J.R. Manawa's Blog, page 3

Death is inevitable

So many of us live our lives afraid of dying. For me, my constant goal is to live my life without this fear of death.

Death is the one thing in life of which we can be absolutely certain, so what is the point of worrying constantly about it?

We are so afraid of death that we don’t want to talk about it or think about it. In many cases it is so controlling that it prevents us from taking risks, or doing things we would otherwise do because of the calculated or perceived dangers involved.

On top of that, we live in an age where he who lives the longest and looks the youngest, wins. The many generations before us didn’t have this luxury, and maybe there is something we can learn from them.

However, we tend to look at the way death is treated in some cultures, and in the relics of our own, as something macabre and disturbing.

Memento Mori (Remeber Death), was a phrase coined as part of an age when death was nothing to be feared, a natural progression of life. Life that was often too short because of disease, disaster and war.

Skulls came into popular use in art as part of this (even to the point of using death as an art form when we think of the Catacombs beneath Paris, and the Seldec Ossuary in Kutna Hora, outside Prague), to remind us that life is short and we should do the most we can with it while we have it.

This wasn’t a recommendation to live with complete indulgence, but rather to live with an attitude that we can change things — to seek to live a life that makes a difference in an increasingly mean and dark world.

‘Memento Mori’ is a reminder to me to be a catalyst for change, to be the change I want to see. Of course, that’s a bit goal, and I’m very human — I mess up and get it wrong all the time, but it doesn’t change the goal

Be unashamedly you

So it’s International Women’s Day, and I thought I would share. When I was little, one of my biggest barriers to confidence and therefore success (in anything) was the fact that I felt inadequate, not beautiful enough, not skinny enough, not clever enough, NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

If I could have a dream for women (and men) the whole world over, it’s that we stop putting each other down, and stop comparing each other. My first experience of bullying in school was being told I was fat and ugly by a girl who was larger than me. I’ve come through the other side and believe I’m damn well beautiful now (we each are entitled to our own view on beauty – that’s what makes it work) and from that experience as a six year old, I realised without a doubt that all girls felt fat and unattractive deep down, no matter how tiny/big or unusual/comely they were.

Perhaps I have that episode of bullying to thank for the revelation… Whatever the truth may be, I’ve come on a long (and super fun, exciting and freeing) journey to being me (it’s ongoing).

The photo behind my little collection of words below for International Women’s Day, is a photo I took of a skull in Portugal a few years ago. I’m using it, not because we are all the same on the inside (because we know that) but because taking photos of skulls makes me happy and is an expression of the way I see beauty in the world.

#foodforthought

#learnnottojudge

#PressforProgress

#IWD2018

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Daddy Long Legs and a pang of fear

Yay new chapter! (If you are just joining you may want to start here)

Daddy Long Legs and a pang of fear. J R Manawa.

Their first dance came to a close. Or possibly it was second, third or fourth. Nadine wasn’t so sure, but what she was sure of was the fact that she was getting the hang of it.

She was learning to dance.

She, the orphan raised in foster homes across the entirety of South London in buildings where the word Waltz would never have been used and Polka only in reference to the bad dotty clothing your foster mother thought was in fashion.

She had learned the trick was to look at Caleb, not at her feet, which wasn’t the most difficult task in the world. And when she did focus entirely on Caleb, to the point where she could have completely lost herself under the shadow of his stupidly thick eyelashes while she counted the pools of gold and auburn within his eyes, she found that the dance came easy, mesmerisingly easy.

She closed her eyes to break away from Caleb’s stare for a moment and fell into the rhythm of their feet and the tension of his hand on her waist, cooling the heat of her body. A change in the beat caught her off guard, and she missed a step, catching Caleb’s toe with the point of her heel. Her eyes shot open.

“Over confident, a little?” He asked.

“I’m sorry, that must have hurt,” she said, though she was sure the killer heels were hurting her more.

He tilted his head to the side as he said “Just a little,” as he spun her away from him.

She turned and turned, the ballerina of her own dark little music box, but the spinning ended abruptly. Caleb pulled her back toward him with a sudden firmness and urgency that she hadn’t expected. He wasn’t looking at her anymore either, he was staring at something else, over the top of her head.

“Caleb?” She asked, turning her head to try and look at what he was looking at, but he reached up to take her cheek and turned her face up towards his, kissing her quickly.

“Stay with me,” he whispered the words against her lips with sudden urgency, his breath like icy menthol, and then he spun her again, so she was now behind him.

Levi materialised out of the crowd at that moment and took a step forward to stand beside his brother.

“Ahh Caleb, Levi.” A strong voice greeted them both. “Naturally you have made it just in time to miss all of the laughing and most of the dancing,” the voice was warm in sound, mocking in feel, and cold in delivery. “I assume we will be able to pry you away for a few short moments to address the agenda before us?”

“I’m sure it can hardly be a matter of life and death if I am not there, Levi may go in my stead,” Caleb replied, and Nadine noted the change in Levi’s stance as he reacted to what Caleb said. She also noted that the boy turned his head toward her just a little, like he was questioning in his own mind whether she was the cause of Caleb’s response.

Which she knew she was. Caleb’s voice had been urgent when he asked that she not leave him.

Curiosity go the better of her very quickly, and she peered around Caleb to observe the tall, spider-thin man he spoke with.

Even the small glimpse of him made her skin crawl with discomfort. Elbows and knees at angles that were almost unnatural, slender limbs that reminded her of a daddy long legs, and a gaunt face with beautiful, narrow eyes. She wondered that Caleb had placed himself in front of her, like he was attempting to block her from the man’s view.

The thin man let out a delicate snort that mutated quickly into a laugh, and then a knowing smile, “Most of it, no doubt. However, the coven of bastards rising in London beneath your very noses is most certainly a matter of life and death in your concern.”

Nadine felt Caleb’s grip tighten on her as she tried to look around him again, and his body stiffened completely when the man mentioned the ‘Coven of Bastards’.

Nadine held her breath. She had felt a curious pang of fear — the kind of fear a young fox must grasp when it realises for the first time that the hound has not come to play.

“But those matters are a moment away yet. May I have the pleasure of meeting this delicacy you have shipped us from London?” The spider-thin man leaned around Caleb’s shoulder.

To her left, Nadine felt Levi pull away from the tete-a-tete, as it ended, and Caleb slowly — without pleasure — spun Nadine around in his arms to face the man. He took her hand and kissed her like Levi had, with lips as thin and cold as his fingers were. “Ahhh, Caleb,” he inhaled and sighed into the kiss he placed upon Nadine. A moment later he raised his head and smiled, “I trust we will all enjoy you more — a little later.” He dropped her hand in an awkward, lingering way that stole the warmth from her fingers as his own slipped away, and he took Caleb’s arm to lead him off, toward whatever meeting about bastard covens needed to take place.

“Did I imagine that he looked hungry, for me?” Nadine asked, scrunching up her nose in the aftermath of their departure. “I actually worried he was going to chew on one of my fingers,” she added jokingly.

“We are all hungry, my dear,” Levi replied.

Nadine raised one eyebrow, quite unsure how to respond as she looked down at Levi, “You know, I had no idea Caleb had a brother. He didn’t tell me. I’m sorry.”

Levi smiled, “That means I still have the element of surprise, something I quite enjoy.” He offered her his hand, “Perhaps we grab a glass of wine? And then I teach you how to dance to this song?

“How old are you, Levi?” Nadine laughed as she took his hand, brushing off the discomfort of moments ago.

“Embarrassingly older than I look.” He laughed.

“Now, I’ll lead. You follow,”

You thought the story had been left behind? I know. Sorry.

It’s back, right through until the end.

Let’s find out what happens to Nadine as she arrives on the dance floor…

(If you need to catch up, the last chapter of this story was “The Pauper Princess” and the story started here if you need to go right back to the beginning, which you should, if you haven’t yet.)

“Now, I’ll lead. You follow.” ( — A Vampire Romance, Part Two)

“You’re a selfish asshole,” were the first words that came out of the mouth of the child who met them at the end of the hall. Caleb’s younger brother wore his hair down, long and curly about his shoulders, the opposite of his brother. Wayward strands of the pale blond locks showered his face, not quite disguising the frown that now played across his strong eyebrows.

Nadine started in fright at the outburst.

“This is my brother Levi,” Caleb introduced him to Nadine. “You’ll have to forgive his personality.”

Levi Adams was slim and rather tall for the age his face portrayed him to be. This was accentuated by the long formal coat he wore, in the darkest shade of midnight blue. It was the kind of coat that creased carefully in all the places, telling everyone who looked closely just how finely tailored it was. Needless to say, he wore it with the confidence of a young and successful millionaire as he took Nadine’s hand and smiled, bowed formally, and planted a light kiss on her knuckles.

“You are so cold!” Nadine told him, like she would have spoken to a younger child, because she couldn’t image him being older than ten at most. She was so enthralled by the immaculate child, and the news that Caleb had a younger brother, that she held his hand a second too long after he let her go.

“Aren’t we all, dear Nadine, aren’t we all?” He pulled his hand away and glanced pointedly toward his brother as he replied.

She stood in shock as the boy turned away from her and put his hands to the mammoth ballroom doors, pushing them open with a show of ease. Caleb gathered her arm up in his once more, as they wordlessly followed Levi into the ballroom and Nadine’s eyes soared toward the ceiling.

Arches of spindle-thin iron and glass latticework greeted them, a great domed palace looking just as fragile as a snowflake balanced on the point of a needle. It was a delicate masterpiece of engineering from an era long gone, and it thoroughly captured all of Nadine’s wonder and imagination. A fairy king’s ballroom, spun of spiderwebs and dew bubbles, splitting a golden sunset into a thousand twinkling reflections

And not only that. Beneath the golden dome, couples of all ages and races were caught in the dance — surely not all the same family? — mismatched, yet graceful and perfect as they moved, seeming so learned in their dance that they could have done it blind.

“So, tell me Nadine,” Caleb’s grim expression turned up at the corners into a short, brutal smile, “do you know how to dance?”

A laugh exploded out of her mouth. “No. Not like this. Of course not.” She covered her mouth with embarrassment.

He was caught looking at her again. It was now as simple as meeting her gaze and he was caught, each time further entrapped by her than he had been before.

It was immensely frustrating. He couldn’t look away. She held him captive. And, for the second time that evening, he took too long to react, or move, or speak, or even breathe.

So Nadine filled the silence, “I mean, like, you know how I dance, I believe,” she blushed, “So. Let’s say we drop a base line, and a proper drum beat under this, and throw in a singer with some kind of sexy, gravelly voice, and I will own this dance floor, but under the status quo, no. Noooo—!” She squawked, and covered her mouth with the back of her hand as Caleb took her waist and swept her into the dance.

Afterward she did think that it could have been a terrible fail, with her fumbling to deep her balance as he tried to be manly and sweep her off her feet — a truly terrible fail. Except it wasn’t. It did work, and it did feel rather graceful, because Caleb literally did sweep her off her feet and spin her around the room.

At which point she burst out into laughter again. The most embarrasing, childish giggle of delight that had ever escaped from her own two lips. Caleb smiled, genuinely. A smile of pleasure in her delight, as he carefully placed her down close to him and whispered in her ear, “Now, I’ll lead. You follow,” and smartly pulled her into the dance.

The Pauper Princess

So, can’t lie, this is the moment I’ve been waiting for, and at the same time, it annoys my because now I need to know what happens next…

An Undead Christmas Carol. J R Manawa.

The Pauper Princess

…

Somewhere in the depths of the grand chateau, an ancient cloak with a deep chime tolled the hour as Nadine picked up her pace to the end of the hall and hopped down the stairs with as much speed and class as she could muster in killer heels. At the top of the last flight, she paused and took a deep breath, slowing her pace before she descended toward the Egyptian entranceway.

One of the worst things about focusing on not falling as you descend a flight of stairs in a tight dress that isn’t your own, wearing unfortunately high heels and working very hard to muster every inch of elegance within your being, is that inevitably, something will go wrong.

Nadine could have argued that the fresco on the ceiling had also stolen her attention, but the truth is that she was focused on her feet the entire way down, and she seriously doubted that a neck arched forward to watch her toes was an elegant one at all. It didn’t matter, any stray whiffs of elegance were lost as she took a step too wide, pushing the stretch in the dress a little too far, and suddenly she was all momentum, knees over feet, sliding downward on the plush navy carpet like her shins were some kind of skewiff toboggan.

She stopped herself before she fell all the way, but it was immediately hilarious that she had been so desperately preoccupied with looking cool that karma had kicked her in the ass and sent her tumbling anyway, so she burst out laughing.

A pair of arms reached down and scooped her up easily. “Are you okay?”

Nadine choked instantly on her laughter as she looked up. She had paid zilch attention to whether anyone was waiting from below. Though she knew Caleb had said he would be, at nine o’clock, she had almost fully convinced herself that he was making a mockery of her and was not even here.

That she would turn up, the pauper dressed as a princess, at some awkward private ball to which she was not really invited.

But of course it was Caleb, smelling of musk and spice and something darker, like ancient stone and dry wood, not that Nadine could have put a word to it. It was delicious, mysterious and dangerous.

His strength had shocked her into silence, though there were a thousand different sentences running through her mind as she stared at him, the first one that came out, even before hello, was, “You know, my feet have to be on the ground if I am going to use them at all,” she inhaled, and then the torrent came, “unless you intend to carry me all evening. It will of course save me the embarrassment of not being able to dance, in this dress. Or at all if I’m completely honest. Assuming we are expected to waltz or something. Though I think waltzing is German, I have no idea how they dance in Paris. I’ll shut up now.”

He didn’t say a word, he waited patiently for her to finish. As she spoke, her eyes took him in entirely, the straight shouldered black jacket with silver buttons that looked almost military was was definitely either Vivian Westwood or Alexander McQueen, not that Nadine could have known for sure, but it paired stupidly well with the high collared plain white shirt underneath and the messy bun that his wavy auburn hair had been folded into, except for the few strands that had fallen loose, most likely as he had leapt up the stairs to rescue Nadine from her tumble. His eyes were darker around the sockets than she remembered, like he hadn’t slept well in a few days, but it looked good on him, and this thought made Nadine cringe internally, even as it came to her.

His amber eyes read into hers and a little smile tickled at the corners of his lips as he watched her absorbed his appearance. He put her down slowly, and reached his right hand up to tuck back the wayward strands of hair behind his ear. His left hand remained at the small of her back.

She swallowed, now embarrassed that he seemed content not to react, or even say a word in counter to her outburst.

“Shall we?” He asked gently, extending his left arm and gesturing for her to take the last five steps down to the ground from where they were perched, blocking the stairway.

It was only then that Nadine realised there were at least two other couples waiting behind them, with patience and grace; all of the things that Nadine had just publicly demonstrated she was not.

Unsure of her stability, she took the rail in her left hand and let Caleb guide her down. “We better not start making a habit out of that,” Nadine said, softer, after they reached the bottom and walked forward, away from the other couples in their own dashing suits and elegant gowns.

“Of falling?”

“Of you being there to catch me when I fall after doing something rather ungraceful,” she elaborated.

“Oh, yes well, I guess I can understand that,” he grinned, “I’m sorry, your verbal diarrhoea caught me off guard back there.”

They walked down the hall together, Caleb still with his hand at her waist. His contact made Nadine feel uncomfortable, and yet comfortable all at once as they made for the tall ballroom doors looming at the end of the hall. Fashioned of warm brown wood, crusted with golden filigree, and crowned with winter fauna and fairy lights, they were everything that an entrance portal to a winter ball should be.

Caleb looked straight ahead. He hadn’t known what to think at all, or even where to look, when Nadine came to the top of the stairs. It was the first time he had seen her since he caught her in the snow on the edge of Berkeley Square and invited her to this ridiculous ball.

Now he thought it had been callous and rash, exactly as Levi had said; that he was acting out the monster inside of him. Because, because, the sight of Nadine at the top of the stairs looking up at the ceiling with her red hair tumbling down over her shoulders, and her hand on the balustrade opening up the curve of her neck and the line of her collarbone, so exposed by the off-the-shoulder cut of the black form fitting dress she wore, had hit him like a glass wall that shattered around her and poured down broken shards everywhere, little cuts she would have to endure with every step closer to him that she took.

Until she bled out entirely.

She didn’t see him. She looked down at her feet and began her descent, so focused, so forced in exuding the grace she had recognised was required of her to exist in such a building, at such a time, for such an event.

Caleb pursed had his lips, because she was not wrong.

So he watched, and said nothing, until she fell and he jumped to help her, hardly registering how quickly he moved to her, the fact that he still held her off the ground, or the fact that other members of his so called ‘family’ had begun to descend the stairs behind them.

And now he was walking her down the hall to her doom, unable to look at her for his shame.

Tagged: alternative, altgirl, fangs, freak, girls with piercings, girlswithfangs, girlswithtattoos, goth, gothgirl, gothic, London, London fantasy, magic realism, Storyteller, teen romance, twilight, Urban Fantasy, vamp, vampgirl, vampire, vampireprincess, writer

Episode 6 – Our Road trip videos through New Zealand – A journey in the dark

In this episode, as the blatantly Tolkien-esque episode title suggests, we go underground, into the dark old goldmines that pepper the Coromandel region of New Zealand. We find some terrifying native creepy crawlies, and we crash a rather expensive piece of equipment.

All in a day’s work for the Expeditionists

Dear Nadine…

Here we go, a bit more of a tale for you! Nadine, alone, in Paris on Christmas, waiting for Caleb…

An Undead Christmas Carol

The things we do on Christmas Eve

…

“Dear Nadine,

My brother and I have caught an earlier train, some minor family issues to sort. You will be met by a driver at Paris Gare du Nord, who will take you to the Hotel. I look forward to seeing you in the foyer at nine.

Signed, Caleb Adams.”

Nadine sat back in her chair, perplexed. She was in first class of course, and had already been poured a long flute of champagne, “Bon Natale,” the hostess had said, serving her confidently after Nadine’s weak refusal. There was also a minced fruit pie with dainty marzipan holly leaves dusted in sugar on the top.

She turned the flute around in her hand, staring into the rising shafts of bubbles, and considered for the first time that she was somehow being manipulated, fallen into a game she had not asked to play. It took her a moment to calm down, and not before she had convinced herself that she was still in control. She could get in the cab at the station if she wanted, or not. She could put on the dress she had been loaned, or not. She could turn up in the foyer of this ‘Hotel’ – in her head she said it in a sarcastic French accent, dropping the ‘H’ – at eight, or not.

Alternatively, she could jump on a bus, or whatever public transport they did in Paris, and she could find the Champs Elysees and go for an evening stroll to see the white McDonalds sign… and all the other pretty lights that she imagined on a romantic Parisian evening. Okay, the McDonalds sign wasn’t romantic, but lamely, the one thing she remembered from school about Paris, other than watching Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame, was that the McDonalds sign had to be white on the Champs Elysees, because all the signs were white, so the giant golden yellow arches had been forced to conform. That was about the entire sum of her knowledge of Paris.

Oh, and Catacombs. She knew there were catacombs beneath the streets of Paris, somewhere, looming tunnels that enshrined the bones of some six million plus deceased Parisian residents.

Maybe her knowledge wasn’t all that lame. Maybe she could come up with a brave idea of how she would wile away the hours if she decided to ran from her pending date. She had a couple of hours to mull over it now anyway.

With all her best intentions aside, and the champagne, the rocking roll of the Eurostar train carriage, and the hype of her final day of work for the year, Nadine found herself dozing off to sleep.

She woke to the conductor touching her shoulder, “Miss Morrison?” She nodded sleepily.“We are in Paris. Your car is waiting for you—”

“Oh!” She jumped, but her mind had kicked in again by the time she was walking out of the station. She turned her phone data back on, accepted the European charges, and sent Sonia a pin that projected her location for the following sixty minutes as she took the chauffeurs hand and stepped into the back seat of the silver Mercedes that was waiting for her.

As the vehicle mowed down the streets of Paris in a blur of twinkling lights and glowing old stone structures under the street lamps, Nadine hugged the dress bag.

Finally, on the outskirts of the city, the silver car pulled up to the gated estate of Caleb’s “Uncle”. The private hotel that was all at once everything and nothing Nadine had expected. Nothing, because it was grandiose beyond what Nadine would have believed she had fallen into, a Baroque Chateau with a yellow stone wall to protect it from the outside world, and golden gate of filigree and flowers that glittered in the full beams of the Mercedes as they clicked open mechanically and rolled inward and away from car. Everything because if Nadine could have ever paused for a moment to let her mind fully run away with the idea of Caleb Adams and who he possibly was, then a paved driveway in the hills above Paris, lined with marble nymphs and goddesses frozen upon plinths sprouting out of a perfect box hedge, tastefully lit with warm yellow fairylights, probably wasn’t that far a leap of the imagination from a penthouse on the tenth floor in Mayfair.

“At this rate, I’m not even going to see Paris,” she muttered as the car pulled further up the drive and into the shadow of the trees, trees that eventually blocked out the city lights behind them completely. They drove for a further five minutes at least in the fairy light filled dark until the trees opened out to reveal a stately home, which was more of a chateau, and reminded Nadine of Versailles, or at least a miniature version of the impression Versailles must leave on a visitor. To either side of the grand entranceway, vermillion curtained windows rose high and peeped open just enough to flash a glimpse of the golden lamplight, mirrors and chandeliers that hid beyond.

The Mercedes pulled up and shifted its great engine into neutral. The doorman paced across the marble entranceway, around the golden fountain, complete with naked cherub spouting water in a calming trickle from his gilded cornucopia of fruit and flora, and opened the car door for Nadine, who froze.

Completely froze. With the black dress bag hugged to her body, hiding her smart, but underwhelming black turtleneck and denim skirt with 80 denier opaque black tights and sensible-for-travelling matte black 1460 Dr Martens that had been well worn in over the last five years of their love affair with her feet.

If life ever stopped moving, just a bit, and shrunk, just a bit, to the point where you were able to consider yourself akin to ant who happened to also be a homeless street urchin, this was that moment.

“Miss?” The butler leaned in the door and his perfectly groomed eyebrows rippled in question. He moved to take the dress bag, his gloved fingertips brushed the raised hairs on her arm ever so gently, but a moment later he pulled back in surprise, without the dress bag, “Where is your escort?” He asked with bright eyes, his tone formal, but not unkind.

Nadine pushed herself forward out of the shadows of the car’s backseat, “I don’t have an escort, I’m Caleb Adams’ date. He was supposed to meet me, but I honestly don’t know,” she inhaled, frustrated and uncomfortable, “I honestly don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ahh. Caleb.” The doorman nodded, “Their uncle did wonder when Caleb and Levi were to arrive. Clearly we have our answer. Come, you are most welcome,” this time he offered her his arm rather than a hand, and Nadine took it, still clutching the duffel and the dress bag.

He reached over and took both the bags easily under his left arm before scooting her around to face the door. He passed her bags over to his colleague smoothly, and marched forward. He was suddenly less formal with her, despite the proffered arm, and placed his free gloved hand over hers, “Don’t worry, Caleb leaves us all in the dark a lot of the time. Will you be sharing his room?”

“No thank you,” Nadine said swiftly, she still felt rather like she’d been stood up, and the last thing she wanted in that moment was to have to share a bed with the one who had done the standing-up, “if there is the option going to have my own room,” she clarified with a sudden flush, hoping her quick response and subsequent request hadn’t been too audacious.

The doorman laughed, “I didn’t introduce myself,” he said with a cheeky grin as he pushed open one of the grand doors and revealed the chess board marble floor and sweeping white staircase of the entrance way, complete with an Egyptian revival frescoed ceilings and slender marble nymphs in similar style crowning the arms of the balustrade. The alcove immediately to her left housed a eight foot high ebony black statue of jackal-headed Anubis who glared down at her with his gold lidded eyes.

Nadine blinked in surprise.

“I said my name is Casper,” the doorman repeated when he realised that Nadine wasn’t listening to him.

She blushed again, and he laughed at her. He was in all honesty just as stupidly attractive as Caleb was, with his black pony tail, high collared white shirt and navy blue dress coat, even if he was just a doorman. Nadine caught herself disapprovingly on the last thought. Whatever his job happened to be, Casper was acceptably attractive and definitely the kind of boy that Nadine would wish to hang out with some more, in any other circumstance had they happened to meet. So she smiled back when he laughed at her.

Casper walked her up the grand staircase and down a hall to the far side of the chateau where they climbed a further two flights of stairs, this time a dark mahogany with ivy carved into the panels that lined the wall. The carpet was a rich indigo throughout the chateau, and Nadine found the colour entirely thrilling, such that when Casper opened the door of the room selected for her, laid her bags out on the bed and bade her farewell with a cheeky wink, she pushed the door to and immediately laid out on the floor, burying her body in the thick pile of it.

Yes. She was going to enjoy this experience for all it was worth, despite Caleb Adams value to the tale or not, it would be one to tell her kids one day. Not that she had any immediate plans to pro-create.

She pushed herself up of the rich carpet and took five to explore her suite. She imagined it was small compared to what some of the chateaus inhabitants were privileged to, but it was lush, with the soft white bedsheets, the warm white towels on the heater, the grey marble bathroom with brass rainforest shower head that opened up its fount over a modestly opulent brass bathtub, the kind with feet in the shape of a lions paws and a curling lip around the edge that was smooth enough to rest your head on, or wide enough to sit on.

It was already quarter to eight, but Nadine was going to have a shower. Caleb would handle her being fashionably late. The whole chateau shouted the legends of elegant French women with long necks and black gowns who were always fashionably late, and what girl wouldn’t be when she had the option to lounge the hours away in her own brass bathtub with her perfect red pedicured toenails peeping out just above the bubbles to escape the emulsifying heat.

Nadine settled for a shower.

By ten to nine, the black dress bag was unzipped, and the dress was on, makeup en pointe, hair out, brushed and down, and she was left wrestling with the black suede killer heels that Sonia had loaned her, after Ludmila had made a passing comment that plain black heels would be the best compliment to the dress.

Nadine wished she had bought plasters with her in readiness for what the shoes would do to her heels that evening, but in the end there was nothing for it, she glanced over her reflection quickly in the mirror, and laughed out loud because she looking completely unlike the girl she really was, except perhaps for the fact she’d stuck with a comfortable amount of black eyeliner despite Ludmila’s warning that less was more as far as the dress’ impact was concerned.

It didn’t matter. Nadine pulled the door to and wiggled on her heels once to test her ankles, before walking back down the hall with confidence. She was her own force of nature, her own brand, her own style, less or more, dress or not.

Tagged: alternative, altgirl, fangs, freak, girls with piercings, girlswithfangs, girlswithtattoos, goth, gothgirl, gothic, London, London fantasy, magic realism, Storyteller, teen romance, twilight, Urban Fantasy, vamp, vampgirl, vampire, vampireprincess, writer

“Excuse me, Miss Morrison?”

It’s Christmas Eve!!! Eeeek. Does this mean Nadine will be on her way to Paris to attend a Vampire Coven Summit?

An Undead Christmas Carol. J R Manawa.

“Excuse me, Miss Morrison?”

…

Before Nadine knew it, it was Friday afternoon. She’d finished work for the year and was more than pleased that she had managed to avoid the Office Christmas party. At twenty-two she was one of the youngest in the company, and after they’d had two or three free cocktails all the older men from Accounts always seemed to want to talk to her, a lot.

She wrapped up against the cold, and picked up the dress bag and the duffle from her desk as the first of the cocktails were being served by the reception girls, who had a reputation for mixing a wicked martini in the tiny kitchenette behind the photocopier. It didn’t take her long to reach St. Pancras station. The platforms were bursting with commuters heading home for the weekend and for Christmas. She dodged the crowd gathered around the towering Christmas tree made entirely of Lego bricks, and ran for the check-in desk.

As she waited in the queue, she searched the ticket hall for Caleb Adams, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was only now she realised that she had agreed to this ridiculous idea without even having a contact phone number for the man she was going with. She knew she could blame it on Sonia for convincing her, but Sonia wasn’t here to encourage her now either.

In her right frame of mind there was no way she would be standing in a Check-In queue for the Eurostar with a designer dress bag slung over her shoulder, waiting for a man she hardly knew, to go to Paris with him for the night.

Her mother would be turning in her grave, Nadine knew that much.

The only thing she had to go on was a message from Caleb’s concierge in her mailbox detailing that Caleb would meet her on the platform on Friday evening and that in the meantime she should give her name at the check-in desk and proceed to the train.

But Caleb did not meet her on the platform.

It was five minutes to departure, and Nadine had decided in a rash move of her more adventurous spirit, that she was going to get on the train and enjoy a free ride to Paris anyway, when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Miss Morrison?”

She spun around.

It wasn’t Caleb Adams. It was the Conductor.

“Yes?” she replied, wary, and concerned that he knew her by name.

“We need to leave now.” He gestured politely to the open door of the train, and took her bag for her.

Once they were on board, the doors beeped and slid shut, and the train pulled away from the platform.

Nadine stood at the door, in shock, and watched the platform roll away.

She was on a train, alone, destined for Paris.

Tagged: alternative, altgirl, author, blog, blogger, book, challenge, fairytale, fangs, fantasy, freak, girls with piercings, girlswithfangs, girlswithtattoos, goth, gothgirl, gothic, gothicfairytale, inspiration, London, London fantasy, magic realism, motivation, poet, poetry, quoteoftheday, shortstory, story, Storyteller, teen romance, twilight, Urban Fantasy, vamp, vampgirl, vampire, vampireprincess, write, writer, writing, writingchallenge

Episode 5 – Fire and Water (A video about mosquitoes, volcanoes…and my crazy driving)

Okay, so my first Christmas Eve post shall be to catch up with the webseries episodes that I’ve missed sharing!

So, in case you missed it, here is episode 5 (don’t forget to subscribe when you click through!)

With love from this side of darkness, J R Manawa

“The perfect guy?”

So, has Nadine met the perfect guy? I’ll let you decide….

An Undead Christmas Carol. J R Manawa.

“The perfect guy?”

…

Nadine had lied about meeting a friend. The small, internal voice of fear had kicked in, combined with a desperate need to end the awkward conversation. Once she had rounded the corner and was walking briskly toward the bus stop on Regent Street, she smiled to herself. There was always a friend waiting when she got into awkward situations with men. Sonia had offered her that droplet of wisdom not long after she moved to London.

But it didn’t change the fact that she’d been sucked in and she knew it. The situation was too unreal. Distressingly attractive, apparently super rich, and practically begging her to save him from the embarrassment of a formal family gathering – a ball in Paris – Caleb Adams had successfully peaked her interest. “As I’m sure he would any other girl on the planet,” she muttered aloud to herself.

When she got home, her housemate was all ears to what had happened, she even turned the new tv off to listen, and it did not take for Sonia long to draw a complete summary of the situation in a rather loud and disgusted voice, “I cannot believe you have pulled, like the perfect guy, by vomiting all over him! That is so unfair!”

“The perfect guy?” Nadine looked slightly surprised.

“C’mon Nads, he didn’t even need to have a house in Mayfair or a Bentley really, did he? I saw him in that club just like every other female did.”

“I, I didn’t even really notice last night,” Nadine admitted.

“You were too drunk.” Sonia told her quickly.

“Sorry,” she replied, sheepishly.

“It doesn’t matter, just proves I had a good birthday party.”

Nadine nodded, not sure she felt the same way. The good parties were usually the ones she could remember.

“And he kissed you?” Sonia asked again, with some amount of disbelief.

Nadine touched her lip, “Yeah.”

“And so you threatened to slap him?”

“Yeah.”

“No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”

Nadine chose to ignore the last comment. She knew Sonia didn’t intend for it to be hurtful. She’d simply spoken the first thing that came into her mind. Besides, ‘boyfriend’ was far from the top of Nadine’s ‘To do’ list in life. Boys were high maintenance and unnecessary, especially when she was dating them.

“Do you think I should go?” she asked.

“Think?” Sonia shook her head, “Are you actually considering not going?”

“I don’t even know him.” Nadine argued weakly.

“Then go for the free trip to Paris, you’ve never been, have you?”

Nadine shook her head, and grabbed a handful of popcorn from Sonia’s bowl.

“Well, go. See Paris. Whatever excuse works for you. If you don’t, I’ll offer him my paid escort services,” Sonia laughed, and so did Nadine. They both knew she was only half kidding.

“I’m going to need a ball gown,” Nadine sighed. She hadn’t worn a ball gown since she graduated High School, and even then it had been something she wasn’t keen on remembering.

Over the next two days their circle of friends turned out five different possible ball gowns, which Sonia very smartly narrowed down to two. It was on Wednesday evening, while she and Sonia were standing over the black dress and the green dress, laid out carefully on her bed that Nadine finally thought she should probably call Caleb and inform him that she had decided to go with him.

The concierge refused to put her through. Mr Adams was not available.

“Look, just tell him it’s Nadine Morrison, and tell him I say ‘yes’.”

“I will pass the message on.” was the stiff reply.

Nadine shrugged and hung up. Sonia had meanwhile moved on to choosing accessories.

“Does this ball have a theme?” She asked, as she laid out a black beaded choker on the green dress.

“Whatever the theme, I am concerned that green is rather cliché for a red head.”

Downstairs, the doorbell rung.

“That will be Ludmila,” Sonia went for the door.

“You didn’t!” Nadine said with horror.

“I did,” Sonia grinned, “You can thank me later.”

Ludmila was Sonia’s brother’s girlfriend. She was a fashion designer with a boutique in Knightsbridge.

She came in the door with a black dress bag over one shoulder, and a Louis Vuitton duffle bag slung over her free arm, “So where is this Cinderella then?” she grinned.

Tagged: alternative, altgirl, author, blog, blogger, book, challenge, fairytale, fangs, fantasy, freak, girls with piercings, girlswithfangs, girlswithtattoos, goth, gothgirl, gothic, gothicfairytale, inspiration, London, London fantasy, magic realism, motivation, poet, poetry, quoteoftheday, shortstory, story, Storyteller, teen romance, twilight, Urban Fantasy, vamp, vampgirl, vampire, vampireprincess, write, writer, writing, writingchallenge