'Fairest' Snippet

This poor Cauldron of Eternal Inspiration has been blocked by Facebook, but this doesn't mean it can't perform in #RainbowSnippets in an unofficial capacity. I've posted a snippet of 'Fairest' at my Cauldron at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com, but I've decided to share it here as well.

'Fairest' is my first published release. It's an f/f fantasy fairytale, where I mix elements of Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and Cinderella together. Below are six sentences, which I'm sharing.

I grasped the mirror by the sides. Despite its large size, it was surprisingly light. I looked into it. My reflection gazed back. She smiled. Her lips were blood red.

Z is for Zoe

I’m Zoe Talbot. I’m the girl who’s always in the library, peeking at from over the top of glasses. I look at those two boys together and think, they should really be together. I start making up stories, in which they are. I look at that tall, imposing woman with the cane and think, she’s really a wizardess. The cane is truly her magical staff, which contains the soul of an enchanted enemy. I look at Rhane Soames, sitting in the corner with her books, and simply think, I wish I had the courage to speak to her. (see ‘R is for Rhane’) Rhane’s hair is the color of wheat and honey. It spills over her shoulders, falling forward to hide her face. I watch, almost hypnotized, as one of her hands pushes a tress away, revealing an eye of perfect, crystal blue. Unaware of any attention, her full lips move, shaping the words on the page in front of her. I often know what she saying, before she’s going to speak. She likes the same books I do, gets absorbed in the very same passages. Often, she comes by the library, when I’m there. My heart always pounds a little harder, when she walks by, but she’s completely unaware of me. Dreamy-eyed, she’s always lost in her own thoughts, often nearly bumping into the stacks, so intent is she on another reality. I watched her, until one day, I did something, which creeped even me out. I followed her, when she left the library. She didn’t notice that I was following her. She walked into a cafe, where this girl was sitting. The girl was wearing pale white foundation and a purple corset, covered by a black lace coat. Her lips were painted bright red, twisting into a sneer at the sight of Rhane. Rhane’s shoulders slumped. All the dreamy intensity I’d spotten in the library left her, as if the other girl had drained it out of her, with a crook of her bony finger. I went up to the counter and ordered a coffee, as Rhane slid into the seat beside the other girl. Her own lips quivered, as if she was too afraid to speak. The other girl reached out a hand to fondle her hair. It wasn’t the gentle touch of a friend, or the caress of a lover. It was an idle gesture of possession. My own hands started quivering, as I took a coffee from a server I didn’t really see. I managed to walk over to a booth next to Rhane and her malevolent mistress, for I couldn’t think of the other girl as anything other than that. Pretending to drink my coffee and read a book I was carrying with me, I listened to their conversation. They were talking about roleplaying games. Yes, I knew what roleplaying games were. I’d been in a few games myself, but I’d disliked the people I was gaming with so much, I’d withdrawn from them. The girl in black lace was called Beatrix. She did most of the talking, hardly giving Rhane a chance to get a word in edgewise. She complained about how there weren’t enough players in the game, players kept leaving, and how it was Rhane’s fault. Rhane didn’t contradict her, not that Beatrix was giving her much of a chance to. On and on, Beatrix droned. On impulse, I stood up, and went over to their table. Beatrix finally shut up at the sight of me to fix me with a glare. I smiled sweetly back, as I introduced myself to Beatrix and Rhane. I said I couldn’t help overhearing that they were looking for players in a roleplaying game. I told them I loved roleplaying games. If they needed players, I’d be happy to join their game, if they’d have me. Beatrix looked me up and down, as if seeing every wrinkle in my shirt, every imperfection in my face. Rhane blinked. Her crystal blue eyes cleared, as they focused on me for the very first time. Being seen by Rhane Soames made being scrutinzed completely worthwhile. Beatrix agreed to let me in the game. I got the impression it wasn’t exactly her game to let me in, but I agreed. Now, I’m meeting both of them, as well as the other players at Beatrix and Rhane’s place. Now, I have an excuse to see Rhane on a regular basis. What will happen next? Well, I don’t know. My author just came up with my character concept, but she’s thinking about how I might fit in ‘The Players Are the Thing’, if she decides to write it. If you’d like my author to write it, please let her know. I myself am curious what’s going to happen next. 

Z is for Zoe

I’m Zoe Talbot. I’m the girl who’s always in the library, peeking at from over the top of glasses. I look at those two boys together and think, they should really be together. I start making up stories, in which they are. I look at that tall, imposing woman with the cane and think, she’s really a wizardess. The cane is truly her magical staff, which contains the soul of an enchanted enemy. I look at Rhane Soames, sitting in the corner with her books, and simply think, I wish I had the courage to speak to her. (see ‘R is for Rhane’) Rhane’s hair is the color of wheat and honey. It spills over her shoulders, falling forward to hide her face. I watch, almost hypnotized, as one of her hands pushes a tress away, revealing an eye of perfect, crystal blue. Unaware of any attention, her full lips move, shaping the words on the page in front of her. I often know what she saying, before she’s going to speak. She likes the same books I do, gets absorbed in the very same passages. Often, she comes by the library, when I’m there. My heart always pounds a little harder, when she walks by, but she’s completely unaware of me. Dreamy-eyed, she’s always lost in her own thoughts, often nearly bumping into the stacks, so intent is she on another reality. I watched her, until one day, I did something, which creeped even me out. I followed her, when she left the library. She didn’t notice that I was following her. She walked into a cafe, where this girl was sitting. The girl was wearing pale white foundation and a purple corset, covered by a black lace coat. Her lips were painted bright red, twisting into a sneer at the sight of Rhane. Rhane’s shoulders slumped. All the dreamy intensity I’d spotten in the library left her, as if the other girl had drained it out of her, with a crook of her bony finger. I went up to the counter and ordered a coffee, as Rhane slid into the seat beside the other girl. Her own lips quivered, as if she was too afraid to speak. The other girl reached out a hand to fondle her hair. It wasn’t the gentle touch of a friend, or the caress of a lover. It was an idle gesture of possession. My own hands started quivering, as I took a coffee from a server I didn’t really see. I managed to walk over to a booth next to Rhane and her malevolent mistress, for I couldn’t think of the other girl as anything other than that. Pretending to drink my coffee and read a book I was carrying with me, I listened to their conversation. They were talking about roleplaying games. Yes, I knew what roleplaying games were. I’d been in a few games myself, but I’d disliked the people I was gaming with so much, I’d withdrawn from them. The girl in black lace was called Beatrix. She did most of the talking, hardly giving Rhane a chance to get a word in edgewise. She complained about how there weren’t enough players in the game, players kept leaving, and how it was Rhane’s fault. Rhane didn’t contradict her, not that Beatrix was giving her much of a chance to. On and on, Beatrix droned. On impulse, I stood up, and went over to their table. Beatrix finally shut up at the sight of me to fix me with a glare. I smiled sweetly back, as I introduced myself to Beatrix and Rhane. I said I couldn’t help overhearing that they were looking for players in a roleplaying game. I told them I loved roleplaying games. If they needed players, I’d be happy to join their game, if they’d have me. Beatrix looked me up and down, as if seeing every wrinkle in my shirt, every imperfection in my face. Rhane blinked. Her crystal blue eyes cleared, as they focused on me for the very first time. Being seen by Rhane Soames made being scrutinzed completely worthwhile. Beatrix agreed to let me in the game. I got the impression it wasn’t exactly her game to let me in, but I agreed. Now, I’m meeting both of them, as well as the other players at Beatrix and Rhane’s place. Now, I have an excuse to see Rhane on a regular basis. What will happen next? Well, I don’t know. My author just came up with my character concept, but she’s thinking about how I might fit in ‘The Players Are the Thing’, if she decides to write it. If you’d like my author to write it, please let her know. I myself am curious what’s going to happen next. 

Y is for Ylynessa

Do I truly need to tell you who I am? I would think it painfully obvious that I’m Lady Ylynessa Caerac of Caerac Keep. Yes, I’m the younger sister of Lord William Caerac, as well as his right hand in running this place. (see ‘W is for William). Don’t give me that look. Just because there’s little resemblance between us doesn’t mean we’re not blood relations. What is that suit of armour, which constantly follows me around? Don’t be rude, that’s the Captain of the Guard, but he takes my safety, as well as my brother’s safety very seriously. (see ‘U is for Undine’). Why doesn’t he ever open his visor? Why should he open his visor? He can see quite perfectly, even with it closed. How is that possible? Well, wouldn’t you like to know? A Keep’s security must have its secrets and the Captain of the Guard is essential to our Keep’s security. The only time he leaves is to deliver messages to my Aunt Xyna, who lives outside the Keep. Yes, I know that’s odd, living outside one of the walled cities in Rowenda, where the monsters roam. I suppose my aunt is a bit odd. She likes to keep in touch with me, though, which is why I send her letters. Is she related to our father, or our mother? Whose? Oh, William and mine! Why, I don’t know. How very odd. You’d think I’d know something like that. Why are you asking me all these questions? My time is very precious. I’m the one who oversees the docks, the temples, and everything which goes in Caerac Keep, which my brother doesn’t. Yes, of course, I know about the disappearances, which have taken place here. It’s nonsense to say it’s all the work of some mythical resurrected vampire, even if there are ghouls and zombies wandering about. No doubt, it’s a rogue magic user of some sort. Rogue magic users have a tendency to creep into the bad areas of town, setting up shop as local quacks, or hedge witches. Even worse is when they’re actually heretics from the old Order of the Dragon. The Dragons have a lot more power than hedge witches do, plus they’re not afraid of necromancy. These ghouls and zombies may be their handiwork. If so, I need to talk with the local Unicorn priestess. There’s no need to get too alarmed, though, even if there are Dragons in the Keep. My brother is having a group of very talented, sensitive magic users investigate what’s happening at Caerac Keep. Yes, I know they’re young, but I have full confidence in their abilities. Besides, I’m fully ready to back them up with local Unicorn clerics, if necessary. We do have a mage of our own in the Keep, one whom my brother is, ahem, quite fond of. I’m sure he’s capable of assisting our young magelings, if they get into any serious scrapes. Between him and the Unicorn priestess, we’ll take care of whatever is attacking Caerac Keep’s citizens. Please don’t worry and just go about your business here. You have my personal guarantee nothing will happen to you. You’re still uneasy? Why, all this is simply a bunch of ideas in our author’s head, which she’s considering putting in a story called ‘Trouble at Caerac Keep’. I doubt very much she’ll have something too diabolical planned, not when I’m playing a major role in this story. I’m certain my brother and I won’t let matters get too out of hand at our Keep. It’s not as if we were being controlled by invisible masters, following agendas, which aren’t our own! Is it?  

Y is for Ylynessa

Do I truly need to tell you who I am? I would think it painfully obvious that I’m Lady Ylynessa Caerac of Caerac Keep. Yes, I’m the younger sister of Lord William Caerac, as well as his right hand in running this place. (see ‘W is for William). Don’t give me that look. Just because there’s little resemblance between us doesn’t mean we’re not blood relations. What is that suit of armour, which constantly follows me around? Don’t be rude, that’s the Captain of the Guard, but he takes my safety, as well as my brother’s safety very seriously. (see ‘U is for Undine’). Why doesn’t he ever open his visor? Why should he open his visor? He can see quite perfectly, even with it closed. How is that possible? Well, wouldn’t you like to know? A Keep’s security must have its secrets and the Captain of the Guard is essential to our Keep’s security. The only time he leaves is to deliver messages to my Aunt Xyna, who lives outside the Keep. Yes, I know that’s odd, living outside one of the walled cities in Rowenda, where the monsters roam. I suppose my aunt is a bit odd. She likes to keep in touch with me, though, which is why I send her letters. Is she related to our father, or our mother? Whose? Oh, William and mine! Why, I don’t know. How very odd. You’d think I’d know something like that. Why are you asking me all these questions? My time is very precious. I’m the one who oversees the docks, the temples, and everything which goes in Caerac Keep, which my brother doesn’t. Yes, of course, I know about the disappearances, which have taken place here. It’s nonsense to say it’s all the work of some mythical resurrected vampire, even if there are ghouls and zombies wandering about. No doubt, it’s a rogue magic user of some sort. Rogue magic users have a tendency to creep into the bad areas of town, setting up shop as local quacks, or hedge witches. Even worse is when they’re actually heretics from the old Order of the Dragon. The Dragons have a lot more power than hedge witches do, plus they’re not afraid of necromancy. These ghouls and zombies may be their handiwork. If so, I need to talk with the local Unicorn priestess. There’s no need to get too alarmed, though, even if there are Dragons in the Keep. My brother is having a group of very talented, sensitive magic users investigate what’s happening at Caerac Keep. Yes, I know they’re young, but I have full confidence in their abilities. Besides, I’m fully ready to back them up with local Unicorn clerics, if necessary. We do have a mage of our own in the Keep, one whom my brother is, ahem, quite fond of. I’m sure he’s capable of assisting our young magelings, if they get into any serious scrapes. Between him and the Unicorn priestess, we’ll take care of whatever is attacking Caerac Keep’s citizens. Please don’t worry and just go about your business here. You have my personal guarantee nothing will happen to you. You’re still uneasy? Why, all this is simply a bunch of ideas in our author’s head, which she’s considering putting in a story called ‘Trouble at Caerac Keep’. I doubt very much she’ll have something too diabolical planned, not when I’m playing a major role in this story. I’m certain my brother and I won’t let matters get too out of hand at our Keep. It’s not as if we were being controlled by invisible masters, following agendas, which aren’t our own! Is it?  

X is for Xylanthe

Over the centuries, I’ve had many names. One of my titles was Handmaiden to the Serpent. Rubbish. I was far more than a mere handmaiden. She might have been the Serpent, but I was the Spider. I spread my webs, weaving them throughout the lands, which would become the Empire, while Nevalyn went lashing her tail, mindlessly crushing whatever lay in her path. (see ’N is for Nevalyn’ at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com) The Dark Circle was still my lair, when the Imperatrix banished the Serpent from her lands, both times. I was gathering my minions, when the empire fell, taking the Dragon Priesthood with it. Power dripped from my webs, when the Unicorn clerics came to ‘cleanse’ the Dark Circle. All of them ended up, dangling, upside down from the ceiling of my lair, as my daughters drained their vitality from them. I listened with some interest to tales of young Corwyth Nevalyn, trying to rebuild an ancient vampire’s lair, to transform it into a walled city. Transformed it was. Corwyth Keep is no match for the Dark Circle, but it is one of the more interesting places to rise from the ruins of the empire. Not to mention its wards keep my kind out. A pity my own fangs never caressed Corwyth Nevalyn’s neck, when he was still alive! What a feast he would have been! Alas, I have little interest in a vampire, other than as a useful tool. I much prefer shapeshifters, faeries, and humans with a touch of magic to them. Take little Ylynessa. She has no memory of the time she spent here with me, before William Caerac adopted her. (see ‘W is for William’) She doesn’t realize the letters she’s writing to her Aunt Xyna are actually coming to me. She’s been the perfect servant, capturing that sea monster and binding it into enchanted armour. However, I wonder at her silence lately, as well at the chaos happening at Caerac Keep. Not all of it is of my design. I wish I had an additional pair of eyes and ears in that wretched place, to inform me of what’s going on. However, opportunities may present itself with these youngsters, who’ve come to investigate the chaos. Interesting children, these little magic users. I don’t doubt that Corwyth has plans of his own for them. I’ve just got to make certain his plans don’t interfere with my plans. If you’re curious about this little tapestry of intrigue I’m weaving, you might encourage my author to pick up my story, once more. I was part of a planned novel, until she abandoned it, to transform my world into the Keep, which she and other authors used to write in. She will pick it up again, regardless. Once I’ve begun to spin my webs into a dark corner, even if it’s in my author’s imagination, they never go away. She will discover that, as she tries to write about other characters. I’m creeping into the creation of her other villains, even though she tries to deny me. I’m older than all of them. I shall endure, long after she’s forgotten the rest of them.

W is for William

Good evening. I’m Lord William Caerac, the Earl of Caerac. No, I’m no relation to Caerac himself. I used to trail after him, as a little boy, constantly asking questions, whenever I’d see him. I was known as Billy Quick, back in those days. There was no Keep, when I was a mortal child. Or the Keep wasn’t a walled city. It was a part of a castle, where Caerac’s family resided. Long ago, Caerac ran away from his noble mother, to escape a life of monastic scholarship. He traveled with his friends; Gwyneth, Maggie, and Corwyth, but he always came back to see his mother. Corwyth Nevalyn was so pretty, I was half in love with him, even as a child, but I didn’t dare say anything. He was a Nevalyn, as well as a Dragon cleric, so everyone thought the worst of him. It wasn’t true, though. Not in those days. When monsters came attacking the lady’s castle, along with the neighboring village, Corwyth and Caerac protected me. It was Corwyth who gave me a place, with Caerac’s band of adventurers. I managed to kill quite a few monsters myself, when I traveled with them. Actually, I hit a few with a rock, distracting them, so Gwyneth, Maggie, Corwyth, or Caerac could kill them. I wasn’t much of an adventurer, I fear. I listened to Corwyth too seriously to get into hacking and slashing, such as Caerac, Maggie, Gwyneth all engaged in. Corwyth was one of the first people to suggest killing monsters might be wrong, long before anyone else thought so. He used to argue with Caerac and Gwyneth about it. I’d always listen, wide-eyed. As a child, Corwyth seemed like the wisest, bravest, most beautiful person in the world. I didn’t want to leave him, but at Caerac’s insistance, I was sent to his mother. I became the model son she’d always wanted Caerac to be. In doing so, I engendered some peace between Caerac and his mother. Corwyth, in the meantime, retired from adventuring to start building the first Keep, which was a walled city. It was to be modelled after the great cities of old, when the Imperatrix ruled all the lands as one. This Keep would have fountains, a library, and all the trappings of civilization. Its construction began on the ruins of a former imperial city. If only Corwyth hadn’t disturbed the rocks in the old masoleum! Something ancient and undead had been sleeping beneath it, biding its time. It had watched Corwyth, as he tried to revive the old city. It didn’t reveal its presence, until everything was built and the people began to move into Corwyth Keep. I’ve never been sure exactly what happened. My master never told me, not in detail. The wards went up around Corwyth Keep. No one could enter. No one could leave. I had horrible dreams, about Corwyth being dragged before a pale court of lords and ladies with fangs, surrounded by shuffling ghouls, zombies, and wraiths hovering in the air. I woke up, before I could see what happened next. Too late, I discovered that my dreams had been all too real. One night, Corwyth appeared outside my window. I’d always been a little bit in love with him, but the moment I looked into his eyes, I was his. Corwyth took me back to his home, gave me an eternal place at his side. At his side, I saw the beautiful mockery of a city, which Corwyth Keep had become. The undead ruled it, while the humans were their cattle. Anyone who displeased their vampire masters was fed to the zombies, or the ghouls. The bones of those eaten would rise as living skeletons, bound in eternal service. It was terrible. Even though I was a vampire, it was a relief, when Corwyth sent me out in the world. I was to infiltrate Caerac Keep. Wards surrounded us in Corwyth Keep. Time moved differently in the world outside. Centuries had passed, while we ruled within our undead city walls. Caerac himself had founded a walled city, around his former castle, just as his former friend had. There was no mention, or memory of Corwyth, former friend of Caerac in the tales mortals told each other. All they knew of was the vampire Corwyth, who ruled an undead Keep no one could enter. Not that anyone wanted to. I hid what I was, as I watched, learned, and talked to people in taverns, gathering information. For I had the ability to pass myself off as either a commoner, or a lord. Using this deception, I managed to seduce and wed the lady of the Keep, Caerac’s unwary descendant. She lived in a happy state of servitude at my side, completely unaware she was a servant, until her peaceful death of old age. Does that surprise you? My master had taught me to reward faithful service, but my wife taught me the best reward can be a mortal life and a mortal death. I’ve been Lord of Caerac ever since; faking old age, faking death a few times, only to have ‘my son’ return home from his adventures to take my place. That son is in fact me. I’ve watched and listened, but heard nothing from my master. To pass the time, I’ve concentrated on the well being of Caerac Keep and its residents. To my surprise, I’ve come to care about that well being. I even took a little girl in, gave her an education, raised her, as if she was my own daughter. Ylynessa is one of the few people, who knows the truth about me. Currently, she’s posing as my sister. I’m surprised at how happy I’ve become as the secret night lord of Caerac Keep. I drink a little blood from a chosen few, never killing anyone in the process. This is why the recent disturbances in Caerac Keep worry me. People are disappearing, some of them reappearing as bloodless, or half eaten corpses, to be found in alleys. Even worse is when they reappear as the undead themselves, zombies or ghouls. No other vampires have been spotted, yet. I keep thinking about my master. Perhaps these disturbances are signs from him. I hope they’re not. I loved my master, but I also love my home. I don’t want to have to choose between the two. I don’t want Caerac Keep to become like Corwyth Keep. To keep that from happening, I will betray my master, if I must. If I can. 

W is for William

Good evening. I’m Lord William Caerac, the Earl of Caerac. No, I’m no relation to Caerac himself. I used to trail after him, as a little boy, constantly asking questions, whenever I’d see him. I was known as Billy Quick, back in those days. There was no Keep, when I was a mortal child. Or the Keep wasn’t a walled city. It was a part of a castle, where Caerac’s family resided. Long ago, Caerac ran away from his noble mother, to escape a life of monastic scholarship. He traveled with his friends; Gwyneth, Maggie, and Corwyth, but he always came back to see his mother. Corwyth Nevalyn was so pretty, I was half in love with him, even as a child, but I didn’t dare say anything. He was a Nevalyn, as well as a Dragon cleric, so everyone thought the worst of him. It wasn’t true, though. Not in those days. When monsters came attacking the lady’s castle, along with the neighboring village, Corwyth and Caerac protected me. It was Corwyth who gave me a place, with Caerac’s band of adventurers. I managed to kill quite a few monsters myself, when I traveled with them. Actually, I hit a few with a rock, distracting them, so Gwyneth, Maggie, Corwyth, or Caerac could kill them. I wasn’t much of an adventurer, I fear. I listened to Corwyth too seriously to get into hacking and slashing, such as Caerac, Maggie, Gwyneth all engaged in. Corwyth was one of the first people to suggest killing monsters might be wrong, long before anyone else thought so. He used to argue with Caerac and Gwyneth about it. I’d always listen, wide-eyed. As a child, Corwyth seemed like the wisest, bravest, most beautiful person in the world. I didn’t want to leave him, but at Caerac’s insistance, I was sent to his mother. I became the model son she’d always wanted Caerac to be. In doing so, I engendered some peace between Caerac and his mother. Corwyth, in the meantime, retired from adventuring to start building the first Keep, which was a walled city. It was to be modelled after the great cities of old, when the Imperatrix ruled all the lands as one. This Keep would have fountains, a library, and all the trappings of civilization. Its construction began on the ruins of a former imperial city. If only Corwyth hadn’t disturbed the rocks in the old masoleum! Something ancient and undead had been sleeping beneath it, biding its time. It had watched Corwyth, as he tried to revive the old city. It didn’t reveal its presence, until everything was built and the people began to move into Corwyth Keep. I’ve never been sure exactly what happened. My master never told me, not in detail. The wards went up around Corwyth Keep. No one could enter. No one could leave. I had horrible dreams, about Corwyth being dragged before a pale court of lords and ladies with fangs, surrounded by shuffling ghouls, zombies, and wraiths hovering in the air. I woke up, before I could see what happened next. Too late, I discovered that my dreams had been all too real. One night, Corwyth appeared outside my window. I’d always been a little bit in love with him, but the moment I looked into his eyes, I was his. Corwyth took me back to his home, gave me an eternal place at his side. At his side, I saw the beautiful mockery of a city, which Corwyth Keep had become. The undead ruled it, while the humans were their cattle. Anyone who displeased their vampire masters was fed to the zombies, or the ghouls. The bones of those eaten would rise as living skeletons, bound in eternal service. It was terrible. Even though I was a vampire, it was a relief, when Corwyth sent me out in the world. I was to infiltrate Caerac Keep. Wards surrounded us in Corwyth Keep. Time moved differently in the world outside. Centuries had passed, while we ruled within our undead city walls. Caerac himself had founded a walled city, around his former castle, just as his former friend had. There was no mention, or memory of Corwyth, former friend of Caerac in the tales mortals told each other. All they knew of was the vampire Corwyth, who ruled an undead Keep no one could enter. Not that anyone wanted to. I hid what I was, as I watched, learned, and talked to people in taverns, gathering information. For I had the ability to pass myself off as either a commoner, or a lord. Using this deception, I managed to seduce and wed the lady of the Keep, Caerac’s unwary descendant. She lived in a happy state of servitude at my side, completely unaware she was a servant, until her peaceful death of old age. Does that surprise you? My master had taught me to reward faithful service, but my wife taught me the best reward can be a mortal life and a mortal death. I’ve been Lord of Caerac ever since; faking old age, faking death a few times, only to have ‘my son’ return home from his adventures to take my place. That son is in fact me. I’ve watched and listened, but heard nothing from my master. To pass the time, I’ve concentrated on the well being of Caerac Keep and its residents. To my surprise, I’ve come to care about that well being. I even took a little girl in, gave her an education, raised her, as if she was my own daughter. Ylynessa is one of the few people, who knows the truth about me. Currently, she’s posing as my sister. I’m surprised at how happy I’ve become as the secret night lord of Caerac Keep. I drink a little blood from a chosen few, never killing anyone in the process. This is why the recent disturbances in Caerac Keep worry me. People are disappearing, some of them reappearing as bloodless, or half eaten corpses, to be found in alleys. Even worse is when they reappear as the undead themselves, zombies or ghouls. No other vampires have been spotted, yet. I keep thinking about my master. Perhaps these disturbances are signs from him. I hope they’re not. I loved my master, but I also love my home. I don’t want to have to choose between the two. I don’t want Caerac Keep to become like Corwyth Keep. To keep that from happening, I will betray my master, if I must. If I can. 

X is for Xylanthe

Over the centuries, I’ve had many names. One of my titles was Handmaiden to the Serpent. Rubbish. I was far more than a mere handmaiden. She might have been the Serpent, but I was the Spider. I spread my webs, weaving them throughout the lands, which would become the Empire, while Nevalyn went lashing her tail, mindlessly crushing whatever lay in her path. (see ’N is for Nevalyn’ at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com) The Dark Circle was still my lair, when the Imperatrix banished the Serpent from her lands, both times. I was gathering my minions, when the empire fell, taking the Dragon Priesthood with it. Power dripped from my webs, when the Unicorn clerics came to ‘cleanse’ the Dark Circle. All of them ended up, dangling, upside down from the ceiling of my lair, as my daughters drained their vitality from them. I listened with some interest to tales of young Corwyth Nevalyn, trying to rebuild an ancient vampire’s lair, to transform it into a walled city. Transformed it was. Corwyth Keep is no match for the Dark Circle, but it is one of the more interesting places to rise from the ruins of the empire. Not to mention its wards keep my kind out. A pity my own fangs never caressed Corwyth Nevalyn’s neck, when he was still alive! What a feast he would have been! Alas, I have little interest in a vampire, other than as a useful tool. I much prefer shapeshifters, faeries, and humans with a touch of magic to them. Take little Ylynessa. She has no memory of the time she spent here with me, before William Caerac adopted her. (see ‘W is for William’) She doesn’t realize the letters she’s writing to her Aunt Xyna are actually coming to me. She’s been the perfect servant, capturing that sea monster and binding it into enchanted armour. However, I wonder at her silence lately, as well at the chaos happening at Caerac Keep. Not all of it is of my design. I wish I had an additional pair of eyes and ears in that wretched place, to inform me of what’s going on. However, opportunities may present itself with these youngsters, who’ve come to investigate the chaos. Interesting children, these little magic users. I don’t doubt that Corwyth has plans of his own for them. I’ve just got to make certain his plans don’t interfere with my plans. If you’re curious about this little tapestry of intrigue I’m weaving, you might encourage my author to pick up my story, once more. I was part of a planned novel, until she abandoned it, to transform my world into the Keep, which she and other authors used to write in. She will pick it up again, regardless. Once I’ve begun to spin my webs into a dark corner, even if it’s in my author’s imagination, they never go away. She will discover that, as she tries to write about other characters. I’m creeping into the creation of her other villains, even though she tries to deny me. I’m older than all of them. I shall endure, long after she’s forgotten the rest of them. 

V is for Varwyth

Don’t bother to hide. I can sense you, watching me. Is it my brooding dark looks, which caught your eye? My appearance is actually a little different than what you see. Much more appealing, but easily recognizable, especially in these parts. Oh, perhaps you noticed the corpse like appearance of my skin? Here, I was hoping that Kevin, the cute little bartender, had taken care of that, by ah, giving me a little drink, so to speak. Not that he remembers any of that. As far as he knows, he’s barely spoken to me. (see ‘K is for Kevin’). Usually human blood, or human warmth brings some color to my cheeks. Well, no matter. I tend to inspire fear, or awe in others, even when I’m pretending to be someone else. It’s just part of who and what I am. Little Rhodry is susceptible to both fear and awe, when he’s in my presence. (See ‘R is for Rhodry’ at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com) It’s quite…tasty. Ah, to have him in my arms, just for one moment! All I can hope for is to meet him in this crowded tavern. Daerec Nevalyn keeps a keen key on his sweet little protege. Heh, my Daerec. I wonder if he suspects who I truly am, or my true purpose? He knows others are hunting him, besides his mother. I doubt he’s ever been able to forget me, not matter how hard he tries. Not that Daerec would ever let Rhodry out of his tower, if he knew I was around. He’s only too aware of what I’m capable of. How surprised Daerec would be, if he knew I was playing the part of Padraig’s protege! I’m everything Padraig despises, so it’s been delightful, making him think I’m something else altogether. Padraig has always had a weakness for a pretty face, whether it’s male or female. This weakness makes tricking him a lot easier than it might have been, unless he’s not looking too closely. He can’t have missed my pallor, but perhaps he’s not worried about it, if no one is dropping dead, drained of blood. If so, Padraig has mellowed out a lot over the years, since he faced the Serpent!  I’m guessing Daerec is responsible for this change. Padraig is now more open minded than most of the residents in this little village of Clover. If you wish to read more of Padraig, I’d recommend ‘Every Thom, ‘Dick, and Harry Has a Story’. Not that it’s particularly accurate, but it’s entertaining. You should hear the tale Thomlyn spins! Yes, Thom is another fool, like Padraig, who accepts me, because of my pretty face. Some of the most dangerous people I’ve ever met have been beautiful. If Thom doesn’t wise up, a monster with a pretty face is going to eat him. Rydicka may suspect something, but all I have to is say a few sympathetic words about the Serpent, and ‘Dick will go on and on for hours, ranting about Padraig. Distracting her is only too easy. ’Dick had better pray she never meets the true Serpent. The Serpent eats fanatical acolytes for lunch, before spitting them out in her own image. As for Harry, she’s usually too drunk to notice me. I couldn’t have picked better camouflage to get to know my little Rhodry than these three fools. You can get to know them and their tales in ‘Every Thom, Dick, and Harry Has a Story’. Or you could have, if Prizm/Torquere had accepted it into their ‘Riverdance’ collection. I’m not sure what our author is going to do with it. Not that I showed a hint of my true self, or my plans in that tale. They’re much bigger than any short story can contain. I’ve been working on them for sometime. I’m certain my author will make time for a novel, or series with space for my ambitions. She wouldn’t want to suffer the consequences of getting in the way of my plans, now, would she? 

V is for Varwyth

Don’t bother to hide. I can sense you, watching me. Is it my brooding dark looks, which caught your eye? My appearance is actually a little different than what you see. Much more appealing, but easily recognizable, especially in these parts. Oh, perhaps you noticed the corpse like appearance of my skin? Here, I was hoping that Kevin, the cute little bartender, had taken care of that, by ah, giving me a little drink, so to speak. Not that he remembers any of that. As far as he knows, he’s barely spoken to me. (see ‘K is for Kevin’). Usually human blood, or human warmth brings some color to my cheeks. Well, no matter. I tend to inspire fear, or awe in others, even when I’m pretending to be someone else. It’s just part of who and what I am. Little Rhodry is susceptible to both fear and awe, when he’s in my presence. (See ‘R is for Rhodry’ at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com) It’s quite…tasty. Ah, to have him in my arms, just for one moment! All I can hope for is to meet him in this crowded tavern. Daerec Nevalyn keeps a keen key on his sweet little protege. Heh, my Daerec. I wonder if he suspects who I truly am, or my true purpose? He knows others are hunting him, besides his mother. I doubt he’s ever been able to forget me, not matter how hard he tries. Not that Daerec would ever let Rhodry out of his tower, if he knew I was around. He’s only too aware of what I’m capable of. How surprised Daerec would be, if he knew I was playing the part of Padraig’s protege! I’m everything Padraig despises, so it’s been delightful, making him think I’m something else altogether. Padraig has always had a weakness for a pretty face, whether it’s male or female. This weakness makes tricking him a lot easier than it might have been, unless he’s not looking too closely. He can’t have missed my pallor, but perhaps he’s not worried about it, if no one is dropping dead, drained of blood. If so, Padraig has mellowed out a lot over the years, since he faced the Serpent!  I’m guessing Daerec is responsible for this change. Padraig is now more open minded than most of the residents in this little village of Clover. If you wish to read more of Padraig, I’d recommend ‘Every Thom, ‘Dick, and Harry Has a Story’. Not that it’s particularly accurate, but it’s entertaining. You should hear the tale Thomlyn spins! Yes, Thom is another fool, like Padraig, who accepts me, because of my pretty face. Some of the most dangerous people I’ve ever met have been beautiful. If Thom doesn’t wise up, a monster with a pretty face is going to eat him. Rydicka may suspect something, but all I have to is say a few sympathetic words about the Serpent, and ‘Dick will go on and on for hours, ranting about Padraig. Distracting her is only too easy. ’Dick had better pray she never meets the true Serpent. The Serpent eats fanatical acolytes for lunch, before spitting them out in her own image. As for Harry, she’s usually too drunk to notice me. I couldn’t have picked better camouflage to get to know my little Rhodry than these three fools. You can get to know them and their tales in ‘Every Thom, Dick, and Harry Has a Story’. Or you could have, if Prizm/Torquere had accepted it into their ‘Riverdance’ collection. I’m not sure what our author is going to do with it. Not that I showed a hint of my true self, or my plans in that tale. They’re much bigger than any short story can contain. I’ve been working on them for sometime. I’m certain my author will make time for a novel, or series with space for my ambitions. She wouldn’t want to suffer the consequences of getting in the way of my plans, now, would she? 

U is for Undine

For I believe Undine was once my name, when I swam in the sea, fluid as the waters. I was drawn to a maiden, standing at the water’s edge. How curious she seemed, with her solid shape! It drew me closer. Too close. She had a bottle in her hand. The last thing I remember was her smile, as everything I was was sucked into that bottle. Contained, trapped, all I could do was bubble in helpless rage, until I was released into a suit of armour. Since my release, I’ve played the part of the ‘Captain of the Guard’ at Caerac Keep. I’ve seen the maiden, only she’s much older now. She’s the sister of the Lord at Caerac Keep, but she has plans of her own, of which her brother knows nothing. People have been disappearing into the darkness of the night. In truth, they’ve been walking into traps. Traps which the Lady Ylynessa has set. Fresh meat is needed for the monsters who serve her. There’s a fouler purpose for these abductions, for Ylynessa is experimenting with necromancy. Many of the monsters are truly her victims, such as myself. If only I could do something. I’ve seen a group of youngsters, trying to figure out what’s happening at Caerac Keep. As long as I’m bound to the armour, I must serve Ylynessa, but I want to help these youngsters. Perhaps there’s some subtle way I can, clues I can leave for them as what’s truly happening here. I want nothing more than to stop Ylynessa, but I’m helpless for as young as I’m bound to this armour. 

Fairest

Check out my f/f fantasy fairytale, 'Fairest'! Here's a little teaser...

“Before the sun sets on the eve of her sixteenth year, the princess shall prick her finger on a spindle. With the first drop of blood, a sleep will fall upon her, claiming her for a hundred years.”

My mother tried to call in another witch to remove the curse. My father burned every spindle he could find. However, nothing could lift the curse, for all their efforts. The witch had disappeared into a cloud of green smoke. No one could find her after my christening, despite endless attempts to locate her. The only thing she left behind, besides her curse, were dreams of dark eyes. 

U is for Undine

For I believe Undine was once my name, when I swam in the sea, fluid as the waters. I was drawn to a maiden, standing at the water’s edge. How curious she seemed, with her solid shape! It drew me closer. Too close. She had a bottle in her hand. The last thing I remember was her smile, as everything I was was sucked into that bottle. Contained, trapped, all I could do was bubble in helpless rage, until I was released into a suit of armour. Since my release, I’ve played the part of the ‘Captain of the Guard’ at Caerac Keep. I’ve seen the maiden, only she’s much older now. She’s the sister of the Lord at Caerac Keep, but she has plans of her own, of which her brother knows nothing. People have been disappearing into the darkness of the night. In truth, they’ve been walking into traps. Traps which the Lady Ylynessa has set. Fresh meat is needed for the monsters who serve her. There’s a fouler purpose for these abductions, for Ylynessa is experimenting with necromancy. Many of the monsters are truly her victims, such as myself. If only I could do something. I’ve seen a group of youngsters, trying to figure out what’s happening at Caerac Keep. As long as I’m bound to the armour, I must serve Ylynessa, but I want to help these youngsters. Perhaps there’s some subtle way I can, clues I can leave for them as what’s truly happening here. I want nothing more than to stop Ylynessa, but I’m helpless for as long as I’m bound to this armour.

T is for Thomas

What are you looking at, creep? I’m not fat! I’m big! You’d better be nice to me. My father is stronger than anybody else, plus he hunts monsters! Once, he cut off a monster’s naughty bits and threw them into the sea! Another monster grew out of the naughty bits, but my father lopped her head off! I’m not lying. It’s not like I care if you believe me. You’re nothing, just like my mother, my sister, and everyone else in Omphalos. Everyone here is a freak, especially those skinny twins, Danyell and Dayell. Why do boys have to be so pretty, any way? It’s just plain weird. Makes you keep looking at them, even though you have better things to do. Like killing squirrels. Everyone thinks they’re so cute and fluffy, with their bouncy tails, but they don’t know the truth. They watch everyone, they spy on everything! I get them every chance I get. I bash them with a rock, hoping it’ll teach the other squirrels to keep their distance. More keep coming and spying on Omphalos, so I have to kill them. It’ll be alright, though. Nothing will be able to stop me, not squirrels, and not the twins, as long as I have this coin around my neck. It whispers to me, promises me I’ll be stronger, prettier, and better than anyone, one day. The twins won’t be able to get enough of me, once I become whom I’m truly meant to be. Wait a moment, why would I want to be pretty? I’m a boy! I’m big! I don’t need a stupid, pretty face, like the twins and their brother. Just because the master likes them better than everyone else doesn’t mean I’m impressed by them. I’m not! I don’t care if you read ‘A Godling for Your Thoughts?’ or not! Our stupid author hasn’t even finished the book, or published the first book, ‘The Hand and Eye of the Tower’. Not that I care about the first book. I only show up at the end, so why read it? No, I don’t want to talk about what I do in that book. It’s all about the twins, so it’s stupid. Why am I talking about the twins, again? I don’t have to explain myself to you! Go away! Leave me alone!

T is for Thomas

What are you looking at, creep? I’m not fat! I’m big! You’d better be nice to me. My father is stronger than anybody else, plus he hunts monsters! Once, he cut off a monster’s naughty bits and threw them into the sea! Another monster grew out of the naughty bits, but my father lopped her head off! I’m not lying. It’s not like I care if you believe me. You’re nothing, just like my mother, my sister, and everyone else in Omphalos. Everyone here is a freak, especially those skinny twins, Danyell and Dayell. Why do boys have to be so pretty, any way? It’s just plain weird. Makes you keep looking at them, even though you have better things to do. Like killing squirrels. Everyone thinks they’re so cute and fluffy, with their bouncy tails, but they don’t know the truth. They watch everyone, they spy on everything! I get them every chance I get. I bash them with a rock, hoping it’ll teach the other squirrels to keep their distance. More keep coming and spying on Omphalos, so I have to kill them. It’ll be alright, though. Nothing will be able to stop me, not squirrels, and not the twins, as long as I have this coin around my neck. It whispers to me, promises me I’ll be stronger, prettier, and better than anyone, one day. The twins won’t be able to get enough of me, once I become whom I’m truly meant to be. Wait a moment, why would I want to be pretty? I’m a boy! I’m big! I don’t need a stupid, pretty face, like the twins and their brother. Just because the master likes them better than everyone else doesn’t mean I’m impressed by them. I’m not! I don’t care if you read ‘A Godling for Your Thoughts?’ or not! Our stupid author hasn’t even finished the book, or published the first book, ‘The Hand and Eye of the Tower’. Not that I care about the first book. I only show up at the end, so why read it? No, I don’t want to talk about what I do in that book. It’s all about the twins, so it’s stupid. Why am I talking about the twins, again? I don’t have to explain myself to you! Go away! Leave me alone!

S is for Seraphix

I whisper in your ear, awakening your heart. A piece of me is yours in return for your thoughts. I’ll make your dreams come true, reshape myself into your image. That’s right, your image, not mine. You determine the form I will become. All I ask is to be part of you. Let me live again, through you. Transform me into yourself. We’ll become whatever you desire. For I’m in all of you, my Followers. Join me in ‘A Godling for Your Thoughts?’ Let’s discover just what we’ll become. 

S is for Seraphix

I whisper in your ear, awakening your heart. A piece of me is yours in return for your thoughts. I’ll make your dreams come true, reshape myself into your image. That’s right, your image, not mine. You determine the form I will become. All I ask is to be part of you. Let me live again, through you. Transform me into yourself. We’ll become whatever you desire. For I’m in all of you, my Followers. Join me in ‘A Godling for Your Thoughts?’ Let’s discover just what we’ll become. 

R is for Rhane

Hello, I’m Rhane. I first appeared in ‘The Keep’, an online roleplaying game/interactive writing project. ‘The Keep’s original premise was yaoi bishounen (m/m pretty boys) in a fantasy setting, but that premise broadened to include a variety of characters. Some of them were yuri bishoujo (f/f pretty girls). I was one of them; a messed up lost scion of a vampire dominated house, a former blood toy (a term the Keep writers came up for the playthings of the vampires, who were addicted to the vampire bite), and a Library Angel (one of the waifs/lost children/teenagers taken in by the Keep’s Library, one of the few neutral spots in the ongoing war between vampires and clerics. Yes, there was an ongoing war between vampires and clerics in ‘The Keep’s universe. Our walled city was one of the few places the two factions balanced each other out, keeping each other in check.) It was at ‘The Keep’ that I met Amberwyne. You’ve read about her various incarnations, if you’ve read ‘A is for Amberwyne, here and at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com. When I first met her, she was a little girl, the embodiment of my more innocent self. She split off from me, becoming a separate identity, after a nasty encounter with a faerie queen. Recently, I’ve been appearing in story fragments, which my author has written. She’s decided to gathered these fragments into a whole, calling them ’The Players Are the Thing’.  ‘The Players Are the Thing’ concerns a group of roleplayers, who write about their characters’ adventures interactively online. The game becomes a way for the players to express some of the frustrations/angers in their lives. A lot of themselves is poured into their characters, bringing them to life. When the players start to self destruct,  their characters try to help their players out. They use the magic of their fantasy setting to take over their players in turn, so they can roleplay them in turn. It’s only recently my author has come up with the overall plot to this story. What she’s been writing about a lot is me; my interests, my reasons for playing the game, my creation of Amberwyne, and my problems with the other players. Yes, Amberwyne is my character for the game in this story, who tries to help me, even as I play here. I’ve appeared in other universes, too. I was going to be in ‘Waiting for Rebirth’ (see ‘C is for Christopher’, ‘D is for Damian’ and ‘G is for Gabrielle’ at the Cauldron of Eternal Inspiration at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com), as a customer at the Navel. I was going to find Amberwyne, in doll form, sitting on one of the shelves. I’d recognize her instantly. Ultimately, our part was cut from ‘Waiting for Rebirth’, much to my regret. Still, I’d rather have my own story with Amberwyne than a fragment in someone else’s novel. A novel would be even better. If you’d be interested in a story like ‘The Players Are the Thing’, could you please let my author know? Thank you. My author writes about me a lot, or she used to, but I haven’t been getting as much attention lately.  

Q is for Quartz

If you must call me something, call me Quartz. It’s my favorite stone. I’m one of seven dwarves living in a forest, within easy walking distance of a mine. Yes, it’s a day long walk for humans. Dwarves can make it to the mine in two hours. It never fails to startle me, how fragile humans are. Take our princess, whom I found collapsed on our cottage doorstep, half naked and half mad. My brothers thought I was crazy, taking in a fragile little human, such as her. I’m not sure what came over me, myself. The look in her eyes reminded me of a wounded animal. It turns out she was running away from her stepmother, the queen. However, with a little care, a little quiet, and a little honest work, a tiny bit of color entered our princesss’ pale cheeks. We all became terribly fond of her. I even made a little wooden placard for her door, with the words, ‘The Fairest of Them All’ for her. She never felt worthy of the words, poor thing, even though she was the prettiest little creature imaginable. It wasn’t just her looks, or her delicate hands, it was the way she was willing to put those delicate hands to work, helping us, never uttering a word of complaint. She was always sweet to us, even though my brothers and I can be right grouches. It was obvious that our princess was a true beauty, through and through. Something cast a shadow over her sense of self worth, though. It left her feeling as if she could never be truly beautiful. I wonder if that stepmother of hers had something to do with it? I’d like to throttle that woman! I won’t waste my hopes on that, though. I’m hoping the right person will come all with the right words and deeds to take that shadow of self doubt away from our princess. You can read for yourself what happens to her in ‘Fairest’, by K.S. Trenten, when prizmbooks.com releases it on May 11, 2016. Our princess deserves a happy ending. Wish her the best! 

P is for Phaedra

Nice to meet you all! I’m Phaedra, Captain of the Timea. That sounded so impressive, when I said it in my head. Out loud, it just sounds stupid. I’m still very proud of the Timea. Yes, she’s very small, and I’m hardly an ace pilot, but flying her isn’t quite like anything else. Ahem. Recently, the Timean and I appeared in our author’s submission to Torquere’s ‘Theory of Love’ challenge; ‘A Symposium in Space’. Yes, it’s our author’s own futuristic remake of Plato’s ‘The Symposium’, which is why I’m called Phaedra. We’ve also got Pausania, Eryximachia, Aristophania, and of course, Sokrat, attending Agathea’s little dinner party on her star cluster. There are a lot of differences between the original ‘Symposium’ and our ‘Symposium in Space’. An obvious one is that the guests are all women, or life givers, as we’re currently named. The speeches vary from the originals, too. Pausania and I have a lot of unresolved chemistry between us, which was an invention of our author. Agathea and Eryximachia are more creepy than pompous, plus Agathea is following a curious trend of ‘feeding’ upon our speeches. The setting responds to them, in a curious fashion as well. Our symposium is brought to a crashing halt, literally, by the space pirate Alcibiadea, who catches up with Sokrat, after chasing her around the universe. Yes, there are a lot of differences, between our ‘Symposium in Space’ and the original, but our author was inspired to write this by her sincere affection for the original. If ‘A Symposium in Space’ is published and picked up, she hopes it will encourage readers to pick up the original. In the meantime, I’ve got a ship to finish learning how to pilot and a universe to explore. Catch you later!

P is for Phaedra

Nice to meet you all! I’m Phaedra, Captain of the Timea. That sounded so impressive, when I said it in my head. Out loud, it just sounds stupid. I’m still very proud of the Timea. Yes, she’s very small, and I’m hardly an ace pilot, but flying her isn’t quite like anything else. Ahem. Recently, the Timean and I appeared in our author’s submission to Torquere’s ‘Theory of Love’ challenge; ‘A Symposium in Space’. Yes, it’s our author’s own futuristic remake of Plato’s ‘The Symposium’, which is why I’m called Phaedra. We’ve also got Pausania, Eryximachia, Aristophania, and of course, Sokrat, attending Agathea’s little dinner party on her star cluster. There are a lot of differences between the original ‘Symposium’ and our ‘Symposium in Space’. An obvious one is that the guests are all women, or life givers, as we’re currently named. The speeches vary from the originals, too. Pausania and I have a lot of unresolved chemistry between us, which was an invention of our author. Agathea and Eryximachia are more creepy than pompous, plus Agathea is following a curious trend of ‘feeding’ upon our speeches. The setting responds to them, in a curious fashion as well. Our symposium is brought to a crashing halt, literally, by the space pirate Alcibiadea, who catches up with Sokrat, after chasing her around the universe. Yes, there are a lot of differences, between our ‘Symposium in Space’ and the original, but our author was inspired to write this by her sincere affection for the original. If ‘A Symposium in Space’ is published and picked up, she hopes it will encourage readers to pick up the original. In the meantime, I’ve got a ship to finish learning how to pilot and a universe to explore. Catch you later!

O is for Oleander

Why, hello there. I couldn’t help notice you checking out my legs, my thighs, and well, everything else. (smirk) My master calls me Oleander, because I’m as pretty as an Oleander blossom and twice as poisonous. You couldn’t help, but notice my beauty, could you? My hair is so dark, it has blue highlights. My skin is as pale as a creature of the night. I’m the monster within Thomas, the monster he’d like to be. If you ask me, I could never be half the monster he is. Killing squirrels for fun? Trying to beat up on Danyell and Dayell, just because he thinks those twins are too pretty to be boys? I can think of far more interesting things to do to them. Thomas can’t admit he’s a halfling, so he takes it out on everybody else. He’s made up this ideal father figure and projected him upon Jupitre, his fake father. Jupitre enjoys the flattery, although he thinks Thomas is fat and stupid. Thomas’ so-called mother and sister want nothing to do with him. Why would they? They’re demigods, dragged down to earth and mundanity, while Thomas was mundane to begin with. Only he must have had a spark of something special, or Seraphix wouldn’t have called to him, whispered to him, creating me within his heart. If only Thomas would just let go and embrace me, letting himself transform into me. We’d have so much more fun, plus we’d make everyone fall in love with us. We’d make the twins truly crawl, for rejecting us. Thomas keeps resisting me, though, clinging to his overrated humanity. It’s not like he has very much of it. There’s no point in worrying about it, because Thomas wants me, no matter how badly he tries to deny me. It’s only a matter of time, before he gives in to his deepest desire. It’s only a matter of time, before he gives in to me. 

N is for Nathalie

Good day. I’m Nathalie. I was in the very first story my author ever wrote, when she was eleven years old. Grace, the heroine of that story, along with a live teddy bear, rescued me the Cinderella-state Iama the Terrible was keeping me in. Yes, our story was quite dreadful, which may be why our author put us and any future adventures away, when she was thirteen. Years later, she’s taking us off the shelf, dusting us off, and reinventing us for a tale she’s writing for prizmbooks.com. It’s our author’s first attempt at steampunk. The story is called ‘Wind Me Up, One More Time’. Iama and Grace’s teddy bear are both female in this tale, which involves growing up, growing away from your childhood treasures, and the stories you tell yourselves to cope with the growth. I’ve got much more of a presence in ‘Wind Me Up, One More Time’ than I did in my author’s original story, although I fear I’m as terrible as Iama at times. Hopefully, our story will be accepted into Prizm’s ‘Cogs and Gears’ anthology! Our author needs to finish our story first, before you’ll have a chance to meet us all. At the present, I must content myself with my appearance in this blog. 

N is for Nathalie

Good day. I’m Nathalie. I was in the very first story my author ever wrote, when she was eleven years old. Grace, the heroine of that story, along with a live teddy bear, rescued me the Cinderella-state Iama the Terrible was keeping me in. Yes, our story was quite dreadful, which may be why our author put us and any future adventures away, when she was thirteen. Years later, she’s taking us off the shelf, dusting us off, and reinventing us for a tale she’s writing. It’s our author’s first attempt at steampunk. The story is called ‘Wind Me Up, One More Time’. Iama and Grace’s teddy bear are both female in this tale, which involves growing up, growing away from your childhood treasures, and the stories you tell yourselves to cope with the growth. I’ve got much more of a presence in ‘Wind Me Up, One More Time’ than I did in my author’s original story, although I fear I’m as terrible as Iama at times. Hopefully, our story will be accepted! Our author needs to finish our story first, before you’ll have a chance to meet us all. At the present, I must content myself with my appearance in this blog. 

M is for Map

What? What are you looking at me? I’m too short and fat to stare at! Go stare at someone prettier, you moron! Yes, I live in an old cottage, with nothing but woods, fields, and my garden. No, I hadn’t forgotten the ruined tower on the hill, within walking distance of my home. I wish I could, but it looms over everything. No, I don’t remember the village, which was stood on this spot. That village burned a hundred years ago.  Yes, my name is Map. No, I’m not the Map, who was the last resident in this village, before it was destroyed. Just because I have the same name as she doesn’t mean we’re the same person. No, I didn’t call the lightning down upon the tower, setting fire to the village, if you’re mad enough to think anyone has that kind of power. Don’t let your imagination run away with you. One would think you were one of my sons, believing such nonsense. My sons? The tall, dark, and handsome young man, who’s always taking too much on himself is my eldest, Leiwell. He’s got two little brothers, my younger sons, the twins. Danyell and Dayell are their names. You couldn’t find sweeter, or prettier boys, but their imaginations are so wild, they’re almost out of control. No, they look nothing like me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them, as if they were my own!  Where’s their real mother and father? It’s none of your concern! You want to know all about us, you read ‘Never Lose Your Path, Your Patience, or Yourself’. Yes, it used to be called ‘Stealing Himself From Shadows’, until our author decided to revise her original manuscript, ‘Stealing Myself From Shadows’ during National Novel Writing Month. I’m in that book, too. There was a lot of cross over and even similiar scenes in ‘Stealing Myself From Shadows’ and ‘Stealing Himself From Shadows’, but my author decided the two titles were too much alike. My sons’ story is now called ‘Never Lose Your Path, Your Patience, or Yourself’. Yes, I’m also in its sequel, ’A Seraphix for Your Thoughts?’ You want to know more about these books? Go bother my author about them! Maybe she’ll finally finish ‘A Seraphix for Your Thoughts?’, if you do. It’s about time she fixed up ‘Stealing Myself From Shadows’ and ‘Never Lose Your Path, Your Patience, or Yourself’! They should have been published, by now, but no! Our author has to keep putting us aside, to work on ‘Fairest’, submissions, or anything, but our stories! Do you know how tiring it is, dealing with a distracted author? No, I’m not going to tell you about it! Go away and stop bothering me! 

M is for Melyssa

Don’t call me Melyssa. Yes, I know my name is actually Melyssa Ashelocke. I dimly remember being a disappointment to my mother. Did I have a male cousin, whom she always like better than me? Such memories come in vague flashes, leaving me wondering where they came from. I’m not sure what I’m doing here in Omphalos. I’m fairly sure Juno isn’t my mother (see 'J is for Juno at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com, any more than Jupitre is my father, or Thomas is my brother. It makes me feel a little better about disliking them so intently. You can read about Jupitre in 'J is for Jupitre. A seedier man I’ve never met, not that the rest of this village is much better. No, I don’t like many people, except for a few I’d really wish I could get to know better. Those few are as intent on avoiding me, as I am about avoiding everyone else. It’s gotten so lonely, I’ve started talking to myself. One half of myself I’ve named Mel, while the other is named ‘Lyssa. Mel is awkward, clumsy, bad tempered, and fails at everything she does. ‘Lyssa is slender, beautiful, calm, and doesn’t need anybody. ‘Lyssa gets stronger, when I meditate on Seraphix. What’s that? Oh, it’s just this coin, hanging around my neck, only sometimes It can be so much more. It’ll make my dream come true. It’ll turn me into ‘Lyssa, if I keep on believing in Seraphix. Believe It’s powerful, believe It’s a god, make It manifest in this world, in my heart, within my body. It’s so easy to get distracted, though, especially when I feel the answers to the blanks in my memory are here, in Omphalos. What will I do? You can read about it in ‘A Seraphix for Your Thoughts?’ once my idiot author hurries up and finishes it. 

M is for Map

What? What are you looking at me? I’m too short and fat to stare at! Go stare at someone prettier, you moron! Yes, I live in an old cottage, with nothing but woods, fields, and my garden. No, I hadn’t forgotten the ruined tower on the hill, within walking distance of my home. I wish I could, but it looms over everything. No, I don’t remember the village, which was stood on this spot. That village burned a hundred years ago.  Yes, my name is Map. No, I’m not the Map, who was the last resident in this village, before it was destroyed. Just because I have the same name as she doesn’t mean we’re the same person. No, I didn’t call the lightning down upon the tower, setting fire to the village, if you’re mad enough to think anyone has that kind of power. Don’t let your imagination run away with you. One would think you were one of my sons, believing such nonsense. My sons? The tall, dark, and handsome young man, who’s always taking too much on himself is my eldest, Leiwell. He’s got two little brothers, my younger sons, the twins. Danyell and Dayell are their names. You couldn’t find sweeter, or prettier boys, but their imaginations are so wild, they’re almost out of control. No, they look nothing like me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them, as if they were my own!  Where’s their real mother and father? It’s none of your concern! You want to know all about us, you read ‘The Hand and the Eye of the Tower’. Yes, it used to be called ‘Stealing Himself From Shadows’, until our author decided to revise her original manuscript, ‘Stealing Myself From Shadows’ during National Novel Writing Month. I’m in that book, too. There was a lot of cross over and even similiar scenes in ‘Stealing Myself From Shadows’ and ‘Stealing Himself From Shadows’, but my author decided the two titles were too much alike. My sons’ story is now called ‘The Hand and the Eye of the Tower’. Yes, I’m also in its sequel, ’A Godling for Your Thoughts?’ You want to know more about these books? Go bother my author about them! Maybe she’ll finally finish ‘A Godling for Your Thoughts?’, if you do. It’s about time she fixed up ‘Stealing Myself From Shadows’ and ‘The Hand and Eye of the Tower’! They should have been published, by now, but no! Our author has to keep putting us aside, to work on ‘Fairest’, submissions, or anything, but our stories! Do you know how tiring it is, dealing with a distracted author? No, I’m not going to tell you about it! Go away and stop bothering me! 

L is for Leiwell

I’m Leiwell, a character, who’s undergone many revisions, including my name. Once I was Llewell, one of the leaders of the Followers of Seraphimis. It was a half human empowerment group, created to help all halflings realize how truly special and balanced they were. Its inner circle was privy to dark secrets and dark practices. Blood was spilt and pain was inflicted upon those chosen, offered up to Seraphimis for the sake of halflings as a whole. My entire premise changed, when I appeared in my author’s novel, ‘Never Lose Your Path, Your Patience, or Yourself’, which took place entirely from the perspective of my little brothers, Danyell and Dayell. I was disappearing from my home, serving my lord, doing secret work, which could be of great benefit to halflings in general. A halfling in my author’s original work is anyone who’s half human, mixed with something monstrous, spawned in the Shadow Forest.  The novel my author is currently writing, ’A Seraphix for Your Thoughts?’ shows Seraphimis returning as Seraphix, a much more complicated creature than the sinister god Seraphimis was. Seraphix is not simply a god, Its also a coin, a wish, and a manifestation of that wish. My lord has a plan to use Seraphix in order to achieve a new goal, which he’s taking his time revealing. All I know is my lord wants me back, at his side, despite my questionable loyalties. He knows my heart’s desire, just as Seraphix does, to protect my little brothers. To keep Danyell and Dayell safe, to create a new world for them has always been my goal. It breaks my heart that my little brothers are my greatest enemies in achieving that goal. 

L is for Leiwell

I’m Leiwell, a character, who’s undergone many revisions, including my name. Once I was Llewell, one of the leaders of the Followers of Seraphimis. It was a half human empowerment group, created to help all halflings realize how truly special and balanced they were. Its inner circle was privy to dark secrets and dark practices. Blood was spilt and pain was inflicted upon those chosen, offered up to Seraphimis for the sake of halflings as a whole. My entire premise changed, when I appeared in my author’s novel, ‘The Hand and the Eye of the Tower’, which took place entirely from the perspective of my little brothers, Danyell and Dayell. I was disappearing from my home, serving my lord, doing secret work, which could be of great benefit to halflings in general. A halfling in my author’s original work is anyone who’s half human, mixed with something monstrous, spawned in the Shadow Forest.  The novel my author is currently writing, ’A Seraphix for Your Thoughts?’ shows Seraphimis returning as Seraphix, a much more complicated creature than the sinister god Seraphimis was. Seraphix is not simply a god, Its also a coin, a wish, and a manifestation of that wish. My lord has a plan to use Seraphix in order to achieve a new goal, which he’s taking his time revealing. All I know is my lord wants me back, at his side, despite my questionable loyalties. He knows my heart’s desire, just as Seraphix does, to protect my little brothers. To keep Danyell and Dayell safe, to create a new world for them has always been my goal. It breaks my heart that my little brothers are my greatest enemies in achieving that goal.

K is for Kevin

A very good evening to you! I’m Kevin. I work for Maggie at the Tipsy Hedgehog, who was called Aggie in ‘Every Thom, Dick, and Harry Has Got a Story’. I think she’ll revert back to being Maggie, since that story wasn’t accepted. The Tipsy Hedgehog has shown up in Omphalos, Caerac Keep, as well as a small, Eirish village. In the latter, the residents of that village was deathly afraid of magic. The Serpent can sniff out magic users, you see. At least, that’s what my gran always warned me. You had to cast out magic users, leaving them in a circle of stones outside the village, when they were still infants. If you did that, the Serpent would swallow just the infants, lying in the circle, leaving everyone else alone. If you didn’t, the Serpent would come, swallowing everyone. It would take a hero like Padraig, to drive the Serpent out, and heroes like him are rare. Or so my gran says. Daerec the Sorcerer has been living in that tower nearby, and the Serpent hasn’t come for him, or anyone else. Some say the Serpent is too scared of Daerec to come near him. Who could blame the Serpent? The ivy covering Daerec’s tower has the will of a hundred serpents itself, sliding around and crushing intruders. If you live to enter the tower, the tower itself is filled with books, whose characters will come to life, if you’re unwise enough to open them. One marvels that a gentle, beautiful boy like Rhoddry can stand to live in such a place. However, Rhoddry is fairly odd himself, given some of the strange things he says and does. It’s an innocent kind of oddness. I can’t help worrying about him, when he comes to meet those friends of his at the Tipsy Hedgehog, particularly Thom and Varwyth. Thom is a bit of a rake, who’s with a different lass or lad, every time I see him. I can tell he’s itching to add Rhoddry to his list of conquests. Varwyth is even scarier. Such a cold, odd fellow, for all his good looks, who makes the skin crawl, every time you catch his eye. I should warn Rhoddry about his friends. Maybe I should strike up a conversation with him, the next time he enters the Tipsy Hedgehog. Just to warn him, of course. 

K is for Kevin

A very good evening to you! I’m Kevin. I work for Maggie at the Tipsy Hedgehog, who was called Aggie in ‘Every Thom, Dick, and Harry Has Got a Story’. I think she’ll revert back to being Maggie, since that story wasn’t accepted. The Tipsy Hedgehog has shown up in Omphalos, Caerac Keep, as well as a small, Eirish village. In the latter, the residents of that village was deathly afraid of magic. The Serpent can sniff out magic users, you see. At least, that’s what my gran always warned me. You had to cast out magic users, leaving them in a circle of stones outside the village, when they were still infants. If you did that, the Serpent would swallow just the infants, lying in the circle, leaving everyone else alone. If you didn’t, the Serpent would come, swallowing everyone. It would take a hero like Padraig, to drive the Serpent out, and heroes like him are rare. Or so my gran says. Daerec the Sorcerer has been living in that tower nearby, and the Serpent hasn’t come for him, or anyone else. Some say the Serpent is too scared of Daerec to come near him. Who could blame the Serpent? The ivy covering Daerec’s tower has the will of a hundred serpents itself, sliding around and crushing intruders. If you live to enter the tower, the tower itself is filled with books, whose characters will come to life, if you’re unwise enough to open them. One marvels that a gentle, beautiful boy like Rhoddry can stand to live in such a place. However, Rhoddry is fairly odd himself, given some of the strange things he says and does. It’s an innocent kind of oddness. I can’t help worrying about him, when he comes to meet those friends of his at the Tipsy Hedgehog, particularly Thom and Varwyth. Thom is a bit of a rake, who’s with a different lass or lad, every time I see him. I can tell he’s itching to add Rhoddry to his list of conquests. Varwyth is even scarier. Such a cold, odd fellow, for all his good looks, who makes the skin crawl, every time you catch his eye. I should warn Rhoddry about his friends. Maybe I should strike up a conversation with him, the next time he enters the Tipsy Hedgehog. Just to warn him, of course. 

J is for Jupitre

What are you looking at? Whatever. I know I’m not much to look at. What did you think I was, the most powerful of all the gods and father of many heroes? Do you think I’d be stuck in this stupid village, if I was? Yes, I’m stuck here, with nothing, but a fat son, a stupid daughter, and an even stupider wife. Yes, she’s the idiot, who was chattering on at inspirationcauldron.wordpress.com. I doubt if any of these children are truly mine. I doubt if this life is even mine. I know I was destined for grander things. I’ve finally got a talisman, a key, a seraphix, which will lead me to even greater things. What is a seraphix? Well, for me, she’s a rather comely wench, who brightens my existence in this miserable village. She’s also nothing more than a tarnished bit of copper, hanging around my neck. She speaks to me, though, promising to make me something greater than myself. All I have to do is believe in her. Believe in Seraphix. It’s a hard thing, believing in anyone or anybody these days. There was a time, when mortals not only believed in me, they worshipped me. Worship can make a creature something much greater than his own cursed thoughts do. If worshipping Seraphix is a way out of this pitiful existence, I’ll swallow my pride and worship another, even if it galls me. 

SaveSave