Morphing Into Pandemonia

 

Pandemonium: a place or scene of riotous uproar or utter chaos.  Bedlam.  Turmoil.  Babel.  The capital of Hell.

 I saw a cave, I saw two men, and I began to write, and I called this piece, “Dragon City.” I let it take me where it wanted to go.  Crispen had heard the rumors, but until this moment, he hadn’t believed they were real.

Combustible_smOne sentence leads to another, one thought follows, and barrels into the next.  The man glared at him steadily until Crispen was certain he could see flames in both his eyes.  He reared back, landing against the wall.

 And suddenly a premise materializes: It was the animals who ran the asylum and the humans who served.  But tied into that premise is the next: that humans are sometimes the savages, the predators.  And thus the crazy world of Pandemonia began to morph.

“You have no life anymore.  You belong to me now…”

 “Forfeit,” Crispen said.

 “For as long as I want it.  Isn’t that the law in Dragon City?”

 And so it began, the morphing of a world, the shaping, the creation, the defining of character.

Pandemonia is a dangerous future, where earth is now made up of prison colonies and societies are not what they once were.  Pandemonia is controlled by a conglomerate of scientists called the Nucleate.  And mutants, such as Drayce, one of the gen species they gleefully, maniacally create, have been incarcerated in Pandemonia when the end of the most recent intergalactic war ended their usefulness to the interglobal councils.

Societies and civilizations turned and twisted, no longer recognizable, laws of humanity mutilated by needs, instinct, and the powers of the Nucleate.  This is the world of Pandemonia, a future world gone reimagined darkly.

 

Read an excerpt of Pandemonia: Combustible

 

Purchase on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079674H85

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection

Writing Prompt

Here’s another holiday themed prompt. Step away from the hectic, grab a cup of coffee or hot chocolate, maybe a holiday cookie or two, and let your creative mind wander. Write anything, write something, just fill that sheet of paper, or computer screen with words.

I like to write with a “stream of consciousness” such as this. A computer screen feels like noise to me sometimes, it speaks of deadlines, of rushes, of have-to-get-this done. Whereas, a journal or a notebook, and a pen – fountain pen preferably, speak of my time, my corner, my quiet time, the intimacy of notebook and pen, mind uncluttered with daily needs and needs and wants. Just me, an image in my head, dialogue emerging, and the true flow of words on paper.

Have some fun.

Journal Writing Page mistletoemagic

mistletoe magic filled the winter forest…

Writing Prompt

I hope the frenzy of this holiday season is still leaving some good writing time.

I’m an early morning person and often I’ll do my “stream of consciousness” writings first thing in the morning when all is quiet and everyone else is still asleep. Of course, for night people, it could be the opposite end of the day, after everyone has gone to bed.

Either way, take a break, empty your mind of holiday noise and holiday to-do lists, and free flow your way to a quiet corner with this six-word prompt with a bit of a holiday flavor to it. Just go where the words take you.

Journal Writing Page ornamentaldistraction

she was but an ornamental distraction…

6-Word Writing Prompt

I’m on a winter and holiday kick so I’m sharing prompts usunandtree-6108sing words inspired by the time of year.

I like taking pictures of sunlight and mist. I like playing with aperture and speed, and a variety of different settings on my cameras. I also shoot in RAW as opposed to jpg format, providing more depth of color to work with in final processing. I like to work with a broad range of colors and light when taking photos, just as I like to work with a broad range of words and crafting sentences when I write. The more tools you have, the more you want to play and experiment.

I can get a bit creative with taking photos, just like when I write stories. I take a lot of liberties in both. Take Silver and the Humanotica series, or Nightingale, and spinning things on their head. I love to do that.

One of the reasons I enjoy writing the 6-word prompts is because it’s a finite set of words to invoke an image and/or emotional response. It challenges me, just as writing short blurbs for my stories challenges me to be succinct and evocative.

Moving on, here’s the latest 6-word prompt.

Journal Writing Page porcelainskin

porcelain skin, white as bleached fear…

Have at it. 🙂

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Writing Prompt To the Darker Side

129MP_starling top of pine in october 2015I enjoy writing from prompts and creating them as “stream of consciousness” writings to work with and mold later.  I do this type of writing using many different mediums as inspiration – photographs, words, tarot cards, song titles, movie titles, etc. I then, at a later date take these “sparks” that end up being about 250 words each and flesh them out into more fully-developed outlines, and eventually into fully-realized stories, either short stories or novel-length.

Sometimes these “stream of consciousness” writings bring me a fuller understanding of a story I’m already working on, perhaps giving me some character insight or world insight. Or they could evolve into fresh story ideas.  I’ve developed this “stream of consciousness” writing into a ritual that I do each morning. I look at it as “warm-up” exercises to get my brain engaged in the creative writing mode for any given day. And if it’s going to be a busy day, perhaps it being the only writing I get done that day,  it is something more than nothing. And as we know, we can’t edit a blank page, thus at least 250 words is something to work with later.

I’ve begun to  create several of my 6-word prompts each week. I’m afraid they’re all a bit dark, but I like writing dark. Anyway, I like prompts, they spark ideas for stories, and I like designing and working with images for them. I do a lot of photography myself, so I’m starting to use less stock images, and more of my own images. But that also gives me a different eye to viewing when I’m out photographing, as I consider what images I might photograph and refine to use with these prompts.

I have enough prompts now to start thinking about creating a collection of prompts. So, I’ve started designing them with that in mind as I move forward. I thought I’d share this one. I’ll try to share one or two a week just to throw out some inspiration and something different to work with that others might enjoy as well.

journal-writing-page-ghost-child-8x10

Maybe this will spark something intriguing for you, or maybe it will be another one that I post. Right-click and “save as” if you would like.

 

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Deadeye – an excerpt

Not for the faint of heart. Note the CAUTION to potential readers below. Best get that said up front. Deadeye, now re-released with a new cover.

deadeye_smA question that often is in the back of readers’ minds. Do I research my back stories? You bet I do–extensively. From Bad Girls and Soiled Doves, to Cowboys to Demons, to Gods and Goddesses, Roman soldiers, desert environments, time periods, weapons, and combat. Now, because I research, doesn’t mean I don’t twist and turn and scrunch, and yes, mutilate, things, situations and people, because that’s what fiction is about. So tread warily. Probably should leave your assumed boundaries for genre and romance and history and mythology at the door as well. Beyond that, come on in and have a taste of the naughty, the terrible, the passionate and the lustful.

 

#darkfantasy #erotica #MMF #bisexual #romance #paranormal #erotichorror #kindleunlimited
 
Dark and deadly adventure awaits in Deadeye.
 
Vitus and Caecilia must embrace a world of lustful and devious demons in order to succeed in their mission. And Justus, an incubus, half-breed son of the demon lord of Infernia and a Dreamweaver Sorceress, must shed his dark shadow in order to accept his destiny as a Nacraecian Dreamweaver Sorcerer. Three who meet, three who must face their duty, three who risk everything to be free.
 
CAUTION: This dark fantasy, dark romance, story contains explicit sexual situations and strong language. Content may be objectionable and beyond comfort zones to some readers and includes dubious consent, multiple sex partners, bisexual activity, some elements of BDSM, involving hot demons, sexy cowboys, seductive soiled doves, as well as titillating satyrs, dominating gods and goddesses, and confronting flesh-craving zombies. Whew! You must be over the age of 18 years of age to read this story.
 

An excerpt from Deadeye

“He puts on quite a show, doesn’t he? And he certainly has a way of firing up his audience.”

Vitus studied the woman dressed in white who seated herself at the table. He noted the necklace. She still wore it and the sight of his ring pleased him. A surge of possessiveness erupted inside him, pooling in his groin, arousing him in a way the stage performance had failed. The burn of desire steadily grew brighter. Caecilia reached up to curl her fingers around the ring in almost a protective fashion. Her hand rested about the curve of her voluptuous breasts. She caught his eye, slowly unfurled her fingers and released the ring. It caught the gaslight of the room as the ring dangled against her skin, finally nestling happily in the valley between her breasts.

It took effort for Vitus to lift his gaze to meet hers. He’d not seen her in a hundred years and, as it always did, the sight of her aroused him to heights he found difficult to wrangle into submission. Emotions clashed and sparked inside him. He watched as she poured the whiskey, turned the glass to the spot from which he’d just drunk. She lifted it, licked the rim, watched him, dipped the tip of her pink tongue into the golden liquid, then licked her lips.

“Caecilia.” His tone was one of warning.

She dipped the end of her finger into the glass, then thrust the tip into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked on the digit. Vitus’s cock jerked, hardened, as he watched her. He damned Apollo, he damned Aphrodite, he damned Diana. But most of all he damned himself for wanting Caecilia as much as he had when he’d first seen her on the banks of the Tiber. She tipped the glass and swallowed the contents. It took every last bit of his self-control not to reach for her, to stroke her slender throat, to press his lips to the beautiful column, to claim what her lips promised.

She smiled, grabbed the bottle and poured another shot of the whiskey into Vitus’s glass. She lifted it and swallowed the fiery liquid. “It’s been a while, Vitus. It’s good to see you.”

“Is it? Why tempt me, Caecilia, when you know what the punishment would be?”

She shrugged. “After all these years maybe I’m just tired of fighting.” She leaned over the table, her plump breasts pale and enticing. “Don’t you want to forget them all, just for one night? Wouldn’t one night of just us be worth whatever punishment they meted out?”

He took her hand between both of his. He stroked his thumb across the silk of her flesh. “You don’t have a clue what it would mean to become a source for Infernia. I do. There will come a time when we’ll be together. I vow to you. One day this weight—this pain—will be gone.”

Something in her eyes shifted. He saw the need, the yearning. He released her hand. She drew away.

“Of course, Vitus. You’re a Roman warrior, after all. You’re used to deprivation. You think to save me from myself, but I think it’s slowly destroying us both. How much of your humanity is left, Vitus? After Apollo? After Zevodious? Can you even feel anything anymore?”

Caecilia knew him too well even though they’d spent so little time together. Much of his humanity seemed to have evaporated. But apparently there was still a glint left. Cuthbert had shown him that. But what about her? Caecilia was no longer the virgin maiden he’d made love to on that long ago summer’s day next to the Tiber. She was now one of Aphrodite’s sirens. Lush, seductive, and skilled in the sensual arts as she had not been so long ago.

She turned from his close scrutiny to gaze at the seduction taking place on the stage and nodded toward the actors. “He’s your mission.”

“The boy in shackles?”

“No. The demon who’s about to fuck the woman.”

Vitus swung around to look at Caecilia. “Demon? I thought it was supposed to be a sorcerer.”

“Justus is a sorcerer. And a demon. His blood is both.”

“And the couple?”

She shrugged, then poured herself another shot of whiskey. “Losers at the tables. They all know there’s a price when they come here. They aren’t the first and won’t be the last. There are no secrets. They all think they’re shrewder than the tables, that they can beat the odds. Of course, none of them do.”

Vitus had seen that hunger in Cuthbert. If not for the hell-zombies thrown in his path, and Vitus saving his ass in the nick of time, it could be the young gambler eventually standing on that stage. Except he sure as hell was no virgin. Justus had the woman on the bench. He was parting her legs, her thighs were shiny with her moisture. Head dropped back, eyes closed, breasts upthrust, she appeared more than ready to accept the demon’s doubled-headed cock into her sweet, young pussy.

“Newly married couple, looking to make their fortune?”

“Brother and sister.”

Vitus swung back to look at Caecilia. He saw little expression on her face, little concern for the couple on the stage.

Caecilia turned and looked up to a curtained box on the other side of the saloon. “He’s in there, watching, waiting. I believe the girl’s a virgin—for a few more seconds anyway. Greed brought them here and they’ll pay heavily for losing. The girl will go with him, he’ll keep her until he’s impregnated her, then he’ll send her back to the living world. As he does with all those who catch his eye.”

“And the boy?”

She stared at him steadily. “You know what will happen to him. Some will survive, as you did. Some won’t.” She turned back to the stage. “I don’t think he’ll be one of the survivors. But with luck he won’t become one of the hell-zombies.”

The girl screamed as Justus penetrated her. She arched and her arms came around Justus as though to pull him closer. Her thighs fell open even wider, supplicating herself completely to Justus.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

Justus surged into her, rode her. At the last moment his attention turned to the table where Vitus and Caecilia were seated. The girl beneath him screamed as she came. Justus drove into her again, his eyes on Caecilia. And again. Long, deep, powerful strokes. Again, Lucy came. Justus grinned, his skin now a deep wine-red burgundy expressing his depth of arousal as he fucked Lucy and stared at Caecilia.

“He wants you,” Vitus said.

“He’ll have me.”