Excerpt and 5 Star Review for Perverse by Larry Rodness

“Perverse” 

By Larry Rodness
Blurb -  19 year old Emylene Stipe is a 2nd generation Goth who, like every teenage girl, is trying to find her place in the world. One night she comes upon an old painting in an antique store and is compelled to purchase it.  When she brings it home an image of a young woman appears in the sketch and then magically materializes in her apartment. Emylene nick-names her 'Poinsettia' and they soon become fast friends. But Poinsettia has an ulterior motive for her sudden and strange intrusion into her host's life which causes Emylene to question her whole belief system.


LARRY RODNESS BIO

Larry Rodness began his entertainment career as a professional singer at the age of 19 and has been performing in Toronto for over 35 years with his wife and singing partner, Jodi, at venues such as The Old Mill, Royal York Hotel, Skyline and Bristol Place Hotel as well as countless corporate and private functions.
In the 80's Larry studied musical theatre writing with PRO under Broadway conductor Layman Engel, which led him to write for dinner theater. He then moved into the screenplay arena where he has written over a dozen screenplays and has had 3 scripts optioned to date. In the past 2 years he has also become a published novelist.Information on other writings is available on www.larryrodness.com

“Perverse” buy links –The novel can be purchased in both print and/or electronic form at:Amazon / Amazon ( Canada) / Amazon – UK / Barnes and Noble
Excerpt
The next day during her lunch break, Emylene returnedto the antique shop to find the sketch sitting there on thedusty floor, leaning against the grimy picture window. Shelooked at it more closely this time. The artist had framed thewinter scene by drawing a weathered old wooden fence thatzigzagged from the foreground all the way to a line of treesthat met the horizon. In the center of the sketch stood thesubject of the picture, a great cypress tree surrounded by ablanket of pristine snow. Aside from that there was nothingdistinctive about the picture at all except that Stelio seemedcaptivated by it. And yet the more she looked, the moreEmylene felt a strange emotional tug. The sketch was sereneand unsettling at the same time, evocative but distant—just theright mix of perversity for the heartsick Goth.
Her mind firmly made up, Emylene pushed open thepaint-peeled door that creaked as if it objected to the intrusion.The air inside hung heavy with the smell of melancholia.The items on display, not so much antiques as other people’scastaways, were piled haphazardly onto shelves and tablesin no particular order. This was not so much a store as agraveyard, a tomb for forgotten relics and memories. Andif that wasn’t bad enough, Emylene sensed an air of gloomemanating from the shopkeeper himself who was behindhis counter, staring sour-faced at her. He was a tall, gauntman in his late sixties with wispy grey hair who had livedin the district for over thirty years and suffered them all—the druggies, the hookers, and the hustlers. He took onelook at Emylene and made up his mind about her beforeshe said a single word: Goths. If they were so in love withdeath, why didn’t they just slit their wrists and let the restof us get on with our own miserable lives? Nevertheless,Emylene greeted him with a cheery hello.
“Hey there. The picture in the window, the one with thetree? How much?” she asked.“It’s not for you,” he replied with a trace of a Europeanaccent.“Maybe it is.”“Why? Why would you want it?”“I dunno exactly,” replied Emylene. “It just kindaspeaks to me.”“Really. And what does it say?”“It says… ‘I’m lonely, I need a friend, a nice place tolive.’ So, how much you want for it?”The storeowner stared at Emylene at first with curiosity,and then with disdain. “A million dollars,” he replied. “Yougot a million dollars? If not, don’t waste my time.”Emylene offered her prettiest smile while she lifted thepicture from the floor and eyeballed it like an appraiser fromSotheby’s. There was nothing particularly artsy about it. Thedust covering the frame and glass told her it had probably beenlying around for months, if not years. Artistically, the scalewas tipping more towards ‘garbage’ than ‘antique.’“I don’t have that much, but I’ll give you a hundred,”she offered.“You really want it? Tell you what. You come backhere tomorrow…”Emylene knew what was coming next.“…dressed from head to toe in white. You wipe all thatblack polish off your nails and the paint off your face, and youcome here dressed like…”“…like a little lady?” asked Emylene.“Yes, like that, and she’s yours.”Emylene put the picture down where she found it.“See you tomorrow then,” she sang as she left the shop.
Although she had never met this man before Emyleneknew him all too well. Her parents had taught her early onthat whenever people were confronted with something oddor strange, they generally went into “fear mode.” This manwas afraid of something and desperate to keep control ofhis domain. To do that, he needed to demystify Emylene bydegrading and shaming her into showing that beneath all themake-up and the gear, she was as dull and ordinary as he was.Emylene needed to show him that she was a grown-up, and noone was going to push her around. Both were in for a shock.The next day Emylene returned to the store as requested,wearing the only white dress she owned and treasured—anexact replica of the bridal gown Miss Lucy was buried in,after Dracula turned her into a vampyre. When Emylenestepped across the threshold of the store, she looked morefrightening than she did in anything she had worn in black,and the look on the store owner’s face instantly faded to thesame pallor of white as the dress. As Emylene approached himshe slowly opened her hand.The owner drew back, fully expecting to find a beatingheart pumping away in her little palm. Instead there werefive twenties. He hesitated a moment, wondering whetherto deny her the purchase and shoo her out, but instead,he scooped up the bills. Emylene took the picture andexited the store. Not a word was said between the two.After she left, the owner crossed himself, and then oddly,tears began to roll down from his eyes.When Emylene returned to her apartment, she hoped tofind another note tied to a black Bacarra rose, which signifiedthat Stelio was back in town. She was anxious to surprise himwith the sketch, but there was nothing waiting for her.The next morning she looked again. Still no rose ornote. A week went by without any contact from Stelio, whichfrustrated Emylene to no end. Whenever she dropped by hisshop, she was told he was away on business. Was he avoidingher? Had he grown tired of her? Never, she told herself, howcould he? Perhaps his wife found out about them.
In the meantime Emylene looked around for just theright place to hang the sketch. There really was only one placefor it. A nail went into the plaster with two bangs of a hammerand the picture was hung upon the wall opposite the main doorof the apartment so that it would be the first thing she’d seeupon entering, and the last thing upon leaving.That done, Emylene took a moment to appreciate hernew acquisition. Ignoring the slap-dash method with whichthe simple brush strokes were applied, she concentrated onthe basic elements of the scene—a rickety wooden fencethat zigzagged all the way back to a line of trees in thedistant horizon. A few wavy strokes indicating a blanketof unblemished snow, and of course, the lone Cyprus thatcommanded center stage. So simpatico did she feel to the treethat, for a moment, Emylene fancied the artist must have hadher in mind when he drew it—two lone entities against theworld. That was all and yet, there seemed more although shecouldn’t put her finger on what, exactly. Perhaps it was in thehastily drawn strokes that she had all but ignored until now.What was the artist’s intention? Was it just plain laziness orwas there a sense of urgency? But then, because even Gothsget hungry, Emylene stripped off Miss Lucy’s bridal gown andbounced downstairs to grab a sub.
It was 8:15 when she returned. When her world changed.When the glorious mystery of the picture began to revealitself. When she gazed upon her new treasure and noticed forthe first time footprints in the snow that were not there before.

My 5 Star Review
I received the book from the author for an honest review.
Interesting and well executed plot that keeps you glued to the book till the last page. Or as Emelyne would have said "Perverse".We meet Emelyne at the age of nineteen leaving her parents home to stand on her own feet like any ordinary young person that seeks independence. Her natural ability to rebel against everything in life did not prepare her for the life changes she would experience when meeting Stelio. A second generation Goth, this young lady new much about the darker side of life but nothing could prepare her when a framed picture came to life and altered her own drastically. As a Goth, she was trained by her parents to question everything, especially the very important one about Death. Soon death became a reality when her neighborhood, family, friends and neighbors acted strangely, and it was up to her to save the day.Meeting Laszlo with an outrageous tale but yet so believable that she had to trust him to save everything dear to her. Her cunningness, strong will and wit stood out the most making her character believable and likable. Taken back in time as you learn more about the evil Stelio and the connections between him and Laszlo. Giving you a glimpse in the world of revenge and Vampyres. The Mira character a good villain that kept the plot alive and entertaining. Every scene a building block in the plot keeps the book filled with twists and intrigue. Well written as good and evil embark on capturing the soul of the human being.