  Quickly, I discovered my own “Zen zone” as I call it.  It is a state of complete relaxation surrounded by the splendors of earth and nature, where I find the flow of creative energy.  This exercise can be done anywhere, and at all times of day or night in any weather.  It is also easily adjustable to suit your own personal needs.  One simply needs to empty all the tumultuous thoughts from your mind and focus for a short time on your immediate surroundings.

The entire concept revolves around utilizing all of your senses to inspect, observe and sift through every nuance of your surroundings within five or ten square feet of where you are sitting.  With imagination this also works very well using photographs.

With paper and pen, find your desired mini retreat and make yourself comfortable.  In parenthesis write down each of your five senses side by side, or each one on a separate piece of paper.  Now mentally dissect every facet of the things around you, reducing everything to its most minute particle.  I start mine like this;

(Sight )

Blue sky

Small puffy white clouds

Decomposed granite

Round, angular, fractured, pointy

Pinks, peaches, white, browns

Bright green moss

Boulders

Curly pale green lichen

Pine trees

Blue jays, etc.

(Touch)

Textures

Dry, dusty, hard

Flows through fingers

Sharp edges

Points, smooth pieces

Soft like fur

Thick like carpet, and so on.

(Sound)

(Smell)

(Taste)

Use discretion.

Once your lists are in detail and complete, contemplate, toss in human interactions, reactions, situations and emotions.  This exercise can help create a storm of lively and solid scenes for a storm of creative projects.  If nothing else, it is always good to empty your mind and contemplate the little things which really are so beautiful.

Copyright 7-12-2016, by Sue Ashby.

Photograph Copyright 7-12-2016, by Sue Ashby.

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I wrote:

Lying back upon the grass in my quiet little yard under the glimmering glow of a nearly full moon, I closed my eyes to

(Listen) : hearing most prominently the whirring sound of many a/c units running.  Once I put that aside however, I heard the gentle whisper of the breeze telling me secrets from far away and the occasional chirp of a bird (which always makes my imagination stir.  Why do they sing at night? Are they having a bad dream? Did some creature steal into the nursery to snatch a fledgling?  Or are they, too, simply enjoying the shimmering show of the moon?) I heard the distant rumble of a train and, as ever, the garish noise of traffic from the city not far enough away.

(See): Opening my eyes, I saw first the spectacle of the moon, dancing amid a rolling tide of puffy white clouds sailing effortlessly across the sky.  I saw the shadows of trees across the way and the rustling of their leafy tresses as the night breezes ran its fingers through their hair.  I noticed a nearby rabbit, no doubt awaiting another slice of apple as I am in a habit of giving them apples in the evening; and of course I saw the stars:  those delicate sparkles of ethereal light that ever fill me with lyrical musing (but that is another post!)

(Smell):  I drew a deep breath and smelled the warm humidity that hung on the air like heavy fog mixed with a hint of asphalt from the nearby road.  Not terribly pleasant, but not repulsive.  Clean, hot night air.  Nothing more.

(Taste):  Since I was not eating or drinking, I tasted nothing.  Not a wasted sense, though, as I certainly could have been sipping sweet lemonade.

(Touch):  Reaching down I ran my fingers through the July grass that is rapidly drying up and turning into something much more straw-like than it once had been.  I tousled the heads of a few clover, now resting from the scurrying-hurrying bees that plunder their sweetness all the day long; and I reached outward to caress the sky, feeling the warm blush of the air against my palms and slipping through my fingers as I sighed deeply and smiled, meditating upon the simple yet profound Blessing of five extraordinary senses.

I do so hope you will try this wonderful exercise, if not to stir the inspiration of your thoughts, at least to Kindle the wonder of your spirit in the Beauty of the world around us.

Thank You SUE for such a delightful suggestion!

~Morgan~

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Filed under: Your Beautiful Life Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, creative writing, Five Senses, Harmony, Inspiration, Meditation, Nature, Silence, spirituality, Writing, Writing Exercise, ~Morgan~

Drifting

 

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Drifting

In the Contemplation

Of things unsaid

Of Whispers unheard

Lifting

In the Combination

Of Gentle Zephyrs

And Melodious Words

Sifting

Through the Memories

Of things once Spoken

Once shared, now gone

Shifting

Light through barren boughs

As Words now spoken

Sweetly Sing

And Rouse

The Drifting Memory

Of things once done

Now long apast

In the setting sun.

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Photograph found on shutterstock.com   Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the Original photographer.  Thank You~

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Filed under: Poetry Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Longing, Love Poetry, Memory, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, relationships, Romance, Soul Mates, Twin Souls, ~Morgan~

Calling All Poets/Creative Minds to A Grand Collaboration – Poets for Peace

My Contribution to the #PoetsForPeace collaboration

Gentle as the Lambs Own Love

Loyal as the Lion’s Heart

Quiet Peace Pervades the Open Heart

That Allows its Gentle Loyalty

and Mighty Compassion

To Abide.

~Morgan~

forgottenmeadows

image copyright neha 2016

Hello Everyone,

This collaboration is initiated by my talented friend Michael (M. Zane McClellan)  from the poetry channel and will be hosted here on forgottenmeadows. Many wonderful bloggers like Marie (https://writingwingsforyou.com/), Kim (https://zipsrid.wordpress.com/) and others have helped in putting this together and spreading the word out. The deadline for contribution is August 31st, 2016! I urge you to help us make this creative effort successful by joining in.Below is Michael’s message:

“In response to the recent unceasing, and, in fact escalating global violence, we have seen and felt a corresponding surge in poetry about it.

We would like to take this opportunity to invite you to share your thoughts and feelings, a piece of yourself, to add to other Poets from around the world. We are hopeful that the combined weight of our collective spirit and wisdom will be felt worldwide as well.

The…

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Filed under: Poetry

Rapturous Splendour

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Delicious Hour of deepest Night

That Sings to my Soul in Whispers and Sighs;

Tabernacle of Heavenly Starlight

Beguiling more than Bliss ever Tries;

While all the wanderers of this plane unravel

Amidst Dreams that taunt with enigmatic appeal,

Your Delicate Breeze through these tresses travels,

Kissing this cheek with Blushing Zeal.

Oh Sweet Enchantress, Dulcet Nighttide, Sing

Of All the Rapturous Splendour your Quietly Bring!

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Photograph found on Pinterest.  Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the Original Photographer. Thank You~

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Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Beauty, BnV, BooknVolume, Dreams, Harmony, Moon and Stars, Nature, Night, Peace, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Splendour, ~Morgan~

Friday #Fantasy – Among our Dreams #Poetry

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Fly with me through the Winds of Night,

Beyond the Clouds,

Into the Unknown,

And there,

Upon the Wings of Twilight

We Shall Dance Among Our Dreams.

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by: Nene Thomas

Filed under: Friday Fantasy, Poetry Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Dreams, Fantasy, Imagination, Love Poetry, Night, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Romance, Twilight, ~Morgan~

Friday Fantasy #Character Spotlight – Gairynzvl – The Fierce One

This is a repost of the Character Spotlight Author Roari Benjamin recently did for me on the main character of dark fey:  gairynzvl.  Posted here in its entirety for your reading pleasure.

For today’s Character Spotlight, please join me in welcoming Author Cynthia A. Morgan, here to grant us a peek at the enchanting, hauntingly beautiful world she’s created within “The Dark Fey Trilogy.”

She sends us Jaeryn, a TruthSayer, as her emissary. He’s traveled long and far to shine the Spotlight on Gairynzvl, The Fierce One – one who is rumored to have suffered through and escaped from unspeakable horror, only to return, that he might spare others the same fate. (This is a first look at new Dark Fey material, Dear Reader!) Would you care to pour a pint of honeyed-ale, as Jaeryn prepares to take the stage and share his tale? Oh, but we must hurry, the show is about to start….

Please allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Jaeryn; I am a TruthSayer – one who journeys from village to village, gathering information to prove or dispel the rumors and hearsay, which travel on the wind. I went to the village Hwyndarin in order to learn about one of The Reviled; about whom, supposedly, the Ancient prophecies foretell, and upon my arrival in that picturesque little village, I was immediately sent towards a tavern in search of a beautiful, young shefey named Ayla Yna. When I found her, I told her the same and this is the conversation that followed.

   May I presume that you are she? (The shefey to whom I spoke blinked unassumingly and hesitantly nodded.)

   “Perhaps.” (It was raining, so I motioned toward the bright little tavern set just outside the Temple walls.)

   May we go within so I might ask you a few questions?  I understand you know the One for whom I seek, whose name is Gairynzvl? (She agreed that she might and follows me into the tavern bustling with chattering Fey of the Light.  We sat at a side table and I ordered a round of honeyed-ale.)  What can you tell me about him?  How did you meet? (She faltered, uncertainly, so I prompted further.)  Is it true he lingered in the shadows near you for nearly six months before revealing himself?  (She nodded then, but said nothing, so I tried once again.) Were you aware of him the entire time? Did he not frighten you? (Finally, she offered more.)

   “Because of my gifts of telepathy and empathy I was aware of him some of the time, when he was close to me, but I was more curious about him than afraid.”  Did he speak to you at all during that time? (She shook her head.)

   “Not verbally, but he did communicate through his thoughts.  We share that gift.” (I nodded with growing curiosity.)  How did he finally appear to you?

   “He chose a night during which a powerful storm shook the village.  I was alone in my cote, guarding a youngling.  When he appeared, surrounded by shadows and darkness, I confess, I was terrified.”  Did he take the childling?             

   “No.  He was not interested in the babe at all.  He even allowed me to cast a spell of protection and light around him.”  Unusual, for a Dark One.  (She agreed, but provided nothing further.)  What was it about him that made you believe you could trust him? 

   “His honesty.  I have the ability to read others emotions and can tell truth from lies.  In spite of everything that happened that night, he never once lied to me.”  (While we were speaking a small group of malefey entered the tavern. Two wore the cloaks of the Fey Guard and when they saw us, or, rather, Ayla; they immediately came to our table.  She introduced us and I realized my luck.)  You are Mardan, the Celebrant-turned-Spell Caster who stood with Gairynzvl at the Great Gate in the Uunglarda? 

   “Why do you ask?”  (His reputation for being irascible was not unwarranted and the tall, handsome malefey assessed me from head to toe to wingtip with an intense, cerulean stare.)  I am trying to learn his story to share with those who may not know it.  Can you tell me about him?  How would you describe him? (Mardan did not hesitate for an instant.)

   “Infuriating.”  (The others laughed at this derisive portrayal, but, astonishingly, nodded in agreement.)  “But I would also say remarkable.”  A strange combination. Why so?

   “He has a strength of will I find admirable.  He is unrelenting, daunting, even antagonistic; but his perseverance is motivating.  At least it was for us.”   But, is it not true that you tried to kill him when you first met? (Mardan’s brilliant gaze fixed on me and his expansive wings arched aggressively. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, that his Fey Guard friend shook his head, as if to indicate that I just over-stepped my boundaries; so I quickly reiterated.)  I have no intention of offending; I am just trying to paint an overall picture.  If you wanted to kill him, you certainly had to have a reason? 

   “I discovered him inside the home of my love.  His actions were threatening and I considered him a danger.” (He paused, then, and shook his head.) “Nevertheless, I regret the actions I took, not only because the Spell of Inflicted Pain is a ruthless curse, but because it nearly took Ayla’s life.”  You chose to use a forbidden spell? You? A Celebrant?  (He glared at me with open hostility and I realized my mistake, but before he could tear any limbs from my body, one of his friends who had been standing quietly in the background stepped forward.  I noticed immediately he wore the robes of a Healer of the Temple.)

   “Mardan is a Celebrant no longer.  He has always had the heart of a warrior and now, fortunately, he has discovered his purpose as a Spell Caster.”  (Hoping to entice more information from them, I changed my tack to delve a bit deeper.) A Spell Caster must have been of great value to Gairynzvl in the Uunglarda? 

   “I played a part; we all did, but none of us would have gone if it were not for his unshakable determination to rescue the childfey trapped there.”  This was his ultimate design, then; to come to Jyndari and be Prevailed through an ancient rite so he would be transformed and could safely return to the Uunglarda to rescue others? (Those gathered round me looked at each other as if to affirm the truth of this statement amongst themselves before any would answer and with good cause.  This was the prophecy foretold by the Ancients, that One would come out of the Darkness to Lead others out as well.) 

   “His Purpose was set from the moment the Dark Ones abducted him as a child.”  (The Healer explained, continuing to illustrate his character with unmistakable respect.) “We spent a single day in the shadow realm, but we all felt the effects of the darkness; myself especially.  I have lived my entire life in the Temple, being schooled as a Healer; yet during that single day in The Uunglarda, I felt all the negativity within me rush to the surface like a flood.”  (Those round the Healer concurred, but did not interrupt him when he continued more emphatically.)  “I understand the physical and psychological aspects of the psyche.  I comprehend the lasting effects of neglect, abuse and cruelty.  How Gairynzvl survived 15 years under the lash of Demonfey with any hope or compassion remaining within him defies logic.”  He was a captive of The Reviled for 15 years and, yet, is honest, compassionate and courageous; indeed that is remarkable. (The other Fey Guard then stepped forward, shaking his head.)

   “As Mardan pointed out, he can also be exasperating, argumentative, and, sometimes, downright petulant; this is why we call him The Fierce One, but it makes him an unrivaled Vladokhyssum player.”  (Smiles attested to the truth of his statement and I raised my glass, sure I now had the whole story.) I have heard rumors that you still play the ancient sport here and would love to witness a game. (The Healer shook his head.) 

   “I am afraid you just missed it.  We played this afternoon.”  And Gairynzvl played?  (The Healer grinned.)

   “It is impossible to keep him from playing.  He loves the intense competition.” (Mardan agreed, then added another reason under his breath.)

   “He loves the freedom to be as aggressive and intimidating as a Dark One without killing anyone.”  (His friends all laughed at this observation and I realized just how fortunate I was to meet them.)  I am beginning to understand that he must be an extraordinary, yet complicated, Fey.  (They were all of the same opinion, but Ayla quickly silenced us as a tall, white-haired malefey stepped into the pub, shaking the rain from his magnificent, nebulous-hued wings before folding them and entering further.  Those fey gathered round turned and cheered at his arrival, but, although he smiled at them, he quickly located us at a side table and moved to join his friends.  His icy-lavender gaze evaluated me openly as he approached and I felt both uneasy and excited to meet him. The others undertook my introduction and, as he extended his hand to offer his friendship, I saw the many unmistakable scars bore. At my hesitation, he turned his hand to look at it as well, recognizing my hesitancy, as well as my admiration, without my need to speak a word.  A keen silence fell as the others, too, paused to gaze at his hands and for a brief moment, a sense of reverence settled among us.

   There, before me, stood a Fey about whom the Ancients had spoken; a Fey who had suffered the unthinkable cruelties of The Integration of The Reviled and, yet, remained in the essence of his being a True Fey of the Light.  Not only did he escape the captivity he endured for so many years, but he led others back into the realm of Demonfey to rescue as many as he could find.  He was powerful of physique and undeniably fearless; yet equally kind of heart and, as I gazed round at his friends and the villagers who had come to know him, I became certain of one thing.  Mardan was correct; he was indeed remarkable.

   Then he smiled in a welcoming manner that set me at ease, clapped me across the shoulder genially, and invited me to share a round of honeyed-ale with him.   

Oh, but there’s so much more to Gairynzvl’s story! Luckily, for us, The Reviled and Standing in Shadowsare both available now!

Dark Fey The Reviled

Dark Fey The Reviled on Amazon/Kindle:    http://goo.gl/iRl5pZ

Dark Fey The Reviled on Barnes and Noble:   http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-reviled-cynthia-a-morgan/1123608621

Read a Behind The Scenes description of The Reviled:  http://www.creativia.org/kindred-souls-and-guardians-of-the-light-the-reviled.html

Dark Fey Standing In Shadows

Dark Fey Standing In Shadows on Amazon

Amazon US –  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B018HF4HSA

UK – http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B018HF4HSA

Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/standing-in-shadows-cynthia-a-morgan/1123760716

Read a Behind The Scenes description of Standing In Shadows:  http://www.creativia.org/delving-deeper-into-the-mysteries-of-jyndari-standing-in-shadows.html

Many, many thanks to Cynthia for being my first guest Author! I’m incredibly honored she allowed me to share this glimpse of Gairynzvl, and the rest of her beloved Fey, with you. And, Thank you, Dear Reader, for joining us in celebrating the Characters brought to life by Indie Authors! I look forward to shining the Spotlight on more soon!

As always, I hope you’re having a beautiful day, night, or sometime in the between….

Roari

Interested in having YOUR character interviewed or spotlighted?  Contact Roari here:  http://roaribenjamin.blogspot.com/

~Morgan~

Filed under: Dark Fey, Friday Fantasy Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Character Interview, Character Spotlight, creative writing, Epic Fantasy, Fantasy, Indie Authors, ~Morgan~

Friday Fantasy – Shifting

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Perceptions shift in the rustling Indigo,

Uncertainty Spinning with the Forgotten Long Ago,

Whispers of what was once mere Rhyme,

Now congeal and collide in the Arc of Time,

To Underscore and Intersperse with Ebon Colours Lifting,

Like Perception in the Rustling Indigo, Ethereally Shifting.

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork by: Katarina-Sokolova

Filed under: Friday Fantasy, Poetry Tagged: Bipolar, BnV, BooknVolume, life, Perception, Poem, poetry, Poetry Blog, Sense of Self, spirituality, time, Whispers, ~Morgan~

Friday Fantasy #Character Spotlight: Jean – the Last Eternal Lord

 

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This is a repost of the Character Spotlight Author Roari Benjamin recently did for Richard Ankers on his marvelous character JEAN in his Vampire/Dystopian Trilogy – The Eternals.  Posted here in its entirety for your reading pleasure.

In this Character Spotlight, I’m excited to introduce you to another wonderful, fellow author, Richard M. Ankers, and his new series,  The Eternals . He’s taking over the stage to shine the Spotlight on Jean – the last Eternal Lord – and to give us a glimpse of a future where vampires have evolved, and outlasted humankind. However, they are bound to a dying world, so, it seems even eternity has an end. Unless someone does something. Soon. But, who among these Eternals, waltzing their way into oblivion, might take action?

Let me just put on a little Strauss to set the mood…. There, that’s better. Now, without futher ado, Richard, the spotlight is yours!

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An Introduction to Jean – the last Eternal Lord – from Author Richard M. Ankers

Jean is the lead character and main protagonist in the first book of The Eternals trilogy. The Eternals are an ancient race evolved, at least in their opinion, from the vampires of old. They live at the end of time where humanity are extinct, their sun is soon to die, and them along with it. Most dispute or ignore this salient detail. They would waltz into a decadent death instead of fighting to prevent it.

Jean is an orphan and the last born Eternal. Since the suicides of his parents and their ridiculing by The Hierarchy, the planet’s elite, he has grown increasingly melancholy. Jean hates everything and everyone except for the new love of his life, Princess Linka. If only he’d not gone and killed her sister! Aided and abetted by his incompetent friend-cum-nemesis, Sir Walter Merryweather of Britannia, he deems it is time to do what nobody else will: something.

A Taster (From Chapter One of The Eternals)

Chantelle’s cold, dead hand slipped into my own like velvet ice.
“The balcony, Monsieur?”

“Please, Jean. You know formality makes me feel old, Princess.”

“Are you not?” she giggled.

I gave her a narrow-eyed glare.

In sashaying majesty, she led me out onto the moonlit balcony, a slight breeze stirring the purple silks of her gowns and tousling those flowing, raven locks. Neither the orchestra, nor revellers, noticed our absence, all far too absorbed with their petty pleasures.

Scattered geranium bushes emitted a faint pomade into the night in wafts of delicious perfume. The fragrance circulated in the evening’s air currents mixing with Chantelle’s own exquisite scents. She was everything a man could have desired, perfection personified.

“Come here.” I pulled her close, uncaring of prying eyes. I cared for nothing else, so why should that have mattered.

“Come here Princess,” she corrected, pressing hidden curves against my body.

If I could have remembered what happiness felt like, then that moment would have come close, her demure eyelash batting only adding to the allure.

“Beautiful, is it not, Jean?”

“Not as beautiful as you,” I said and leaned out over the balustrade. The red waters of the Danube looped their turgid way around the palace perimeter forming a natural barrier to uninvited guests. That was the exact purpose of their design. Nature had never had a say in it.

“Shall we?” Chantelle purred, as the reinvigorated orchestra drew my attention back from the river. There was only one kind of music for such occasions: Strauss.

We waltzed in slow circles to the ironic notes of the Blue Danube. I doubted the composer would have generated the same response to his masterpiece if titled red. A searchlight moon shone down from amongst a twinkling eternity, as we twirled across the polished, ebony floor. Could there have been anything better? I very much doubted it. Just because one was dead did not preclude them from appreciating the finer things in life.

I’d been experiencing the best of life for the last five hundred or so years and unlike some, I’d enjoyed every second. What was there not to have liked? To have wined and dined with those of undeniable breeding, shared tailors with kings and queens, walked along gothic promenades without fear, that was the life, or death, I’d dreamed of. I’d never missed the sunlight and felt it terribly overrated. The sun had given such a false sense of wellbeing to the living. Only in the crystal clarity of a sparkling moon did the true reality of an object shine. The snake was not a slithering, ugly beast, but a sensual, seductive coil of a creature. The bat far outshone the bird for it required none of the adulation that the avian so craved. And the wolf, ah, the wolf, what could one say? To see the grey wolves of old backlit by a hunter’s moon was a thing of surreal majesty. In a world of sculpted pleasures; toned to compliment the night; crafted for exuberance, I had walked unhindered. Who was I trying to convince, I hated it all! How I envied the wolves their freedom the one thing I would never possess.

“Shall we remain out here under the stars, Monsieur?”

The beautiful French accent of my partner snapped me from my musings.
“Tell me, Jean, what is your wish?”

“To be with you.”

“You can be with me anytime, but in this moment only once.”

“I can close my eyes and imagine this moment anytime I require.”

“That is not the same thing and you know it,” she berated. Another batting of those dark lashes caused a brief disturbance in her sparkling, amethyst eyes.

“No, probably not, but I shall still enjoy doing so.”

She tilted her head to one side as if it helped her think. “You know, Jean,” she whispered. “With your long, dark hair and those brooding, black eyes, you really are to die for.” Chantelle flicked her hair back and grinned, her elegant, porcelain neck beckoning.

It was a momentary thing, an uncontrollable urge, as I plunged dagger fangs into flesh, and sucked, and savoured, and drank.

How long I sated, I did not know, but it was too long. By the time I’d finished, the metallic tang of her blood saturated my tongue, and she was gone. I had taken her past the point of no return where Eternal lust and immortality merged. My lapse shattered the one sacrosanct law of Eternal life, the original sin, the forbidden link to a shameful past: I’d killed Princess Chantelle of The New Europa Alliance, sole daughter of King Rudolph and for the first time in an age, panicked!

As a rule, I was quite unflappable, after all, what was there to get in a flap about when you were already dead? But killing a princess certainly qualified. So, I kept on dancing, holding Chantelle close, and edged my way past the double doors to the balcony’s edge. Twisting our conjoined forms around, I surveyed the merriment within the ballroom: revellers swayed to the orchestration ignorant of all but themselves. A smirk escaped the confines of my lips. Once sure of our privacy, I leapt the rails with my burden. It was a drop of about thirty feet, nothing to such as I, and quickly made my way to the tree-lined riverbank. Clutching Chantelle tight, as a lover might, I again made certain of our solitude. Where my Eternal eyes could not see my senses, scent and hearing, took charge. They all confirmed that there was nobody present but me and my corpse. I waited for an opportune cloud to obscure the moon and then flung her departed form far into the claret waters. Chantelle’s limp form hit the surface with an undignified plop, and then slipped away in stages, her raven hair the last to depart as kelp in a wavering sea. I’d have liked to say I was sorry to see her go, but to be honest, I was at best indifferent.

Retracing my steps to beneath the balcony, I had a sudden epiphany: I could not go back the same way. People were bound to have seen us both step onto the balcony. No, another escape route was required.

Not wishing to be found outside alone, I spotted some sturdy looking climbing ivy and, in a reversal of parasitic behaviour, scaled it to the top of the palace. I felt no lethargy as I hauled myself up and over a particularly hideous gargoyle to the palace roof, Chantelle’s blood had quite reinvigorated me.

Having always enjoyed a spectacular view, I took a moment to savour my surroundings. It was incredible! Class told, and that most opulent of pleasure domes dripped with it. Positioned with a full view of both mountains and river, the Comte de Burgundy, a clever play on colour as he was certainly of no royal heritage, could keep his vampiric eye on all and sundry. Not that there was anyone to keep an eye on anymore, but I suspected him a tad insecure and it probably aided his sleep. I envied him his home though. If he’d built it for himself, I could neither remember, nor recall witnessing, but it showed him in a finer light than he warranted. I could not stand the little runt, otherwise.

I meandered across the inclined roof looking for somewhere to gain access to the main halls, when I realised, I’d been revealed.

“Good evening, Jean,” came the whining voice of Sir Walter Merryweather.

“Good evening,” I responded with a casual air.

“Taking a stroll?”

“No, I am in fact lost. I was looking for the latrine and somehow found myself in front of the wrong kind of pot.”

“Tee-hee, yes, quite.”

“And you?”

“Boredom, as always.”

Continued in The Eternals…….

*****

SWM: “It’s me, I’m here to interview you.”

JEAN: “Oh, God, not you, Merryweather.”

SWM: “Charming!”

JEAN: “What do you want?”

SWM: “The clue was in the opening.”

JEAN: “I don’t like talking to you at the best of times.”

SWM: “You don’t like talking to anyone. That’s why I’m the ideal host, we both want it over with.”

JEAN: “True.”

SWM: “So?”

JEAN: “So what?”

SWM: “What’s your answer?”

JEAN: “You haven’t asked me a question yet.”

SWM: “Touché. Well, I suppose we might as well get straight down to the nitty gritty. Why did you bite old Princess Charlotte?”

JEAN: “Chantelle.”

SWM: “Whichever.”

JEAN: “I couldn’t help it.”

SWM: “One cannot help stumbling, forgetting to clean one’s teeth, even to eat, but murdering a lover by draining their blood is another thing altogether.”

JEAN: “I don’t know what else to say. At that moment, it was inevitable.”

SWM: “As inevitable as ditching her in the Danube?”

JEAN: “No, that was just practical.”

SWM: “I see.”

JEAN: “Do you?”

SWM: “Not really. So what’s for Jeany-boy, the Vagabond Prince, next.”

JEAN: “Jean, if you don’t mind. And, I don’t know why people keep calling me that.”

SWM: “Ah, so young. So very young.”

JEAN: “I’ll so very young you!”

SWM: “Always resorting to violence, an outlet for the dimwitted, and you, my friend, may be many things but never that.”

JEAN: “Thanks, I think?”

SWM: “You’re welcome. So, what next? What are you going to do now everyone wants you dead?”

JEAN: “I don’t know.”

SWM: “We’re not really getting very far.”

JEAN: “Ask me something else then.”

SWM: “All right, I will. You seem to have gone through hell lately what with murderlising one princess and falling in love with her sister. It is love, isn’t it, Jean?”

JEAN: “That’s my business.”

SWM: “Not now. Anyhoo, what would you, an Eternal Lord, do to keep her now that old Crown Prince Vladivar has whisked her away to that rust bucket of a castle of his?”

JEAN: “Oh, only one thing, Walter.”

SWM: “Ooh, you called me by my first name, you must mean business.”

JEAN: “Oh, indeed.”

SWM: “So?”

JEAN: “I’m going to kill him and every other person who gets in my way.”

SWM: “I wish I hadn’t asked that now.”

JEAN: “Why?”

SWM: “Because…”

(Merryweather’s laughter fades away as he exists stage left leaving Jean as lonely and alone as he was, is, and always has been.)

*****

Now, I admit to sinking my teeth into a number of vampire novels over the years, though, none quite like this, I think. I don’t know about you, but, this “taster” leaves me thirsting for more!

To read on, get your copy of The Eternals by Richard M. Ankers at Amazon now!

Amazon US: amazon.com/Richard-M.-Ankers

Amazon UK: amazon.co.uk/-/e/B01GEM7690

For more of Richard’s writing, visit his WordPressBlog: richardankers.com.

Or, to follow him via social media:

Twitter: @Richard_Ankers

Facebook Author Page: facebook.com/richardmankers

Goodreads: goodreads.com/author/show/15271976.Richard_M_Ankers

Pinterest: Richard_Ankers

 

Interested in having YOUR character interviewed or spotlighted?  Contact Roari here:  http://roaribenjamin.blogspot.com/

 

~Morgan~

Filed under: Friday Fantasy Tagged: BnV, BooknVolume, Character Interview, Character Spotlight, creative writing, Fantasy, Indie Authors, Vampires, ~Morgan~

The Eternals by Richard Ankers – #BookReview

.

For Jean, eternity should have meant forever.

The Eternals, they are a breed apart. Born to immortality, neither human nor vampire, a dying sun is to end their race where no other could. It is to this ultimatum that Jean, the last Eternal lord, is born. Jean accepts the end once preached by his deceased parents, where others won’t, their arrogance furthering his melancholy. He would fight for the future where they, the Hierarchy, would waltz into nothingness.

But everything changes for Jean when he commits the cardinal sin: his bite takes the life of Princess Chantelle of The New Europa Alliance, whose sister will come to enthrall him. It is a deed Jean thinks has passed unnoticed; it has not. When the Britannian dandy, Sir Walter Merryweather, informs him of this, Jean runs. Aided and abetted by the irksome Merryweather, Jean stumbles from manipulated mishap into age-old conspiracies and beyond.

With the sun’s clock ticking, Jean must find time where there is none to reconcile his sordid past with the promise of new love.

 

***

 

Author Richard Ankers had me with “His bite takes the life of Princess Chantelle…”.  Though not entirely sure about reading my first vampyre novel since Bram Stoker enticed me, I dove into the pages of The Eternals with nearly as much abandon as the main character, Jean, loses himself to his ultimate intoxication:  sweet, unadulterated, human blood. Neither grotesque vampire nor human, Jean is a breed apart, from a race of Eternal beings who find themselves facing the end of time in a far distant future that holds all the marvels of Steampunk superfluity in a maudlin dystopian landscape.

The story is told in a first person voice, as Jean takes a commanding center stage to relate his tale through an unnerving combination of alluring sarcasm and caustic mirth.  His charm is undeniable and inescapable, (as any vampyre’s should be!) even in spite of the fact that he is a generally disagreeable soul who is prone to violent fits of temper that would send even “He who must not be named” running in the opposite direction; yet he is an anti-hero I connected with and found myself rooting for despite his shortcomings.

As the plot unfolded, I found myself turning the pages backward, so I might immerse myself in Danker’s mystical imagery again and again.  Intriguing characters and familiar, yet uniquely new landscapes permeate Jean’s story, such as movable cities and gothic castles of olde; masquerades and waltzes held beside the River Danube, died red simply for the sake of morbid hilarity. Throughout, Jean compelled me to travel with him as he set about discovering the mysteries of his fate; sometimes dancing, sometimes dragging me along behind him, but once he grabbed me he never let go and I, like an innocent beguiled by gaze of a beautiful monster, was utterly enthralled.

5-Stars without a second thought!  Bravo, Richard[image error]

Grab your copy here: https://www.amazon.com/Eternals-Richard-M-Ankers-ebook/dp/B01FVCE7O6

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~Morgan~

Filed under: Your Beautiful Life Tagged: BnV, Book Promotion, Book Review, Book Review Blogs, BooknVolume, Books that Matter, Dystopian, Fantasy, Horror, Vampire, ~Morgan~