C. Desert Rose's Blog, page 14

Continuous Drips, Cover Reveal

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times… I love helping out other authors. That being said, today I present y’all with the Cover Reveal of Continuous Drips (currently available for pre-order), an out of this world fantastic Short Story Anthology by three of my favorite ladies: Synful Desire, Da’Kharta Rising and Queen of Spades.

Before the revealing the cover, I’d love to share some Excerpt Posters of some of the stories included in the collection. I have a feeling you’re gonna dig it. Here goes…

 

 

 

 

The official release date of Continuous Drips is November 12, 2014. Here is the blurb and the specs…

Authors: The Collective

Genre(s): Short Story Anthology, Multi-Genre Anthology

Word Count: 28,990







Blurb:

Different colors of ink collide in this short story anthology Continuous Drips:

Take a trip into darkness with Da’Kharta Rising with “Unrest”, “Omitted” and “The Kutters”.

Love, loss, and erotic heat hypnotically swirl in the mind of Synful Desire when reading “Derailed Endurance”, “Final Prep to Happiness” and “FAN-tasy Island”.

Episodes of human interaction displacement are given in doses when Queen of Spades presents “Misfortune”, “Afro Shock”, and “Útil.”

 

And now, I’d like to present y’all with this fabulous cover made by All Authors Graphic Design, the same people that made all of my graphics…

 

RUN and GET YOUR COPY NOW! You won’t regret it!

What can I say? I’m psyched!!

All right…

I know I blogged yesterday, but I just had to do it again today. Why, you ask? Because TODAY If Death Should Love Me eBook Version, went on Amazon Pre-Order!

Please excuse me while I scream in unadulterated glee.

Aaahhhhhhhh!!

I can’t! I just can’t!

It feels like I’ve been waiting for ages upon ages, but FI! NA! LLY! It’s out there for the world to see.

I’ve been informed that the Paperback Version is COMING SOON as well. Eeeeeek!!

So…

Here is the Pre-Order link. Go get your copy today! At only $3.99 it’s basically a steal.

Toodles!!

If Death Should Love Me at Amazon.com

Finally, things are moving forward…

I had been so heart broken when my entire file of If Death Should Love Me caught a virus and faltered. I was devastated. It was no one fault really, it just happened. Needless to say that caused my book release to be postponed until, quote-unquote, “further notice.”

I mean, I was so downcast that I went into months of hiding due to the sudden rush of disappointment and depression that I felt. I mean, really, who wouldn’t get depressed at losing their “baby”?

So, what happened you ask?

What wound up happening was that we (my publisher and I, along with a friend) had to convert a saved PDF version of the file back into a Doc version and start formatting it all over again from scratch. This also included redoing any edits, and rereading it several times to ensure it was up to par.

Well, after lots of heartache and many months of hard work, If Death Should Love Me is finally ready… AGAIN… for publication!

(Lord, PLEASE, keep THIS file safe!!)

The planned release date will be Halloween (October 31st, 2014) if all goes according to plan. (Let’s keep praying that it does. Lol)

But, I mean, what young adult doesn’t love a good paranormal romance for Halloween? Especially one that DOESN’T include Vampires and Werewolves!

So, in order to celebrate the upcoming release of If Death Should Love Me, I’d like to share with you my personal favorite scene. Let me tell you a tad bit about it. Azriel (the main character, also the Angel of Death) is remembering one of his first and most important encounters with his arch villain Gabriel. Yes, as in Gabriel the Ach-Angel. ;)

Without further ado, I present to you my favorite scene of If Death Should Love Me…

Rome, Italy

1573

 

Inability to understand why he was so jealous of me perplexed me. It had been that way since he, himself told me that I had been chosen to be The Collector. It seems that he’d wanted this miserable position for himself. Once, Gabriel told me that it was much easier to care for the dead than it was to care for the living. The living desired too much, wanted undeserved things, fussed about everything. He no longer wanted to guard the living: they were too needy. He wanted to collect the dead. That was easier. Or so he thought.

The Higher Sources chose me in his stead.

Our grand debate? That he wanted my rank and I did not, and even still nothing could change. Such was our destinies. Be that as it may, he blamed me for a decision that was out of my control.

“Gabriel, I never asked for this. This was never my wish.” A weary tone filled my voice. I was exacerbated.

“Yet The Higher Sources found you apt for the calling? Why not I? Am I too holy? Too perfect?” The evil fury of jealousy in his voice made his lip twitch with repulsion.

“I do not know why, Gabriel. I still cannot understand what persuaded them to call upon me for this. But, if it’s war you want, it will be war that you’ll get! I won’t back down!” I said in a stern voice, making him absolutely certain that I was not going to give up.

“Well my dearest Azriel, here is a great idea. Why not simply kill all the living? It seems like a simple enough solution to our problem. Do you not think?” His conniving tone made my insides turn. “If we kill the living, then all that will be left, is the dead. Problem solved! Then everyone will be happy.”

“Gabriel, I will not let that happen!”

“It seems to me like you cannot stop me. You only ‘follow orders’ remember?” He laughed. A silent evil laugh, deep in his throat. “I tend to think that religion is the perfect foundation for war. Tell you what: the winner gets a statue made of himself in the Cathedral. I’ll make sure of it,” he continued.

“I don’t want a statue and I will not let you do this!” That was my last warning.

“We shall see.” He stated finalizing his cynical speech.

 

The field was congested with an enormous multitude. Two colossal crowds on either side of each other. I could see weapons in some hands. Bibles, lit flames, torches and crosses in other hands. I saw robes of red and of black. Shields, swords and soldiers in armor.

The Protestant militia on one side, and the Catholic armada on the other. Their sole intent was to destroy one and other completely—until nothing remained of the other side.

Either side believed that their god would save them and set them free, and that ‘truth’ would prevail.

Gabriel was elated, utterly rejoicing with all the occurrences. You see, his goal was to destroy life. Nothing more and nothing less.

This was his revenge for not having had his way. For not being the chosen one. He wanted this! He thrived for it! He had made it his ultimate goal to obtain it.

I could see him floating around in the background, whispering into the ears of the soldier and guards. Uncertainty of what he was saying abounded, but whatever it was made them ever more angry. They could not see him but I was sure they could hear his influences. To an extent, I was also certain that they believed him.

Their faces would change from fear to pure hatred: disgust for their opponents.

Suddenly, a cry in the distance rattled my attention. “Attack!” The crowds thrust together with no

mercy. Everything slowed down. Excitement and numbness filled the air. There was a complex and distinct mixture of emotions which filled the vast field. Much like an ocean of consuming sentiments—wave after wave of intensity. They were that of hate, love, sorrow, violence, defiance and decision which flowed on the battlefield between them.

It was hatred for their contenders. Love, for their faith. Sorrow, for their inevitable losses. But it was violence, defiance and decision that drove them.

The crowds flowed together swiftly and smoothly. Molten lava and scolding oil, they were. Melding within each other like liquified enmity. A tangled web of rancor.

I heard screams and cries. Clinging of metal against metal. The scent of fire and smoke streamed in the air with every gust of wind. The worst of it all, was the death toll. Dead believers and soldiers that gathered in the crowd seemed to think they were still alive, floating along with savage violence lingering in their eyes. I found myself in a mad rush to collect them all.

By this point, Gabriel was crouched over, squatting on the top of the Cathedral’s steeple seemingly pleased with himself. Smiling as though the knowledge that he was winning the battle was settling in.

What could I do? I had no idea how I could stop this. It was not my position. I was no longer a warrior either; I was a slave. A slave to my own existence. No longer meant for anything of purpose, other than the collection of passing souls. The fury of my incapacity seeped in like coal aflame through a thin sheet, igniting my anger.

I would do the only thing I could think of. Go after Gabriel! I refused to let him sit there and bask in whatever pleasure he obtained from all of this. I was already damned so worries of meaningless repercussions did not torment me. Nothing could be worse than already being condemned to this existence. Even still, I would not let Gabriel have his way. Not if I could do anything about it.

I flew to him. Anger, righteousness and pain overwhelming me. Swiftly flying behind him, I grabbed him, wrapping my arms from behind, around his torso, making his wings useless. His body tensed and he stood to his feet as he tried his best to lift his arms and loosen my grip.

With all of the strength I could muster, I lifted one arm while still holding him firmly with the other, and grabbed a hold of one of his wings, tearing it. Dislodging it from his back. I heard him screech and double over in pain. A split second later he grabbed one of my arms a flipped me over. Refusing to let him go, we both fell from the rooftop to the war ground below. As we fell, things seemed to slow down, then our eyes transformed—pupil, iris, sclera—mine to balls of brilliant gold, with flecks of opal and silver. Gabriel’s, from soft blue to pure globes of angry sapphire.

When we hit the ground, I fell pinned beneath him but I would not give up. I kicked a leg up with all my might, making him fly from on top of me to behind me. Summoning my scythe and it came to me in a blink of an eye filling my empty hand. Gabriel saw me and summoned his sword, which also came to him as fast as his thought would allow.

We both leaped to our feet and crouched over into a battle stance, readying ourselves for the imminent war that was to take place between the two of us. I leaped, scythe in hand and swung with knowledgeable swiftness at Gabriel. Knowing that if I’d caught him, I would have quite literally sliced off his head.

My weapon made a whistling sound when it carved through the air and went for my nemesis. He barely dodged it and jumped back in order to then, almost immediately, lunge forward with his sword to swing at me.

“Azriel brother,” he mocked. “I cannot tell you how much I am enjoying this dance. Thank you.” He said sarcastically, breathing heavily as we danced around—a warrior’s dance.

Maliciousness had become his second nature. “I might not be able to stop the war you started Gabriel, but I will do my best to stop you!” I promised him.

Our dance continued for what seemed like several minutes, although in all actuality I could not determine the exact amount of time, then I heard a horn blow from the distance. The battle horn blew with a sound of triumph about it. I glanced over to see what had happened.

One of the teams on the vast field had won this battle. In the split second that I turned to look over at the crowd, Gabriel disappeared.

Our battle did not end that night.

 

Decades later, a statue was built in his honor at that Cathedral. The thought curled a small wicked smile of anger on my mouth and a minimal shrug of contempt.

Cover Reveal, Aray Brown’s "Next of Kin"

Hello one and all,

I always like to support other authors whenever I can. So today I’m very happy to be hosting Author Aray Brown for her upcoming novella called Next of Kin: Blood is Thicker Than Water which is coming soon to Amazon.

So, here we go.

Author Bio:

Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, Aray Brown emerged as a bright eyed scribe at an early age, which began her journey to self discovery.

Her short stories consisted of characters such as She-ra and He-man. Later on she decided to delve into something more real and personal. 

She always had a passion for storytelling even though she couldn’t express it verbally. 

After dabbling in other areas, she found her true calling and vowed to share her gift with the rest of the world.

Just like every other kid he grew up on Stephen King and Alfred Hithcock, she became obsessed with horror. Most importantly gore.

While she has different genres in mind for her next up and coming projects, her love of gruesome tales will always be eternal.
Blurb:

Medina Price always wanted to be a cop, just like her successors, until she gets thrown into a corrupt life at an early age due to witnessing her mother being slaughtered at the hands of a hired gunman. Now that she’s been seduced by darkness, she vows to get revenge, but she gets more than she bargained for. What will Medina do? At this juncture in her life Medina realizes that… Everyone is capable of something.

Cover Reveal, Aray Brown's "Next of Kin"

Hello one and all,

I always like to support other authors whenever I can. So today I'm very happy to be hosting Author Aray Brown for her upcoming novella called Next of Kin: Blood is Thicker Than Water which is coming soon to Amazon.



So, here we go.


Author Bio:
Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, Aray Brown emerged as a bright eyed scribe at an early age, which began her journey to self discovery.
Her short stories consisted of characters such as She-ra and He-man. Later on she decided to delve into something more real and personal. 
She always had a passion for storytelling even though she couldn’t express it verbally. 
After dabbling in other areas, she found her true calling and vowed to share her gift with the rest of the world.
Just like every other kid he grew up on Stephen King and Alfred Hithcock, she became obsessed with horror. Most importantly gore.
While she has different genres in mind for her next up and coming projects, her love of gruesome tales will always be eternal.

Blurb:

Medina Price always wanted to be a cop, just like her successors, until she gets thrown into a corrupt life at an early age due to witnessing her mother being slaughtered at the hands of a hired gunman. Now that she's been seduced by darkness, she vows to get revenge, but she gets more than she bargained for. What will Medina do? At this juncture in her life Medina realizes that... Everyone is capable of something.

Hello!

Hello everyone!

It’s great to be here.

My name is C. Desert Rose, author of the Fate’s Endeavor Series, soon to be published by All Authors Publishing House. Currently, All Authors PH has published my two short stories called “A Tragedy: The Short Story of Fox & Tango” and “Crimson on a Black Rose”.

I hope to be able to connect with lots of like minded people here and to network and share with you all.

At the moment you can find the prologue and first five chapters of my first novel “If Death Should Love Me” on blogger, here.

Well, that’s it for now.

Tah-tah!

Rosie

If Death Should Love Me, Chapter 5

Chapter 5

First stop? Junior's house!
Oh man, how I loved that little boy! He wasn't actually related to me but it felt to me like he was. We were so close, that he was family. Period. Him and his mother Bet.Jeez, I mean, I'd been taking care of him since he was a baby. I practically raised him. Maybe I was biased, but I would stake my life on the fact that he was the cutest little kid in all of Fort Lauderdale!He was stocky. Not overweight by any means, just strong. He had a lighter complexion that would cause people to assume he was completely white but he wasn't one hundred percent Caucasian. His mother was Caucasian, but his father-Yeah, the one that couldn't stick around because Junior's condition was way too much for him to handle. WHAT AN ASS! Sorry, my mental car skidded off the road on that one for a second. Shall I go on? Yeah, his 'sperm donor' was Hispanic. Nothing uncommon around these parts. Shoot, seventy percent of the kids here are mixed. So... A light complexion, huge, almond shaped light brown eyes that hid behind black eyeglasses. Long, thick dark eyelashes, loose curly dirty-blond hair, big cheeks and a button nose, to complete the picture of the perfect little boy. Just adorable!This little man, lit up my day, every day! He made these funny little drawings of all of his favorite cartoon characters. They were awesome! He had this way of memorizing the lines to all of his favorite movies, books and games. By god, was he a genius with a computer. I would put my money on the fact that he probably could work a computer better than I could. And, the way he sang! OMG, I could eat him up! He was so freaking cute! My lips curled at the thought of him.By his sperm donor's standards, Junior was flawed because of his autism. What a freaking idiot! If I ever had the privilege of meeting the man, I kid you not, I'd punch him round in his nose! The way I looked at it, Junior was blessed and I was even more blessed to have him in my life. I was so proud of him! So he was different! And? For crying out loud, I was different. Proud of that too!Not to change the subject, but truth be told, there was something more to Junior. Maybe that was what tied me to him so tightly. He was different. I'm not referring to the autism either. I mean, he was special. Special in a way that I couldn't really fathom. There was something about him. Something powerful and heavenly, in the most tender way.Well, whatever it was, it was unique.I may not have understood it, but I definitely recognized it. His talents were much more than met the eye. That much I noticed.With all that being said, Junior was like a little brother to me. Like the one I'd always wanted. Yeah, I had Frankie. But Frankie? Frankie wasn't anything like Junior. Please don't hate me for being a terrible sister.The thought of Frankie posed in inward question.Why hadn't that fool called me yet? By this time of day, hewould have already called me to make my morning hell. As always! Jinx! I owe myself a soda. Criss-cross, apple sauce.
My phone rang.
Damn it! I spoke too soon!"Hello?" I said as I rolled my eyes in expectation of his stupidity. "Hey! Sup?" "You called me stupid!" I whipped back. Why call me if you had no intent on talking? Ahhh! Then I continued. "You already know 'what's up' Frankie. I'm off to work." "Oh. Yeah. Cool. So, sup?" "Frankie!" I yelled."What?" His voice drenched in amused banter."What!?" I threw back at him. "Stop it!""Stop what?""You know what! Stop that!""That what?" I heard him giggle softly. "Bye Frankie." Just as I was about to hang up. "Wait a minute! Hold up!" He blurted out. I waited a second or two before I continued already knowing what was coming. "Okay. What?" "So," long pause, then, "Sup?""Uhhhhh!" I yelled in his ear, then went to hang up aggressively but just before I clicked 'end' I heard his hysterical laugh.Oh man! Could I throw the phone at him?That's when I realized he was on the other end of the call. Idea fail.Why, oh why, couldn't mom and dad have adopted? He drove me crazy with annoyance. I loved him, but damn. Truth be told though, as much as he annoyed me, he also knew how to make me laugh and was there for me if ever and whenever I needed him. I guess, he wasn't all bad. I laughed to myself softly at the thought. How could I love someone so much and loathe his every thought at the same time? I don't know. Just as the consideration came, I was arriving at Junior's house. Truth be told though, as much as he annoyed me, he also knew how to make me laugh and was there for me if ever and whenever I needed him. I guess, he wasn't all bad. I laughed to myself softly at the thought. How could I love someone so much and loathe his every thought at the same time? I don't know. Just as the consideration came, I was arriving at Junior's house.
His preciousness made me smile and giggle with adoration. Junior, that is. The enormous smile with which he greeted me, like no one I'd ever known. This would be a good day after all.
Hours later, I was done there and on my way to the animal shelter. My day was just fizzing away. That made me sad, the quicker the day went by, the quicker I'd get home to solitude, a lonely frozen dinner and a redundant horror movie. Dog-on-it! That sucked! Before long, my day had ended and I was on my way home. The thought that came to me without even wanting it to was, Why hasn't mommy called yet?   My phone rang again.   There it is. "Hello?"
"Helloooo?" My mother tended to extend the 'o' for whatever reason. "Bendicion." This word was a greeting of respect that one gave their elders. In essence you were asking for their blessing. And should you not greet your elders in this way, you'd be liable of getting slapped upside the head. Any Puerto Rican would tell you that this was the way of acknowledging your elders. "Dios te bendiga Nena. God bless you." Mom replied.
Puerto Rican slang lesson number one: 'Nena/Nene' Puerto Rican slang for little girl or boy. Also a term of endearment, meaning 'little one'.
"What you up to?" I asked already knowing the answer to that question. "Ná. Aquí." Mom replied. I knew, she'd say that. This was usually followed with some sort of complaint. Hold your tongue Sophia —go on, I coaxed myself.
Puerto Rican slang lesson number two: 'Ná. Aquí.' meaning, 'Nothing. Just here.' a common term for those who were either bored out of their minds or unhappy with life, or both.
"Just here with watching my novelas, and my head is killing me." Aha! There it was! Like I said.
Puerto Rican custom lesson number one:'Novelas', Hispanic soap operas are a must in the Latino community. Especially with the elders.
My mother continued, "Okay, well, I'll talk to you tomorrow. I love you." Sometimes it seemed to me that mom called just to complain to me as no one else bothered to listen to her. Kinda sad and funny all that the same time, actually. "Okay mamí. Love you too."
Spanish lesson number one: 'Mamí', mommy in Spanish.
By the time I'd hung up with my mother, I'd already arrived home, put my dinner in the microwave and gotten into my jammies. I had become an expert at the art of getting comfy quickly. Like a ninja. Joke. Smile. I'm full of dumb jokes, especially when referring to myself. Anywho, this was a day in the life of- well, me! Boring? I know. Redundant? Yes, that too.
My life sucked.

To Read the previous Chapter click HERE.

 If Death Should Love MeCopyright C. Desert Rose & All Authors Publishing House2014

If Death Should Love Me, Chapter 4

Chapter Four
I can vaguely remember having turned off the television and making myself comfortable in bed. I cannot remember having actually fallen asleep. What's odd is one of the things that I do remember with clarity—my breathing—that is so clear in my mind. It was deep and steady.
Then like stepping into clouds and water, the dream came. And that, I will never forget.
I was in a Victorian house, from the looks of it. Or so it would seem—at least that's what I concluded from what I saw. Two stories high, a front and back entrance, and a metal fence surrounding it. It really was beautiful! So much like the houses in Leavenworth, Kansas, where I grew up.It was Spring it seemed as if all of the trees were in spring time bloom. The breeze was amazing. It smelled of newborn flowers, oak trees and fresh cut grass. Now that I think about it, I was sort of taken off guard. How weird that there was an actual scent, in a dream. But sometimes, things like that aren't meant to make sense.The walk way that led to the front door was long and that led to a country style patio with swinging chair, ceiling fan, table and all.Apparently this was my home. Once again, one of those things that don't really make any sense, but in dreams makes complete sense. It was newly renovated. I can't say for sure if it was me that had done the work, or if it was already that way but I could smell the fresh paint on the walls and the scent of new carpeting. This house, all in all, was a sanctuary, really breathtaking. Something out of a movie.Still, there was something about this place, something odd. SomethingI couldn't quite put my finger on. It just feltoff somehow.Suddenly, people started practically knocking over my front door. Banging and pounding desperately. When I opened the door to see what was going on, I witness a crowd of people. I got that eerie feeling you get from a Frankenstein movie. All that was missing was the lit torches and axes. Then they immediately started pointing an accusing finger at me. This weird crowd started an uproar of allegations. Truth be told, I couldn't fully make out what they were saying. It was all so cluttered in my mind. It felt accusing, butmaybe it was something else entirely.Maybe, it was despair. I'm so frustrated at not being able to tell the difference.Without expecting it I felt someone tap on my shoulder. It was Junior, the little eight year old Autistic boy that I cared for. I looked back at him in surprise. He pointed. I looked. I could not believe my eyes. The enormous crowd had transformed—yes, you heard me right— transformed,into a huge cluster of dead souls. All of them demanding that I send them home."I can't!" I screamed at them. "Go away! Leave me alone!" I tried desperately to protect Junior.
Then, sweeping Junior into my arms, I ran as fast as I could in order to get him out of harm's way. Up and down the house, through corridors I didn't even know existed, up and down stairways I had no clue were there, until finally we were out of the house, leaving the bevy of souls behind us, somewhere in or by the house.We were safe.For now.For whatever reason I turned and looked in the other direction. It was the impulse that drove me. Something that echoed in my heart that made me look precisely there and behind us stood the silhouette of a dark angelic form: a being. A shadow. A dark, transparent angel. As if by instinct the hovering souls that had invaded my home were drawn to that,thing.Then the brief image of the ghostly man just fizzed away and disappeared. Just like that.
I leaped up, seated erect in my bed. This, was without a doubt the weirdestdream I had ever had. And it lingered in my mind. It took me a few seconds to shake myself out of la-la land and into real life, then turned my head and look at the alarm clock. Not that it had gone off as I woke up exactly two minutes before it could.How odd, I thought to myself as I sat in the bed scratching my head.
I got up, popped into the shower and began my morning routine. Still the unusual dream floated around in my head. It was so real.Too real. Opting on setting it aside and focusing on my day, I determinedly put it out of my mind for a while, after about an hour of obsessing. I went about my 'to-do's' for the day.As I tidied up my apartment I noticed he DVD cover of the movie I'd been watching the night before: Paranormal Activity,Oh! I puffed, putting the silly dream off to my scary movie fixation.Yeah, that was it, I thought to myself. The dream had everything to do with the stupid horror movie, nothingto do with anythingelse. Chill out Sophia!I thought to myself,Calmate!

As always I started my day by making myself my morning cup of Cafè Cón Lechè in my infinitely handy travel mug, of course, and ran out of the door—off to work. I kind of loved my work. Still it seemed that my family had a very different perspective of what I did.You see, the problem is that you can't just go telling an 'Old- school Puerto Rican' family what 'work'is. To them, work is not volunteering at the local animal shelter and/or babysitting.To them that was, and I quote "A waste of your life." A clause which always preceded "Why don't you get a real job?" What was a 'real job' to them, exactly?
Lesson of a Puerto Rican family's definition of a real job: A low paying form of employment that made you work way too hard, for way too many hours, which caused you to feel extremely unhappy and unsatisfied to the point of constantly complaining, paid you barely enough money to make ends meet. BUT, was a steady source of income!
Sheeh, was it terrible for me to say that sometimes I wanted to beat them over the head with the 'Stupid Stick'? Uhhh!Frustration overload! Anywho.The way I looked at it was, if I was hardly gonna make any money than I was gonna do it in a way that made me happy: somewhat.Okay, so I had a few overdue bills, but I was content. I think. I mean, all in all, my employments may not have been, as they called it, real work, but hell, they kept me busy. At least I'd made a career choice, right? Right! All right, so they weren't so much 'career choices' as they were 'make some money while keeping myself busy' choices, but oh well. The thought made me draw my eye brows in, in question. Shrugging off the doubt, I went on.
Click HERE for the previous installation.
If Death Should Love MeCopyright C. Desert Rose & All Authors Publishing House2014

If Death Should Love Me, Chapter 3

Chapter Three
Highest Ground Current Day

Looking through theThin Glass of Life can be quite the challenging task. No one ever said the job of the Higher Sources was easy."Everything seems to be going according to plan. Do you not think? I believe that we have made a great choice, Alpha." Her voice rang in the sound of a quiet symphony, a melodic stream of peace. "Yes dear Omega, I believe that we have," A look of wryness crossed his august face, "However, I fret that it will be a challenge. Do you believe that they will prevail?" His voice rang of ageless wisdom and majesty. The combination of the two, a perfect and regal musical composition."Yes. I trust that they shall." "It's taken many millennia to choose a couple worthy of such an honor."They kept watch over all the occurrences. Nothing had escaped their vision. Nothing had been missed. 'Fate', was absolutely in control.
Meanwhile. Fort Lauderdale, Florida, USA Earth Current Day
Why do I always do this to myself? I wondered. Sitting curled up on the couch, with my knees to my chest, gripping my pillow, my arms wrapped tightly around it. Barley able to breathe. No lights to be had except for the soft glow of the television on the walls.I knew what the outcome of this would be. I knew that all this would lead up to another sleepless night, coiled into a ball on my bed with the image of an evil villain in my head. I wondered if he would be stalking me or in the corner of my closet somewhere waiting for me to doze off to sleep so that he could leap out, dagger in hand and slit my throat.My body jerked at the sudden unexpected scene. The empty popcorn bowl sitting next to me on the couch fell over, knocking over the empty soda can on the floor. Together they made an unexpected clinging sound which scared me that much more. Damn it!I thought, yet continued to torment myself. It was sad toadmit that unfortunately, thiswas the extent of excitement in my life. My life was nothing out of the norm. I worked, kind of. I had family. My own place. Bills. You know. Normal, I suppose. The mundaneness and solitude of it choked me to the point of wanting to be swallowed up by the movie I was watching. Needless to say, this horror flick was about all that there was. The only thing that I could get a rise out of. So, I might as well take advantage of it. I mean, why not right? I was completely hypnotized with the movie, when out of nowhere there were two pounding knocks at my door which made me jump out of my seat with a scream lodged in my throat. It took a second of two for me to breathe and settle down before I couldeven attempt to answer the door. I wasn't expecting anyone!Suddenly I found myself a little more nervous than I should be at the simplest task of just answering the door. Was it the lingering thought of the scary movie I was watching? The suspense, maybe, of not knowing who was knocking? Maybe it was me being overly sensitive as I tended to be sometimes? I couldn't figure it out.Then again, two hard knocks! I jumped. I didn't realize that my voice was temporarily lost. All of the sudden, I was consumed in anxiety. I was seriously just trying to get out a simple 'Who is it?' but it wasn't coming. Nothing. Zilch. Zip. What the? Again! The knocks, this time harder! Finally, with my voice at least two octaves higher than normal, I asked, "Who is it?" then gulped hard. No answer with the exception of another series of knocks.Slowly but surely, I got up, made my way to the door in order to peek through the door-hole, but saw nothing. I gulped hard again. Not able to simply brush it off and ignore it, maybe even turn around and call the cops, I slowly opened the door ajar to a small crack trying to see who was there. With an abrupt shrug, the door flew open pushing me back with it. Stumbling back some, I jerked and screamed! Out from the side of the doorway, laughing as though he had seen the funniest thing on earth, my little brother slid in front of the door with one swift movement. "Oh my God! You should haveseen the look on your face! Priceless!" He blurted as he laughed with hysteria."Damn it, Frankie!" I was livid, totally freaking pissed. "Freaking aye!""That'sMister Fransisco Martino Junior to you." He pointed a mocking finger my way and twisted his lips in sarcasm. "It's okay, I wouldn't expect the mentally impaired to remember," he swatted, never ceasing to make fun of me, then completely changing the subject he went on. "You still drowning yourself in those stupid horror movies big sis?" "Youronly sister, you dumbass!""Wow!" he said with sarcastic fascination in his expression, "I'm offended! I'm broken! Oh, so hurt! How can you treat me that way? Don't you know how much I love you? Oh, the paaaain!" he teased as he made himself through the open door without permission."Stupid!" Was about the biggest comeback I could think of at the moment."Seriously though, Soph, when areyou gonna get a life?""Who says that I don't have a life? Maybe I like what I do," I spat back."Oooh! So what exactlydo you do?" He retorted."I'm still working on that." I said with a dismissive angry shrug. "Okay." He said, as if my answer was satisfactory."What in the world are you doing here at all hours of the night anyway?" I shot at him."At a whopping eight o'clock?" He mocked, with that darn sarcastic tone that I loathed so much."Um, yeah! Oh, never mind!" I gave up and shut the door."I'm hungry." He said rather randomly as he made himself at home in my kitchen."Isn't there food inmom and dad's house?" I said with an obvious shrug of my head in the direction of the door, trying as hard as I could to make it clear that he needed to go home."You can only haveso much sugar free, fat free, low sodium, cardboard tasting food Soph," he said as he continued to rummage through my kitchen cabinets and fridge."That's Misses Sophia Martino to you, dumbass.""Why,oh why must you treat me in such a way?" He frowned pathetically faking sadness, teasing me still."Uh!" I couldn't go on. This was the all I could get out as far as an argument was concerned. He had me beat. Walking back to my living room, I plopped back onto the couch in notable frustration at not being able to finish the movie I'd been watching. I mean, I loved the kid, but jeez!"I missed the good part because of you!" I shouted."Oh! Everyone dies." Frankie shouted back.Would it be wrong to punch him in the face?I thought."Thanks for nothing stupid!""Welcome," he quipped back in amusement. "You got salami?" He continued."No," I threw back at him, "but mom and dad do!""Naw. Already check. Fresh out," he said, dismissing my hint on him leaving yet again, "S'okay, cheese alone is good." He was just too simple minded!"I can't tell you how many times I'd wished you were my little sister!" I said to see if that would make him flinch. No luck!"I can't tell you how many times I'd wished I wasan only child! But, c'est la vie! We all can't get what we want!" He said, with a funny little smirk curling his lips. His comebacks were just a little too quick for my slow working mind today. "K! Imma head out! See ya when I see ya big sis." he nonchalantly breathed once he'd gotten his fill of my groceries."K." I was not about to argue with him. What a relief! Finally back to my alone time. Thank goodness!

To read the previous Chapter click HERE.

If Death Should Love Me, Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

Comoros Africa200 A.D.

I'd just turned twenty-one years of age.
My father, Afolabi, meaning 'born in high status', was then tribe's leader, and as such he was allotted six wives. The remnants of the tribesmen were allotted only three. My mother was Nandi, meaning 'strong willed'. Her name suited her, truly. I was during that time called Amari, meaning 'prince'. This was the name given me upon my birth. I was my father's fourth wife's, first child. Kamau, meaning 'silent warrior', was my mother's sixth child, and my younger brother. Only the two of us being male as the rest of my mother's children were female. 
The remembrance distends in my mind even still. The image so clear that it portrayed a feeling of time just passed, as if I'd seen her proud face just yestermorning. Honor glimmering in her eyes. I was my father's first born son and the one who resembled him most of all. This fact made me a preferred child in his eyes. This made my mother happy to the point of almost gloating. 
My tribe and I were celebrating the twelfth birthday of my brother Kamau. Our tradition called for a tribe wide hunt. This hunt was meant to prove the boy child, a man. The hunt consisted of only the men of the tribe. The women stayed behind in the preparation of the enormous feast and festivities that would follow. 
I was excited! Happy to have the privilege to finally show my young brother the exhilaration of pursuit. It was a rush, an almost intoxicating thrill that had no compare. Your blood pumping, your heart racing, your will at the brink of losing all composure. When you hunted, you were a man! Not just any man, but a 'man of the tribe'. This feeling had purpose, it had meaning. It defined  me: us! I can barely put into words the elation of the tribe when we unanimously lifted our voices in a cry of triumph when our prize animal had been slain. It was- it was, right!
I saw it. The beast. About fifty feet away. It was glorious. With a shiny, golden coat, glowing blade like teeth. Forced to guess, I would say about two hundred pounds of pure strength and savagery. A lioness. Bewildering, almost. Almost. Even still, not intimidating enough that she would cause me fear or aversion. Kamau crept up behind me; I motioned, swiftly and quietly, putting a single finger over my lips as to inform him of my intent. It was imperative that he remain in tremendous silence. With one hand I made a motion, telling him to wait where he was. I moved forward carefully. I could practically feel the stares of my fellow tribesmen gazing at me from between the wilderness—eyes fixed on my every move in the midst of the potent greenery of the jungle. I moved forward some more, skilfully and with ease—slowly lifted my spear, preparing to launch it towards the intricate beauty that was the majestic lioness.
A sudden sharp pain probed my back! Agony! Disorientation, confusion, then pain! My spear fell, hitting the ground with a bounce, yet I heard no sound. Things slowed exceedingly. The beast ran off. I looked around. I saw Kamau, shock crossed his eyes, his arm extended, positioned as if he had launched a spear of his own. More perplexing, agonizing pain ravaged through me, I fell to my knees. Screams surrounded me. Running. More screams. I touched my back and felt it lodged directly in its center. With precision I felt it rip through my ribs and lungs causing me to gasp for air. I drew in another labored breath, this time harder. Scarcely I could hear my name being called from afar. Nothing now. No air, no movement, no pain. Just nothing. 
Blackness, darkness, emptiness followed.
My eyes opened. I was standing. I reached for my back and felt nothing there. I tried to look around, access my surroundings, even still puzzled by all that had just transpired. The area was foreign to me. This place was dark and void. The feeling was unique, relatively inexplicable. I could feel myself there, but I could not see myself there. Lifting my hands to my eyes I tried to look at them but the darkness was so deep that my eyes failed to adjust to it. It was impossible to make out my own hands in front of me, or any part of my person, for that matter. I heard something. A wind. A motionless movement, as if something floated in the air. The lights came back on, yet I still saw nothing. Nothing except for it. It was like nothing I had ever seen. Approximately six feet tall. A spirit. A ghost, if you will. A white ghost who spoke in my language, my words. He told me that I was chosen, that I would not pass on. That I was meant to linger amidst life and death. I was, The Collector. "What is 'The Collector'?" I asked "You would better know it as 'Azriel Dèvas', the Angel of Death." The white ghost replied. "What? Why me?" I could not grasp it, it seemed too surreal, too unbelievable. "I told you. You have been chosen. This is your fate." Coldness in his voice, as well as a small hint of contempt. 
Such was the beginning of my existence, or nonexistence, as I  prefer to call it. The Highest Ground Spirit Realm 200 A.D. 
"It would seem that it is once again time to choose the next Angel of Death. Have you made a decision on my proposal yet Majesties?" Gabriel's voice was calm, yet anxiety hid behind his words. "Yes, we have." The function of acting as a unit defined them. Therefore, they thought as one, acted as one and spoke as one. This, was their true nature. "Fantastic. So what be your choice?""You are not yet prepared Gabriel." Responded Alpha, peaceful was his comportment. "What?" Shock transfixed him, "Why? I have served you faithfully since the beginning of time." Silent anger, tempered remorse filled him. "What is it about these humans that you must grant them their hearts' desires? You allow them freedom of will, yet they walk all over you. Even still, you bestow unmerited privileges upon them!" His voice began to slowly rise with the passion of his conviction, then he subdued it once more, attempting to control his internal commotion. "I deserve this much more than any of them." He pivoted on his heels, pacing with conjecture. "None of them deserve anything." he concluded. "We have found him, the chosen one Gabriel. It is our assurance that he shall serve us well. 'Tis his calling and fate." Proclaimed decision in their tone."Oh. I see." He proceeded. "Whom, if I may ask?" "He is called Amari. Go fetch him. His time has come. Tell him what his destiny requires of him." "Amari. Well," having repeated the name with a twist of his lip, he continued, inward anger stirring, "as you wish Majesties." 
Watching as he walked away, Alpha's thoughts intertwined with Omega's. "It seems that Gabriel is not very pleased with our decision," to which they both agreed, "We fear that things will be difficult for Azriel. We must keep watch." For some time I had been watching an older lady in the ICU. 
Lourdes. She was admitted several weeks ago due to heart disease. What oddity shrouds this family, I pondered. I cannot remember having ever seen a family connection quite like it in my existence. A paradox of intrigue, they are. In my experience, most human families either abhorred or revered one another, nothing in between. Their kinship was different in the absolute. It seemed as though they both loved and hated one another. Such connections are staggering. Lourdes, the grandmother; they called her 'abuela' Spanish for grandmother. I knew this because, I had the advantage of speaking and understanding all human tongues. She seemed to be their foundation. I could see that she was genuinely loved and respected by them all. That much was obvious: to anyone. I cannot say for sure why I'd been so drawn to them, so intrigued by her person and her family. It very much felt like I'd been magnetized by the humor and drama amidst them. Her soul—Lourdes'—was a brilliant yellow. Impressing, resplendent. A mother and a teacher. The daughter-in-law Maria, was hazed in red. Outspoken as well, yet dramatic and overly sensitive at time. It was clear however, that her heart was in the right place. She meant well. A strong rock and a frail feather. The son Fransisco, he was blue. This explained his quiet personality, his happy demeanor and his pensive mind very well. He was indubitably a thinker that only used his observations upon utter necessity. A mentor and a peacemaker. Fransisco's sister, Jesenia, was of a purple essence. It was obvious that she thought of herself as the glue that held the family together. She was a protector who stood in her self-given right to keep her family from falling apart. A warrior and a guide. I had heard the mention of a granddaughter. Sophia, I believe was the name uttered. I had yet to see her. My inner query produced curiosity within me and I looked forward to seeing her. I could only surmise that she must be like all the others. A bright soul with a brilliant color that enveloped her. I concluded that it might be a shade of yellow, like Lourdes or a tone of red, like Maria. Of course, no two souls were the exact semblance in color. No two altogether identical, but at time auras could be near in iridescence. It would be very interesting to see her. 
I was certain nonetheless, that when the time had come and I had collected her--Lourdes--a piece of the puzzle that was their actuality would be lost forever. Inwardly I wondered if they would make it. I meditated on the questions that arose. Would they see themselves through the blackness of loss and the desolation of mourning? What would become of them? Would the disdain prevail or would love overcome and strengthen them? 

Soon, I thought, we would all know.