Cthulhu Redo of 4 Holiday Classics

We are supposed to be writing about our top 5 reads of 2017...but I'm feeling like a recap of last year's Cthulhu Redo of Holiday Classics. *Consider yourself warned.* LOL

O Holy Night

O Holy night, Cthulhu now is rising 

It is the night of The Great Old One's re-birth
Long lay the world bereft of his despising
Til he appeared and the soul felt it's dearth
The daemon-sultan Azathoth rejoices
As the world breaks and people everywhere mourn

Fall on your knees!

O hear the shoggoth voices
O night malign!
When comes the shoggoth horde!
O night malign!
O night, o night malign!

And at his sight, all sanity shall cease

Sweet dirge of death in mournful chorus raise we

Dagon! The Mother of Pus! Yog-Sothoth!
Shavalyoth!
Their names forever praise we

R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign
R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign
R’lyeh, R’lyeh
O night, o night malign

Cthulhu's Plunderland 

Slay bells ring, are you listening?
In the lane, entrails are glistening
Horrifying sight, we're dying tonight

Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Gone away is the succored
Here to stay are the interred
He sings to Dagon, as we’re quartered and drawn,
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

In the darkness we can summon D’endrrah
Then discover she is really foul
She'll say: Are you buried? We'll say: No ma’am
But you can do the job when you're in town

Later on, when things are dire
And we roast upon the fire
He’ll burst and abrade the blisters we've made
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

In the light we can summon Tru-nembra
and dance until we have a nervous breakdown
We'll have lots of fun with him and Yog-Sapha
until they decide it’s better to let us drown

Though the snow don't stop his killing
He prefers those who are unwilling
He'll frolic and flay
the R’leyh way
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland
Crawling in Cthuhlu’s plunderland

Here Comes Cxaxukluth

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
Ghroth and Daoloth and all the outer gods
Plannin’ a new reign
Worlds are breaking, children quaking
All are cursed with a blight
When he’s a-stalking better say your prayers
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He's got a chains and complete disdain
For boys and girls again
Hear those slay bells, wrangle entangle,
Oh what an amorphous sight
Blood so red you’re better off dead
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He doesn't care if you're rich or poor
He wants to cause you pain
Cxaxukluth knows we're Cthulhu’s minions
That makes everything right
So fill your hearts with R’leyh cheer
'Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

Here comes Cxaxukluth, here comes Cxaxukluth,
Right down Cxaxukluth lane
He'll come around when the shoggoths cry out
That it's his arcane domain
Peace on earth we’ll never know
If we just follow the alt-right
So beware beware the new regime
Cause Cxaxukluth comes tonight!

O Tentacles

O Tentacles, O Tentacles!
You move just like a serpent!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
You move just like a serpent!

Hanging from Cthulhu’s face,
Slither-squirming with an air of grace.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
You move just like a serpent!

O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!

Each arm doth hold many bites
Surprising me when you hold me tight.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
Your sucker cups are toothy!

O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!

For every breath I cannot breathe,
Brings to you so much joy and glee.
O Tentacles, O Tentacles,
How tightly you do squeeze me!

What's Next? Seph or Jovienne?

Note: This post is off-topic this week. 

In many ways, 2017 has not been my best year.
Ragnarok Publications, who released my novel Jovienne (Immanence #1) this past May, has had some ups and downs. As a result, they canceled all contracts for novels for 2018. That means the second book of the Immanence series which I had started working on… now has no home.

This is a reality many other authors have faced, and not just those of us who’d been working with Ragnarok. Many small presses fell this past year. This is, sadly, for me, familiar territory. Simon & Schuster’s imprint Pocket Books decided years back that they wanted no more Persephone Alcmedi series books from me. Despite that, fans still consistently contact me. They say they just found the series and want more, or they say they loved the books when they were first released and wonder if there will be more.

I’ve started and stopped working on #7 more times than I can remember. I’ve pitched it to small presses and always garnered interest, yet, for a variety of reasons, they all fell apart before they could start. At one point recently, it was on the table with a small press and I thought a contract would finally culminate…but it just didn’t feel right. That time, I backed out.

Again, 2017 has not been my best year.

I think it’s healthy to acknowledge feelings, good and bad, but not to let them rule. So, to that end, I allowed myself wallow in the dejection of that canceled contract for a few days. And then I turned to music.

Musically speaking, 2017 was a good year. 

I composed, created, produced, mixed and mastered and released my first CD. It’s even available on Spotify and other music streaming channels. That’s a remarkable dream come true. (Spotify link HERE. If you dig any of the songs, give 'em a thumbs up please!) 

Music will bring me out of whatever slump my head thinks I’m in. I’ve been composing for another novel, an epic fantasy that is currently with an editor. It is my intention to self-publish it in 2018, so this is a good time to work on it and the themes are a lot of fun to play with. I’m enjoying this step away from writing words very much.

This, however, is not permanent. I want to finish the Persephone Alcmedi series. I want to finish the Immanence series. Both are sitting at a bit under 20k words. Realistically, I could turn to either one with equal zeal and find completion in the same amount of time.

But which one?

This is where you come in. 

Which would you be more interested in reading:

Persephone Alcmedi #7 or Immanence #2.

Please, if you have a preference at all, head over to my website HERE and use the contact form to email me your vote. The one with the higher demand will get my time and attention in 2018. And with any luck, I’ll be self-publishing two books next year.

I'll Stay Home, Thanks

When it comes to writing, I can be very much like an old hobbit on party day.

In fact, I would rather write in my car than in a coffee shop.

I can work better cramped in the car, in the cold, and in the dark than I can if venture inside a warm and toasty establishment of any kind. Because PEOPLE are in there.

I've tried. But there is no avoiding those people. They talk... about their lives, their daily trials, their dirty laundry - or other people's. They bring their children, who sit far enough away from mom and dad to think they have some kind of freedom, but they either sit there doing the same noisy things or they poke each other and giggle.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Even with earbuds, the music wanes every few minutes and I cannot avoid hearing them. Or they move about drawing my notice. Or they encroach on my bubble.

Or someone among the crowd seems...off...and I suddenly don't feel safe letting my guard down enough to focus on the work. 

To that end, many hours have passed with me in the driver's seat, laptop wedged between me and the steering wheel as I await my son to come out of either his parkour class, his acting class, the dentist, the barber, or any of the other places I have to take him. But given my druthers, I'll work in my office, thanks. Where the coffee is just how I like it. The music is just as I like it. The heater or fan is on just as I like it. And the creativity is unencumbered.

I wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving amid the people who love you most!

Because it is the season of thankfulness as well as the kick-off of the traditionally recognized annual big-gift-giving event, it's time to think about others, and this week here on the blog we're sharing our favorite charities. Here are mine, and why: 

1.)  Veterans of Foreign Wars

I used to be a barmaid at my local VFW. I'm also a lifetime member. Many nights, I've kept the beers flowing while these men who served our country regale the crowd with their tales. Fewer nights, I've served a glass of something harder while someone stared into their glass trying to force some awful image that seemed stuck in their mind's eye. I've seen a vet of the Iraq War who turned to heroine. I've seen men who served and came home safe seemingly unscathed...then lost their whole family to random stateside tragedies, yet they have found a way to carry on despite an ache that will never abate. I've helped vets get their ties and medals just right before a parade, and I've seen a Korean War vet (1950-3) sing karaoke.

Also, the VFW has a variety of community outreach programs and scholarships. Supporting the VFW is supporting good people in your own community.

2.)  Any Animal Rescue / No Kill Shelter

A friend of mine who passed away years ago had a cat shelter. She actively trapped feral cats, got them spayed or neutered and re-released them if they were not tamable. She also took other housecats and worked to find them good homes. I had one such cat come into my life for a while. He was a gray tabby with six toes, a mitten-paw. He'd been a feral cat trapped and tamed and I loved him enough to deal with my cat allergy.  Also, my dog Bela came from a no-kill shelter. For eleven years now, she's been a wonderful addition to our family (i.e. being the floor pillow when the boys watched cartoons, protecting our yard from evil squirrels, keeping us warm on cold winter nights, and the source of much laughter).

I say all that because I know the hard work that goes into a rescue, and the benefits to the animal and the family that adopts.

3.)  The American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU)

From the internet: For nearly 100 years, the ACLU has been our nation’s guardian of liberty, working in courts, legislatures, and communities to defend and preserve the individual rights and liberties that the Constitution and the laws of the United States guarantee everyone in this country.

Whether it’s achieving full equality for lesbians, gays, bisexuals and transgender people; establishing new privacy protections for our digital age of widespread government surveillance; ending mass incarceration; or preserving the right to vote or the right to have an abortion; the ACLU takes up the toughest civil liberties cases and issues to defend all people from government abuse and overreach.

Topic: What “Doing the Research” Means for a New Fantasy or Alien Cultures

Before I delve into the meat of this post, one short reminder: 

MY MUSIC IS NOW ON SPOTIFY! 

Look me up by artist (Linda Reinhardt) 

or by the album (JOVIENNE).

As for the weekly topic...

I’m going to talk about one admittedly narrow point, but it is dear to me.

LANGUAGE

With my upcoming and as yet untitled fantasy novel, one of the things that I spent a lot of time deliberating with myself on concerning this alien culture was language. Especially the titles of the military, as much of the story takes place around the armed force of the kingdom.

I had a real problem with the word Lieutenant.

It sounds and looks WAY to French to be showing up in my not-even-close-to-Earth-tale. But all the titles seem, in some way, objectionable to me from that point of view (General, Corporal, Chief Petty Officer, etc.)

There are two arguments for using our terminology.

1.)     If I use General, most readers will inherently understand that he is calling the shots and outranks a captain.

2.)   The tale is already presumed by the reader to be a translation from whatever language is native to that world – which would not be English. Use whatever understood words are closest. 

The argument for giving this new culture it’s own terms:

       1.) It feels more immersive.

But there’s a flaw:

       If I make up rank titles, I’m choosing to replace brevity with something that requires explanation – because the reader isn’t going to inherently understand who’s higher ranking, that very likely means I’m using exposition.

An argument specific to #2 above is:

Using obviously foreign-influenced words and modern slang (EX. - having characters refer to their best friends as either ‘chica’ or ‘homie’ which might ‘translate’ perfectly, might jar readers out of their suspension of disbelief because it doesn’t ‘feel’ true.

In the end I used—

Nah. You’ll have to wait and read it to see….

Trick or Treat

NEWS: I'm starting a newsletter soon, so if you want to be in on the updates concerning the Persephone Alcmedi series, the Immanence series, or just want to be in on the fun, check out my website today. Note: It's a double opt-in, so there'll be an email to confirm. Thank you, kindly!

TRICK or TREAT   (891 words)

Andrea had fussed too long over her costume and make-up, but it had to be the best. She was the prettiest, richest, and most sought after among her film-school pals and had to maintain that reputation. Typically, she arrived fashionably late, but tonight she'd misjudged the traffic and now she was irresponsibly late. Night had fallen full before she arrived at the secluded address scrawled on the back of a tarot card. It was just trite enough that it had to be Annie's idea. It was like her to throw a last-minute party, and to add to the spirit of the season by a pseudo-anonymous invitation. 

After parking her pink Porsche, Andrea resettled her witch costume and made sure her breasts mounded above the bustier just right, then added her pointy hat and scanned the many vehicles lining the road. She recognized George's BMW, Annie's Lincoln, and Jimmy's jacked-up truck. No one was in them, of course. The party started almost an hour ago. She'd have to walk-in alone. But that was fine; she knew how to make an entrance. She'd just have to make up an excuse, like her agent had called to say he'd lined up a new audition.

Ahead, a bright orange arrow pointed across into the woods.

The beat of music thumped from the barn atop the distant hill. The illumination from within seemed minimal, as only a dull hint of light pierced through the filthy windows. But they had a good playlist on. She assumed Jimmy was in charge of the music. 

After a baleful look at her high-heel shoes and thinking up a good passive-aggressive scolding for whoever didn't advise her to at least wear wedges, she left the street and stepped onto the path through thick underbrush. When it suddenly ended, hundreds of costumed people stood lining the way. She halted with a gasp. Immobile and silent, each held a carved pumpkin lit within.

"Did you all wait for me?" Her cheeks flushed.

No one answered.

"What are you doing here? Hasn't it started up at the barn?" 

Still, no one answered.

"Stop being creepy!" She marched as best she could to the closest, and pulled at the silly plastic face mask. "Is that you, George?"

It wasn't her boyfriend. It was a mannequin. So was the next and the next.

Andrea felt ashamed for having been fooled, but no one was here to see her get fooled. Besides, who had hundreds of mannequins, let alone costumes? And who had time to carve hundreds of pumpkins? This had to be George's idea. He was going to be a great director some day soon.

Each unique orange face bore a wicked grin, and was positioned to leer as she passed. The flickering candles added an ominous ambiance. 

It was wildly spooky - perfect for a Halloween Dance party. That was the thought she kept foremost as she walked to the barn. It took her fifteen minutes to arrive. This grassy terrain was murder in her heels. 

When she stepped up to the door, she reached for the handle, then realized she heard no voices.

The hair on her neck stood on end, so instead of opening the door, she peered through the crack, shifting left to right to see the broadest bit of the room.

She saw no one, but they’d gone all out for the décor. Red streamers, bloody-looking sheets and plastic screening. Annie’s father worked at MGMs prop department. She’d obviously had him call in some favors. And, there had to be hundreds of candles burning in there, and red petals dotted the floor.

Oh! George is going to propose a la the Horror films he loves so much. Yes! Finally. And I’m late! They’ve seen me coming and are waiting for the big entrance.

She resituated her hat, squared her shoulders and threw open the door.

Still seeing no one, she stepped in. Were they hiding? “George?” she moved deeper into the barn…and realized the streamers looked like entrails. It wasn't petals on the floor either, but splattering of sticky red...blood? They really went all out for this. She touched one of the 'streamers' and her hand came away covered in red goo. “Ick.” 

She’d have to wipe this off. Scanning around for the food table where there would have to be napkins, she saw the rustic stairs leading to the upper floor. The upper steps were lost to darkness but the lower steps each had severed heads sitting upon them. Some had eyes open, some were shut. She gasped. That’s going too far.

Completing her scan, she saw no food table. What kind of party doesn’t offer some kind of drink and snack?

Something creaked. She spun back to the stairs as a boot slid into view. Someone was coming down. 

She watched the dirty boots descend, unable to see the person wearing them for the dark. But her eyes caught again on the heads. They were placed two-to-each-side, yet the bottom step was different. It had two on the left, they looked like Jimmy and Annie…and on the right…George.

There was room for one more.

Understanding and dozens of thoughts collided in her brain as air rushed through her nostrils and she emitted a shrieking scream that echoed across the hillside.

From within the stairwell, a deep voice said, "Cut." 

Trigger Warnings, i.e. DIscussing 'That' Scene from Jovienne, again

NEWS: I'm starting a newsletter soon, so if you want to be in on the updates concerning the Persephone Alcmedi series, the Immanence series, or just want to be in on the fun, check out my website today. Note: It's a double opt-in, so there'll be an email to confirm. Thank you, kindly!

HALLOWEEN is coming (squee!!!!!) so I thought I'd offer a fun drink suggestion in this week's post.

http://www.momnoms.net/blog/vampires-kiss

VAMPIRE KISS

8 oz. blackberries

2 lemons, juiced

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/4 cup water

Ice

4 shots of rum

Splash of Sprite

DIRECTIONS

1. In a small sauce pan simmer blackberries, lemons, brown sugar, and water over medium high heat for 10-15 minutes.

2. Use a colander to strain out the blackberries

3. Put juice into a metal cocktail shaker, add ice, and rum.

4. Shake for about 20 seconds

5. Pour glasses 3/4 full and then add a splash of Sprite to each drink

I know what you're thinking, "...sounds good but that's too much work for a drink." But I'll be trying it before the holiday.

On to the topic...

Trigger Warnings: When Subject Matter is Controversial

I've struggled with whether or not my latest novel, Jovienne (Immanence Series, #1) should have a trigger warning.

On one hand, there is a rape scene. Flat out, it's easy to say, yes it needs a trigger warning. I've tried to put the word out there by blogging about it, posting and tweeting.

On the other hand, before that scene arises, I established these four things in the text: 

1.) all demons needed to feed on energy soon after they arrived in this world

2.) they fed two ways:

       a.) by killing and partaking of the death energy

or 

       b.) by a sexual exchange 

3.) if a specific type of demon physically touched a human for an extended time, they could pull images and thoughts from that person's mind

4.) those specific demons could shape shift

When I wrote the scenes for Jovienne's test, I didn't originally have a plan for getting her out of it alive. It wasn't a planned novel, but more of a short story exercise for me so I wasn't invested in making her live through it, as I was exploring what would happen if I tried to kill that character. How hard would she fight to finish her story?

I'd also established that her family was dead and that her father had been a hostile, brooding, bullying, belittling, tantrum of a man. She hated him. He gave her no kindness and allowed her no happiness. 

As an author, having her face him --or rather one of those specific shifting demon's wearing his face-- was the worst thing I could do to her. But that demon gained a position of power over her. Having the demon attempt what evil was already established as it's prerogative and do that horrific deed as her father... it certainly seemed a demonic act to me.

So yes, I pushed hard and I did so on purpose. It was not ever my intention to trigger anyone, so I have put the word out as best I know how.

I can hear you asking, "Why not cut the scene, then?"

Because her reaction and subsequent actions establish her character so strongly, so unrepentantly, that I could not do her the disservice of removing it. I accept that hers is not a journey everyone will want to read, but I must say that, for me, it has been an inspiration to write.

POST-DRAGONCON POST **TOP TEN THINGS I OVERHEARD AT DRAGON CON**

I've heard DragonCon set a new record this year with 82,000 people.

Myself, I kept to the Westin as much as possible. Even so, I had a fantastic time. Saw so many friends, made new friends, and participated on some splendid panels. Despite my rather sequestered visit, I did manage to make my annual list....but first, the weeks topic: what genre would I be least likely to write and why.

Short answer: I won't do myself the disservice of thinking or saying that there's anything I'd be unlikely to write. I've already written in many genres and there are elements of other genres within that work. I refuse to put that limitation on myself.


ShortER answer: I DO WHAT I WANT!

And now....

THE TOP TEN THINGS 

I OVERHEARD AT DRAGONCON

*Random quotes as heard in passing 

that may have been spoken in complete innocence, 

but taken out of context and 

having passed through my dirty mind, 

they are all the more funny.*

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

THE "I WISH I HAD SAID THAT" AWARD

    Often, I have a glut of fucks, but right now I'm all out.

PSEUDO WISDOM AWARD:

     The absence of confusion is not the confusion of absence.

MOST CONFUSING AWARD:

     It's not delivering. Get on the table.

10.) If you give a pun and receive a guffaw in return, 

well, that's a little too self-important.

9.) I just like talking about it, not doing it.

8.) I admit it, I was playing with my sack.

7.) I went in, took a sniff, and decided 

to stand in the back and watch the lights.

6.) I don't need to smack rods with people to know mine is better.

5.) Aw, she has a long shiny one in her hands. 

4.) Hey...that is not normal.

3.) Just lick him and stay there.

2.) I only come to DragonCon to get things stuck in me 

so I can get a free t-shirt.

1.) Of all the mostly naked people I've seen today, you're the best.

SERIES vs. SINGLE TITLE

image from WIKIPEDIA

I have always loved reading series books. From Encyclopedia Brown by Donald J. Sobol to the Dragonlance novels by Weis & Hickman, I enjoyed revisiting the characters who felt like friends.

That said, both VICIOUS CIRCLE (#1 in the Persephone Alcmedi Series) and JOVIENNE (#1 in the Immanence Series) were written to be stand alone novels. It was after the fact, when the publishers asked for more, that I expanded on the world and the characters' arcs.

image from WIKIPEDIA

Why? Because, especially considering the market and advice being given when the PA Series was picked up, the commonly held notion was that one should never 'expect' they're going to get to write more. Looking back, that's silly. Readers have always, like me, wanted to revisit their friends and go on new adventures with them, and see what happened next. But publishers then, as I understood it, weren't as eager to promise second chances to new authors.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to write series. I do. God yes, I do. And to that end, there have always been ideas floating in my mind and typed into documents and filed away, ready to sprout when (not if) the word is given to expand.

DRAGON CON IS COMING!!!!!!!! THIS WEEKEND. *happy dance*

You know what that means, right?

My annual post: THINGS I OVERHEARD AT DRAGONCON

Look for it next week.

If I had a Reality TV Show...

I don't watch much TV. Shows of the 'reality' variety don't have any appeal to me if they are about the relationships of people because I'm just not that voyeuristic. BUT...I do occassionally love to watch a house renovation.

Long ago I was employed as the Art Director for a realty company. Later, I was an assistant to the sales staff at a home builder, then I was in training to become their sales staff. After that, I became a Realtor. There's an appreciation for homes within that calls to me. Deciding on colors, decor, furniture, art, the whole look and feel of a room and how it blends into another room to create a cozy home...ahhh, yes...I do enjoy pondering these questions and answering them. Proof provided below...

BEFORE:

Ugly wallpaper.

Drab woodwork.

*pardon the tools*

AFTER #1:

Pale walls to match sink.

Refinished and antiqued the wood, 

added new knobs and accents.

New mirror and switchplates to match.

And yes...I did make my own stencils so 

I could do a raised stencil. Love the effect.

*have new oil rubbed bronze faucet

but that's on the honey-do list*

AFTER #2:

The closet door refinished and new knob and accents.

That fabric became the shower curtain for a pop of bold color.

Writing a Scene of that 'R' word

Hello. I'm going to say the R word. And then I'm going to discuss a certain scene in my latest book where that R word was attempted. You know the word I mean. 

Rape.

Why? Our topic this week is: 

Third Rails in Genre Fiction
What topics are too dangerous for you to touch? 
Or do you touch them anyway?

Let me start with this...I googled Rape Statistics and these were the top two links:

1.) Rape Statistics - Wikipedia
Statistics on rape and other sexual assaults are commonly available in industrialized countries, and are becoming more common throughout the world. ... Rape is a severely under-reported crime with surveys showing dark figures of up to 91.6%.

2.) Victims of Sexual Violence: Statistics / RAINN
On average, there are 321,500 victims (age 12 or older) of rape and sexual assault each year in the United States. ... As of 1998, an estimated 17.7 million American women had been victims of attempted or completed rape. ... Females ages 16-19 are 4 times more likely than the general population...

In just those short snippets, the numbers cited are ...terrifying. It is no wonder that that particularly heinous, disgusting, and violent crime is an emotionally charged topic for so many--all of us either have been a victim or know someone(s) who have been. 

So why write about it? 

I mean, GoT got so much flack for all those episodes...right? 

The way I feel about GoT is complicated... and I realize I'm a minority in my take on 'that' season, but I didn't get /upset/.  I believed that in that world and time period considering the cultures as they had been presented, those kinds of crimes were believable to have happened to those characters in the way they were portrayed. Screen time of the act could have been shortened or alluded to without the visual, but the dramatic impact was, I think, as they intended it to be.

My sons watched the show as well, and they are on social media, and they were well aware of the hubbub about those scenes/that season as a whole. Because of that show and the outcry, I had conversations with my sons that I might not have otherwise had, and I think that was a VERY good thing.

But in saying that, I'm not trying to gloss over the truth that so many were triggered by these plotlines -- whether or not they personally victims. Even after the immediate physical injuries of a rape have healed, the psychological effects linger.

So answer already! Why write about it? Why add the layer of 'incest' to it?

It wasn't shock value. My writing has never been meant to come across as some wordy version of a shock-horror concert like Marilyn Manson or Rob Zombie. 

When I wrote Jovienne it was not a story I had plotted out. There was no 'I'm going to have bad things A, B, and C happen cumulatively, and then she's going to escape and/or deal this way.' 

I put her into a situation of having her skills tested. She had been trained to kill demons for God. A graduation ceremony wouldn't have made any sense. But a death match with a demon...yeah. That was the highest level of testing with the highest level of risk. 

It had already established these four things in the text: 

1.) all demons needed to feed on energy soon after they arrived in this world

2.) they fed two ways:

       a.) by killing something/someone and partaking of the death energy, or 

       b.) by a sexual exchange 

3.) if a demon physically touched a human for an extended time, they could pull images and thoughts from that person's mind

4.) some demons could shape shift

When I wrote Jovienne's test, I didn't have a plan for getting her out of it alive. It wasn't a planned novel, but more of a short story exercise. I wasn't invested in making her live through it, just seeing what would happen if I tried to kill her. 

How hard would this character fight to finish her story?

I'd also established that her family was dead and that her father was a hostile, brooding, bullying, belittling, tantrum of a man. She hated him. He gave her no kindness and allowed her no happiness. 

As an author, having her face him --or rather a demon wearing his face-- was the worst I could do to her. But that demon gained a position of power over her. Having the demon attempt what evil was established as it's prerogative as her father... it certainly seemed a demonic act to me.

Her reaction and subsequent actions establish her character so strongly, so unrepentantly, that I could not do her the disservice of removing that scene. Hers is not a journey everyone will want to read. But it has been an inspiration for me to write.

I welcome your thoughts and a civil discussion in the comments, if you like.

Recurrent Theme/Trope: The Chosen One

All the stories I

love love love 

are tales of good-versus-evil. 

I know, 

from a certain point of view, 

perhaps every story 

is good-versus-evil, 

so to put a finer point 

on my thought, 

I'll say that whether 

it's the everyday Joe 

opposing evil, 

or some mystical savior 

sent from on high, 

those Chosen Ones 

appeal to me.

  

But too often 

those Chosen One's 

have been male.

It's a big part of

WHY 

I write. 

In the last 20 years 

we've had a few women 

in that role filmwise 

either directly 

{Leeloo in 5th Element, c.1997} 

or arguably 

{Alice in Resident Evil franchise, 

Katniss of Hunger Games, 

Selene of the Underworld franchise}. 

Most recently, 

Diana of Themyscira 

has rooted herself 

as a badass, 

legit, female 

Chosen One 

to be Reckoned With.

I've been writing female 

Chosen Ones since 2009 

when Persephone Alcemdi 

-- "the Witches Messiah" -- 

first hit the shelves with 

VICIOUS CIRCLE. 

I've continued that trend with 

Jovienne 

released earlier this year.

It manifests in writing a

strong female character

who has a big destiny,

and showing her

facing her fears,

stepping up and

confronting evil

in addition

to the day-to-day 

struggles of her life.

Flash Fiction : In the Sweltering Dark

For our summer flash fiction, I submit this 952 word short story.

In the Sweltering Dark

by Linda Robertson

Abigail roused to the sweltering dark, but she was not in her bed. 

Drowse fled away as realization struck: she was in a boat. Tear-shaped, it had only room enough for her, and barely that. As she slid onto a sitting position, she could not straighten her legs. Her pantsuit was dirty and there was sand and mud under her nails.

What in Hell is going on?

Pushing her gray hair out of her face, she scanned around but recognized nothing. The night-shrouded shores offered no explanation. Sweat beaded on her brow, but not purely from the stress of this moment. Despite the lack of sun in the sky, it had to be a hundred degrees here. A hundred and twenty. 

Thinking to splash some water on her face, she dipped a hand into the fluid but drew back instantly. Even the river seemed about to boil. 

How did I get here?

Thinking back, Abigail had trouble remembering. She knew her name. She knew she was an Executive Assistant to the Curator of Greek and Roman Art at the Cleveland Museum of Art – had been since graduating from Bryant Stratton thirty-two years ago. She had a cottage in a posh suburb. But she hadn't been home… and she certainly wasn't there now.

Eyes closed and hands covering her face, she fought to remember. 

Travelling. 

Snippets of calm, blue ocean shifted into a churning mass of green and gray. A gentle curve of coastline being ravaged by the swells of giant, foamy waves. White houses in the rain.

Mykonos. I was in Greece! A dream assignment and vacation in one.

There had been a storm. The charter boat bucked and heaved under her. She was told to go below deck; she hadn't understood the words but the captain pointed.

She hadn't made it.

Reliving it, she felt the wave grip her, lift her, and pull her from the deck like a monster. Just drops of water, she'd thought. Just drops...but gathered into millions, surging to the whim of a tempest's fury, and she was powerless. The Aegean Sea closed over her head. Gray turned to black. 

I'm dead.

Pulling her hands from her face, she opened her eyes again.

Yet I’m here. But where is here? If I’m dead…this is…no. No. It cannot be.

The speed of the river increased. Ahead, it split. One side flowed into a thick mist, the other seemed alight under the mist. Leaning, she steered the boat toward the light.

Nearing, she found that wasn’t mist on this side, but smoke. And the light on the water was flames.

Leaning again, twisting the boat beneath her, she willed it to change its course. But Abigail could not alter the bearing. Her path had been chosen.

Fear claimed her as she neared the flaming portion of the river. A more tangible version of death was about to seize her.

Hugging herself to keep as far from the flames as possible, the smoke enveloped Abigail and she floated among the flames. Every breath of this steamy air made her lungs feel more scalded.

In seconds, figures appeared to the left and right, near the shoreline. They were women, some ankle deep in the water, some knee deep. All moaned or wept.

At the sound of a nearby scream, Abigail turned sharply as another woman appeared, closer, and waist deep in the river. This one wore a tattered blouse with scorched cuffs, and her thin hair hung like so many threads. The burnt cuffs flaked away like ash as she reached out, broken nails scratching at the rail but finding no purchase. She cackled and cried, though it could have been mad laughter.

Drifting onward, the figures grew more numerous, many much closer to the boat. Their piteous cries filled Abigail’s ears and she covered them but could not block the sound. Her eyes squeezed shut again and seemed to continue burning from the smoke.

This couldn’t be happening.

She thought of her children and her husband, finally acknowledging the pain and loss they must be suffering, and her heart grew heavy knowing they would grieve. In his own way, so would her dog, Dante—

At his name, knowledge connected with thoughts and ideas and bound tight as she looked around again.

                                            

Phlegethon.

“I’ve committed no violent crimes,” she shouted into the smoky haze and drawing the attention of those trapped in the river. “I am not meant to be here!”

She felt and heard the scratch of something on the bottom and the boat lurched to a halt despite the current. Peering over the edge, she saw a wrinkled face barely above the surface of the lake. White hair fanned around her. “Help me!” The woman moved slightly to either side as if keeping the ebb of the heated water from flowing into the corners of her eyes and up her nose. Her arm, beneath the surface must have grabbed the keel. “Help!”

Being restrained in the river, the flames latched onto the boat. They licked up the sides, painting her view in orange and red. “Let go!”

From the river came only laughter. Not just the closest one; all the women began to laugh.

Abigail pulled off her shoe and threw it at the old face. Fire-water splashed across the woman’s eyes and she screamed. The boat began to drift again, but too late. The flames had set in and the heat redoubled at Abigail’s back—

Sitting up in her bed, Abigail gasped. Lightning flickered and thunder boomed outside her window. Aside from the pouring rain there was no sound. No light. Not even the clock.

The electric’s out. AC cut off.

And another hot flash crawled over her.