Category Archives: Fantasy Novel

Six Sentence Sunday: #12 Bartholomew’s Contemplation

Posted on
18

Welcome back for another Six Sentence Sunday post from my paranormal short, Flight.

For those of you who read last week’s installment, Mary soon was saved by Matilde’s father’s intervention in their fight, and I’ve taken the liberty of skipping ahead an itty-bitty bit.

We now find that Bartholomew has trailed Matilde and her father back to their tenement. Having crept into the room where she is sleeping with her baby brother, he is contemplating the Catcher’s interest in possessing the body of this small girl.

If you’re unfamiliar with this story, the first installment is found here.

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He listened to the children breathing, the tiny scritch-scritch of mice feet, and singing, fighting, and fucking from within neighboring rooms. The cold night air whistled through the gaping wallboards, and the sleeping girl shivered and pulled her baby brother closer.

This was madness. Bartholomew closed his eyes and squeezed his temples, then brought his fingers down around his eyes and up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Non, he thought as he shook his head. It was impossible to believe such a small body could hold the Catcher.

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As always, I encourage you to visit Six Sentence Sunday to find snippets from many more talented writers.

Six Sentence Sunday #10: Hey, Mary.

Posted on
26

Welcome back for another Six Sentence Sunday excerpt from my paranormal short, Flight.

Tilly’s up, she’s mad, and her Pappa taught her: “Never start a fight, but always finish it. And always fight dirty.”

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Tilly rolled over, rose to her knees, and looked around. She hefted a chunk of red brick, and the smile returned to Bartholomew’s lips. Her palm barely fit around the flat side, and the jagged, broken edge jutted past her fingers. Bartholomew’s smile became a wicked grin as Tilly stood, clutched the wall for a breath, then turned toward her attackers. She stumbled toward them, her hand down and back as she came up behind her assailant.

“Hey, Mary.”

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If you’d like to read more of this story, it starts here.

And, when you leave here, please take a look at the other snippets offered up for Six Sentence Sunday. Lotsa new words to read every week!

Six Sentence Sunday: #9 — Now It’s Fer Me

Posted on
19

Hi friends! Welcome back for another Six Sentence Sunday installment from Flight, my paranormal short. Last week we left Bartholomew on the roof and poor, little Tilly sprawled on the alley’s cobblestones. Will she stay down?

If you’re new to this story, and want to read from the beginning, you’ll find the first installment here.

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Mary smirked as she yanked the little, bundled shawl from Tilly’s arms. “Now it’s fer me.” She spat on her victim then marched back to the waiting boys.

Bartholomew’s fists clenched as Mary revealed a small heel of bread from the ragged shawl and doled out shares to her lackeys. Her back to her victim, the bully draped the stolen shawl over her shoulder and shoveled bread into her mouth.

Tilly rolled over, rose to her knees, and looked around.

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For anyone unfamiliar with Six Sentence Sunday, it’s a weekly blog hop where writers — published and unpublished — post six sentence snippets from their projects. Check out the site for more information, links to more writers, and to join in.

Six Sentence Sunday: Flight #5

Posted on
15

From Scorsese's Gangs of New York

Welcome back, Sixers! Sorry I failed to post more from Flight on the 18th; life intruded on art, and I missed Six Sentence Sunday. Some of you stopped by and left comments anyway, and I so appreciate your kind words.

Because you’ve so patiently waited to find out what the Catcher wants our hero to see, I’m skipping ahead a few paragraphs. We now join Bartholomew on the roof of the brick tenement where the crows are gazing down at the Five Points — New York’s Sixth Ward.

(If you’re new to this story, and want to read more, the posts begin here.)

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Bartholomew followed their gaze and spied a small figure flitting between horse carts, tradesmen, and sluggards. A small girl, her blonde braids flying and blue shawl clutched to her chest, was sprinting his way with an older girl and two boys in pursuit. He crouched at the ledge, dragged on his cigarette, and watched with keen, unblinking eyes.

With her pursuers gaining ground, the urchin was rerouted by an overturned market cart. She ducked between two men and scuttled around the corner into the dead-end alley below Bartholomew. She ran to a door at the rear of the building and yanked on its handle, but it didn’t give. With a little shriek and a kick to the door, she whirled, and found her escape had been blocked.

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Please remember to check out more six sentence snippets from other writers at sixsunday.com.

Six Sentence Sunday: Flight #3 ‘One Who Is Bound’

Posted on
23

Welcome back Sixers,

I’m still playing with Flight. So how’s about we continue to follow Monsieur Pelletier as he strolls and mulls?

(A caveat on the following picture. My story takes place in the 1840s, approx. 60 years earlier than this photo. So Bartholomew’s style of dress is Victorian and the streets were certainly rougher than what you see here. Still, you gotta love this pic.)

Mulberry Street, NYC, c1900

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“You look like a gentleman who appreciates fine tobacco, sir.”

Indeed Bartholomew was one to appreciate the finer, and coarser, activities the Five Points offered – he’d already been entertained by one of its ladies this evening. But with a glance he assessed the rickety shop for a charlatan’s abode and strolled onward.

Asir – celui qui est attaché. Bartholomew’s jaw tightened. ‘Asir’ meant he was bound, powerless, a queen’s possession.

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And please take the time to visit the other writers posting for Six Sentence Sunday. Feedback is invaluable. Thanks!

Six Sentence Sunday: Flight

Posted on
27

Hello, Sixers, I missed you last week, but went knee-deep in Girl Under Glass and finished my tension edit! Now the book is off to the first of my beta readers, and I’m wandering the room like a five-year-old with too many choices.

So today’s Six Sentence Sunday selection is the opening of a short story called Flight. This is a character exercise and focuses on Bartholomew, my asir (demi-daemon) from Fall for Me.

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Caught in a maelstrom of black feathers and beady eyes, Bartholomew tugged down his top hat and turned up his coat collar to the crows’ sharp talons and beaks. He ducked the raucous beasts and continued along the muddy Mulberry Bend anticipating night’s more interesting fare as the shops and traders closed, packed, and bargained.

“A fat duck for your dinner tonight, sir?”

Whenever he came to New York, he spent as much time as possible in the city’s infamous Sixth Ward knowing Claire found its poverty pathetic. His queen’s reluctance to follow provided him some small measure of freedom. And so Bartholomew had a strange affection for the Bend’s wretches and crooks.

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Thanks for visiting and remember to stop by Six Sentence Sunday to find links to more fantastic fare.

Six Sentence Sunday: What Matilde Wants, Matilde Gets.

Posted on
19

I appreciate all the comments and encouragement I’ve received from other Six Sentence Sunday participants. I try to read as many posts as possible each week, but rarely have time to get to more than a dozen or so. But, I’m trying, guys, really!

So, here’s a little more of my lovely daemon, Matilde, from Fall for Me. As you’ll see, she’s a rather determined lady.
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Keeping our lips locked, I led him up the stairs. Every time I felt him hesitate, hold back, retreat, I doubled my efforts. I didn’t allow his doubt. He was mine. I wanted every part of his body and his mind. Then I would have his blood and his soul.
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As always, if you’re new to Six Sentence Sunday, check out all the other wonderful writing examples to be found every week. Lots of good stories unfolding before our eyes.

Six Sentence Sunday: A Complicated Character

Posted on
12

It was hard to decide what to post from Fall for Me for this week’s Six Sentence Sunday. Finally, I chose something that shows Matilde’s complexity. Yes, she’s powerful and dangerous and passionate, but she also struggles with her human morals versus her daemonic compunctions. It isn’t easy being a daemon in death; especially if you were a Catholic in life.

Now living in New York, Matilde has gathered her nerve and gone to Confession for the first time in sixty-seven years. (And I hope I’ll be forgiven for going one sentence over the limit again this week. Sorry.)

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The familiar odor of resin filled my nose, and I felt comforted by the dim light and the mystery of Confession. But the priest’s sweet scent, wafting through the grille, disturbed that comfort. I peered through the carved divider.

The boyish priest leaned forward, his face pressed against the dark wood, his eyes wide and straining to discern my face.

His scent permeated the narrow space, and I bit the inside of my cheek until I felt the sharp sting of torn flesh and tasted blood.

I held my breath for a heartbeat, trying to quell my misgivings and battling my unholy urges, then I began my confession. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned….”

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Check out more fabulous writing at Six Sentence Sunday. And, if you’re a writer, I encourage you to join this supportive group.

Six Sentence Sunday: Matilde Kicks Ass

Posted on
9

Continuing Six Sentence Sunday with material from Fall for Me. I decided that since I’ve shown Bartholomew’s imposing presence, and introduced that royal bitch, Claire, it’s time you got to see Matilde in action. She is, after all, a very dangerous daemon in her own right. (And, I hope I’ll be forgiven for going one sentence over the limit. Mea culpa.)

WARNING: Here there be violence.

In this scene, Matilde is crouched upon her heavy, wooden kitchen table, poised to punish two men who are attacking her maid, Petchra.

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Her rapist’s back faced me. He didn’t see death coming.

I grabbed his head with both hands, jerked him backwards, and slammed his skull into the table’s edge. I felt a sickening crunch as his head separated from his spine, and his skull fragmented. I let his convulsing body fall to the floor where he flopped about like a fish.

The other soldier had dropped Petchra when I seized his partner. He stared at me. “Jesus Christ.”

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As always, you can find more fabulous writing at Six Sentence Sunday. And, if you’re a writer, I encourage you to join this supportive group.

Six Sentence Sunday: Fall for Me

Posted on
13

More from Fall for Me, my romantic paranormal novel.

I like my hero strong, but flawed. If he’s take-charge, a bit dangerous, but his motives, deep down, are noble — all the better. In Bartholomew’s case, if he’s all that, plus tall, dark-haired, and French, well, that’s best of all.

In this scene, he has surprised Matilde in her room.

———————-

“Am I so unaware?”

He shook his head, retrieved the comb from the floor, and set to work on my hair. “Non. Distracted.”

I closed my eyes and indulged in his closeness, the feel of his fingers, the smell of his skin.

The comb slowed, his hands lingered. He stroked my jaw, tilted my head.

———————–

Catch a boat-load of fabulous writing every week at Six Sentence Sunday. And, if you’re a writer, join in by posting six sentences from your work-in-progress.