G.N.A. Publishing░N░e░w░ ░A░u░t░h░o░r░s░ discussion
note: This topic has been closed to new comments.
Work here Authors
>
Post your book excerpt & get featured for free!
Mod
Grasshopper wrote: "Thanks Frank, we have met this particular Author and are very familiar with his work.😅 Could you please tell him to post some reading material here as well?🤓Mere Book Promotions in the other folder..."Sorry grasshopper bot. I lose track of what goes where. I'll post a little something from one or other of the books. Perhaps both, to square the ledger.
Mod
I give you all my pledgeTo square the ledge.
I mean ledger!
Mod
Hope Frank agrees with this.😀
Here is an excerpt of my book 24 Hours Between Dream & Reality published on Kindle:The story is about devastating impact of unemployment on children. It is about a boy who takes an eye-opening journey to Tehran, the Capital of Iran to learn lessons of tolerance, aiming high and following one’s dreams. During the few months he lives on the streets, Latif learns more life lessons than he would have done with many years of education. He experiences harsh living conditions, discrimination and humiliation, among others.
At this young age, he has a lot of confusion and cannot figure out what is wrong with a system that sanctions such a life for children. The experiences by five of his friends add more depth to the story. Latif’s fragile soul almost crashes witnessing elements of poverty and helplessness and observing that no matter how hard his father and many others try, they still remain poor and powerless.
Excerpt from my book The Little Black Fish The Little Black Fish, unhappy with a life without any aspiration or purpose, embarks on an eye-opening journey with the spirit of a dreamer experiencing an awakening and the prospects of the deeds he would perform, but in the process he does more than that. The path leads him to wisdom, courage, awareness and study of complex social relations. The actions of small fish thinking pathetically only about their lives, and those of The Little Black Fish saving the tiny fish before saving himself are remarkable manifestations of human behavior when their actions are put to test.
Thanks for both the excerpts Ruby. Congratulations on winning MI April!👍
Catherine wrote: "Thanks for both the excerpts Ruby. Congratulations on winning MI April!👍"Thanks. This is a fun group and I am proud to be a member.
Mod
We are proud of each of our members too!
Thank you for this opportunities,my first book"Seven proven steps to grow closer to God"
1st chapter
Do you know that as a Christian,you must read the Bible? Does this scared you? we are not to rely only on what the bible teachers or pastors tells us,but we must see for ourselves what the scriptures tells us about the bible.
I will be glad to email a free PDF copy to those interest in lieu of an honest review on amazon
Email me marielolo2008@live.com
w
ww.amazon.con/author/marieduclona
Thanks Marie will surely have a look at it.
Mod
Hello!It's been a while since I participated in any short of author discussion, so I hope I'm doing this correctly!
Here's the beginning of The Princess and the Evil Queen: A Lesbian Romance Retelling of the Classic Fairytale Snow White:
Once upon a time, there was a king. He was a cruel king, of handsome face yet harsh of hand, with a taste for conquest and lack of mercy, who exerted his power with the ease of one who dismisses everyone else’s comfort.
Yet he was king, and for that, he was afforded power.
Noblemen feared him, but supported his conquering efforts as means of seeing their own riches grow; his army feared him as well, for lack of discipline was punished with death, but were loyal to his war campaigns and the glory of battle; the common people feared him too, and all they had was their fear, for they died of cold and hunger, and suffered in their flesh the excesses of the king’s desires.
The king loved food, wine and blood, but nothing fired up his soul more than women, the youngest and prettiest doomed to fall prey to his wild appetites. It was well known among the villagers that daughter or wife could be claimed at any moment and made to be companion in the king’s bed. Fathers hid their beautiful daughters away, chastised their wives if they dared let their hair loose or uncover their skin past their face and hands. And in fear women lived, too, for beauty was cause for punishment, and vanity the most terrible sin.
There came a day when two beautiful sisters were born. Twins they were, and handsome as the sun. Together they grew, happy, unawares under the jolly roof of their mother and father, farmers who had a hard life but who always had bread to put on their table, and hot broth to pass the harsh colds of winter. The family was loved by all at their village, and none more so than the two beautiful little girls, whose laughter brought joy to the most difficult of days.
Lily Rose and Marigold were their names, and indeed they looked like flowers. So beautiful and alike they were, and such taste they had for walking in the forest, that the rumors soon said that they had a touch of the fae. They did, for the faeries of old favored them, and often appeared to them as the girls strolled amongst the woods. The fae sang their song of old and played at placing light kisses on the girls’ cheeks and hands.
The girls grew, and so did their beauty. Many warned their father to be wary of such gift, and most of all, of the envious hearts that wished them ill. Lily Rose and Marigold’s parents had never known hate, and they couldn’t understand why someone would ever envy them or wish to hurt them. They were good people, happy to lend a hand where it was needed and to offer a roof and warm soup to those who had none during the winter. They provoked envy, though, for they had a blissful and charmed life. And so it was that people of ugly hearts and ugly minds let their tongues run with the rumors that soon reached the king’s ears.
The king heard of Lily Rose and Marigold during a time of peace, in which entertainment was but hunting and drinking wine. The king was bored without a battle to fight and with no woman to bed, so that claims of such beauty brought fire back to his chest. He took off that same afternoon, and he galloped through forests and dusty paths, past rivers and high mountains, and mounted on his favored steed, he arrived at a small village at the edge of his kingdom, where the beautiful girls dwelled in naïve comfort. Among screams they were torn from their home and their parents’ loving embrace, and among cries they were taken to the royal palace, where they would become favored pets and enslaved companions.
The years passed, and despite the king’s cruelty and abuse, Lily Rose and Marigold remained beautiful, exotic caged birds that the king admired and hurt with placid ease. The king took a wife, yet Lily Rose and Marigold remained his favorites, trapped in a tower, behind a set of heavy doors and guarded by his most loyal men, with only a window to see the world. Marigold withered as the days ticked by and the winters passed, and in her sadness, she was made more delicate, a porcelain doll ready to be broken. Of the two, it was her the king favored, for Lily Rose had grown angry with the years, and the king had learnt to fear the fire burning behind her eyes.
Lily Rose watched over her sister’s spirit as best as she could, yet she didn’t cry alongside her. She spent her days praying to the faeries of old, who had once upon a time kissed her cheeks and played with her hair as she walked through their fae woods. She prayed not for release but for revenge, and swore that she would pay whatever price the faeries asked for if only her wishes were met.
There came the day when Marigold perished, grief growing like a root around her heart and condemning her to die young and beautiful. Lily Rose looked upon her sister’s dead body and was driven silent by pain. She longed for the days when they were children, and when Marigold’s pale cheeks were rosy and filled with life. She cursed the king then, promised retribution fit for his crime, clawed at his face and claimed his blood with her nails. Tired of her, more fearful than he was doting, the king pushed Lily Rose away from his palace and his life, with nothing but her dress turned into rags to carry with her.
Alone and grieving, Lily Rose wandered, and soon found her feet taking her to the woods, where the fae spoke to her in song, and played with her hair, and kissed her fair cheeks and her soft hands. Following their song, Lily Rose found a secret grove where water flowed warm and flowers swam in the surface, and where birds sang amongst thick, green-leaved trees. Lily Rose bathed in the magical waters, and she felt as if she were washing a pain as old as herself. She slept on the soft grass, naked, and felt herself become part of the earth. And as she did, she dreamed of revenge.
....
You can find a full, free preview at my site lolaandrews.com, and of course, I'll gladly send a free digital copy to anyone who wishes to review. :)
Mod
Grasshopper wrote: "OMG! Is this possible? Brilliant work! Have marked as to be read."*blushes* Thank you!
Excerpt from my Revolutionary and Surrealist Prose Poetry and Short Story collection Pity The Poetics.HOME OF THE FUGITIVE CHAPELS
With skin white as china, the sugar water saint tends to each weld and laurel in the garden of Paramour. Filtering through the troughs and holy water springs, a ghost town resembling the garden of Eden. There exists a raw, uncensored homebody adorned with flowers and rigor mortis. The windows filter through the sun, while the brick is violated with banter, nature gradually reclaiming the haphazard wasteland. The musk of decay raises from the floorboards as spit poetic mantra becomes fit for a prophet. Above, the Divine madman makes law of a few scrolls of synapse from the overheated brain, intellect left to dissection and set out to drain.
Thanks for the excerpt Harley. Have marked as 'Want to read'
Mod
Marked your books as {to be read}✓
Grasshopper wrote: "Lola & Harley, would you like to be featured on our site in April & May 2020 respectively as ' Meet the Author'?Marked your books as {to be read}✓"
Sounds great! Thank you
Grasshopper wrote: "Lola & Harley, would you like to be featured on our site in April & May 2020 respectively as ' Meet the Author'?Marked your books as {to be read}✓"
Hi, I am author MM Justine. I don't know the rules for being featured on your site, but I am the author of the Traitors trilogy and I would like to be featured too. Book 1: Traitors From Inside Out, Book 2: Traitors Unleashed, Book 3: Traitors Beyond Insanity. https://amzn.to/2TGnRVW. Many thanks.
Mod
Grasshopper wrote: "Lola & Harley, would you like to be featured on our site in April & May 2020 respectively as ' Meet the Author'?Marked your books as {to be read}✓"
Yes! That sounds wonderful! Thank you :)
Mod
I could slot you in for June 2020. Do post an excerpt for us as soon as possible.
Below you’ll find brief excerpts from the storybook "Not a Blueprint It’s the Shoe Prints that Matter . . .” (Also, available in audio format). This story weaves lies with love, betrayal with deception and drama with murder. Its message teaches an ultimate lesson for the meaning of relationships ─ beautifying honesty and compassion.“Man, that’s the last time you’ll put ya
hands on me . . .”
CHAPTER ONE
Damaged Goods
. . . Their marriage lacked emotional support and balance. Dad’s relationship with Mom became more obsessive and abusive. His crazed behavior made our family dysfunctional. Dad might have been a decent provider for us, but he was not a good husband. A lot of times, he was full of evil; some say he was as evil as the devil.
Many times, the thoughts in my mind echoed: How can a person keep doing the things he does and still go to church on Sundays?
It meant nothing to Dad when he hit Mom with his belt. “You have real issues and ya need to address them,” Mom would say in her soft, passive voice.
But Dad kept a solemn look on his face and never acknowledged her words. There was a very slick, sick, deep dark side to him. Keeping his demons suppressed inside had to be torture. In Dad’s family, there was a pack of hidden skeletons stored away in the closet.
My dad, Johnny Sr., worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad in Chicago as a pipe fitter. And that’s where he met Mom. Dad, a Southern guy, wasn’t only handsome—he was a rolling stone. Tall and clean-shaven, he had a small trimmed mustache, and his hair was a mass of silky black curls. He used Murray’s grease to keep the curls intact. It had one of those strongholds and gave a great shine—that pomade did the job. Dad was always dressed as sharp as a tack; he stayed in his three-piece suit even when he was hanging around the house. Now, you’ve heard the phrase, “Papa was a rolling stone.”
Yes, indeed, Dad made his rounds with the women . . .
*******************
“With Craig and I both working, we’d
decided to send China to . . .”
CHAPTER FOUR
A Killer in Our Midst
I learned Mandy slept with a butcher knife under her pillow.
For her, it provided a feeling of security. For me, it was just one of the many things I knew about Mandy.
While I reminisced about some of the dramas in my life, she’d laugh without stopping or respond with disbelief.
“I have those ‘you hurt me now, I’ll get you back’ moments,” I told
her.
Then I told her the story of the day Craig had gone out without me. It was a day when anger surfaced and would no longer stay suppressed. Talk about wacko—it gives the name a new height and meaning.
The scene that followed was unimaginable, but it actually happened. When Craig went out, that was his big mistake. After he left, I went to the closet, took his clothes off the hangers, piled them in the middle of the floor, cut the lights, and struck a match to them. Then I sat in the dark and watched the bonfire.
In an instant, I had a Betty Broderick moment—just like when she set her man’s clothes on fire. Or was it the Angela Bassett scene in Waiting to Exhale? Paying back her man was definitely a moment of rage.
Then again, maybe it was a Crystal Mangum moment. She’s the Durham, North Carolina, mother of three who was accused of setting her man’s clothes on fire in a bathtub. In any case, each one of their actions made a clear statement: You hurt me, I’ll hurt you back! So, really, those rising hormones aren’t anything to mess with.
The fire was barely blazing when Craig returned. As he entered the room, our eyes slowly locked. He brushed by me to stomp out the fire. (At this point, you may want to open your imagination for what followed—or think what you’d say if someone torched your clothes.)
Craig yelled out, “You, you black b—! What the devil have you done, I could kick your . . .” When it was over, my actions made the statement: You tortured me; I’ll torture you back.
As it happened, my mindset switched into fight or flight mode . . .
https://www.amazon.com/Not-Blueprint-...
Thanks for the excerpt Nina. Have marked your book as { Want to read}
Mod
Mod
Thanks for posting these excerpts Nina, I enjoyed reading them. I like your style of writing, even though the subject matter is dark the writing seems light and airy. It has made it, so I’d like to read more. I really enjoyed the detail that you put in to your descriptions, such as the actual name of the product that your dad used on his hair. I’d love to know what the skeletons in your dad’s closet are and fins out more about your mother as to why she took the abuse, but I guess I should get the book! In the 2nd excerpt I was concerned about the fire, you called it a bonfire and it’s in the center of the room – I went to house fire. Overall I thought both excerpts are very well written. This is my first time using this type of forum so hope I'm doing it correctly, I'm a goodreads group newbie :)
Mod
Thank you for the opportunity! I would love for anyone interested to leave a review. This is my first self-published book through Amazon, called Find Your Words! Words to Transform Your Life. It focuses on language - self-talk, inner dialogue, affirmations, etc. to improve how we experience life.https://www.amazon.com/Find-Your-Word...
I am in love with words. Long before I had any understanding of affirmations, I understood the power of words. They have the capacity to move us, soothe us, incite us, and inspire us. Though I don’t know that any of my words have ever been mightier than a sword, I do know that carefully and artfully chosen words have the power to change lives.
That’s a bold statement I know, but it’s true. Just look at some of the most motivating and inspiring orators and speeches throughout our past. History is full of men and women who were able to turn the tides of war and public opinion not by force but through simple words, nothing more.
Language has an astounding impact on our emotional state and can be used deliberately to manipulate how we feel. I have read several books and research articles on self-talk and affirmations. Beloved self-help author Louise Hay was the first to inspire me on this subject. From her I learned that “a belief is just a thought, and a thought can be changed”.
Before reading her work I never knew I could question my thoughts and beliefs. “Things never work out for me” felt just as true and permanent as is the fact that I was born a female. There’s nothing to question, nothing to dispute, it IS. And yet that one simple concept literally transformed my life as I began to question belief after belief, challenging that which defined me and soaring beyond the walls that, until then, had marked the furthest edges of my universe...
Sharon wrote: "Thanks for posting these excerpts Nina, I enjoyed reading them. I like your style of writing, even though the subject matter is dark the writing seems light and airy. It has made it, so I’d like to..."Sharon wrote: "Thanks for posting these excerpts Nina, I enjoyed reading them. I like your style of writing, even though the subject matter is dark the writing seems light and airy. It has made it, so I’d like to..."
Sharon, appreciate you getting back with me about the storybook. And yes, it was a complete bonfire set in an apartment. That's how toxic life was at that time. There is a VDO trailer that's coming soon. To see the scenes from that trailer enacted by live actors and actresses was an extremely frightening experience . . . coming to grips that I was in such a toxic place; back then. True, I did some horrible things when I was in that space. If you read the reviews, it will give some insight into what others have said about the story. https://www.amazon.com/Not-Blueprint-...
Then to hopefully, you'll be interested in reading the book or listening to it from the narrator (Sara L. Mosey).
Mod
Have marked your book as { To be read}✓👍
Catherine wrote: "Thanks for the excerpt Nina. Have marked your book as { Want to read}"Catherine, appreciate you reaching out about the storybook. Glad to hear you've marked it as a "read." There is a VDO trailer that's coming soon. To see the scenes from that trailer enacted by live actors and actresses was an extremely frightening experience . . . from coming to grips that I was in such a toxic place; back then. OMGoodness! I did some horrible things when I was in that space. In a sense, my life was similar to that of Tyler Perry's melodrama movie. If you read the reviews, it will give some insight into what others have said about the story. https://www.amazon.com/Not-Blueprint-...
Remember too: it's available in audible . . . case you prefer to listen to it from the voice of Sara L. Mosey.
Thank you for the opportunity to post an excerpt! This is from my first published novel His Name Was Zach, a dystopian post-apocalypse novel, introducing the protagonists, Zach and his teenage daughter Abby.Their home was a small cottage in the woods nearby, only about a mile from their truck. They trudged slowly through the trees, tired from a long day of scavenging and eager to get some rest. Rays of sunlight poked through the branches of the white oak trees around them, bestowing the area with tiny golden pillars that held up the green roof of leaves above them. Nearby, a Northern Cardinal alighted upon a branch that was not too high off the ground. He preened his feathers for a moment, and then cocked his head up as he heard something approach. Why, it was humans! Two of them! The bird did not see many humans these days, so to see two of them together was a rare treat. He flapped his wings a bit and then called out a friendly ‘hello’.
Abby heard a bird call nearby, so she turned to look for it. After a moment of scanning the branches, she finally saw the small, red bird with a black neck and face staring at her. She did not see very many birds these days, so to see such a pretty one was a rare treat. She gave a faint smile and lightly waved her fingers at the bird.
The Northern Cardinal was delighted that the human responded! He called out again, a little louder this time.
“Hey, look,” Abby said with a quiet chuckle, tapping Zach on the arm to get his attention. Zach stopped and followed Abby’s beaming gaze with his, almost immediately spotting the bird.
“Well, that’s as pretty a bird as I’ve ever seen,” Zach remarked, flashing his typical half-smile. He noticed Abby’s awestruck gaze and suddenly had an idea. He reached back to a pouch on his ruck and opened it, pulling out a small plastic bag filled with berries that he had collected. He took out two, handed them to Abby, and said, “See if you can feed him.”
“Okay,” Abby whispered. She carefully approached the bird with her hand out, holding the two berries in her palm. “Hey there, little guy,” she said.
The bird cocked his head to the side and watched the small human carefully. It did not look hostile and it even had food in its hand. It might be trying to trick him, but the bird decided that the prospect of two ripe berries was worth the risk. He flew towards the human and then landed softly on its open hand, making the human smile from ear to ear. He took a few bites out of one berry, getting some much needed sustenance, and then grabbed the other berry in his beak before flapping his wings and flying off, heading home to share his food. He was glad that he had met those humans. They were very nice.
“Did you see that?” Abby called to Zach as she turned back around, still grinning.
“I did. You’re like a bird whisperer,” Zach replied.
“Aw, he was so cute,” Abby said, glancing over her shoulder one more time, hoping to see the bird again, but he was gone for good.
I do love non-fiction genres. I'm always interested in discovering details of another's journey; and where life has landed them. Presently, I had many true stories I'm scheduled to read. At this time, when taking on others I'll have to add to my list of reads.
Grasshopper wrote: "Good to see your work again Nina. Keep up the good work.👍"Grasshopper wrote: "Good to see your work again Nina. Keep up the good work.👍"
Thank you Grasshopper for allowing us (authors) to post our creations on this site. And look forward to the upcoming author interview in 2020.
Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall . . . Where Does My Self-Love Fall? An Activity Guide to Replace Toxicity with Love
A brief synopsis=
“Are you really craving for self-love? You should be starving to satisfy that hunger.” When you don’t love yourself, how can you expect another to love you?” And it’s no lie!
Tastefully gratifying! That is the fulfillment you’ll savor once enriched with those self-discoveries. We each seek to define our own self-love. How does “self-love” actually appear in your life? Don’t let a mirror dictate your destiny. Come, take the journey and discover those self dimensions . . .
It’s all part of building a bridge that opens the gateway to finding self-love and bringing to light the ugliness in toxic relationships.
Some excerpts are:
Self-Love: What Is It?
. . . You can take a shovel and dig a hole in the ground all day, but you will never find the thing called self-love. It’s something you must possess within yourself . . .
1) Self-love is not only a concept but a mindset. Think of the term as having unconditional love for self—a love like no other human can provide, a love for the skin that you are in. . . .
How Does Self-Love Appear?
Self-love can appear in a myriad of ways. Listed below are just a few. Add your own self-loving actions to the list.
• Speaking what’s on your mind in a respectful, caring way.
• Making daily . . .
Preparatory Section
Through My Own Eyes: Discovery
Take a mental step out of the box as we prepare for and embrace all forthcoming material.
Before you take the challenge to read this guide, it helps to explore your world in all its existing elements. Our physical world is our planet and all the living entities it sustains. All varieties of
trees, flowers, and animals thrive in its many habitats. We can
even break each aspect of our world into its component parts—
elements, atoms, metals, and minerals. But your personal world
goes beyond your physical surroundings of sky, moon, and
ground, beyond your molecular makeup. No one can tell you how to view your world—only you have that vision. It’s your world! . . .
EXERCISE
Suggested material for use: pencil/pen, colored pencils/crayons.
This exercise is an opportunity to draw and add color to the concept of your worldview using colored pencils, crayons, pencil, and/or pen. You could depict your worldview through a literal drawing of your physical surroundings and actual faces for your emotions or a metaphorical drawing where colors and shapes represent your world. You may want to label the elements or make a code (trees = green; mate or partner = brown or pink; anger = black, etc.). Don’t think too hard. There’s no perfect . . .
2
Letting Go to Rediscover Self
Every one of us will experience some form of a negative entity. This negativity isn’t always the consequence of toxic relationships. There are other forms of toxicity to be considered—particularly within our own minds. These negative entities can be very damaging and harmful to our well-being. Cleansing one’s life spiritually and emotionally is so refreshing. The discovery of self . . .
The journey of self-discovery is an ongoing process, a tough and rocky trail. As those emotions and surroundings are unveiled, the effects of self-discovery bring enlightenment, fulfillment, and clarity to your life. You begin to understand who you really are. While moving from one relationship to another, you give self space to heal.
When you explore beneath the surface of yourself, the very essence of knowing your true being can open your eyes. You and your partner may want to . . .
5
Young Adults Dating-N-Violence
This section has a great deal to offer for adolescents (ages 13 to 17) and young adults (ages 18 to 25). We become young adults before maturing to a full-fledged adult. Don’t think young adults are not experiencing abuse—they are! Violence in the dating lifestyle of our young adults is a huge problem. They experience the same level of abuse as adults. Unhealthy relationships occur when . . .
Living healthy is an essential part of one’s lifestyle. Teaching our youth to make healthy choices in their tender years is just as vital. Consider this a wake-up call: Parents and educators, we need to . . .
10
Healthy Is the New Me
Mirror, Mirror, Is that Me?
Look in a mirror and focus on yourself very closely. Look deep,
deep, and deeper into the glass. Don’t miss seeing a wrinkle,
a mole, a pimple, a freckle, a hair, an eyelid, an earlobe, an
expression, or an emotion that pops out at you. Be prepared
to draw the image that appears. Hopefully, this is the person
you’ve become. The brightness that shines through you will
glimmer and reflect your change. You’ve spent a lot of time and
energy acknowledging self, recapturing your life, who you are,
and who you are becoming. . . .
https://www.amazon.com/Mirror-Wall-Wh...+.+.+.+
Kimberly wrote: "Thank you for the opportunity! I would love for anyone interested to leave a review. This is my first self-published book through Amazon, called Find Your Words! Words to Transform Your Life. It fo..."Hi Kimberly, what a wonderful excerpt and an inspiring quote from Louise Hay. Your book sounds very interesting. I think with so much access to Social Media that people have forgotten the basics and they think they are able to say whatever they want. It’s important to look at what is being said to people as it can help or wound them.
The excerpt that you posted is nicely written. I shall admit when I read the title and what it was about, I did expect it to be heavy going and dare I say, boring. However, I was pleasantly surprised and found it interesting. If the rest of the book is written in the same manner then it should be a good read, along with being informative and helpful.
Peter wrote: "Thank you for the opportunity to post an excerpt! This is from my first published novel His Name Was Zach, a dystopian post-apocalypse novel, introducing the protagonists, Zach and ..."Hi Peter. What a sweet excerpt to post. It’s nice to see a post-apocalypse book with some tender moments in it. I enjoyed how human you made the characters, not only with the interaction between the two humans but with the bird as well. It was interesting that you spoke for the bird and his thoughts, as a pet owner I speak a lot of my pets’ thoughts all the time and so I found that enjoyable. You also showed in this small excerpt that your characters haven’t lost their humanity, the simple act of giving berries to the bird is very significant when you are scavenging all day for food and other items. I really enjoyed reading it, well done, it sounds like it’s a great book.
Mod
Mod
Most welcome Peter. Have marked your book as {To be read}✓
Peter wrote: "Thank you for the opportunity to post an excerpt! This is from my first published novel His Name Was Zach, a dystopian post-apocalypse novel, introducing the protagonists, Zach and ..."I like this excerpt about love of nature and humanity.
Chapter one of PALE RAIN.....Exorcisms suck.
Demons just don’t know when to quit. They are nasty, vile things and once they get a filthy claw in our world they won’t let go, at least not willingly. That’s where I come in.
To pay the bills I work as a bounty hunter, catching dirtbags that fail to show to their court dates and try to stiff their bail bondsman.
For fun, I hunt demons and send them back to hell from whence they came. Well, I guess it’s not entirely fun, but it sure is satisfying.
The girl was barely old enough to drive, her face twisted in pain and hate as the demon that possessed her looked back at me. We were in the girl’s bedroom on the second floor, the walls covered with pictures of current pop stars and heavily laden with pinks and purples, yet here and there I saw the beginning of the girl’s changing into a young woman. Her dolls lay in a storage basket, having been replaced by books about young love and dystopian fantasies, while her stuffed animals began taking a back seat to fashion magazines and makeup.
She was sitting on her bed with her arms bound to the head board’s posts and her legs straight out in front of her. The demon stared at me with deep, pitch black eyes, no iris showing.
“Vile pretender! Knows not that which is to come! Ruin and damnation! Ruin and damnation!” the demon’s voice growled from the face of a beautiful young woman.
A teenager who should have been getting ready for prom or trying to decide what outfit to wear to school tomorrow instead her body transformed into a vessel for a being of the purest evil.
“She has been like this for two days, we just don’t know what to do,” her mother sobbed as she stood next to me. She looked like an older version of the girl, one worn down by years and stress, but still beautiful in her own way.
Rainah, the girl who works for me, grew up being able to see demons. She lived a hard life, passing from one orphanage to another until her dad found her and tried to use her to bring a demon of ancient power into our world for his own selfish reasons. I stopped him, but Rainah wound up with the blood of demon’s entering her body and fusing with her soul, a soul that had been housing a powerful demonic eye. Now she had powers of her own, ones that we hadn’t yet figured out, but we were working on that.
It was because of Rainah that I was here.
She came to me this morning, begging me to look in on her friend.
“Please check on her, I think something bad has happened to her,” she pleaded.
Rainah had striking features. Dark black hair with piercing blue eyes framed a face that shone with the glow of youth and beauty. She wore tight jeans that accentuated her toned legs, a dark black shirt that was stretching the boundaries of being too small with the words THE BOOK WAS BETTER splashed across her chest in white lettering.
“What have you done?” She was always getting into trouble. Blaming her was actually a pretty good bet.
“I, I might have…” she trailed off, afraid to continue.
“You might have what?” I dimly realized I had said that just like my dad used to say it to me.
She bowed her head, unwilling to look me in the eye. “I might have given her a summoning spell.” Her voice was meek and small.
“You what?” Anger filled my words.
“Well, technically, I didn’t give it to her. I gave it to her older sister, at the bar before you tried to arrest me.” I started to lay into her, but she kept going. “I didn’t really know what it was, honest, at least not when I gave it to her. But when she called me this morning and told me she found her sister lying unconscious on the floor surrounded by strange symbols, I got worried and did some research.”
“Research?”
“Yeah, well I started looking through your books and I…”
“Wait, you went through my books without asking?”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point, the point is that as I started looking, I was able to find the symbols I remembered. It was actually kind of weird, I usually can’t remember crap, at least not bookish stuff, but the spell, the symbols and shapes, those came to me easily,” she trailed off.
I made a mental note of that.
“Okay, let me see if I got this right. You gave a friend of yours a paper with unknown symbols and writing on it. That you got where, exactly?”
“I might have written it down after a particularly bad nightmare.”
She looked at me with trepidation and a little uncertainty.
“You had a dream about it?”
I took a few deep breaths, trying not to let my anger get the better of me.
“It was before the, you know, incident when I could see them everywhere when I had constant nightmares. I never really thought much about it and she kept bugging me for something. She was really into that stuff.”
I remembered. When Rainah was on the run, I used her friend, who they had met in a chat room about the occult called CTHULU, FACT OR FICTION, to find her.
The more I listened the worse I thought the situation might be. Rainah had the eye of a demon attached to her soul, giving her all kinds of horrible side effects. Her innocence kept the eye from consuming her, but that didn’t mean it might not have tried to communicate with her another way, maybe by sending her a demon summoning rite through her dreams? Who knew what horrible monster the spell could call?
“So, tell me why you think your friend’s little sister,”
“Erica,” Rainah interrupted.
I paused for a second. “Why do you think Erica’s sister summoned a demon?”
“Because when I called her back, she said her sister was on the ceiling, like Spiderman, yelling obscenities at her and her mom.”
Well, that couldn’t be good.
It tracked for possessions. Demons had a few choices when coming to our world, they could be summoned, at that point they would become the servants of who summoned them, if they were powerful enough to control them, or they would get loose and go on killing sprees, cause a ton of damage until they were either shot by the police or the host’s body burned out. Sometimes, when they are summoned by an innocent, someone who is essentially pure of heart, they become trapped, unable to go free, but still dangerous, lashing out at whoever is nearby. That’s why you usually hear about exorcisms being done on young girls, ones too stupid to know better but innocent at heart.
The demon wouldn’t let go willingly, it would still seek a way over. It would do whatever it could to gain access to this plane, even destroying the girl if it thought that might work. She was in danger if she was possessed, she was running out of time. Demons aren’t patient, and it would soon kill the host and go back to hell or find a way free.
Rainah looked at me with hope in her eyes. The last few months had been hard on her. She had essentially given up a life of hardship and terror for one of mundane normalcy. She was my secretary, bookkeeper, coffee maker, and quasi apprentice. I didn’t know if demon bounty hunters had apprentices, or students, especially given her powers derived from the absolute opposite place of mine, but I was trying. She had only a small number of friends and Erica was one of them.
“What’s the address?” I asked. She smiled and the whole room lit up, then went to get her coat.
“You stay here.”
Rainah sat in the passenger seat. She turned to me after unstrapping her seat belt.
“Again? You know I’m never going to learn anything if I am always in the car.”
“Look, you know the drill. Until we can be certain how the demon’s blood has affected you, our best bet is to keep you away from them. We don’t know what might happen,” I argued.
“I know, I know, they might be able to control me or do some other horrible thing.” She turned and stubbornly looked out the window. “Don’t you think if they wanted or could do that they would have by now?” she asked.
“Honestly? Yeah. But we can’t take the chance that I’m wrong.” I reached over and laid my hand on her forearm. “Patience is a virtue,” I said solemnly.
“For real? You have to stop saying such lame shit. I might just run away from sheer frustration.” She smiled, her words filled with a teasing tone.
“Yeah, it’s lame but still true. Hang tight, I won’t be long.” I got out and shut the door.
Rainah was a good kid, but I worried about her. Nothing good rarely comes from demons, nothing, and she had the bastard’s blood in her veins. She had already shown an amazing resiliency to pain and injury, but hell doesn’t give anything for free, it always came with a price, always.
A quick introduction at the door, meeting the girl’s mother and sister and we were back to where we started, staring at a thirteen-year-old girl strapped to a bed while a demon tried to fight its way free.
I could feel power thrumming in the air from the demonic pattern gouged into the wooden floor. The girl had taken a knife and used it to score the horrid symbols on the floor next to her bed. I could see the small red drop on the point of a star where she had infused the rune with blood, turning the damn thing on, like a light switch, shining a way into the dark abyss of damnation.
The strength of it surprised me. In my experience demons called by misguided children aren’t that strong, they just don’t have the depth of will or understanding in what they are doing to get a major power to answer. It seemed that this might be the exception to the rule.
From what Rainah told me of Erica and her family they were pretty normal. Erica had turned towards the occult after her dad left in a messy divorce. She and Rainah had met on an innocent website, where kids go to make believe they are dabbling in dark things. Nothing about her situation screamed to me that she was tainted. Her sister even less so, she looked up to Erica and clung to her, fearing their family would be completely ripped asunder. There was no way they were responsible for such a strong summoning.
That meant the damn demonic eye that had been attached to Rainah’s soul gave her a powerful rune, one that drove the curious and eager to please little sister into carving it on her floor and imbuing it with the power of blood, which was a very bad thing.
Blood held power. It was used for lots of things. In this case, it created a link from the demon to the girl’s body. Making driving the thing out damned near impossible without damaging the girl herself.
Have I mentioned how much I hate demons?
“The third sunset is almost nigh, time runs short,” the demon growled, straining against its bonds. The muscles in the girl’s arms bulged as the demon pushed her to fight. I saw angry red gashes on each of her wrists from the monster’s struggles.
“Lindsey, I know you’re in there. Just stay calm, this will all be over soon,” I said.
The demon was right, sunset was only a few moments away, I had to get this done.
I reached inside myself, finding the well of Angel Fire that permeated my soul, a power given to me by the archangel Michael to combat the forces of hell. He may not approve of how I used that power, but that was his problem, not mine. The power had been freely given, as such it could not be taken from me and I wasn’t about to give it up.
I felt the power fill me, giving me a sense of purpose and righteousness. At the same time, I sensed as the sun dropped below the horizon. The reaction by the demon was immediate. A nasty smile, full of malice and hate, stretched the girl’s mouth. Then the demon twisted its head and at the same time tore its arm free. It brought the girl’s slender forearm to its mouth and before I could stop it, the demon bit down, ripping a large chunk of skin and meat from the girl’s arm.
https://www.amazon.com/Skip-Demon-Hun...
Sharon wrote: "Kimberly wrote: "Thank you for the opportunity! I would love for anyone interested to leave a review. This is my first self-published book through Amazon, called Find Your Words! Words to Transform..."Thank you! The language we use and the effect it has on our moods and our lives is something I'm quite passionate about. I really hope to connect with people through my writing. I appreciate your kind words.
Marcus wrote: "Chapter one of PALE RAIN.....Exorcisms suck.
Demons just don’t know when to quit. They are nasty, vile things and once they get a filthy claw in our world they won’t let go, at least not willi..."
Thanks for the excerpt Marcus. Could you please post a link to your book too? I could not find it.
This topic has been frozen by the moderator. No new comments can be posted.
G.N.A. Publishing░N░e░w░ ░A░u░t░h░o░r░s░
Books mentioned in this topic
Madness (other topics)Moments - Few Tales in Time (other topics)
Money Gone (other topics)
Haelend's Ballad (other topics)
Finding Identity (other topics)
More...
Authors mentioned in this topic
Paityn E. Parque (other topics)Vikas Khair (other topics)
Ian V. Conrey (other topics)
E.S. Hazard (other topics)
E.S. Hazard (other topics)
More...
(Is the poetry folder under "Archived"?)