Now, of course I'm going to give you a little taste of what can be found in this release. A snippet of "Bloodstains" is below. If you'd like to see a snippet of "Hair of the Dog", you can sign up for my newsletter (sign-up can be found on the left side of my blog). The next edition will be sent out in the next couple days, so don't hesitate!
And as always, happy reading!
To me, at this moment, it's the end I see, not the fresh start that will come of it.
In the middle of the woods, the arch of the branch hovers over me, causes me to see things I ought not, and the deep shadows of dusk play with my eyes. Cold pierces through my gloves, prickling my skin. In the distance, blood stains the snow. My brain knows it's the entrails of a deer, left by a hunter earlier in the day, but my thoughts envision what it could be, what it might be, and what it will be. The blood reminds me of all the people I care about, the ones I'll lose when the ground swallows us whole and the wind rips us in two. It's the blood on my hands, the blood on all of our hands, and there's nothing I can do but weep for the Lost Ones. The ones who won't make it, who won't survive the rending; the end of an end.
I won't lie down, though. I can't. Until I have to stand at this gate, the end seconds away, I'll gather all those I can, to save them, protect them. They will walk with me and survive, so the pool of Lost Ones will diminish, even though the best intentions can be blown away with the gale, no matter how hard you fight against it.
The metallic tang of blood settles in the back of my throat. Another object on the ground jumps out at me, intertwining with the visions inside. The skull of a small animal lies half-buried in the snow. I pick it up. Time has scraped the bone bare. How quickly is the hourglass dropping the grains of sand? The skull in my hand insists the last grain will soon fall and the hourglass will need to be flipped, so it can all start again. But in the turning, our world will shake.
Only a few friends will escape with me through the gate, and I'll leave too many behind to die, but not for lack of trying. There's only so much I can do if those I care for won't listen, won't believe.
A trail of red leaks out of the eye socket of the skull, and I drop it. It rolls toward the discarded entrails.
The blood in my mind will never fade.
When the clock strikes midnight on Beltane Eve, the rains will fall and flood the lands...
It's the end of the world. But one woman has a way out – gather enough friends and open a portal before the Earth floods, devouring itself whole. Except even if she does, there isn't enough time to save everyone. Who will she have to leave behind?
Hair of the Dog
Lydia needs to see a man about a dog. And it's not a shot of whiskey she craves.
This roaring 20s speakeasy doesn't only harbor flappers and bootleggers. Lydia can attest to more sinister things posing among the normal revelers. She's one of them. And with a hungry beast inside her, she can't withstand her thirst.