C.A. Clark's Blog, page 5
February 12, 2015
The Fight For Adlai
A few years ago I was a Finalist for "The Best Author Contest: 50 Authors You Should Be Reading!" put on by The Authors Show, where I was recently interviewed as a guest. The object of this contest is to sell authors' works by familiarizing readers with their personal lives--the "story behind the Story", if you will, in an essay not exceeding 1100 words... For those of you who know me, you already know I had no difficulty using every single one of them. And for others with whom I may not yet be acquainted quite as well as I'd like, here is the unvarnished (and painfully honest) truth--the story behind the making of "The Crest of The BEAST Book Series":
The Fight For Adlai
I turned the blade in my hand, deliberating… A quick, deft slice would sever my carotid artery, and I would bleed out… I didn’t want to die… But I was overwhelmed and desperate to end the torment… What if it never ended? Everything I’d touched had disintegrated before my eyes. All of my struggling steps forward had proven in vain, sliding me backwards into a bottomless pit of failure, futility, and anguish… My daughter’s precious face flooded my thoughts, eyes so trusting…She needed me. And suicide was a coward’s way out. I needed to pull it together for her, if not for myself.
It had all started the year before—a failed romance, accompanied by small-town monotony, had left me craving fresh horizons with new promise. I had found the perfect opportunity—the biggest touring destination in all the US—Charleston, South Carolina… Only unfortunately I’d failed to do adequate homework. None of the nice housing communities I’d researched would accept government vouchers from a low-income single mother receiving welfare assistance. Crestfallen, I began to search through the only areas left—impoverished neighborhoods, where drugs and gangs were rampant, and the grade-school education was in the bottom 3% of all America. At night I would return home exhausted to my little girl, whose peaked 7 year old face had already begun taking on anxieties far beyond her years.
“Mommy,” she asked in a hushed voice, “Will we be out on the streets?”
“No, Sweetheart!” I tried to console away her fears with reassurance. “Why do you ask that?”
“Meri says we will be.”
We could no longer stay with the family whose couch we’d been camped on, and the woman at the housing department had made it crystal clear that she could care less where we went; tritely she informed me that my paperwork had not been completed by the dead-line, thus revoking my housing benefits. My pleas fell on deaf ears, as with a shrug of her shoulders she turned away. We were just another statistic.
Around this time I was sought out by a businessman of less-than-reputable connections. I’d attracted his eye, and now he wanted to “help” with a business proposition… All that was required were a few simple signatures, along with my cooperation to “stick with the story,” if and when questioned by authorities—and he would make all my financial worries disappear.
“I can’t,” I answered flatly. “I’m a Christian—and that would dishonor my God. My character isn’t for sale.”
“Well, where is your God now?”
“My Jesus will come through for me,” I answered firmly.
…God’s provision did come through, though not as I’d wished—it came in the form of return tickets home—and back to Mom and Dad. As I packed up our belongings, I ruefully thought of the day six years earlier when I’d been in another hotel room, with nowhere else to turn. It was the night I’d fled from my daughter’s father… My circumstances hadn’t improved much.
Humbled and homeless now, I found myself returning with my child back to my parents’ home. I felt utterly wretched. What sort of daughter was I, to impose on them with my burdens? They were already struggling themselves. And what poor excuse of a mother was I? ... I hadn’t even been able to put a roof over my child’s head.
On the heels of this came further devastation: a trusted friend had cracked, and in a blind, chaotic moment of misjudgment, had implicated me in an alleged crime that was unspeakably heinous. I faced the possibility of a state investigation, potential arrest, and my daughter being torn from my arms and placed into state custody. If nothing else, it seemed my reputation was now smothered with scandal… I would continue to carry the scars long after the allegations proved false, and I received my friend’s tearful plea for forgiveness.
…Then Scott entered my life, and it seemed at long last I’d found my salvation. He was by far the handsomest and most tender man I had ever dated. Finally it seemed that our family would be whole again, and that my daughter had found the father-figure of her prayers. We prepared to move and begin our new life together elsewhere. My wedding dress was picked out; and I was awaiting the day when I could officially send out wedding invitations… And then like a sudden storm, my fairy-tale ending came crashing down around me, as he callously informed me that our entire relationship had been nothing but a charade to help him vicariously live out his secret fantasies of other women… And just like that he was gone, and I was left to pick up the fragments of the dreams he’d shattered. I had already left my job in preparation for our big move, and had no money left to spare… I was destitute.
…And now here I was. It seemed as if even God had forsaken me. My life seemed to amount to nothing more than the butt of some ridiculous, cruel joke. Why?! I heard myself screaming at God. I had tried to obey and honor Him, taking the high road rather than the easy way out—and now I was utterly bereaved and abandoned, buried beneath shame and turmoil.
Fleetingly, I found myself thinking of the characters from a fantasy saga I’d been laboring tediously over for years: The Crest of The BEAST Series, a colorful, wildly innovative reinvention of two combined classics (Sleeping Beauty/Beauty And The Beast). The reluctant “heroine” (Adlai) was like me: a flawed, uncertain young woman; desperately straining for hopes just out of reach, while struggling against bleak, formidable circumstances. Her vividly surreal world was fraught with haunting beauty, ancient secrets, harrowing dangers, and supreme Evil—from the draconian Headmistress, to the soul-less Guleum, and the dreaded Neiphi stalking the night—predatory emissaries of "Black-Heart", the Dragon Prince himself… And in the backdrop lurked the shadow of her mysterious Guardian—a powerful Creature half-man, half-beast; ragged wings unfurled, the branded outline of a Tree seared over his heart, and an ember eye blazing like a torch from the disfigured half of his face that was ravaged with scars… To me, he was like Jesus—and I could hear him severely commanding his imperfect Beauty:
“Get up! It is always too early to quit!”
…A flicker of hope dawned on me. Giving up would mean never reading the final chapter. Discarding the blade, I picked up my pen… Both Adlai and I would live to fight another day.
—C.A.CLARK, Copyright©
The Fight For Adlai
I turned the blade in my hand, deliberating… A quick, deft slice would sever my carotid artery, and I would bleed out… I didn’t want to die… But I was overwhelmed and desperate to end the torment… What if it never ended? Everything I’d touched had disintegrated before my eyes. All of my struggling steps forward had proven in vain, sliding me backwards into a bottomless pit of failure, futility, and anguish… My daughter’s precious face flooded my thoughts, eyes so trusting…She needed me. And suicide was a coward’s way out. I needed to pull it together for her, if not for myself.
It had all started the year before—a failed romance, accompanied by small-town monotony, had left me craving fresh horizons with new promise. I had found the perfect opportunity—the biggest touring destination in all the US—Charleston, South Carolina… Only unfortunately I’d failed to do adequate homework. None of the nice housing communities I’d researched would accept government vouchers from a low-income single mother receiving welfare assistance. Crestfallen, I began to search through the only areas left—impoverished neighborhoods, where drugs and gangs were rampant, and the grade-school education was in the bottom 3% of all America. At night I would return home exhausted to my little girl, whose peaked 7 year old face had already begun taking on anxieties far beyond her years.
“Mommy,” she asked in a hushed voice, “Will we be out on the streets?”
“No, Sweetheart!” I tried to console away her fears with reassurance. “Why do you ask that?”
“Meri says we will be.”
We could no longer stay with the family whose couch we’d been camped on, and the woman at the housing department had made it crystal clear that she could care less where we went; tritely she informed me that my paperwork had not been completed by the dead-line, thus revoking my housing benefits. My pleas fell on deaf ears, as with a shrug of her shoulders she turned away. We were just another statistic.
Around this time I was sought out by a businessman of less-than-reputable connections. I’d attracted his eye, and now he wanted to “help” with a business proposition… All that was required were a few simple signatures, along with my cooperation to “stick with the story,” if and when questioned by authorities—and he would make all my financial worries disappear.
“I can’t,” I answered flatly. “I’m a Christian—and that would dishonor my God. My character isn’t for sale.”
“Well, where is your God now?”
“My Jesus will come through for me,” I answered firmly.
…God’s provision did come through, though not as I’d wished—it came in the form of return tickets home—and back to Mom and Dad. As I packed up our belongings, I ruefully thought of the day six years earlier when I’d been in another hotel room, with nowhere else to turn. It was the night I’d fled from my daughter’s father… My circumstances hadn’t improved much.
Humbled and homeless now, I found myself returning with my child back to my parents’ home. I felt utterly wretched. What sort of daughter was I, to impose on them with my burdens? They were already struggling themselves. And what poor excuse of a mother was I? ... I hadn’t even been able to put a roof over my child’s head.
On the heels of this came further devastation: a trusted friend had cracked, and in a blind, chaotic moment of misjudgment, had implicated me in an alleged crime that was unspeakably heinous. I faced the possibility of a state investigation, potential arrest, and my daughter being torn from my arms and placed into state custody. If nothing else, it seemed my reputation was now smothered with scandal… I would continue to carry the scars long after the allegations proved false, and I received my friend’s tearful plea for forgiveness.
…Then Scott entered my life, and it seemed at long last I’d found my salvation. He was by far the handsomest and most tender man I had ever dated. Finally it seemed that our family would be whole again, and that my daughter had found the father-figure of her prayers. We prepared to move and begin our new life together elsewhere. My wedding dress was picked out; and I was awaiting the day when I could officially send out wedding invitations… And then like a sudden storm, my fairy-tale ending came crashing down around me, as he callously informed me that our entire relationship had been nothing but a charade to help him vicariously live out his secret fantasies of other women… And just like that he was gone, and I was left to pick up the fragments of the dreams he’d shattered. I had already left my job in preparation for our big move, and had no money left to spare… I was destitute.
…And now here I was. It seemed as if even God had forsaken me. My life seemed to amount to nothing more than the butt of some ridiculous, cruel joke. Why?! I heard myself screaming at God. I had tried to obey and honor Him, taking the high road rather than the easy way out—and now I was utterly bereaved and abandoned, buried beneath shame and turmoil.
Fleetingly, I found myself thinking of the characters from a fantasy saga I’d been laboring tediously over for years: The Crest of The BEAST Series, a colorful, wildly innovative reinvention of two combined classics (Sleeping Beauty/Beauty And The Beast). The reluctant “heroine” (Adlai) was like me: a flawed, uncertain young woman; desperately straining for hopes just out of reach, while struggling against bleak, formidable circumstances. Her vividly surreal world was fraught with haunting beauty, ancient secrets, harrowing dangers, and supreme Evil—from the draconian Headmistress, to the soul-less Guleum, and the dreaded Neiphi stalking the night—predatory emissaries of "Black-Heart", the Dragon Prince himself… And in the backdrop lurked the shadow of her mysterious Guardian—a powerful Creature half-man, half-beast; ragged wings unfurled, the branded outline of a Tree seared over his heart, and an ember eye blazing like a torch from the disfigured half of his face that was ravaged with scars… To me, he was like Jesus—and I could hear him severely commanding his imperfect Beauty:
“Get up! It is always too early to quit!”
…A flicker of hope dawned on me. Giving up would mean never reading the final chapter. Discarding the blade, I picked up my pen… Both Adlai and I would live to fight another day.
—C.A.CLARK, Copyright©
January 8, 2015
The Story Behind The Story: How God used the Pain & Trauma of my Past to help inspire a Book Series
At Twenty-five I found myself alone in a New York hotel room, hiding from my baby’s father… My life had fallen apart in pieces: I had no home, no family in that part of the country, and few acquaintances. I was trapped… and very, very alone. Fear of the Past haunted me, while personal insecurities and the unknowns of the Future terrified me… How could I ever rise again?
…I had grown up with dreams of changing the World. Instead, here I was: lost, confused, and on the run. Deep down, I knew it was all my own fault. I had heedlessly refused to acknowledge the warning signs surrounding this seemingly loving, good-natured Egyptian man who had come into my life, and had plunged head-long into marriage and parenthood. But his laughter quickly turned to brooding shortly after my pregnancy began, as tender gestures disappeared in the face of abuse. Glowing smiles to everyone on the outside hid the fear mounting behind closed doors, as my husband burst into fits of rage and jealousy, threatening to commit acts of violence over perceived acts of insubmission. Shouts and swearing escalated to threats to maim, blind, and disfigure me— or even end my life. Then there was the back-track cover-up, as he would gently console me, chiding me for my foolishness in taking such threats seriously. “Everyone” knew he was a family man who put his wife and child first, and would never bring them to harm—I should stop letting my imagination run wild, because no one would ever believe me. I was simply “depressed and in need of clinical help”, and he advised that I surrender myself to the care of a psychiatric facility for mental, psychological assistance.
Inwardly, the emotional whip-lash, brain-washing, and warped, twisted mind-games were starting to make me feel as if I truly was going insane, descending like Alice down the black rabbit hole and into a frightening world where nothing was as it seemed. I was caught in an elaborate web of deception, so that sometimes I could no longer distinguish truth from lies, friends from enemies. Who could I trust? And however could I get myself—and (more importantly) my fifteen month old child—away to safety?
In dread I had watched the warning signs grow, until the day I knew I didn’t dare risk waiting another moment. After my husband left for work, I immediately threw everything into suitcases and, with my toddler in my arms, walked out the door and into the great Unknown. Hours later, isolated and alone in that Long Island hotel room, I was on my knees—pleading for the Lord’s strength and help to know what to do next. More than anything, I wanted two things: to know that, 1) despite everything else, a Sovereign God still had me in the center of His hand, and 2) that there was still a purpose and plan for my life.
Today I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He always did, and He always will: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘Plans to prosper and not to harm you: to give you a Future, and a Hope.’” —Jeremiah 29:11
Over 8 years and a book series launch later, I can say of a surety that God most definitely does hold up His Promises. I have seen God bring me from victim to victor, from tears to triumph, and from a living nightmare to learning how to dream big all over again, and to reach for the stars... And if there's one truth I've come to know, it's that the blacker the night, the more brightly the stars light up the sky... I've learned to shine in the darkness, and my prayerful hope is that you will, too.
C.A. CLARK, Copyright
* C.A. CLARK (a.k.a., "Charlie") is Author of the recently critically acclaimed Book Series, "The Crest of The BEAST", a work of literary fantasy fiction. You can follow her on her blog, as well as on FaceBook, @ CA Clark (Author Connection Point). Book I of the series, "The Oath", can be found on Amazon.com, along with supporting commentaries from Critics.
…I had grown up with dreams of changing the World. Instead, here I was: lost, confused, and on the run. Deep down, I knew it was all my own fault. I had heedlessly refused to acknowledge the warning signs surrounding this seemingly loving, good-natured Egyptian man who had come into my life, and had plunged head-long into marriage and parenthood. But his laughter quickly turned to brooding shortly after my pregnancy began, as tender gestures disappeared in the face of abuse. Glowing smiles to everyone on the outside hid the fear mounting behind closed doors, as my husband burst into fits of rage and jealousy, threatening to commit acts of violence over perceived acts of insubmission. Shouts and swearing escalated to threats to maim, blind, and disfigure me— or even end my life. Then there was the back-track cover-up, as he would gently console me, chiding me for my foolishness in taking such threats seriously. “Everyone” knew he was a family man who put his wife and child first, and would never bring them to harm—I should stop letting my imagination run wild, because no one would ever believe me. I was simply “depressed and in need of clinical help”, and he advised that I surrender myself to the care of a psychiatric facility for mental, psychological assistance.
Inwardly, the emotional whip-lash, brain-washing, and warped, twisted mind-games were starting to make me feel as if I truly was going insane, descending like Alice down the black rabbit hole and into a frightening world where nothing was as it seemed. I was caught in an elaborate web of deception, so that sometimes I could no longer distinguish truth from lies, friends from enemies. Who could I trust? And however could I get myself—and (more importantly) my fifteen month old child—away to safety?
In dread I had watched the warning signs grow, until the day I knew I didn’t dare risk waiting another moment. After my husband left for work, I immediately threw everything into suitcases and, with my toddler in my arms, walked out the door and into the great Unknown. Hours later, isolated and alone in that Long Island hotel room, I was on my knees—pleading for the Lord’s strength and help to know what to do next. More than anything, I wanted two things: to know that, 1) despite everything else, a Sovereign God still had me in the center of His hand, and 2) that there was still a purpose and plan for my life.
Today I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that He always did, and He always will: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘Plans to prosper and not to harm you: to give you a Future, and a Hope.’” —Jeremiah 29:11
Over 8 years and a book series launch later, I can say of a surety that God most definitely does hold up His Promises. I have seen God bring me from victim to victor, from tears to triumph, and from a living nightmare to learning how to dream big all over again, and to reach for the stars... And if there's one truth I've come to know, it's that the blacker the night, the more brightly the stars light up the sky... I've learned to shine in the darkness, and my prayerful hope is that you will, too.
C.A. CLARK, Copyright
* C.A. CLARK (a.k.a., "Charlie") is Author of the recently critically acclaimed Book Series, "The Crest of The BEAST", a work of literary fantasy fiction. You can follow her on her blog, as well as on FaceBook, @ CA Clark (Author Connection Point). Book I of the series, "The Oath", can be found on Amazon.com, along with supporting commentaries from Critics.
January 4, 2015
Spoiler Alert for Blood Covenant!
Book II sees the return of the Mistresses of the Seasons--Sirene, Sunefaere, Astrial, and Yuel--like you've never seen them before, and stronger roles than ever! The plot thickens, as evidence indicates that Adlai's destiny is directly tied together with Nature's daughters. Meanwhile a four-way love-square between Sirene, Gunar, Adlai, and Tristan has an insecure and slightly jealous Adlai feeling more confused than ever over both her personal feelings and her place.
December 30, 2014
The Unknown (Excerpt taken from Book II, Blood Covenant, Chapter 9--"Hallucinations") (c) Copyright of C.A. CLARK
“I’m sorry!” Adlai wept uncontrollably. “What’s happening to me?! What’s going on?!”
“The hallucinations have begun,” Astrial commented quickly to the others.
“What should we do?” Sunefaere whispered apprehensively. “It’ll be more dangerous now!” She added, looking back helplessly at the shaken girl.
“We shall do the only thing which we can do,” Yuel replied in an authoritative voice as she rose stiffly to her feet. “The task of her safe passage was entrusted to us—to Elon we must go. Once we cross over to our own realm, the sway of the Sorceress has no more dominion. We must get her through the portal of Catori!”
“But if she turns on us again?” Sunefaere whispered. “You saw how strong she’s become—we could barely hold her! And it will only grow stronger the further it progresses in her veins! Perhaps we ought to dilute its potency by bleeding her?”
“That would surely finish her, and we will only have succeeded in hastening her soul’s departure into Darkness. No, we must simply continue on our way, and with greater caution.”
“Bind me!”
The words came out so suddenly, that it took everyone by surprise.
“I’m a danger to all of you, myself included!” Adlai cried. “If I cannot tell friend from enemy, then I must be bound and led—it’s the only way!”
The three glanced briefly at one another, then slowly nodded in assent.
“I’m sorry you must suffer the indignity,” Sunefaere apologized sorrowfully, retrieving some ropes from Gunar’s satchel. “It’s just until we reach Elon.”
“It’s power is growing,” Adlai could overhear Astrial conversing in low tones with Yuel. “It won’t be long until those ropes won’t hold.” She cast another worried glance in Adlai’s direction. “How much further through these regions?”
“If we tarry not for rest, we should reach the gate within a day’s time.”
“And how does one know time down in these sunless depths?” Sunefaere muttered in chagrin, tying the last knot tightly about Adlai’s wrists.
Yuel shot her a brief, disapproving look.
“We are the Mistresses of the Seasons, daughters of Father Time and Mother Earth—instinct is on our side.”
“You mean you’ve never been here before?” Adlai paled. “Then how do you know the way?”
Yuel smiled.
“I may not exactly know the way, but I know the Earth. And every part of it lends a sign to indicate the path, down to the faintest scent and smell. If I clear my consciousness far enough, my tangible senses will indicate by intuition which way feels to be right.”
Adlai could feel panic slowly stealing over her. Much as she had hated the darkness of these subterranean caverns, she had been able to steady herself with the reassurance that she had capable guides who knew their way, and that at any bend in the road the ancient bridge might suddenly appear before them. But now what shallow confidence she’d had was fast sifting away to nothing along with this startling revelation from the Muses. What if she never again saw the light of day—or anything else, for that matter? …Already the cavernous walls and ceiling seemed to be closing in, suffocating her so that she couldn’t breathe… She couldn’t… She just couldn’t die down here… A sudden rush of anxiety engulfed her.
“And if your senses lead us to a dead-end?” She burst, “What then? Shall we be trapped down here, with no way back, no way out?!”
Yuel softly took a step forward, looking the frightened girl calmly in the eye.
“Then I will trust Him who can make a way where there is no way… He brought us to this… And He shall lead us through it. His enablement always accompanies His commands.”
Adlai felt as though she couldn’t believe her ears. It had been so easy to trust and believe in the Muses before, when they’d been surrounded by such grand displays of majesty, wonder, and power… But down here in the dark, there was none of that—no retinue of magical beings to assist them, no dazzling grandeur to offer inspiration to their quest. Indeed, were it not for their wings and more Elvin features, the Muses appeared almost human—and in a way that was both unsettling and dismally disappointing. Adlai had never imagined these higher beings would ever condescend to have their perfect persons sullied with the grime of dirt and sweat, nor their vitality taxed by the same wearisome toils common to mortals… They were supposed to walk the celestial clouds of the Heavens and always have answers—and yet here they were: uncertain, with questions and weaknesses of their own… They no longer seemed the great goddesses of unconquerable strength which they had appeared to be afore; instead, here they were with limitations…much like her… And they weren't supposed to be like her.
“The High King, or whatever you call him? That is in whom you are placing your hope?!” Adlai spat. “Well then, where is he now, and why has he left us here?!”
Yuel’s countenance didn't change.
“I don’t know,” she answered simply, without so much as flinching. “And it is alright not to know… I am neither a god, nor am I the All-Seeing Eye of the Deep… I am simply another humble servant… But He knows the way that I take… And I trust Him. That’s good enough for me, and it shall have to be enough for you.”
“The hallucinations have begun,” Astrial commented quickly to the others.
“What should we do?” Sunefaere whispered apprehensively. “It’ll be more dangerous now!” She added, looking back helplessly at the shaken girl.
“We shall do the only thing which we can do,” Yuel replied in an authoritative voice as she rose stiffly to her feet. “The task of her safe passage was entrusted to us—to Elon we must go. Once we cross over to our own realm, the sway of the Sorceress has no more dominion. We must get her through the portal of Catori!”
“But if she turns on us again?” Sunefaere whispered. “You saw how strong she’s become—we could barely hold her! And it will only grow stronger the further it progresses in her veins! Perhaps we ought to dilute its potency by bleeding her?”
“That would surely finish her, and we will only have succeeded in hastening her soul’s departure into Darkness. No, we must simply continue on our way, and with greater caution.”
“Bind me!”
The words came out so suddenly, that it took everyone by surprise.
“I’m a danger to all of you, myself included!” Adlai cried. “If I cannot tell friend from enemy, then I must be bound and led—it’s the only way!”
The three glanced briefly at one another, then slowly nodded in assent.
“I’m sorry you must suffer the indignity,” Sunefaere apologized sorrowfully, retrieving some ropes from Gunar’s satchel. “It’s just until we reach Elon.”
“It’s power is growing,” Adlai could overhear Astrial conversing in low tones with Yuel. “It won’t be long until those ropes won’t hold.” She cast another worried glance in Adlai’s direction. “How much further through these regions?”
“If we tarry not for rest, we should reach the gate within a day’s time.”
“And how does one know time down in these sunless depths?” Sunefaere muttered in chagrin, tying the last knot tightly about Adlai’s wrists.
Yuel shot her a brief, disapproving look.
“We are the Mistresses of the Seasons, daughters of Father Time and Mother Earth—instinct is on our side.”
“You mean you’ve never been here before?” Adlai paled. “Then how do you know the way?”
Yuel smiled.
“I may not exactly know the way, but I know the Earth. And every part of it lends a sign to indicate the path, down to the faintest scent and smell. If I clear my consciousness far enough, my tangible senses will indicate by intuition which way feels to be right.”
Adlai could feel panic slowly stealing over her. Much as she had hated the darkness of these subterranean caverns, she had been able to steady herself with the reassurance that she had capable guides who knew their way, and that at any bend in the road the ancient bridge might suddenly appear before them. But now what shallow confidence she’d had was fast sifting away to nothing along with this startling revelation from the Muses. What if she never again saw the light of day—or anything else, for that matter? …Already the cavernous walls and ceiling seemed to be closing in, suffocating her so that she couldn’t breathe… She couldn’t… She just couldn’t die down here… A sudden rush of anxiety engulfed her.
“And if your senses lead us to a dead-end?” She burst, “What then? Shall we be trapped down here, with no way back, no way out?!”
Yuel softly took a step forward, looking the frightened girl calmly in the eye.
“Then I will trust Him who can make a way where there is no way… He brought us to this… And He shall lead us through it. His enablement always accompanies His commands.”
Adlai felt as though she couldn’t believe her ears. It had been so easy to trust and believe in the Muses before, when they’d been surrounded by such grand displays of majesty, wonder, and power… But down here in the dark, there was none of that—no retinue of magical beings to assist them, no dazzling grandeur to offer inspiration to their quest. Indeed, were it not for their wings and more Elvin features, the Muses appeared almost human—and in a way that was both unsettling and dismally disappointing. Adlai had never imagined these higher beings would ever condescend to have their perfect persons sullied with the grime of dirt and sweat, nor their vitality taxed by the same wearisome toils common to mortals… They were supposed to walk the celestial clouds of the Heavens and always have answers—and yet here they were: uncertain, with questions and weaknesses of their own… They no longer seemed the great goddesses of unconquerable strength which they had appeared to be afore; instead, here they were with limitations…much like her… And they weren't supposed to be like her.
“The High King, or whatever you call him? That is in whom you are placing your hope?!” Adlai spat. “Well then, where is he now, and why has he left us here?!”
Yuel’s countenance didn't change.
“I don’t know,” she answered simply, without so much as flinching. “And it is alright not to know… I am neither a god, nor am I the All-Seeing Eye of the Deep… I am simply another humble servant… But He knows the way that I take… And I trust Him. That’s good enough for me, and it shall have to be enough for you.”
Attack! (Excerpt from Book II, Blood Covenant, Chapter 8--The Underground Pass) (c) Copyright of C.A. CLARK
A satisfied smile twisted in perverse pleasure over his scarred features, saliva dripping from his open jaws. Then suddenly he had her by the throat, his fingers closing over her wind-pipe, and in the next moment Adlai felt herself being hoisted off her feet. Choking for air she struggled against her assailant; her eyes strained back in her head before she snatched a brief glimpse of Gunar. Instinctively Gunar’s head whipped about in her direction, and there was a sudden wild look of rage at sight of her captor. With a single swipe he deftly knocked one of the Neiphile to the ground before hurling another aside; and then in the time it took to blink he was streaking across the field towards them. With a flying leap he tackled the monster, and Adlai herself was thrown to the ground. She was just scrambling to her feet, when all at once she saw Neiphiles prowling in from every direction, eyes fixated upon her like wolves moving in on the kill. They were everywhere… a full score of them, at least… However could Gunar fight off so many?!
Suddenly from nowhere a great black wolf leapt in between Adlai and the circling band of beasts, followed by a black panther. The panther spat and hissed with arched back, while the wolf bared its teeth with a ferocious growl. All at once a flaming ball of fire came screaming through the air like a falling star, slamming the earth only inches from where she stood. A crater immediately formed, as the ball of flame careened in a full circle round about them before coming to a full stop. A wall of flames shot up on all sides, barring their foes from them. Rising up from the blackened ashes stood Sunefaere, scorching anger boiling in her eyes, and her very garments, skin, and wings ablaze like a wild fire.
The earth suddenly began to quake. Without warning it fell away, and the rocks beneath split open. The circle of ground upon which they stood shot up in the air like a towering precipice, and Adlai was thrown to her knees. Peering over the side of the ledge she saw an outcrop of thick, tangled vines had appeared from the sunken cavities in the earth, twisting about in all directions and rapidly growing in height and dimension, until they formed a thick gnarled hedge within the surrounding wall of flames.
Then before her wondering eyes Sirene suddenly appeared, though she hardly looked herself at all: in place of her delicate butterfly wings were the strong, widespread wings of a falcon; instead of her airy gown, her form was now encased in full body armor that flashed like molten metal, and the tender look of innocence in her eye was replaced by an expression dark as death. No sooner had she appeared, then the black panther leapt from the rock on which it had crouched, and instantly changed shape. Lady Astrial it was, her stormy eyes the picture of a tempest-tossed sea, and her dragon scales smoking a fiery umber, and which rapidly spread all over her face and body. Seeing this, the great black wolf delivered a final growl with a snap of its jaws, then instantly vanished away. Tall and proud stood Yuel, skin icy-pale as death, her eyes cold and unmoving as they bore down upon the enemy spectators below. Her snow-white feathers were now black as a raven’s, and her icicle dreadlocks dripped down over a warrior queen’s battle-dress of charcoal black.
Together, all four sisters each raised a scepter staff in her right hand. Lightning flashed from the tip of each, its light bending and contorting until all branched together.
“Water!” Yuel’s voice boomed. Shards of ice flew from her eyes, pelting the beasts like razors, as they flew aside with startled squeals and yelps.
“Wind!” Astrial thundered. Immediately howling winds tore through the field from all four directions; colliding together, they merged into a raging, whirling tempest that rose up dark and threatening over all.
“Fire!” Sunefaere screamed, as a hail of sparks flew from her scepter, razing to ash everything they lit upon outside the protective inner circle.
… Last of all the youngest Muse stepped forward, her stony features set like flint, as a momentary hush fell all around:
“Earth!”
Her low voice was barely more than a whisper, but it fell on the ears of all like the sudden breaking of an earthquake. The ground beneath the Neiphile instantly ruptured, sending many of the Creatures toppling down into its groaning depths, before returning to its place again. Cries and shrieks echoed and re-echoed, before all returned to a stilly silence. The company of animals and mystical beings which hung on the outskirts now held their breath over the few remaining Neiphile still cowering at the foot of the precipice, and all eyes turned last to Gunar.
For just a second his eyes met Adlai’s, still crumpled and trembling atop the great rock formation. But in the next instant he seized her first attacker by the throat, and belted out an ear-splitting roar of savage fury.
A look first of shock, then of dread, flushed across the Neiphile’s face. Strange, harsh sounding words quaked from his lips in an unknown tongue, yet to her utter surprise Adlai found that she understand what was being said:
“It is not yet the appointed time! Would you condemn me to the pit before then?”
“When it is time,” Gunar snarled back in the same strange language, “The lowest regions of Hell are reserved for you and your kind!”
“Please—please, my Lord!”
“Take your pack of dogs and get out!” Gunar roared, throwing him sprawling on his face.
The glen resounded with the echoes of terrified baying, as the Neiphile took to their heels. At the edge of the forest, the leader stopped to cast a malevolent glare back at Gunar. Adlai held her breath as he gave a parting glance in her direction: their eyes locked for a split second, and a shiver peeled down her spine. His lips curled in malicious contempt, as he let go a low growl in warning.
Suddenly from nowhere a great black wolf leapt in between Adlai and the circling band of beasts, followed by a black panther. The panther spat and hissed with arched back, while the wolf bared its teeth with a ferocious growl. All at once a flaming ball of fire came screaming through the air like a falling star, slamming the earth only inches from where she stood. A crater immediately formed, as the ball of flame careened in a full circle round about them before coming to a full stop. A wall of flames shot up on all sides, barring their foes from them. Rising up from the blackened ashes stood Sunefaere, scorching anger boiling in her eyes, and her very garments, skin, and wings ablaze like a wild fire.
The earth suddenly began to quake. Without warning it fell away, and the rocks beneath split open. The circle of ground upon which they stood shot up in the air like a towering precipice, and Adlai was thrown to her knees. Peering over the side of the ledge she saw an outcrop of thick, tangled vines had appeared from the sunken cavities in the earth, twisting about in all directions and rapidly growing in height and dimension, until they formed a thick gnarled hedge within the surrounding wall of flames.
Then before her wondering eyes Sirene suddenly appeared, though she hardly looked herself at all: in place of her delicate butterfly wings were the strong, widespread wings of a falcon; instead of her airy gown, her form was now encased in full body armor that flashed like molten metal, and the tender look of innocence in her eye was replaced by an expression dark as death. No sooner had she appeared, then the black panther leapt from the rock on which it had crouched, and instantly changed shape. Lady Astrial it was, her stormy eyes the picture of a tempest-tossed sea, and her dragon scales smoking a fiery umber, and which rapidly spread all over her face and body. Seeing this, the great black wolf delivered a final growl with a snap of its jaws, then instantly vanished away. Tall and proud stood Yuel, skin icy-pale as death, her eyes cold and unmoving as they bore down upon the enemy spectators below. Her snow-white feathers were now black as a raven’s, and her icicle dreadlocks dripped down over a warrior queen’s battle-dress of charcoal black.
Together, all four sisters each raised a scepter staff in her right hand. Lightning flashed from the tip of each, its light bending and contorting until all branched together.
“Water!” Yuel’s voice boomed. Shards of ice flew from her eyes, pelting the beasts like razors, as they flew aside with startled squeals and yelps.
“Wind!” Astrial thundered. Immediately howling winds tore through the field from all four directions; colliding together, they merged into a raging, whirling tempest that rose up dark and threatening over all.
“Fire!” Sunefaere screamed, as a hail of sparks flew from her scepter, razing to ash everything they lit upon outside the protective inner circle.
… Last of all the youngest Muse stepped forward, her stony features set like flint, as a momentary hush fell all around:
“Earth!”
Her low voice was barely more than a whisper, but it fell on the ears of all like the sudden breaking of an earthquake. The ground beneath the Neiphile instantly ruptured, sending many of the Creatures toppling down into its groaning depths, before returning to its place again. Cries and shrieks echoed and re-echoed, before all returned to a stilly silence. The company of animals and mystical beings which hung on the outskirts now held their breath over the few remaining Neiphile still cowering at the foot of the precipice, and all eyes turned last to Gunar.
For just a second his eyes met Adlai’s, still crumpled and trembling atop the great rock formation. But in the next instant he seized her first attacker by the throat, and belted out an ear-splitting roar of savage fury.
A look first of shock, then of dread, flushed across the Neiphile’s face. Strange, harsh sounding words quaked from his lips in an unknown tongue, yet to her utter surprise Adlai found that she understand what was being said:
“It is not yet the appointed time! Would you condemn me to the pit before then?”
“When it is time,” Gunar snarled back in the same strange language, “The lowest regions of Hell are reserved for you and your kind!”
“Please—please, my Lord!”
“Take your pack of dogs and get out!” Gunar roared, throwing him sprawling on his face.
The glen resounded with the echoes of terrified baying, as the Neiphile took to their heels. At the edge of the forest, the leader stopped to cast a malevolent glare back at Gunar. Adlai held her breath as he gave a parting glance in her direction: their eyes locked for a split second, and a shiver peeled down her spine. His lips curled in malicious contempt, as he let go a low growl in warning.
Dialogue between Adlai and Dr. Lucius Hindley (Excerpt from Book I, The Oath, Chapter 14, "Night Visit in The Tower" (c) Copyright of C.A. CLARK
Dr. Hindley seemed in possession of greater vigor and strength than his tiny stature and portly figure portrayed, for he hurried on at such a brisk pace that Adlai was soon winded in her efforts to keep up.
“I wonder that I never knew of this tower,” Adlai puffed behind him, hoping that conversation might slow his speed. “Indeed, I never even heard of such a door or stair being mentioned before, by anyone here.”
“Quite,” laughed the little man as he paused momentarily upon the stair. “Yes, it would seem that Milady thought I should be least likely disturbed in these quarters. Although I must confess,” he added with another laugh, “I’m not so certain whether ‘twas really so that I should not be bothered, as much as that I should not bother anyone else!”
“However can you tolerate her ill treatment so well?” Adlai asked in amazement. She felt both surprised and confused over the seeming ease with which he so readily dismissed the rude handling he had received. The little man laughed.
“My dear child,” he replied, “By the time you come to be near my age, there are certain things that you find are much easier to let go of, rather than hold onto. And if there is one important lesson which I have come to learn in my life, it is they who are flexible are not easily broken. It is far easier to ride the current, than it is to fight it.
“And besides—” he continued in a slightly more sober tone of voice— “If Milady can so treat one who is both a stranger and a guest in this house, then one must surmise from her conduct that there are those under her who must fair far poorer still. Why then should I complain?”
He turned a knowing eye back to Adlai, and for a moment his elderly face softened with an understanding look of compassion. Adlai averted his gaze as she flushed and looked away. It was suddenly humiliating that Ardath’s disdain for her should be so obviously apparent. She cringed at the thought of all that the good Doctor may have already been made privy to…How much had he already heard, she wondered? She glanced up hesitantly to see a warm and tender smile cross his withered features, as he reached out to lay a wrinkled hand gently upon her shoulder.
“There, there, now,” he spoke gently, “This too shall pass, never fear. Seasons are oft quick to change…Take courage, and never lose hope.”
He turned back to continue climbing the stair, and Adlai somberly followed after.
“You know,” he continued over his shoulder, “The best way to keep from being made to feel beneath someone else is to adopt a posture of humility.”
Adlai rolled her eyes, her darkening countenance displaying brewing feelings of resentment at the turn the conversation had taken.
“Any more humbling, and I’ll be turned into a foot-stool for her to prop her feet upon,” she muttered.
“No, please, hear me out,” the Doctor answered. “Humility is not the rejection and annihilation of one’s self. It is, rather, the freedom to fully accept one’s self—both one’s virtues, and one’s flaws, to the degree that what others say is of little consequence. To be humble is not only to avoid being puffed up with arrogance. To be humble is to accept yourself as you are, so that you may in turn have the freedom to accept and love others as they are. It is acknowledging that you are like others… And in so doing, frees you to forgive them.”
Adlai glared in the dim light.
“She doesn’t deserve forgiveness,” she answered in a low undertone.
“Perhaps not. But you are allowing her bitterness to become your own. Don’t you want to be free from that?”
Adlai said nothing.
“The greatest way you can defeat her, is by not allowing her to own your spirit. Treat others with respect and kindness—not because you are forced or because they are deserving. Do so because your own sense of self-respect commands you to rise above their mistreatment of you—and even to show them greater consideration than they deserve.”
“Any more respect and consideration, and I’ll be her own personal slave!” Adlai grumbled.
Dr. Hindley shrugged.
“Adelheide, though I know little of what your life here has been like, yet I say again: some things are better let go of—otherwise they become harder burdens to bear the longer they are carried…You are young… Do not trouble yourself with carrying the needless weights of a troubled and begrudging old woman. If you do, then you also shall lose your bloom and vitality—and she will have succeeded in making you into a twisted, embittered, shriveled up form of herself. Don’t give her the satisfaction of becoming her mirror. Don’t allow sardonic morosity to cause you to shut out the life you were meant to live.”
“I shall never become what she is,” Adlai retorted bitingly as she climbed another step. “And besides, I’m nothing like her at all.”
“Perhaps not,” Doctor Hindley replied in a mild tone as he continued ascending the old stair. “But then,” he added, “Do you think that when Lady Ardath herself was a girl, that she ever envisioned herself as what she is now?”
“She is what she’s chosen to be,” Adlai answered in a surly voice.
“Precisely.”
Dr. Hindley turned and looked her full in the eye with a penetrating stare:
“She chose… And so must you… Character is something which we choose for ourselves one step at a time, one decision at a time, one moment and day at a time… Be careful how you choose… Because whether for good or bad, we never become who we are in a day. And if you do not fight to become the person you were meant to be, then you will fade into that which you were never meant to be.”
“I wonder that I never knew of this tower,” Adlai puffed behind him, hoping that conversation might slow his speed. “Indeed, I never even heard of such a door or stair being mentioned before, by anyone here.”
“Quite,” laughed the little man as he paused momentarily upon the stair. “Yes, it would seem that Milady thought I should be least likely disturbed in these quarters. Although I must confess,” he added with another laugh, “I’m not so certain whether ‘twas really so that I should not be bothered, as much as that I should not bother anyone else!”
“However can you tolerate her ill treatment so well?” Adlai asked in amazement. She felt both surprised and confused over the seeming ease with which he so readily dismissed the rude handling he had received. The little man laughed.
“My dear child,” he replied, “By the time you come to be near my age, there are certain things that you find are much easier to let go of, rather than hold onto. And if there is one important lesson which I have come to learn in my life, it is they who are flexible are not easily broken. It is far easier to ride the current, than it is to fight it.
“And besides—” he continued in a slightly more sober tone of voice— “If Milady can so treat one who is both a stranger and a guest in this house, then one must surmise from her conduct that there are those under her who must fair far poorer still. Why then should I complain?”
He turned a knowing eye back to Adlai, and for a moment his elderly face softened with an understanding look of compassion. Adlai averted his gaze as she flushed and looked away. It was suddenly humiliating that Ardath’s disdain for her should be so obviously apparent. She cringed at the thought of all that the good Doctor may have already been made privy to…How much had he already heard, she wondered? She glanced up hesitantly to see a warm and tender smile cross his withered features, as he reached out to lay a wrinkled hand gently upon her shoulder.
“There, there, now,” he spoke gently, “This too shall pass, never fear. Seasons are oft quick to change…Take courage, and never lose hope.”
He turned back to continue climbing the stair, and Adlai somberly followed after.
“You know,” he continued over his shoulder, “The best way to keep from being made to feel beneath someone else is to adopt a posture of humility.”
Adlai rolled her eyes, her darkening countenance displaying brewing feelings of resentment at the turn the conversation had taken.
“Any more humbling, and I’ll be turned into a foot-stool for her to prop her feet upon,” she muttered.
“No, please, hear me out,” the Doctor answered. “Humility is not the rejection and annihilation of one’s self. It is, rather, the freedom to fully accept one’s self—both one’s virtues, and one’s flaws, to the degree that what others say is of little consequence. To be humble is not only to avoid being puffed up with arrogance. To be humble is to accept yourself as you are, so that you may in turn have the freedom to accept and love others as they are. It is acknowledging that you are like others… And in so doing, frees you to forgive them.”
Adlai glared in the dim light.
“She doesn’t deserve forgiveness,” she answered in a low undertone.
“Perhaps not. But you are allowing her bitterness to become your own. Don’t you want to be free from that?”
Adlai said nothing.
“The greatest way you can defeat her, is by not allowing her to own your spirit. Treat others with respect and kindness—not because you are forced or because they are deserving. Do so because your own sense of self-respect commands you to rise above their mistreatment of you—and even to show them greater consideration than they deserve.”
“Any more respect and consideration, and I’ll be her own personal slave!” Adlai grumbled.
Dr. Hindley shrugged.
“Adelheide, though I know little of what your life here has been like, yet I say again: some things are better let go of—otherwise they become harder burdens to bear the longer they are carried…You are young… Do not trouble yourself with carrying the needless weights of a troubled and begrudging old woman. If you do, then you also shall lose your bloom and vitality—and she will have succeeded in making you into a twisted, embittered, shriveled up form of herself. Don’t give her the satisfaction of becoming her mirror. Don’t allow sardonic morosity to cause you to shut out the life you were meant to live.”
“I shall never become what she is,” Adlai retorted bitingly as she climbed another step. “And besides, I’m nothing like her at all.”
“Perhaps not,” Doctor Hindley replied in a mild tone as he continued ascending the old stair. “But then,” he added, “Do you think that when Lady Ardath herself was a girl, that she ever envisioned herself as what she is now?”
“She is what she’s chosen to be,” Adlai answered in a surly voice.
“Precisely.”
Dr. Hindley turned and looked her full in the eye with a penetrating stare:
“She chose… And so must you… Character is something which we choose for ourselves one step at a time, one decision at a time, one moment and day at a time… Be careful how you choose… Because whether for good or bad, we never become who we are in a day. And if you do not fight to become the person you were meant to be, then you will fade into that which you were never meant to be.”
December 18, 2014
Questions and Answers about The Crest of The BEAST Book Series:
...Since I first began writing “The Crest of The BEAST Book Series”, the questions I hear most commonly are: “What is your book series about? Is the main character a personal representation of you? What genre does the series fit into? Is it Christian?” and “What age group is your targeted audience?”… So, in an effort to finally lay out a concise and clear answer to all of the above, I decided to finally sit down and write a bit more.
“Is Adlai you?” No, and yes. Adlai, to me, encapsulates the fragile, temperamental, and (often) rash emotions of my younger years; she’s passionate, but she’s also very impetuous, and this (along with her short-sightedness) frequently gets her into trouble. Her follies and foibles are mine (yes, that is my embarrassing admission of guilt); as such, there are moments when she can be somewhat ridiculous—and sometimes even I get frustrated with her. Her perspectives on the future tend to bounce back and forth between the emotions she presently experiences attached with her circumstances—the dire bleakness of her situation, as opposed to her wistful dreaming about how life should be (which stem more from fanciful ideals than practical reality). There’s a part of me that sometimes wants to shake some common sense into her, and there’s another part of me which keenly admires her bold determination to defy her fears and keep hoping for a better, brighter future, despite all the heartbreak she has hitherto faced.
When I first started to construct Adlai in my mind, she was practically perfect—and everything (physically, at least) that I wanted to be. And then I realized suddenly that nothing in me related to the image of perfection I had created. The truth was that I knew more of mistakes and mishaps, awkwardness and failure. I didn’t know what it felt like to be a flawless beauty—I did know what it was to be a mess—to have hair frustrations, an imperfect complexion, average body, and to look in the mirror and wonder if the woman staring back at me had anything at all extraordinary to offer. With this in mind, I decided that I couldn’t write about someone who “had it all together”—I needed a young woman who related to the insecure youthful girl still living inside me—and every other woman—whether sixteen or sixty. Because to me, that’s who and what Adlai embodies—the heart-aches and the aspirations of women the world over, who struggle every waking day to rise above mediocrity and make a difference, and who hunger to attain some degree of true greatness.
“What is the series about/what genre does it fit into?” The works of Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and George MacDonald have directly impacted my writing, as have the myriad of Greek, Roman, and Norse myths I read as a youngster, together with my favorite faery-tales from childhood. If I was forced to narrow it down, however, I would have to say that The Crest of The BEAST is really the story of Eve (and of all future generations after her) being seduced by the cunning deceiver of Old, and of the Pandora’s Box of heartache and turmoil that has been our world ever since. It is a story of Sin and Redemption; of epitomized Loveliness that chose to love the Unlovely and Unlovable. It’s a tribute to the greatest Love-story ever told—of how the great Lover of the human Soul pursued his wayward Bride to the ends of the earth, in a relentless search that has spanned across a thousand universes and endless eternities. It’s the tale of a God who chose to shed immortality in order to be with and save his beloved, and who is left scarred and disfigured through his choice. In order to save one under the Curse, he must become Cursed—a branded Beast—so that he can come wake his Sleeping Beauty from her darkened slumbers, and save her from a fate worse than death.
“Is it Christian, and if so, does it adhere to Christian standards?” The essence and principles of the Book Series are Christian in nature. It’s an allegory using the medium of fantasy fiction to convey deeper truths to the readers. And while I certainly do hope that Christians will enjoy my books and be strengthened in their individual walks with Christ, my primary purpose in writing is to reach the non-Christian reading audiences around the world (okay, and the disenchanted bench-warmer Church attendee). In particular, it is my heart’s desire to reach teen girls and young women through the pages, and to “talk” with them (through the conversations between my characters) about relationships, choices, life, and “the bigger picture.” My prayer is that those who might otherwise never pick up a Bible, would (through the course of reading my book series) be caused to contemplate Biblical concepts and principles, sin and salvation, and all in preparation for that final meeting with Christ Himself. That much said, however, it is not my intent to do a re-write of theology, and I do take creative license where and when it helps the flow of the story-line (to the best of my knowledge, none of these in any way deviate from godly Christian standards). Again, it is simply an allegory—symbolism cloaked in story-telling to convey deeper truths.
“What age group is the Book Series appropriate for?” I have specified 12 and up as the appropriate reading audience, and for a couple reasons. First, because certain themes and story elements are only suitable to a more mature reading audience, rather than young children. And second, because of the literary content—I have done my best to write a series with compelling, gripping content that is also delivered in such a rich, captivating way so as to encourage/promote literacy and education among young people, by increasing their word knowledge and familiarity with the broader spectrum of the English language. Individuals with a proper command of the English language tend to have greater confidence in presenting themselves, their ideas, experience, and goals to others, which in turn impacts their success in education and career ventures. It is my sincere hope that by the time my readers have finished each book, that not only will the horizons of their minds be widened by new ideas, but that each will walk away edified morally and spiritually, as well as being enriched intellectually and scholastically.
I greatly appreciate all the interest and questions I have received from you all! Please feel free to send me further inquiries at any time, and I will do my best to answer them. And as always, thank you for reading—I am truly honored and privileged that you would take a step into my personal world of wonder and creativity. I hope you fall in-love while reading, just as I did in dreaming up and writing The Crest of The BEAST Series.
Love to All,
“Charlie”
C.A. CLARK
Author of The Crest of The BEAST Series © 2014
“Is Adlai you?” No, and yes. Adlai, to me, encapsulates the fragile, temperamental, and (often) rash emotions of my younger years; she’s passionate, but she’s also very impetuous, and this (along with her short-sightedness) frequently gets her into trouble. Her follies and foibles are mine (yes, that is my embarrassing admission of guilt); as such, there are moments when she can be somewhat ridiculous—and sometimes even I get frustrated with her. Her perspectives on the future tend to bounce back and forth between the emotions she presently experiences attached with her circumstances—the dire bleakness of her situation, as opposed to her wistful dreaming about how life should be (which stem more from fanciful ideals than practical reality). There’s a part of me that sometimes wants to shake some common sense into her, and there’s another part of me which keenly admires her bold determination to defy her fears and keep hoping for a better, brighter future, despite all the heartbreak she has hitherto faced.
When I first started to construct Adlai in my mind, she was practically perfect—and everything (physically, at least) that I wanted to be. And then I realized suddenly that nothing in me related to the image of perfection I had created. The truth was that I knew more of mistakes and mishaps, awkwardness and failure. I didn’t know what it felt like to be a flawless beauty—I did know what it was to be a mess—to have hair frustrations, an imperfect complexion, average body, and to look in the mirror and wonder if the woman staring back at me had anything at all extraordinary to offer. With this in mind, I decided that I couldn’t write about someone who “had it all together”—I needed a young woman who related to the insecure youthful girl still living inside me—and every other woman—whether sixteen or sixty. Because to me, that’s who and what Adlai embodies—the heart-aches and the aspirations of women the world over, who struggle every waking day to rise above mediocrity and make a difference, and who hunger to attain some degree of true greatness.
“What is the series about/what genre does it fit into?” The works of Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, and George MacDonald have directly impacted my writing, as have the myriad of Greek, Roman, and Norse myths I read as a youngster, together with my favorite faery-tales from childhood. If I was forced to narrow it down, however, I would have to say that The Crest of The BEAST is really the story of Eve (and of all future generations after her) being seduced by the cunning deceiver of Old, and of the Pandora’s Box of heartache and turmoil that has been our world ever since. It is a story of Sin and Redemption; of epitomized Loveliness that chose to love the Unlovely and Unlovable. It’s a tribute to the greatest Love-story ever told—of how the great Lover of the human Soul pursued his wayward Bride to the ends of the earth, in a relentless search that has spanned across a thousand universes and endless eternities. It’s the tale of a God who chose to shed immortality in order to be with and save his beloved, and who is left scarred and disfigured through his choice. In order to save one under the Curse, he must become Cursed—a branded Beast—so that he can come wake his Sleeping Beauty from her darkened slumbers, and save her from a fate worse than death.
“Is it Christian, and if so, does it adhere to Christian standards?” The essence and principles of the Book Series are Christian in nature. It’s an allegory using the medium of fantasy fiction to convey deeper truths to the readers. And while I certainly do hope that Christians will enjoy my books and be strengthened in their individual walks with Christ, my primary purpose in writing is to reach the non-Christian reading audiences around the world (okay, and the disenchanted bench-warmer Church attendee). In particular, it is my heart’s desire to reach teen girls and young women through the pages, and to “talk” with them (through the conversations between my characters) about relationships, choices, life, and “the bigger picture.” My prayer is that those who might otherwise never pick up a Bible, would (through the course of reading my book series) be caused to contemplate Biblical concepts and principles, sin and salvation, and all in preparation for that final meeting with Christ Himself. That much said, however, it is not my intent to do a re-write of theology, and I do take creative license where and when it helps the flow of the story-line (to the best of my knowledge, none of these in any way deviate from godly Christian standards). Again, it is simply an allegory—symbolism cloaked in story-telling to convey deeper truths.
“What age group is the Book Series appropriate for?” I have specified 12 and up as the appropriate reading audience, and for a couple reasons. First, because certain themes and story elements are only suitable to a more mature reading audience, rather than young children. And second, because of the literary content—I have done my best to write a series with compelling, gripping content that is also delivered in such a rich, captivating way so as to encourage/promote literacy and education among young people, by increasing their word knowledge and familiarity with the broader spectrum of the English language. Individuals with a proper command of the English language tend to have greater confidence in presenting themselves, their ideas, experience, and goals to others, which in turn impacts their success in education and career ventures. It is my sincere hope that by the time my readers have finished each book, that not only will the horizons of their minds be widened by new ideas, but that each will walk away edified morally and spiritually, as well as being enriched intellectually and scholastically.
I greatly appreciate all the interest and questions I have received from you all! Please feel free to send me further inquiries at any time, and I will do my best to answer them. And as always, thank you for reading—I am truly honored and privileged that you would take a step into my personal world of wonder and creativity. I hope you fall in-love while reading, just as I did in dreaming up and writing The Crest of The BEAST Series.
Love to All,
“Charlie”
C.A. CLARK
Author of The Crest of The BEAST Series © 2014
December 17, 2014
All 7 Titles in the on-going Saga of "The Crest of The BEAST" Book Series:
BOOK I: THE OATH
BOOK II: BLOOD COVENANT
BOOK III: HADES' BRIDE
BOOK IV: SPRINGS ETERNAL
BOOK V: THE RELIC
BOOK VI: VESSEL OF THE SPHYNX
BOOK VII: BLACK HEART
BOOK II: BLOOD COVENANT
BOOK III: HADES' BRIDE
BOOK IV: SPRINGS ETERNAL
BOOK V: THE RELIC
BOOK VI: VESSEL OF THE SPHYNX
BOOK VII: BLACK HEART
KISS FROM THE DEVIL (Book II~Blood Covenant: Chapter 12, "A Mother's Love")
Ardath seemed still neither to hear or see them, but slowly began to rock herself, swaying back and forth, her hushed whisper bobbing rhythmically in chanted verse:
"Three Doors there were, but only One
Led to the Realm of the never-setting Sun
Two Trees there were, both equally Fair;
But One was to Me quite beyond all Compare
And though I could have partook of Both,
Yet the dark fruit of One was what I Chose
And spurned the gift of the other Tree,
Which offered up Life, Eternally
And chose instead to ravage the Other,
And feasted my black heart upon the heart of the Mother
To know the full depths of both Light and Dark
Has left upon Me an everlasting Mark
For the price of Sight, I paid My Eye
And was, henceforth, Forever Blind
To Light above, and Paradise Beyond
So sacrificed I, the One-Eyed God
And was banished to Earth, from Heaven above,
Where I vowed my vengeance upon His little white Dove
That she should become as I, a Dark Soul of Night
Her wings be clipped, never more take Flight
And should perish with me, down in the depths of the Deep
With the kiss of Death, be sealed in Eternal Sleep
A fallen Angel, dreaming of her White Demon
For bitter black hatred was my only Reason
To crush His White Rose in a Sea of Blood,
And tear from His Eyes all He ever once Loved..."
"Enough!" Cried the first Guard, who was already breathing heavily with fright. "I demand to know what you're talking about!"
But Ardath was again rocking back and forth, muttering distractedly to herself:
"Madness, madness is all it ever was!
The Key is hidden from all, because
To unlock the Door and find the Fated Trees
Would unravel Mortal Man from his Destiny
Then should the doom of Earth at last draw Nigh
When Evil eats, that He may never Die!"
(Excerpt taken from BOOK II, BLOOD COVENANT, by C.A. CLARK, (c) Copyright/All Rights Reserved)
"Three Doors there were, but only One
Led to the Realm of the never-setting Sun
Two Trees there were, both equally Fair;
But One was to Me quite beyond all Compare
And though I could have partook of Both,
Yet the dark fruit of One was what I Chose
And spurned the gift of the other Tree,
Which offered up Life, Eternally
And chose instead to ravage the Other,
And feasted my black heart upon the heart of the Mother
To know the full depths of both Light and Dark
Has left upon Me an everlasting Mark
For the price of Sight, I paid My Eye
And was, henceforth, Forever Blind
To Light above, and Paradise Beyond
So sacrificed I, the One-Eyed God
And was banished to Earth, from Heaven above,
Where I vowed my vengeance upon His little white Dove
That she should become as I, a Dark Soul of Night
Her wings be clipped, never more take Flight
And should perish with me, down in the depths of the Deep
With the kiss of Death, be sealed in Eternal Sleep
A fallen Angel, dreaming of her White Demon
For bitter black hatred was my only Reason
To crush His White Rose in a Sea of Blood,
And tear from His Eyes all He ever once Loved..."
"Enough!" Cried the first Guard, who was already breathing heavily with fright. "I demand to know what you're talking about!"
But Ardath was again rocking back and forth, muttering distractedly to herself:
"Madness, madness is all it ever was!
The Key is hidden from all, because
To unlock the Door and find the Fated Trees
Would unravel Mortal Man from his Destiny
Then should the doom of Earth at last draw Nigh
When Evil eats, that He may never Die!"
(Excerpt taken from BOOK II, BLOOD COVENANT, by C.A. CLARK, (c) Copyright/All Rights Reserved)
Book II~Blood Covenant Synopsis
Thrown into a violent foray of ever-changing realities, Adlai finds herself caught at the center of a vicious struggle between two warring rival opponents, amidst a tangled labyrinth of truth and lies. Nothing is clear but one truth alone: she is now both trophy and pawn in a calculated, deadly game against a skilled and ruthless strategist--one who harbors an insatiable blood-lust and a sadistic hunger for vengeance, and who is carefully stalking her every move. In a world poisoned with deceit, where nothing is as it seems, can she figure out the rules to the game, and unmask her Enemy in time?...Or will her very next move prove fatally mistaken, with death waiting a single, thudding heartbeat away?
C.A. CLARK, Copyright
C.A. CLARK, Copyright
