Interview with the Awethors Featuring Jason Greensides

I’m back with another segment of “Interview with the Awethors”. I wanted to take a moment and thank each and every reader that has given each one of these authors, I have had the pleasure of talking to, well deserved attention. Each one of these authors has put immense amounts of hard work, time, and soul into their novels, and it gives me joy to see the comments and likes that each author has received. I applaud you all.

The Distant Sound of Violence cover

Today, I’m here with an author that has relaunched his novel “The Distant Sound of Violence”. It’s a story that makes you fall back into your past and think about those teenage decisions that may still be lingering in your mind today. Please give Jason Greensides a warm welcome!

author headshot photo

Jason Greensides has a degree in Video Production and Film Studies and has made several short films, two of which have been broadcast on television – but writing fiction is his real passion.

He’s interested in ‘outsider’ types, people operating on the edge of society. This inspired him to write his first novel, The Distant Sound of Violence. It’s about a group of kids, one in particular, Nathan Dawes, whose philosophical obsessions and criminal connections have made him an outcast at school.

Jason is now working on his second novel, another coming-of-age mystery, but on coffee breaks he blogs and tweets about writing, and throws in the occasional book

William: In your youth, did you make any questionable decisions that may linger today?

Jason: Not decisions as such. When I was fifteen, though, I had to move to another town from which I’d grown up. Leaving all my friends like that was certainly a significant moment for me, one I’ll never forget and always live with. Some of the things Nathan goes through when he is fifteen, although way more extreme than this, are certainly inspired by this event in my life.

William: I will say reading through your novel, Nathan’s decision were pretty intense at his age. Between Nathan and Ryan, which character do you relate to more?

Jason: I relate to both. Ryan is better adjusted to life – that’s the normal(ish) part of me. Nathan, however, is that ‘outsider’ aspect I’ve always had within me. I’m mixed race, I’m often unsociable, and have spent too much time going from job to job with no real career plan. These are just three ways that, at times, have given me a feeling of alienation.

William: I love books that have an author’s personalities built inside of different characters. What I’ve read so far, you have successfully fulfilled that joy. In the novel, what can you tell readers about the Grove Runners Gang,and is there any significance to the name?

Jason: Apart from its plot significance, the gang were used as a way to highlight the theme of existing ‘outside’ society. Weirdly, however, that the members are part of a gang, to me, ironically gives them some kind of a place in society. In being on the fringes of society, the gang are not separate from it, they affirm it, they define themselves by it whether they know it or not. The name “The Grove Runners” asserts this theoretical idea further. They hang out on Ladbroke Grove, a well-known part of west London near Notting Hill, so again, they are affirming their existence as part of society, not separate from it. They are also used as a comparative device to show how far Nathan falls, a fall which is truly outside mainstream society.

William: You really know how to pack a punch when it comes to highlighting a life outside of society. I want to cut over to a video you posted recently before we continue on about yourself.

William: I can’t describe the emotions that go through any author that receives that proof copy of their novel. I know it was an ecstatic moment for me, and when I see it through another author, it melts my heart for them. In the video, can you describe the feelings that were in you at that moment?

Jason: As you know I filmed this moment in order to put it on YouTube, so to begin with I was more concerned about the technical aspects of having the camera set up right, making sure the lighting was OK, and going over the points I knew I needed to cover, rather than opening the package itself. After a few false starts, I was finally at the point where I could actually open the package from CreateSpace for the first time. Then I was mainly filled with a ludicrous childish excitement. I say “mainly,” as the excitement was only marred by the prospect of the novel looking bad or something being off in the interior – basically the unwelcome prospect of more work ahead. Still, it was a great moment, unlikely to be repeated.

William: “ludicrous childish excitement”, I don’t think anyone could describe it better than you, my friend! Did you happen to receive any “feel good” moments from your beta readers in the weeks before the release? Maybe one that struck you the most?

Jason: When one of them said, “That was better than I was expecting.”

William: While your novel does start in the teenage years of the characters, I want to learn more about you, Jason. How were you brought up and how did that mold you into the man/author you are today?

Jason: When I was a kid I used to love going on adventures in the woods, going on bike rides, and riding that bike hard. I guess at some point there was a part of me that loved taking risks, putting myself on the edge. Crashing into rivers, doing crazy jumps that often ended in injury… That risk-taking certainly comes out in my writing. I’m not about to write something straight forward; I have to push what I think I’m capable of. Also I seem a little schizophrenic. Part of me has a foul mouth and has half my face drooling in the gutter (Nathan’s swearing cat is a reflection of this). The other half has his head in the clouds, loves highbrow art, e.g., literary novels, philosophy, and classical music. My novels are also like this. There are some trashy, guttersnipe aspects to my personality, but conversely, high-blown (and pretentious) literary aspirations, too.

William: I think every author has a little schizophrenia in them. I never really thought of it that way until you brought up both sides of it. I for one, like writing and playing music but the other side would love to sit in a cage with great white sharks surrounding me. A shark tank may not be an ideal place for inspiration but what places do you go to get those creative juices flowing?

Jason: Walking. Anywhere. Or travelling on the tube. The act of walking or the hypnotic lull of a tube journey unsticks my thought processes and are a great way to mull over ideas and workout plot problems.

William: I can’t help but say all your answers so far have been very unique. “hypnotic lull of a tube journey”.You are like a master with words! Before we go, are there any hints of a future release anytime soon?

Jason:  I’m part of the amazing Awethors Facebook group and we are releasing an anthology of short stories later this month. My story, Even Silence has an Echo, is featured. After that they’ll be my second novel due out sometime next year. It’s another literary coming of age mystery about the investigation into a boy’s suicide.

William: I’m looking forward to having the opportunity to pick up another novel next year, Jason. Do you have any shout outs to anyone that has pushed you to this point in your career?

Jason: Wonderful feedback from Nathan Jones and Emma Hensby in the early drafts of The Distant Sound of Violence. And all Awethors for their constant encouragement, advice, and support.

twitter sale copped

Jason’s debut novel, The Distant Sound of Violence, will be on $0.99 / £0.99 Amazon Kindle promotion between Tuesday 29th September and Sun 4th October.

Amazon link for The Distant Sound of Violence mybook.to/TDSOV

Other links:

Website: jasongreensides.com

Facebook: facebook.com/jasongreensidesauthor

Twitter: twitter.com/jasongreensides

Google Plus: plus.google.com/+JasonGreensides

Pinterest: pinterest.com/jasongreensides

Goodreads: goodreads.com/Jason_greensides

Thanks for joining me on another spectacular interview with one of the authors that truly grab the attention of readers from the start. If you are an author interested in joining me the blog series, please send your submissions to: lloyd.jr@aol.com.

Interview with the Awethors Featuring Kristina Stanley

Thanks for joining us today on Interview with the Awethors. Today I have a special treat for you guys! Today we have mystery author, Kristina Stanley here!

Kristina Skiing – Version 2

Kristina Stanley is the author of the Stone Mountain Mystery Series. Her books have garnered the attention of prestigious crime writing organizations in Canada and England. Crime Writers of Canada nominated DESCENT for the 2014 Unhanged Arthur award. The Crime Writers’ Association nominated BLAZE for the 2014 Debut Dagger. She is also published in the Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine.

William: Thank you for joining me today, Kristina. In your novel, Descent, were there any personal experiences that helped you write the story?

Kristina: I did work at a ski resort as the director of human resources, security and guest services and that certainly influenced my work. No one was murdered while I worked at the resort, but I did have a lot of interaction with ski racers, tuners and coaches. I’ve alpine skied, snowshoed, cross-country skied, and snowmobiled. All of these activities take place in Descent, but or course in a dramatic fashion. I didn’t personally experience the dramatic lifestyle of Kalin Thompson, but she was fun to write about.

William: Do you feed any characteristics of people in you personal life into the characters in your novel?

Kristina: Only the dogs. The dogs in my novels are based on real dogs that have been in my life. This started when my beautiful yellow lab, Chica, died at the age of four. I was heartbroken and added her to Descent as a tribute. She fit the story since many people living in or close to the wilderness have a dog. I think she brings a sense of reality to Kalin and Ben. Farley, my soft-coated wheaten terrier, makes his debut in Blaze.

For people, I like to make them up from scratch. It’s much more fun that way, and I’m not restricted by anything I know about a real person. I’d worry that if I drew from people around me, I wouldn’t create the best possible story for my characters.

Kristina and Chica

William: In Descent, I really enjoyed getting to know Kalin and how she would be the first person to jump into any situation . Describe your character Kalin in one word, and why?

Kristina: Driven.

Whatever Kalin takes on, whether it is in her personal or her professional life, she lives it fully. There is no half way. In each Stone Mountain Mystery, Kalin drives the story forward by searching for the villain in her small community. And sometimes, the villain is someone she’s close to.

William: You’ve done a fantastic job building Kalin as a character in this mystery series. When did you discover that you had a niche for writing mystery novels?

Kristina: I’ve always loved reading mystery novels, so it seemed like the natural genre for me to write in. Unless I’m reading non-fiction, I want to disappear in a story, so I wanted to write stories where others can do the same. I like to refer to Descent as a winter beach read.

William: A winter beach read, I love that. What kind of creative atmosphere assists in producing the story?

Kristina: When I am creating the story, I like to work in silence without interruption. I spent many hours living aboard my sailboat, Mattina (http://kristinastanley.com/2014/02/24/writing-platform/ ), and found that environment conducive to creativity. Somehow a gentle breeze, a light rocking, and a cockpit all to myself was the perfect environment for writing. Being in fresh air most of the day also helps creativity. I have to be physically writing, and by that I mean typing or using a pen, to be creative. Sitting around drumming up ideas in my head without putting them to a page doesn’t work for me.

William: It’s like my English professor always told me, “Don’t sit and contemplate, just write what comes to mind…” Was there anyone that influenced you and pushed you to write?

Kristina: Writing came from within me. I’ve had lots of encouragement from friends, family and other authors. I’m not sure where the drive or interest came from. I have a Combined Honors in Computer Mathematics and spent 15 years in a high tech career in the telecommunications industry. Somewhere along the line, I decided to write. I spent almost 6 years working in a ski resort and when I left, I developed the Stone Mountain Mystery Series.

William: Here’s a question many readers and writers ask each other, what are you currently reading?

Kristina: I’m reading a Cafe Paradise by Carol Balawyder (http://carolbalawyder.com). It’s not the type of book, I normally read as it’s not a mystery, but I’m enjoying it. One of the best side effects of blogging and connecting with other authors online is I find I read a wider set of books in genres I wouldn’t normally pick up. I’ve discovered many great books this way that I would otherwise have missed out on.

William: Do you have any advice that may help writers struggling with productivity in the craft?

Kristina: Be persistent. The only way to get better is to practice, listen to feedback, and practice more. At some point, you have to prioritize your writing over other activities in your life. When you do this, you’ll find the time to write.

DescentCoverBLAZE Cover

If you’re looking for something to read and you haven’t read Descent yet, now is your chance before Blaze comes out on October 25, 2015. Find Descent at: http://mybook.to/Descent

Also, check out Kristina’s page at:

www.kristinastanley.com

Amni Publishing

WE HAVE OFFICIALLY LAUNCHED! AFTER MONTHS OF PREPARATION WE ARE FINALLY READY FOR YOUR SUBMISSIONS!

Hey, guys! We have finally pushed through months of preparation to put together an awesome team of people that want to help publish your stories! We are currently shopping for Romance/Science Fiction/Nonfiction/Fantasy/Horror/Action Adventure/Mystery. If you are interested in publishing with us, send all information to lloyd.jr@aol.com. Leave your query letter about you as an author and your story. Please leave three chapters for us to review and we will respond back to you if we are interested in your manuscript.

Also, please do not send multiple submissions. We have a 6-9 week waiting period.

Thank you all for making this possible. Share, Like, Reblog. Let all of your author friends know that Amni Publishing is officially open!

Alan Dread (Sample)

The house is quiet and calm now. There is a ghostly presence that lingers in the master bedroom, but it does not bother Alan Dread. He smiles in the bathroom mirror, while he rubs his bloodied fingers together. His jade eyes are enticed by the red that swirls around the drain. Alan splashes the warm water on his thin face and bald head. He reaches for the nearest towel and dries himself off as he leaves the bathroom and admires the pools of blood beneath the woman’s corpse on the bed. He stares at the woman handcuffed to the headboard, while her feet are bound to the foot of the bed. Her chest is cut open from one breast to the other, and her stomach is sliced from the navel to her neck. Alan pushes her blond bangs with his fingertips over her ear so he can look into her glazed eyes.

“You made me a lot of money tonight, Liz. I enjoyed the…” He looks at her beat up breasts and trimmed bush. “Well, the entertainment, so to speak.”

He pats the thigh of the stone cold body, feeling the skin tighten beneath his palm as the blood continues to pool beneath her. He kisses her on the lips one last time as he smells the fruity scent of her perfume.

Alan reaches for the cell phone on the end table and taps away at the keys to prepare for his meet with his next victim. He reaches beneath the bed and pulls out a black bag with a clean suit neatly packed inside. He dials one more number on his phone as he enters the bathroom again.

“Is she dead?” his employer asks.

“Yeah, the deed is done,” he answers, ripping off his stained clothes.

“Good. I’ll send someone to clean up the mess. I need you at that diner in an hour. Don’t be fuckin’ late either.”

“Understood,” Alan says, closing the screen.

His phone vibrates on the counter top as he slips on the clean clothes. It’s his wife. He presses the ignore button and scrubs his arms one last time to remove any excess blood that he may have missed before. He shoves the dirty clothes back into the duffel bag and tosses it onto the bed with the body. Alan reaches into his belt and removes the pistol that he has been anxiously waiting to use all night. He walks to the bedroom door and aims the barrel at the woman’s head. He pulls the trigger as an explosion erupts from the weapon. Her head bounces from the pillow as smoke rises from the hole in her forehead.

Insurance he says to himself as he walks down the hallway. The scent of melon and pomegranate fills the air as he follows the trail of rose pedals down the stairs. His eyes wander around the foyer remembering the double life he lived and some of the memories that made him nauseous. He swings open the front door and slams it behind him thanking the lord he no longer has to dwell on this side of town anymore.

Alan enters his black Mercedes and pulls out of the neighborhood onto Elmer Street. He flips open his cell phone and calls his wife back. The lights from the street lamps pass over the windshield as he watches the stars scatter around the crescent moon. He pulls up his sleeve to check his watch; still waiting for his wife to answer her phone.

“Hey, sweetie, I miss you!” she says with excitement.

“I miss you too, but I’m about to be in a meeting,” he says with a smirk.

“I don’t understand why you have meetings at this time of night, Alan. It’s kind of weird, don’t you think?”

“Eh, in my profession, it’s all about timing. I just have to meet with this last client, and I’ll be home for the night. I should be home a little before midnight, okay?”

“Okay, well, hurry up. I have something to show you,” she giggles.

“Madison, I’m working. Please, don’t…” His phone vibrates in his ear. It’s a picture message from Madison. He looks down to see her wearing a black laced thong and a transparent bra.

“I think you’re trying to kill me,” he chuckles.

“Just a little motivation to get you to hurry up. Come home soon, okay?”

“Oh, you know I will now,” he says. “I love you. See you soon.”

“Love you too!”

Alan flips his phone closed and tucks it away in the glove compartment. He turns onto the highway towards the diner. He spends about ten minutes on the same road, until he reaches the diner on the right. He pulls into the parking lot, where two other vehicles accompany his. He feels tension in the back of his mind.

No witnesses.

He enters the diner, finding the young woman waiting in the far corner. He walks over to her casually, but his thirst for more blood is making him edgy. He stands at the end of the table, staring at his prey with enthralled eyes. Her red hair curls over her shoulders, and her aqua eyes pierce through him like a needles.

“Sandra, I’ve missed you. How are things with you?’ he asks with a wide smile, while leaning over to hug her.

“Alan, I’m in trouble. I… I… I… don’t know who to go to,” she says with fright in his eyes.

Oh, shit, she knows he says to himself.

“Whoa, hold on! What’s going on?” he asks, sitting across from her.

“Someone is after me, Alan. The police have been snooping around my house searching for something. The bastard my ex-husband worked for is out to get me,” she answers with trembling hands. “I can’t talk to anyone. I feel like I’m all alone now.”

“Except for me,” he slyly answers.

She looks up at him with watery eyes. Her face is red and swollen from all of the tears.

“Yeah, I guess. I trust you more than my own family.”

He smiles thinking about the many torturous methods he’s going to use on her. Alan licks his lips as though craving for her to satisfy his appetite. He looks up at the waitress behind the counter.

“Coffee, please!” he says, waving his hand to her. He returns his attention to Sandra. “That’s ridiculous. You’ve only known me for two years. How can you already trust me more than your own family?”

Well, because you’re a highly trained assassin, who is an expert at deception, duh! He chuckles.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, distraught by the slightest positive body language.

“Oh, sorry, nothing just thinking about how long you’ve known me and how you can trust me so quickly.”

“Yeah?” she answers with a raised eyebrow. “All I know is you’re the only person who has showed me how to love again. How to be a human being. I know I’ve been widowed once but…”

I already checked your records. You’re a serial killing, gold digging whore, he says to himself, watching her lips move but not hearing anything that is coming out.

“I don’t want to be locked up or be murdered. I’m scared,” she says, pressing her hands against her face.

“There is nothing to be scared of, Sandra. I assure you no one is coming to kill you or lock you up. You’re just extremely paranoid because of the death of your ex-husband.”

“Paranoid? Alan, you don’t understand! I’m under investigation by the F.B.I. Also, my husband’s employer has a bounty on my head!” she exclaims as her face turns beet red.

“Maybe we should leave,” he says, grabbing the coffee from the waitress.

“I can’t! They’re probably outside waiting for me right now!”

Alan calmly sips on his coffee and reaches over the table for her hands. She willingly relinquishes them to him.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” he says. “I’ll take you back to your place and we’ll talk about something cheerful while watching movies that will lighten the mood. Okay? Does that sound like a plan?”

She nods. “Just please don’t let them get me.”

He smiles and places some cash on the table. He helps her out of her seat and leads her to the exit.

“Let’s try to cheer you up, Sandra,” he says, looking at her with his sympathetic eyes.

Tonight you will be able to rest easy for eternity.

He follows her on the highway to a motel called the Blue Chariot Inn. Alan feels nervous when she pulls into the parking lot instead of driving to the safety of her own home. He parks beside her and rolls down his window and waves Sandra to his car.

“I thought we were going to your place?” he asks, looking up at her. He notices something different about her body language. She’s more relaxed and calm now.

“I’m fine. I was just thinking maybe a motel will be safer. No one will know we’re here. If I go back to my house, there may be a group of them waiting for me.”

Don’t agree to this, Alan.

“That’s ridiculous, Sandra. No one is after you, let’s just go back to your place and…”

“No!” she interrupts. “We are staying here tonight. If you can’t handle that, then leave, Alan. Just go!”

Too bad I can’t do that, you crazy bitch!

     “Alright. Let me just get my stuff,” he says. He reaches in the back seat of the car, where he has a white handkerchief and a bottle of chloroform. He dabs some of the substance into the handkerchief and gets out of the vehicle. He turns around swiftly grabbing her throat, but she jabs a Taser between his ribcage. He drops to his knees within seconds as she grabs the white cloth and smothers his own face with it. He can hear her laugh in the background as his eyes become heavy.

“Nice try slick,” she says as Alan falls into unconsciousness.

Mirror’s Veil

I’ve been a little perplexed about what to do with this story. I’ve had this in my files for years and I’ve been tempted to trash it, but it is so hard to let it go. Some work went into this about seven years ago, but it still needs a lot of tender loving care before it’ll ever be ready to be put out on the market. Hope you guys ejoy it. If not, please let me know so I can prove to myself to finally let this one go. Thanks!

 

Chapter 1

     The peaks of the mountains cast shadows across the valleys as the sun sinks beneath the horizon. Clouds tumble over the valley like the ragged breath of a starving wolf as the eerie sounds of critters and animals echo off the tree trunks. A dense fog hovers over a secluded lake in the valley, where a cabin rests within the naked strip of land. A lantern screeches on its jay hook above the door as a gust of wind sweeps across the porch. The scent of chicken and vegetables lingers throughout the cabin which is all that remains of the dinner eaten by the owners of the cabin: a husband, a wife, and their daughter, Lucy Dowles.

Seven-year-old Lucy Dowles rests peacefully in the guest bedroom of the cabin, where she grips the comforters firmly in her hands. The warmth of the bed enthralls her body as she sleeps. A ghostly breeze brushes her face and interrupts her slumber. Her eyes wander towards the door as she squints and rubs her eyes with her tiny hands. She shivers as the breeze continues to whisk pass her face. She peaks over the sheets towards the window, but it is closed. She twists and cocoons herself inside of the comforter. The disturbing creak from the door draws her attention instantly, but she remains stone cold in the bed. She looks over the comforter again. Her hazel eyes peer at the door, where it is slightly open. A chill creeps down her spine as her heart rapidly paces in circles.

A little boy’s laughter echoes in the hallway. Lucy’s mind is drunk with curiosity as she drags her feet out of the bed.  She leans forward to look out into the hallway, but it is barely visible from her angle. Lucy cautiously pushes off the bed and walks towards the door. She leans against the door and pokes her head out into the hallway. Nothing is there.

She pulls the door wide open, cautious as to not wake her parents across the hall. Her father rolls in his bed but continues to snore. The boy’s laughter echoes in the kitchen. Lucy looks across the hall into her parents’ room, but her instincts taunt her to continue investigating the sounds in the house.

The brisk air takes her breath away as she enters the kitchen. The wooden floors are cold beneath her bare feet. She hesitates for a moment as she looks at the metallic panel on the refrigerator. She sees the opaque outline of her black hair and tiny body in the reflection. A knock at the window makes her heart skip a beat as she twists around like a top. A cloud forms in the window as though someone is breathing on the opposite side of the glass. Lucy pushes herself back from the counter with a hint of fright swirling in her mind. She continues to stare at the window as letters form within the cloud. The letter, “C” appears as more letters gradually form. A message is finally legible in the window:

 

COME PLAY WITH US

 

Chills writhe throughout Lucy’s body, and she stumbles around the island in the middle of the kitchen. The door to the back porch slams with force as she falls to the floor. The message fades away in the window. She walks towards the back door and hears garbage cans crash around the other side of the porch. The hairs on her neck rise as she twists the doorknob.

The floorboards are slick and wet as the fresh midnight dew lingers in the air. The cold and moist air sticks to Lucy’s skin as the rustling in the trees alert her attention. The lantern continues to swing on its hook as the wind picks up momentum across the porch. She ventures towards a pile of metal trays scattered across the porch, where something knocked them off the table. She walks to the corner of the porch and hears a bloodcurdling hiss as sharp claws dig into her ankle. She pulls her leg away and observes her small wound. Blood trickles down her ankle and wraps around her heel. She looks back at the black cat. Its tail is furrowed and back arched as though ready to attempt to attack Lucy again. The bright red glow from the cat’s eyes mesmerizes Lucy as the cat slowly ducks under the railing and hops into the yard.

Lucy peers out at the darkness of the back yard as the moon peeks through the clouds. The wound burns on her ankle as the legs to her pajamas rub lightly against her skin.

The boy’s laughter erupts from beneath the porch as pine needles stir beneath his footfalls. Lucy leans over the railing, but the boy is already sprinting towards the woods.

“Come out and play, Lucy!” the boy’s laughter makes her petrified to know where he is leading her to, but yet again, her instincts continue to persuade her to continue on her investigation.

The boy finally disappears into the black abyss of the forest, where only his white clothes give off a ghostly aura. She races down the steps of the porch and follows behind him like a sheep in a herd. The cold and wet blades of grass glide beneath her feet, while soaking the bottoms of her pajamas. She watches his golden hair bounce on his head as he avoids fallen trees and low hanging branches.

He disappears in the distance as Lucy slows down to catch her breath. She hears the screeching crickets around her, while the yelping bullfrogs remain hidden in the distance. Her feet sink into the mud. The boy is no longer in sight. A breeze pushes her forward as though forcing her to continue in the direction of the lake as an orange glow sways in the distance. The underbrush cracks beside her, and she quickly turns her head towards the sound. No one is there. The trees narrow as she walks deeper into the forest. A flood of adrenaline rushes throughout her body as anxiety thrashes at her lungs. She sees the pale face and dull eyes of the young boy staring at her. Lucy screams and falls backwards into a pile of wet leaves. Tears swell up under her eyelids as the boy bends down to help her stand up.

“Come play with my new friend, Lucy. He won’t bite,” the boy says with a suspicious tone.

“Who are you? Where is your friend?”

He smiles and points a limp finger towards a tall figure hidden beneath a black coat. The figure stands on the shore with his finger summoning both of them towards him.

“Lucy!” her mother’s scream can be heard in the distance.

“I have to go,” Lucy says, looking back towards the forest.

“No. There is nothing to be afraid of,” a devilish voice says in her subconscious.

“Who are you?” she asks, looking up at the tall figure.

“Come and see,” the sinister voice says as the figure invites her onto his gondola.

Lucy and the boy walk across the cool sand. She feels the pebbles press against the bottom of her feet with their dull edges. The moon outlines the figure as it reaches out for Lucy’s hand. He pulls her towards the cool water.

“Join us, Lucy.”

“I can’t,” Lucy says frightened by the request. “My mother is worried sick. I can’t go. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, Lucy.” The figure waves his hand in the air and the echoes of her mother are silenced. “I have the power to take away all of your worries. Your mother will be fine.”

“But,” she stops. Her mother’s cries can no longer be heard. “What happened?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you.”

The fog lifts slightly as the figure hoists Lucy into the gondola. The boy follows behind her. Lucy feels stomach bile rise in her chest as the gondola drifts out towards the middle of the lake. The figure rows gently until they reach the center. The silence of the lake and the forest forces tears down Lucy’s cheeks. The boy’s hand reaches out for Lucy.

“What’s happening?” Lucy asks, shivering from the cold night.

The figure grabs her neck and twists, until her life is taken away from her.

 

 

Here’s a quick chapter to a project I’ve recently started working on.

Prologue

 

I stood at the top of the Marriott Hotel looking down at the lit streets of Atlanta. Multiple cars winding down narrow streets, while the night air blew past the balcony of my room. I could feel a slight chill run up my arms and down my back as the night left an eeriness that only kept questions wandering through my head.

 How quick would it be? Would anyone miss me? Would I feel anything?

All of these questions ran through my head as I lifted my leg over the railing. I felt the wind enter the bottom of my jeans as I rolled my body over the railing. My brunette hair was slapping across my face as my heart raced. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I turned my head to look down at the fate that awaits me. I’ve stood here many times before, and I’ve always backed out of the grisly death. Tonight though, I’m going to do it.

“Scarlett!” he yelled from the room.

I looked over my shoulder to see my lover racing across the room. I knew it was either go to a mental institution for attempting to jump, or I could go through with it and everything would just go away. My problems… My achievements… My existence. All of these would be gone. I would be released from the world that had weighed down my shoulders for so longer.

The door opened behind me as the curtains flailed in the air. I looked back with my hazel eyes, waiting for Jacob to rescue me. Although I wanted him dearly, I could not live with the regret that lingered in my soul. I loosened my grip on the rail and felt myself lean over. It was at that moment I knew what I had to do. My eyes wandered towards the moonlit sky, and I felt freedom more than ever before.

“No!” I heard him scream from the door, but I had already let go.

I felt weightless. Everything was in slow motion as I fell from the balcony. I opened my eyes, watching the pavement race towards me. I grinned knowing that it was all over. The scandals and murders were behind me. The sinful life I had lived for too long is now just a grain of dust in history. No longer will I have to run from the law, I can now be free and live in harmony.

I heard my mother screaming in the back of my head as I jabbed a knife in her chest. I heard the desperate gurgles of my pedophile father as he drowned in my hands. A faint crunching rattled in my ears as I watched my brother fall into a wood chipper after raping me in the attic.

Do you think I feel sympathy for any of them? My mother let it all happen, my father took my virginity, and my brother desecrated my body, until I was scarred to the point of near death. It was not just them though; there were more involved. They all are dead now.

The vigilante I became, and now, I am falling from the top of the Marriott, wasting away this broken body, this lost soul… This serial killer that wanted a perfect world. I did not just murder my whole family. I murdered every son-of-a-bitch that wanted to treat me like their little whore.

I’m almost there now. I see my world is fading in a white out as I’m only a few feet away from the pavement. This was my final act of kindness to society.

 

This is a little bit of what I have written for my book Arianna.  It is a bit intense in the first few chapter and continues to spiral into the eyes of a growing serial killer. Thanks for reading!