Kallysten's Blog, page 7
June 28, 2015
Paranormal Lovers Scavenger Hunt
(If you just stumbled on this post, be sure to start your hunt from the start.)
A small hint… Look through my books, either by cover/series or by blurb, and think outside the box…
I’m also running my own contest during the Scavenger’s Hunt and giving away:
3 ebooks, paperbacks or audiobooks (winners’ choice out of all my stories except for Moonlust/Men In Space)
15 charm wipers for phone/tablet/reader
The giveaway runs until midnight on July 5th. The only requirement is to subscribe to my newsletter (No spam, no sharing your address with anyone. I usually send it once or twice a month, and you can unsubscribe whenever you want.) The 18 winners (3 + 15) will be contacted directly by email to claim their prizes. Good luck!
The post Paranormal Lovers Scavenger Hunt appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
March 25, 2015
Audiobook – Beyond The Edge
As Brett Andrews, owner of the famous club On The Edge, reaches the big ‘four-O,’ he has one request and one question for his two vampire lovers, Leo and Lisa: he doesn’t want them to organize any sort of celebration for him – but he does want to know why neither of them has ever mentioned the possibility of turning him into a vampire.
The question finds an answer, and the three of them share a promise for the year to come. His request, on the other hand, is doomed from the start as they already have plans for the big day: they have a gift for him to match presents he offered each of them, and the party they planned with help from a couple of friends promises to be something special.
Vampire Anando and his human lover Virginia met at On The Edge. They are friends and occasional lovers of Leo, Brett and Lisa. When asked, they gladly accept to host the big-bash birthday party – and the private after-party, too. A good time is had by all, but the last gift is only revealed a few weeks later, to be delivered after nine months.
With both humans in love with vampires, neither expected a child in their future. As for the vampires, they knew for a fact that they’d never become parents. For all five, once the first shock has passed, decisions have to be made. Will this new adventure strengthen bonds of love and friendship, or will it tear lives apart?
LENGTH – 7 hours 33 minutes
NARRATOR – Todd Waites
NOTE – This book is also available as ebook. The rest of the series is available as audiobook as well.
AUDIOBOOK
>> Buy from Amazon
>> Buy from Audible.com [If you’re not a member yet, you can get this free with a 30-day free trial]
>> Buy from iTunes
The post Audiobook – Beyond The Edge appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
March 19, 2015
Bloodchild (QuickSilver Codex #3)
Five days. That’s how long Vivien has to prepare for the first of three magic duels against Rhuinn, the usurper king of Foh’Ran. She challenged him to the duels not because she wants the throne, although it is her birthright, but because she blames him for the death of Brad – one of her bodyguards, and the man she loves.
Except that Brad is alive again… or the next best thing. His brother Aedan, rather than losing him, broke all customs and made him a vampire like himself, a decision that might cost him dearly when his own Maker confronts him.
Vivien’s joy over not losing Brad, however, might have to be hampered when Aedan’s disapproval of their relationship takes a new turn. Brad’s new vampire instincts are strong, and his hunger for blood is hard – if not impossible – to control. The two brothers swore an oath to protect Vivien, but one of them might be the greatest threat to her safety… at least for the next five days…
LENGTH – 65.000 words
PAIRING – M/F
RATING – Sexy
NOTE
Part 3 of the QuickSilver Codex series, which is best read in order.
EBOOK
>> Buy directly from the author
>> Buy from Amazon US
>> Buy from Amazon UK – CA – AU – DE – FR – ES – IT – NL – JP – BR – MX – IN
>> Buy from All Romance Ebooks
>> Buy from Barnes & Noble
>> Buy from Kobo
>> Buy from iBooks
>> Buy from Smashwords
>> Buy or sample from Scribd
The post Bloodchild (QuickSilver Codex #3) appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
New Release – Bloodchild (QuickSilver Codex #3)
Five days. That’s how long Vivien has to prepare for the first of three magic duels against Rhuinn, the usurper king of Foh’Ran. She challenged him to the duels not because she wants the throne, although it is her birthright, but because she blames him for the death of Brad – one of her bodyguards, and the man she loves.
Except that Brad is alive again… or the next best thing. His brother Aedan, rather than losing him, broke all customs and made him a vampire like himself, a decision that might cost him dearly when his own Maker confronts him.
Vivien’s joy over not losing Brad, however, might have to be hampered when Aedan’s disapproval of their relationship takes a new turn. Brad’s new vampire instincts are strong, and his hunger for blood is hard – if not impossible – to control. The two brothers swore an oath to protect Vivien, but one of them might be the greatest threat to her safety… at least for the next five days…
LENGTH – 65.000 words
PAIRING – M/F
RATING – Sexy
NOTE
Part 3 of the QuickSilver Codex series, which is best read in order.
EBOOK >> Buy directly from the author
>> Buy from Amazon US
>> Buy from Amazon UK - CA – AU – DE – FR – ES – IT – NL – JP – BR – MX – IN
>> Buy from All Romance Ebooks
>> Buy from Barnes & Noble
>> Buy from Kobo
>> Buy from iBooks
>> Buy from Smashwords
>> Buy or sample from Scribd
The post New Release – Bloodchild (QuickSilver Codex #3) appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
March 13, 2015
Excerpt from Bloodchild
Under the light of the moon, each ripple on the lake seemed magnified. Aedan’s emotions felt the same way.
Sitting with his back to the slim trunk of a small tree, he watched Bradan by the side of the lake. He’d cleaned the blood off his face and neck, and was now washing his shirt.
Blood stains wouldn’t show on the black fabric. Bradan had said so when Aedan had told him to wash off the blood. What Bradan didn’t understand yet was that it wasn’t about stains. The issue was the smell.
After so many years, the scent of blood did not bother Aedan anymore, but he did remember his first days—his first years—as a vampire. Blood back then, whether the scent or sight, had always drawn out his fangs, made the hunger within him roar louder, and made it harder to resist his impulse to hunt and feed.
It would take time for Bradan to learn to control the hunger and himself. The trouble was, they did not have time.
Bradan rinsed his shirt one last time, then wrung it out and came back toward Aedan, barefoot, bare-chested, his pants rolled up almost to his knees. He looked different, and it had nothing to do with his appearance. It was all in the way he moved.
That morning, he’d been human. Strong, agile, and graceful: a fierce fighter, but nonetheless human. Now, he was a predator, and he moved like it, each step secure, his body coiled as though ready to attack at any moment. Aedan wasn’t sure whether Bradan realized it yet, or even understood the depths of how he’d changed.
For that matter, even knowing what he’d done, Aedan still had a hard time wrapping his mind around it. He watched the silver pendant on Bradan’s chest, absently touching his own through his shirt. After years of being twins yet different, they were back to being the same. That had never been part of their plan.
“It doesn’t feel cold,” Bradan said, sitting down next to Aedan. “The water, I mean. Why doesn’t it feel cold?”
With a shake of his head, Aedan pushed away the grim thoughts echoing through his mind.
“Why should it?” He plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between his fingers. “Water only feels cold to a warm body. I’ve told you before when you warmed washing water for me that it wasn’t necessary.”
He didn’t ask whether Bradan understood now; he knew he did.
“I’ll never do that again,” Bradan murmured as if to himself.
When Aedan gave him a questioning look, he shrugged.
“Warm up water. Or channel. When we were hunting, I tried… I mean, I know I can’t channel anymore, but I just didn’t think. It felt so weird not to find the Quickening when I reached for it.”
Aedan dropped his gaze to the blade of grass he held, only to realize he’d shredded it.
Bradan had lost the Quickening, yes; Aedan had taken it from him. And even if the alternative had been death, Aedan knew from personal experience that the loss was shattering. They’d still been children when they had learned to grasp the Quickening and channel. It had become as normal, as instinctive as breathing. Aedan remembered it well.
“It took me years,” he said, his voice even quieter than Bradan’s. “Years before I stopped trying to channel without thinking about it. It’s hard. But eventually, it gets easier.”
He didn’t add that, even when he’d stopped trying to channel, he’d still felt the loss as acutely as ever. Bradan wasn’t even a day old; there was no reason to trouble him with what would happen in the next decades. The next few weeks would already be complicated enough.
“How’s the hunger?” he asked, raising his gaze to meet Bradan’s again. Bradan’s eyes were still silver; they wouldn’t go back to blue for more than seconds at a time for months, maybe even more. Not until Bradan learned to control his hunger.
“Never mind that,” Bradan said gruffly. “Tell me—”
“I asked you a question,” Aedan cut in, his voice mild but bearing no contradiction. “I’ll be asking it a lot in the next months. And you will answer your—answer me when I do.”
Answer your Maker, was what he’d been about to say. How many times had Ciara asked him the same thing in the two or three years after she’d turned him? It had taken that long before she trusted him around humans.
Bradan’s eyes widened slightly before he inclined his head.
“It’s better,” he said, “but it’s still there. I drained one ceash fully, and most of a second one. Is that… is that normal? It seems like a lot of blood. You don’t eat that much, do you?”
Without thinking, Aedan looked to the side, where he’d dropped the body of the second ceash after carrying it out of the woods. Bradan had killed that one on his own, and they’d fed from it together. It was a fine animal, too fine to let its meat go to waste. They’d take it back to the castle for Doril to cook. It was smaller than the first one, but both combined had held far more blood than a human body.
The issue wasn’t how much blood Bradan had drunk tonight. He could drain three more ceashes and still feel pangs of hunger. What his body needed, what it craved, was human blood.
The one thing Aedan had to forbid to him.
Thinking back about his own awakening, about Ciara explaining all this, Aedan considered using the same words to explain to Bradan, but he couldn’t make himself. Aedan had chosen this life for himself. He’d thought he knew what he was agreeing to. He’d been wrong, but at least the choice had been his to make. Bradan had not had any such choice.
“You’re right, I don’t eat much,” he said instead. “But I used to. You’re going to be hungry just about all the time. Drinking from animals will help, but it won’t feel like it’s enough, not for a long time. So, when it gets to be too much, whenever it dulls your mind because you can’t think of anything else…” He drew up the sleeve of his shirt, much like he had done earlier that night. “I want you to come to me. And tell me. Don’t wait for me to ask. Do you understand?”
Bradan’s gaze was fixated on the bite marks visible on Aedan’s wrist. They were healed already, and would disappear within a day at most, but at the moment they were still very obvious on Aedan’s pale skin. After a few seconds, Bradan shook his head and looked away; it was clear that doing so cost him.
“I can’t bite you every time I’m hungry,” he protested, his words rough. “Wouldn’t that weaken you? If I’m not at the top of my form, you should be. For our dame.”
When Aedan let out a snort, Bradan’s eyes flew back to him, his brow already set in a deep frown.
“So, what you want to do,” Aedan tried to sound teasing, but his voice came out too cold for that, “is guard her while you’re so hungry all you can think about is her blood. Oh, yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“I’d never hurt…”
Bradan’s voice and outrage tapered off when Aedan brought his wrist to his mouth and ran one fang where his skin was the thinnest. No more than a trace of blood beaded to the surface of his skin, but Bradan’s nostrils flared and, probably unconsciously, he started to lean forward.
“You’d never want to hurt her,” Aedan murmured. “I never wanted to hurt anyone, either. But my first year as a vampire, I bit three humans. Came close to attacking nine more.”
And without his Maker to stop him every time, he might have killed all of them without ever meaning to.
Blinking several times, Bradan tore his gaze from Aedan’s wrist to look at his face instead.
“Why… why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Aedan shrugged, but his discomfort clung to him.
“Because I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”
Also because he’d been too ashamed of himself: too scared that he’d never get control over his hunger, and never be worthy of being part of the QuickSilver Guard.
Without warning, Bradan shoved at his shoulder. Aedan glared at him and received an identical glare in return.
“You idiot,” Bradan said, but the hint of a smile was soon tugging at his mouth. “Like I could ever be afraid of you.”
A retort rose to Aedan’s lips, but he swallowed it back. This wasn’t about him or about the past. It was about Bradan right here, right now.
“Well, maybe I was an idiot, but I won’t let you be one. So. Whenever you’re hungry, what are you to do?”
With an excessively deep sigh, Bradan yielded.
“Fine. If I get too hungry to think clearly, I’ll tell you.”
Aedan raised an eyebrow and waited. He didn’t have to wait very long.
“I’m hungry,” Bradan said with another sigh. “Which you know because it filters through the bond.”
Tugging his sleeve higher up his arm, Aedan held out his bare wrist to Bradan.
“Like with the ceash,” he said. “Make the conscious effort to drop your fangs. And this time you’ll stop at the exact moment I tell you to. Got it?”
Bradan’s nod seemed a little impatient. Both his hands clasped Aedan, one on his wrist and the other higher up his arm. His brow furrowed in concentration, and it only took him a handful of seconds to let his fangs out. His bite was more controlled than when he’d first awakened, and it didn’t hurt as much. It was a good first step.
“And yes, it does filter through the bond,” Aedan murmured, watching his brother drink from him. “But just the same. I want you to tell me. That way you’ll be on the look-out for the signs. That’s how you’ll learn. Stop now.”
He didn’t tug his arm back as he said the words. This, too, was how Bradan would learn. And he had so many things to learn in so little time…
The suction stopped, but Bradan tightened his hold on Aedan’s wrist rather than letting go, and his mouth didn’t leave Aedan’s skin.
“I know it’s hard,” Aedan said quietly. “I know you’re hungry. But you’ve got to learn to control your hunger rather than let it control you. That’s the only way you’ll be safe around humans.”
Bradan’s eyes closed and, still holding on tight to Aedan’s wrist and arm, he pushed himself away. The effort seemed to take all he had, and when he let go, he lowered himself to the grass, lying there, panting.
“The only way humans will be safe around me, you mean,” he said after a few seconds. “The only way she’ll be safe around me.”
Only when Bradan’s eyes opened again and sought his gaze did Aedan reply.
“Yes.”
Bradan folded his arms behind his head. He stared up at the sky above them, devoid of stars because the shield masked them, and Aedan focused on what was filtering through the bond. The hunger was there, would always be there from now on, a background note that would grow louder at times, and at times recede until it almost—but not quite—disappeared.
Right now, the hunger was a presence but not overwhelming. What came through much more clearly was Bradan’s love for their dame, mixed with worry. It was good that he worried. Aedan did, too.
“How is she?” Bradan asked after a few moments, turning his face back to Aedan. “What happened with Rhuinn? Did she go to the party at all?”
Aedan nodded absently.
“She did. I wish you could have seen her. She marched in there like she was already the queen, called him out for having you and Anabel murdered, and challenged him to a duel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rhuinn that shocked. Or angry.”
But Rhuinn wasn’t the only one shocked. Bradan sat up again, his eyes wide and gleaming like silver coins.
“She challenged him to a duel?” he repeated, choking on the words. “But she just learned to channel! How could you let her—”
He fell silent when Aedan burst out laughing. There was no joy to the sound, however, and soon Aedan quieted down again.
“Let her?” Aedan said. “There was no ‘letting her.’ She told me what she wanted to do, and it was pretty clear that I could either go along with her or watch her go on her own. And yes, she just learned, but she’s strong. She has five days to practice and get even better.”
“Five days.” Bradan shook his head. “That’s not much time at all. I’ll start sparring with her tomorrow using nothing but the Quickening and…”
Aedan didn’t have to say anything. Already, Bradan had remembered that, no, he wouldn’t be able to do that. He could still coach their dame into using the Quickening, but he wouldn’t be able to channel with her anymore.
The look of loss that flickered over his features, matching the painful pang that came through the bond, reawakened Aedan’s guilt. He wanted to apologize, but what words would be enough to make up for all that he had taken from his brother by making him a vampire?
Reaching for Bradan’s knee, he patted it twice a little awkwardly.
“We’ll figure out some way for her to practice,” he said. “She’ll be fine, you’ll see. She’s strong. She was devastated after… after what happened to you, and still she stood her ground in front of Rhuinn.”
“You’ve stopped calling him the king,” Bradan noted, a small smile touching his lips. “It took you long enough.”
Looking away, Aedan pushed himself to his feet.
“Like our dame said, he deserves the title of murderer more than he does the name of king. Come on, let’s go back.”
Bradan stood and picked up his shirt from the branch. It was still wet, of course, and Bradan’s hand flicked toward it in the familiar movement that had accompanied his channeling. Aedan’s insides tightened, and he pretended not to have noticed, nor did he comment on the feeling of frustration that resonated through the bond.
Had he been able to restore Bradan’s life, give him back his heartbeat along with his ability to channel, Aedan would have gladly given his own life in exchange. But what was done was done, and there was no changing it.
He picked up the body of the ceash and carried it across his shoulders as they started back toward the castle. For a while they were both quiet, and it was Bradan who broke the silence.
“What’s upsetting you?” he asked, eyeing Aedan sideways.
“I’m not upset.”
Bradan snorted and pushed at Aedan’s shoulder. “You’re usually better than that at hiding what you feel.”
With a frown, Aedan once more considered what was filtering through the bond. Were Bradan’s emotions stronger, clearer than they used to be, or was he only imagining it?
Back when they’d been children, the bond had seemed louder. No, not only then. Even after Bradan had moved to the Otherworld, leaving Aedan to grow up faster than he did, whenever they met again the bond would be bursting with emotions, each one as clear as a limpid sky. Only after Aedan had become a vampire had the bond changed.
It had not disappeared, nor had the feelings been completely muted, but they had been a little muffled. Combined with Aedan’s acquired skill at holding back what he felt, it had allowed Aedan to hide some things from his brother, and in particular—at least for a time—his feelings for their dame.
But now… Now the bond seemed to be back to its full strength from their childhood, from before Aedan had taken a different path and become something other than the human Bradan still had been. Now, they were the same again: vampires.
That didn’t mean Aedan couldn’t hide how he felt anymore, but it did mean he’d have to be better at it.
“We’ll have to go back to the palace before Dame Vivien’s duel,” he finally said in reply to Bradan’s question. “New vampires need to be presented to the head of their clan within three nights of rising. Ciara already knows about you.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Bradan stumble.
“That… doesn’t sound good,” Bradan said warily.
Aedan didn’t reply. ‘Not good’ was very far from the mark when it was possible only one of them would come back from that meeting. Who would keep Bradan from Dame Vivien’s blood, then?
… continued in Bloodchild
The post Excerpt from Bloodchild appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
February 12, 2015
No Crayons On The Front Line
When Samuel gets his class of elementary students to write letters to soldiers fighting on the demon invasion front line, the children coax him into doing the same. Lieutenant Williams soon answers his letter, and it’s only the beginning of a long exchange of thoughts, anecdotes and feelings. This long-distance relationship is bound to change when they meet in person… Will they each be true to what they showed through their words?
LENGTH – 30.000 words
PAIRING – M/F
RATING – Sweet/Sexy
NOTES – The story is told entirely through letters and notes. As such, there is no ‘on screen’ bedroom scene, but the protagonists do write explicitely about their fantasies, hence the dual rating. Also, if you read the Shades of Pink Anthology 2014, the story will sound familiar. I was so taken by the characters that I reworked that short story and tripled its length.
EBOOK
>> Buy directly from author
>> Buy from Amazon US
>> Buy from Amazon UK – CA - AU - DE - FR - ES - IT - JP - BR - MX - IN - NL
>> Buy from Barnes & Noble
>> Buy from All Romance Ebooks
>> Buy from Kobo
>> Buy from iBooks
>> Buy from Smashwords
>> Sample or read on Scribd
The post No Crayons On The Front Line appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
New Release – No Crayons On The Front Line
When Samuel gets his class of elementary students to write letters to soldiers fighting on the demon invasion front line, the children coax him into doing the same. Lieutenant Williams soon answers his letter, and it’s only the beginning of a long exchange of thoughts, anecdotes and feelings. This long-distance relationship is bound to change when they meet in person… Will they each be true to what they showed through their words?
LENGTH – 30.000 words
PAIRING – M/F
RATING – Sweet/Sexy
NOTES – The story is told entirely through letters and notes. As such, there is no ‘on screen’ bedroom scene, but the protagonists do write explicitely about ttheir fantasies, hence the dual rating. Also, if you read the Shades of Pink Anthology 2014, the story will sound familiar. I was so taken by the characters that I reworked that short story and tripled its length.
EBOOK >> Buy directly from author
>> Buy from Amazon US
>> Buy from Amazon UK – CA - AU - DE - FR - ES - IT - JP - BR - MX - IN - NL
>> Buy from Barnes & Noble
>> Buy from All Romance Ebooks
>> Buy from Kobo
>> Buy from iBooks
>> Buy from Smashwords
>> Sample or read on Scribd soon
The post New Release – No Crayons On The Front Line appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
February 3, 2015
Coming on February 14th – No Crayons On The Front Line
When Samuel gets his class of elementary students to write letters to soldiers fighting on the demon invasion frontline, the children coax him into doing the same. Lieutenant Williams soon answers his letter, and it’s only the beginning of a long exchange of thoughts, anecdotes and feelings. This long-distance relationship is bound to change when they meet in person… Will they each be true to what they showed through their words?
LENGTH – 30.000 words
PAIRING – M/F
RATING – Sweet/Sexy
NOTES – The story is told entirely through letters and notes. As such, there is no ‘on screen’ bedroom scene, but the protagonists do write explicitely about ttheir fantasies, hence the dual rating. Also, if you read the Shades of Pink Anthology 2014, the story will sound familiar. I was so taken by the characters that I reworked that short story and tripled its length.
EBOOK >> Preorder from Amazon US
>> Preorder from Amazon UK – CA - AU - DE - FR - ES - IT - JP - BR - MX - IN - NL
>> Preorder from Barnes & Noble
>> Preorder from All Romance Ebooks
>> Preorder from Kobo
>> Preorder from iBooks
>> Buy soon from Smashwords
>> Sample or read on Scribd soon
The post Coming on February 14th – No Crayons On The Front Line appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
Coming on February 14th – No Crayons On The Frontline
When Samuel gets his class of elementary students to write letters to soldiers fighting on the demon invasion frontline, the children coax him into doing the same. Lieutenant Williams soon answers his letter, and it’s only the beginning of a long exchange of thoughts, anecdotes and feelings. This long-distance relationship is bound to change when they meet in person… Will they each be true to what they showed through their words?
LENGTH – 30.000 words
PAIRING – M/F
RATING – Sweet/Sexy
NOTES – The story is told entirely through letters and notes. As such, there is no ‘on screen’ bedroom scene, but the protagonists do write explicitely about ttheir fantasies, hence the dual rating. Also, if you read the Shades of Pink Anthology 2014, the story will sound familiar. I was so taken by the characters that I reworked that short story and tripled its length.
EBOOK >> Buy soon from Amazon US
>> Buy soon from Amazon UK – CA – AU – DE – FR – ES – IT – JP – BR – MX – IN
>> Preorder from Barnes & Noble
>> Buy soon from All Romance Ebooks
>> Buy soon from Kobo
>> Preorder from iBooks
>> Buy soon from Smashwords
>> Sample or read on Scribd
The post Coming on February 14th – No Crayons On The Frontline appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
Excerpt from No Crayons On The Front Line
Dear soldier,
Only two words in, and here I am, confronting a feeling of oddness as it occurs to me I don’t know to whom I should address this letter. I have written few letters in my life – and by letter, I mean actual letters, the kind where one puts ink and thoughts onto paper to share with another person – and every one of those actual letters went to someone I knew beforehand, someone whose face I could picture, someone who I was sure would be able to hear my voice when they read my words, who would know when I was trying to be humorous or understand references to a shared past. And so, I find it difficult to write to you today without knowing your name or age or even whether you like long missives or will already be bored by the time you reach this point.
All I know about you, really, is that you are serving on the front line of the demon invasion. You protect me, along with everyone inside our city, and for this, for the danger you choose to face night after night, for the wounds you may have suffered, for the grief you may have experienced upon losing comrades, you have my sincere and heartfelt thanks.
It seems far from enough; I can only give you words on a page and not even a handshake to remind you that those you fight for are living beings made of flesh and bones rather than the abstract concept you might have in mind. That is, unless you fight for someone specific, for members of your family or friends, and it’s their image you keep in mind every time you raise your weapon on the battlefield. Either way, please believe that there is at least one person who, tonight, will send their best wishes toward the battlefield in the hope that you will remain safe.
Warm regards,
Dr. W. S. Sherridan
*
Dear Dr. Sherridan,
First, let me thank you your letter. While we (soldiers on the front line) do not fight every single night as civilians often believe, it certainly feels like we do. Even when there is no attack underway, we’re always aware that every moment of calm is only a brief respite in the storm. And while we don’t need or expect thanks, it’s great to know we are appreciated for what we do by those we try so hard to keep safe. Myself as well as all the soldiers in my unit who were lucky enough to be handed a letter were quite happy to receive them.
Receiving letters was even more special because they came in the day after the end of a long, bloody fight against demons. I’m not sure how much people in the city are told about the siege, I’m not even sure whether this letter will be read and possibly censored before it reaches you, but let’s just say that this was one of the most brutal demon attacks that I’ve seen. I escaped my turn outside the walls unscathed, but many others were less lucky.
It was a sad day in the camp, but the letters and the reminder they gave us that we’re not fighting in vain made it easier to continue. As you pointed out in your letter, we’re fighting for very real people, made of flesh and blood like we are. People who sometimes pick up a pen to write a few words for us.
But I have the same strange feeling you had when you first wrote to me: I don’t know who I am writing to either. Your words and handwriting alone tell me that your letter is different from those my men were sharing with each other, in which misspellings, cute questions and unsteady handwriting give away that the writers are children. I knew you were an adult right away, and your signature only confirmed it. But that same signature told me very little. No first name, two initials, a last name… and those two small letters, a badge of pride to all those who earn them. Here I am, writing a letter to a doctor, wondering why he (she?) participated in a letters program involving elementary school children. That is a puzzle, and while I have a couple of theories, I would be pleased if you would reply and tell me.
Until then, I will continue making up lists of what those initials might mean. My first thought for W was William, for reasons that will become clear when you read my signature. Am I anywhere close?
Regards from the front line,
Lieutenant Angel Williams
*
Dear Lieutenant Williams,
I was pleasantly surprised to receive your reply. I penned my first letter while my students were writing their own missives; they encouraged me to, if I am completely honest. I have run a ‘letters to soldiers’ program ever since I started teaching at Lincoln Elementary two years ago, but it had never occurred to me before that I, too, might express my gratitude. In retrospect, and given the tone of your reply, it seems like an unforgivable lapse.
We received the box of replies from the fighting camp while we were in class, and it was obvious right away that the students wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until they’d read their letters. For most of them, it was the first letter they’d ever received. So I interrupted the lesson, gave each child their envelope, and that was when I realized there was one for me, too. It had been a while since I’d received a handwritten letter. I’ll admit I found myself quite as excited as my students.
Some volunteers read your fellow soldiers’ replies to the rest of the class, and then, if you’ll forgive the term, they ambushed me, demanding that I read my letter as well. I hope you won’t be cross when I tell you I had to yield and share your words with them. They all send their love to the one they decided to call their ‘guardian Angel.’ You’ve probably been called that often enough to be sick of the pun, but they’re children, and they mean it without a trace of irony.
Yes, I am indeed proud to call myself a doctor, perhaps inordinately so, I now realize. In my defense, it took quite a bit of hard work to earn that right, and it is the only accomplishment to which I have any claim. In the troubled times we live in, studying and working toward a degree can sometimes feel a little foolish, and more than once I questioned my path and wished I could have been more useful to my fellow men by joining in the ranks of fighters, like you did. Unfortunately, health issues would have disqualified me without a doubt had I tried to enlist. It sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it? And a feeble one at that. It is nonetheless the truth. My body is at fault here, not my mind or courage.
As for my name, no, it is not William, though I’d have much preferred it if it was, as I hold no affection for my first name. I usually go by my middle name, Samuel, and if you cared to write to me again, please do feel free to call me so.
Yours in friendship,
Wynn Samuel Sherridan
*
Dear Lieutenant Williams,
A month has passed since I last wrote to you. As I didn’t receive an answer, I just wanted to send this short note of apology. I feel my last letter might have taken a wrong turn. In my defense, I wrote it while my students were at recess and finished it more quickly than I should have, without rereading it since I wanted it to be sent along with my students’ replies.
In that letter, I dared to talk about courage, and I now realize it was quite a misstep on my part. It’s one thing to claim I would have fought demons if I could have. Actually doing so, I imagine, is different. I’m sure you have better things to do than listen to someone hiding behind the walls of the city and a line of soldiers wax lyrical about imagined heroic acts.
Again, you have my apologies, and my continued wishes for your well-being and safety.
Samuel Sherridan
*
Dear Samuel,
If an apology is needed, then it should come from me.
I was not offended or put off by your letter, not at all. You tell me you would have liked to serve if you’d been able to, and I can only praise you for it, and be glad you understand how important it is for us to be standing here on the front line. Too often, people think they’re not suited for the task because they’re not strong, or skilled, or because they don’t feel they’re ‘bloodthirsty’ enough to combat demons. Or they think it’s too dangerous, and they don’t want to risk their lives.
I should know. My own family tried to discourage me from joining the ranks of the Defending Forces. They repeatedly told me I was too young, too soft, too precious to go waste my life on the battlefield. Even now that I’ve fought for five years, advanced in rank and gone through almost a thousand battles with only scratches and bruises, they still try to convince me I should quit and find a ‘normal’ job. Have a ‘normal’ life. Find a spouse, have children. And never worry about worse things than using my ration tickets or allotment of electricity wisely. As if living under siege and never knowing whether demons might push into the city and how I’d protect my family if they did was normal.
As you can imagine, those family discussions turn more often than not into full-blown arguments, and sometimes even shouting matches. Just thinking about it now makes my blood boil again.
That’s the reason I didn’t write to you any sooner. I received your last letter shortly before going on a week-long leave. I meant to write back to you upon my return, but my family complaining about my life choices left a bad taste in my mouth, and little desire to talk to insiders, as we soldiers sometimes call those we protect. And that is something my family just doesn’t want to understand. We protect them, along with everyone else inside the city. If I hadn’t joined the DF, if every other soldier who has a mother, a father, grandparents, or siblings who worry for them hadn’t joined, then who would be left to keep all of us safe?
They don’t understand this, but I feel that you do. So again, thank you for your letters. It’s odd how words from a stranger can mean so much more than words from my own family.
There was a question I wanted to ask you, if I can be nosy. You’re a doctor, but you teach elementary students. How come? With the city under siege, I thought anyone with medical knowledge would be working in the city’s hospitals. Unless it is your health troubles that keep you from it?
Please say hello to your students from me, and let them know that this Angel, along with every soldier on the front line, do their very best to keep them safe, with or without the support of their families.
And please, do call me Angel. Only my men call me Lieutenant, and only when they get themselves in trouble.
Angel
*
Dear Angel,
Thank you for trusting me enough to share something as personal as the difficulties you encounter with your family. I am sorry that you have to go through such arguments, especially since they sound unending. For you to have to defend your choices repeatedly when you’re supposed to be on leave and renewing your spirit seems to add insult to injury. I am more glad than ever that my students convinced me to pick up a pen, almost two months ago now, and write to you. If I may bring a little bit of peace to your mind, then surely every word and letter is worth being written.
Your letter made me wonder what my parents would have thought of me joining the Defense Forces, had the choice been open to me. I like to think they’d have been proud of me, although I was too young when they passed to have well-defined memories of their characters, and I don’t feel like I ever got to really know them. Still, I can’t help but think that your family, whatever their arguments, must be proud, too, deep down, even if they won’t admit it to you, maybe for fear of encouraging you.
To answer your question, I must again offer an apology. I should have made it clear from the start that, while I am a doctor, I am not a medical doctor. My field is a much less useful one in the fight, which is why, as I mentioned before, I questioned devoting so much energy to my education. I earned my doctorate studying and comparing the ancient myths and fiction and non-fiction written since the beginning of the demon invasion. It’s still not the preferred path to becoming an elementary-school teacher, and I envisioned myself teaching university students rather than children who are still learning to read and write. These days, however, there aren’t quite enough students in universities interested in comparative literature, while there are always openings to teach young learners. That’s how I ended up at Lincoln Elementary.
If I am completely honest, I thought I would hate it. I have never had much patience, and I occasionally suffer from a very short temper when my health is poor. To my very great surprise, I do not, in fact, hate it. Not by a long shot. Patience isn’t such a difficult thing to find with children who are, as a whole, eager to learn, and my temper, when it rises, tends to be soothed by their worry for my well-being. Also, being around children has shown me just how jaded we adults have become. Even when we avoid talking about demons, the reality of the siege and unceasing attacks colors everything we do, everything we plan. Children still dream of being pirates or explorers or astronauts, and if I can only help them dream a little longer before they have to grow up, then my life has meaning. One day, the attacks will stop and the demons will leave. If by then, as a species, we have lost the ability to dream, then we’ll have lost the war, too.
I just reread that last paragraph. I hope I don’t sound too pompous. It is just something I strongly believe in, and it’s one of our regular classroom activities for the children to write or draw about their dreams and hopes for the future. And now that I think about it, it’s been too long since they talked about their dreams. I think in the morning I’ll change my lesson plans and set a bit of time aside.
On that note, let me offer you, as always, my warmest regards.
Samuel
… continued in No Crayons On The Front Line
The post Excerpt from No Crayons On The Front Line appeared first on KALLYSTEN // tales of love and seduction.
