#WEP OCTOBER 2022 CHALLENGE - MICHAEL JACKSON'S "THRILLER" - MY #FLASHFICTION

 Hello there!

It's time for the WEP October thrilling challenge where writers are asked to respond in any way they choose to Michael Jackson's "Thriller". The options are there for those who resist reading or writing horror in any form, so some entries might be 'thrilling' in other ways. Myself, I'm rather attracted to vampire stories, so of course that's the direction I took my entry. 

For the second half of my entry, I incorporated lyrics from the song, mindful that there is copyright on lyrics, so I changed them. No copyright on titles, thankfully. I also had some useable pics in my picture folders that I hope enhance the 'thrilling' experience.

I hope you enjoy my 'thrilling' entry:

 “Run, Sadie, Run.”

Sadie slithered down the freezing drainpipe, and bam, her ballet flats hit the ground. Creeping cold seeped through her shoes, her toes turned to ice. She slapped her face. Got the blood flowing. Idiot! She should have worn that ugly sheepskin coat her mother gave her, but she wanted to show off her milky white shoulders in her red silky dress. To whom? She was about to find out.

Lucretia, her BFF at her new school had told her about a ceremony happening at midnight deep in the woods. How could Sadie miss that?

She shivered along the snowy path into the wood behind her house. Should have worn a cloak, not this thin shawl. "Yes, Mom, I'm a stupid cow."

“We moved here to get you away from those weirdos in Washington State. But you never listen. Don’t whine to me when disaster strikes.”

“Don’t go walking in those woods at night”, Lucretia had warned her, “especially on Halloween”.

“Especially under moonlight.” Her new boyfriend Xavier added on several occasions while they made out in her room. As he spoke, his eyes gazed at her soulfully, eyes flecked with red which sorta scared her. “Never, never, never enter those woods.” He thumped the pillow. “Evil lurks.”

Sadie had almost laughed. Xavier was so quaint of speech, like he was from another age. But she wasn’t doing trick and treating with the class like she was some stupid little girl. She was going to be a scientist. Scientists don’t believe anything they can’t prove.

She passed an abandoned shack by a frozen stream. She was close.

 Full moon. All Hallow’s Eve. Pagan festival of the dead. Her favorite time of year. Ghosts, vampires, ghouls, zombies and what the heck else come out to toy with humans. She wrapped her arms around herself; snowflakes teased her bare shoulders. Her hair whipped into her mouth, her eyes. Was that ghosts she heard ooh-ing and aah-ing? Turn back, freak, she told herself, but no, she was determined to see if the stories about creepy creatures had merit.

Close to a grassy glade, a circle of trees. Then … she saw it, a sight that almost stopped her heart. Horror hooked her between the eyes like an arrow from a gifted archer. She opened her mouth to scream, but terror stopped her voice.

Black-clad figures wearing white gloves, sang in falsetto while they gyrated, their movements strangely elegant, “Thriller, thriller.”

My God. Who were these copy-cats singing Michael Jackson’s biggest hit? Her heart hammered so loudly her ears throbbed. Were her weird new friends playing tricks on her?

The fake-Jacksons swiveled, booed her, like they saw through the huge tree where she hid.

“Come out, girl, we need your sweetness.” They sang, clapped, made Michael Jackson moves, bodies jerking. “You’ll be thrilling, thrilling, our lips will drip with sweet, sweet blood.” They high-fived, smacked their lips, whirled in the air so many times it made her dizzy. How long had they practiced to get that right?

Some friends, she thought. Ugh. How could they scare her like this?

“Run, Sadie, run.” A familiar voice. A familiar touch. She spun around. No one.

The dancers shot their hands in the air, their claw-like fingers spasming.

“Come to us, little one.

We need your sweetness.”

“Run, Sadie, run.” An awakening fear nailed her feet to the ground.

“We crawl in search of blood.

You are the one we crave.”

A cold hand wrapped around her neck, sharp fingernails pinched her bare shoulders. A creature. Behind her. These creeps were real! She’d read Twilight; she knew what came next. Razor-sharp teeth would rip her apart.

“Midnight is so close at hand.

Jaws of death are in the land.”

Oh, no, no, no. Cold dread crept throughout her body. Then … pfft … maybe … if she opened her eyes, she’d be in her warm bed in her warm room in her warm house with her cold parents.

But no.

“We demons, we’re closin' in on every side.” Voices now deep baritone, they formed a ring around the tree, her prison. In time to the words, they stomped their feet, flew into the air, their robes flapping around their bodies.

“Darkness falls across the land.

Thriller, thriller night.

We will take your sweetness.

Take you to a better world.”

Woodland creatures squawked and squawked, wolves howled, then suddenly stopped, adding to Sadie’s terror.

Deep baritone voices seared her soul. “We will possess you.” And they did, their hands all over her, imprinted her body with ice. “This night we'll open your eyes to the knowledge you seek.”

Sadie couldn’t see their hooded faces, but she smelt foul breath, felt rough tongues, teeth, huge, monstrous, grazed her shoulders. Her knees gave way; she fell into a heap.

“Your body shivers, twitches, but your cries are feeble. Give up the fight.”

“Leave me alone,” Sadie cried, wrapping her hands around her neck. “Go scare someone else.”

“Stand and face we hounds of hell.” They tugged at her hands, exposing her neck. “Let us hold you tight. Thrill us on this thriller, thriller night.”

They hauled her to her feet like she was made of air.

She kicked and screamed, but fingers tore her skin.

“Give in. Give in.

This is the end

we commend.

No mortal can resist our evil.”

“This mortal can.” The familiar voice again.

The foul stench screamed a collective falsetto, ‘Ooh-ooh-ooh’, backed away.

 “Xavier.” Relief coursed through her. “Save me.”

“If I don’t take you, they will.” He stabbed a finger at the demons, their white gloves circling the darkness, their falsetto voices creeping her out big time. “Ooh-ooh-ooh, oh Master.”

WTF? “Master? Xavier?” She tried to pull out of his arms, but they felt like iron bands.

His eyes sparkled with red flecks. “Stay away from these woods, I said, but you didn’t listen. If I let you go now, you’re dead. I’ll change you; you will live with me forever.”

Sadie felt woozy as Xavier’s teeth bit her neck. Oh the exquisite pain of discovering the truth. She heard falsetto voices: “Ooh-ooh-ooh, please give us a go.”

Mom, you were right. I am a stupid cow.

 

TAGLINE: Mom is always right!

WORDS: 1039

 FCA

 STOP PRESS!

For this challenge, WEP is offering Amazon Gift Cards to three winners to the tune of $20, $15 and $10. If you have a story that meets the guidelines, join us!

I hope you enjoyed my ghoulish story. Please click on my sidebar to read more entries.

While you're here, I'll tell you about WEP's December challenge. We'll tone it down a bit from this month. 

Roberta Flack said -  I think it's the kind of song that has two unique & distinct qualities: it tells a story, and it has lyrics that mean something....Because of [its meaningful lyrics] the [song] can be interpreted by a lot of people in a lot of different ways: the love of a mother for a child, for example, or [that of] two lovers. 

Go HERE for more inspiration.

Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to read and comment on my post.

 

Denise  

#IWSG JUNE POST - IS ANY WRITING EVER WASTED?

 Hello and welcome to the June IWSG where writers gather around the campfire and discuss the ups and downs of the writing life. It goes without saying that the purpose is to encourage each other. I know I always learn something! 

Alex's awesome co-hosts for the June 1 posting of the IWSG are SE White, Cathrina Constantine, Natalie Aguire, Joylene Nowell Butler, and Jacqui Murray! If time allows, please visit them.

I'm not answering the question today. 

I haven't been able to get Michael di Gesu's last IWSG post out of my head all month. Michael posed the question - 'when is it time to do a complete rewrite of your novel?' 

Michael went on to say - 'Originally I wrote this [Mommy Kay] as a memoir and had sent it to a top editor in NYC. She made several suggestions and I was almost finished when the person I am writing about decided she wanted changes. MAJOR changes.' Which to me, Denise, tore the heart out of the book.

My heart plummeted. What a situation for Michael to face. I know he'll come to a positive conclusion, but at the end of the day, he's potentially faced with three years of his writing life coming to naught. 

Or is he?

I've always believed that writing is the best way to learn your craft. I struggle to make sense of the craft books that line my shelves - I don't have the brain for them - people are always saying - read this or that - my brain fizzes, probably because I'm basically a pantser, or Discovery Writer - trying to be a plotter. Which only works for me as I have two sharp critique partners who love structural editing and walk me through the 'beats' of a good plot. Painful, but you've gotta do it as readers are smart people, they know when a 'beat' is missing.

So I think I wrote Ray Bradbury's 'million bad words' before my writing approached competency. I have about 5 books I haven't touched yet, but I'm powering on with new ideas. Now the flow is much easier. The six books I published in 2021? Most were begun in 2016 when I didn't have much of a clue - so a long hard road to getting it anywhere near right. 

There are mainly two lines of though re a deep re-write. The self-publishing gurus at 20Booksto20K FB group recommend forgetting about published stories full of holes which you recognize after you've become a better writer. Just get on and write the next book, and the next. Whereas others recommend making those changes that annoy you or perhaps reviewers found irritating. (For a list of sites which help the self-publishing journey, click on the image in my sidebar where I gathered them together for Damyanti @Damyantiwrites).

I did a re-write on my first of series vampire novel, Betrayed, because I couldn't not,  mainly sharpening up the beginning. Edition 2, according to Amazon. Along with a more 'to market' cover, time will tell if a new set of ads will make the time invested worthwhile. (((shrugs))) Who knows?

With traveling and having the flu, I was out of writing commission for 5 weeks, so now I'm playing catch up. One of the things I did was to make a page of My Books, where all my publications, or soon-to-be publications are in one place. I hope you'll take a peek. If a book appeals to you, contact me in the comments or via email and I'll send you a free copy if you'll review it for me. As a beginning self-published writer with a small fan base, gathering reviews is the hardest part. The good news is that I'm going to cut down on the 5 years I polished these 6 books. The companion book to 'Paris Dreams' will take me a year at most. Whoop-de-do.

But back to Michael. To re-write or not, that is the question?

What do you think? I'm sure Michael would appreciate your input along with moi. (I've added the link to Michael's post above).

~*~

And always with the WEP. Today the first post of the month goes live. If you want to sharpen your skills, or get eyes on your new WIP,  you're welcome to post an extract.

Thanks for coming by.

Denise 

#WEPff NARCISSUS, by Caravaggio. My #flashfiction, A LIttle Reflection Can't hurt. And it's time for the December #IWSG and the delights of writing!

Hello and welcome to my blog!

Wow! I missed last month's IWSG cuz I was just so busy with everything writing related. Much the same this month. But I'll answer the second half of the suggested question - what delights you (about writing). I love everything about writing except sweating over the first draft - that's where my critique partners come in, but once I have my story down, it delights me to rewrite as many times as it takes, then share with betas and editors. But, added to that, I love that I'm a member of the blogosphere where we love to interact and help each other. So, when Damyanti asked me to put an article together on self-publishing, I was less than keen as I'm pretty new to the game, but I'm glad I chose to go ahead and do something for Damyanti who gets so many queries from her followers about self-publishing...so...

Damyanti is hosting me on her site. After you read my entry for WEP, Damyanti and I would be so happy if you drop by to read my article, A Beginner's Guide to Self-Publishing. Add to the conversation! 

Now, let's get WEP underway!

Welcome to WEP's final challenge for the year of 2021, Year of the Art. We've all thoroughly enjoyed being inspired by art prompts and honestly, I'm a bit sad that it's over. But, good news, 2022 is the Year of Music, where we're inspired to write by music titles and lyrics. Super exciting! 

The Year of Music kicks off in February 2022. 

Let's get down to the Art...Caravaggio's Narcissus. In my story, I've gone for Narcissus and Narcissa. I've strayed into vampire territory. Couldn't restrain myself. 

I hope you enjoy my flash! Those with sharp memories will recall I've taken the bones of a previous WEP entry and with some tweaking it was perfect for the challenge.

And a new innovation at WEP is that we write our own taglines - such good practise for submitting to agents/publishers/magazines/on book covers ... so ...

TAGLINE: Be careful what you wish for; you might just get it.

A Little Reflection Can’t Hurt

 

In perfect synchronicity, in the perfect silence of the night, two imposing figures ran side by side, shooting like arrows through trees and undergrowth. Moonbeams shone upon them, bathing them in surreal light.

Her name was Alessandra. His was Eduardo.

Eduardo took Alessandra’s hand and tugged her to a halt. ‘Before we feed, let’s go to our favorite place.’ Eduardo pointed deeper into the forest, where an abandoned track led away from the highway. The old path was pitted, potholed and pathetic, but it didn’t faze them. Their swift feet flew above the earth, propelled them into the sky whenever they craved the sheer joy of using their newfound powers.

Alessandra jerked his arm, dragged him under an overhanging branch of a Downy Birch. Despite her awesome powers of strength, intuition, enhanced sight and hearing, she was always nervous when Eduardo invited her to their favorite place. But her nerves coupled with a frisson of excitement. She thought of saying “no” for a nanosecond, but she hated to disappoint Eduardo after he’d been so good to her. ‘Oh let’s.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘I must try one more time before I give up.’

Eduardo wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drew her so close she felt his marble-hard body pressed against hers. ‘You are the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me, my darling,’ he said. ‘I’m so glad you’re mine for eternity. What a gift I have been given. I always loved Christmas in my human form, now Christmas comes every day I spend with you.’

Alessandra knew he was buttering her up to ease the disappointment she must surely feel when they reached the magical place. ‘You are the most perfect gift ever, Eduardo.’

As she ran, Alessandra’s mind returned to that night when everything changed…

~*~

…She was out on the town, such as it was. Her boyfriend hovered attentively, plying her with white sauvignon blanc until the rough edges of her dissatisfaction blurred.

Why are you so unhappy? he'd asked. What more could you want? Your life is perfect.

That’s what you think.

Over the rim of her glass, her eyes flew from her boring boyfriend and locked with a new arrival. Helloooo stranger. Few strangers came to this weird little island plonked in the middle of the North Sea. In his Savile Row suit and designer haircut, he oozed glitz and glamour.

And excitement.

As he stared at her, trembling possessed her whole body like an alien force had taken her over. Her boredom with her ho-hum life on the island was about to end. He was "big city". Glasgow? Aberdeen? Her knight in shining armor had come to rescue her.

The stranger did indeed rescue her from her life.

She’d clutched her glass of white wine until the stem broke, cutting the tip of her finger. Seawater jumped clear across the harbor wall and crashed against the glass windows. She sucked her finger and wondered if the glass might shatter and tip them all into the North Sea.

She thought it was part of the game when he ran her from the pub, covering her with his fancy cloak and took her driving into the forest in his sleek black Maserati. She’d never seen such a car. A change from clanking old tractors driven by dour farmers.

She thought it was part of the game when he drew her close, sucked her bleeding wound then threaded his fingers through her hair. Her whole body shivered as he murmured endearments. Oooohhhh.

She thought it was part of the game when she felt a strange sensation where his lips touched her neck.

But she knew it wasn’t a game when his teeth bit her throat. ‘Come, my lifeless bride. Come away with me. Be mine eternally.’

Her heart hammered. Her throat burned. Her body trembled.

Too late.

The myths about strange creatures who lurked on the island were true. Why had she dismissed them like she dismissed everything about her home? But who’d expect one of those creatures would drive a Maserati?

But thankfully, her boyfriend, Eduardo, had followed them in his beat-up Toyota.

He’d wrenched open the Maserati door, dragged Niccolò off her neck, pulled him outside.

Niccolò had spung up, pounded a fist into Eduardo’s temple. While he lay unconscious, and while Alessandra lay inert inside the car, Niccolò had drunk from Eduardo, then roared into the night after tossing her on the ground. 

Gods be praised, her boyfriend followed her into the Otherworld. 

~*~

Through mountains of musky leaves, she and Eduardo ran, hummus flying around their feet. Occasionally, just for thrills, they flew to the treetops, using their sharp vision to check out the distant landscape of gray sea and green hills, so beloved.

Alessandra smelt it before she saw it.

Their special stream. They knelt before the pristine water and played the game. Would it be different this time?

Pushing their faces close to the water, they tried, they really did. But no. Nothing. No image. No reflection. No chance of being Narcissus or Narcissa even with all their extraordinary powers. 

Disappointed, Alessandra plunged her face into the water. Do I even exist?  ‘Ohuhuh…aagh...’ Electricity shot through her body while Eduardo held her while she trembled with shock.

When the trembling ceased, Alessandra sighed. ‘Perhaps one day I’ll see my reflection.’ She bent down and scooped a handful of shimmering water, let it trail through her fingers. She might be slowly forgetting what she looked like, but she’d never forget the past events that brought her to a place where her reflection didn't reflect.

‘See yourself through my eyes, my love.’ With his long fingers, Eduardo traced the shape of her face. ‘Your hair is like black silk, and it is my never-ending thrill to run my fingers through it; your face is a heart, so dear to me as you gaze at me with your heart in your eyes. Your lips are soft and red,’ he followed their outline with a fingertip, ‘while your ears are two delicate white shells attuned to my love words.’

Alessandra was moved beyond words. ‘My love, I see myself reflected in your words. What need have I for any other?’

_____________________________________________________

WORDS: 1040

FCA

You'll find this announcement everywhere I hope! Here are the WEP challenges for 2022, the Year of Music. If you've never written for us, accept the challenge in 2022. You can find a complete list of the music challenges HERE.

                             We'll rock on with All You Need is Love in February. How perfect!

And a reminder ~

Please drop by to read my article, A Beginner's Guide to Self-Publishing on Damyanti's blog. Add to the conversation! 

A large part of my author promotion is through BOOKFUNNEL. They are great for selling books and growing newsletters. If you click on this link in one of my current promos, GIFTS GALORE, it will lead you to a passel of books to choose from in various genres - Romance, Historical, Western, Suspense. Try it! 

GIFTS GALORE

PARIS DREAMS THROUGH BOOKFUNNEL

                               

Thank you!

#IWSG Septenber 1 post - What makes a successful writer amongst other things?

 Hello all! 

Time to rock the writing world, or give it a bit of a shake, eh? Let's hear what you've got this month.

Alex's awesome co-hosts for the September 1 posting of the IWSG are Rebecca Douglass, T. Powell Coltrin @Journaling Woman, Natalie Aguirre, Karen Lynn, and C. Lee McKenzie! Pop by and thank them for giving their time!

  Be sure to visit the

Insecure Writer’s Support Group Website!!!

How has your month been? Success with submissions, angst from agents,  peanuts from publishers ... or have you defined your writing month by your own terms? 

SOURCE

You've been in a little cabin at the beach with the water at your toes and your fingers on your laptop, haven't you? No interruptions. Isolated. Freedom to create. Lots of wine, coffee or tea at hand to celebrate finishing that novel. Ah, sorry, got carried away. That's my fantasy. You may be happier writing at the kitchen counter with your family raging around you.

September 1 question - How do you define success as a writer? Is it holding your book in your hand? Having a short story published? Making a certain amount of income from your writing?

There's nothing uniform about writing or writers. We all write with whatever time/place/talent we have and can't control everything. And if I interviewed everyone of you who came by today, success would be something different. I follow a lot of FB posts where authors take a photo/video as they open a box of their published books. I find that scintillating. Their pride resonates with me. But I'm not there yet.  

I think all the questions this month are legit. Some writers post about their submissions for the month. That's cool. I'm not a submitter, preferring to tap away doing my own thing. Save myself the angst of rejection, LOL. 

But there's nothing wrong with making a bit of money from this writing gig and that's one of my goals. Whether you look at your writing as a profession, a career or a hobby, I totally believe in financial rewards, however small. But unless you have bucketloads of luck, even though you have it all sorted - the writing courses, craft books, beta readers, alpha readers, editors, cover artists, formatters ... phew ... wringing a few dollars out of our books is hard ...(someone I know with about 20 books on Amazon reckons they've made 45cents when he/she deducts expenses). Who'd work for that wage?

...which is why I'd like you to give me a few tips on your most successful marketing tool. I'd greatly appreciate it. Currently I'm building my mailing list through Bookfunnel which has been ultra successful, and now this month I'm trying out their sales promos. Will let you know if it's successful in gaining new readers who're willing to pay for one of my books rather than get them for free. All part of the process.

So, here are my questions to you. Choose one/all ...

* what has been your most successful marketing tool? 

* have you built a mailing list and if so, how?

* what is your favorite marketing book?

* what is your process in writing a book - ideas, premise, writing/self-editing, beta readers, editors, cover artists? 

* what authors do you currently admire - classic? modern? risk takers? genres?

~*~

Just letting you know  - I FINALLY have my first in my Renaissance Vampire Romance series up for pre-order and about to go live - on September 8. There are at least 5 books in the series, have written 3 in full (as I'm a slow writer).

HERE is the link to BETRAYED.

Let me take you on a trip to Florence, that insanely beautiful jewel in the center of Italy. A city of art and architecture thanks to the ruling family of hundreds of years, the de' Medici, who feature in Book One. #historicalfiction, #paranormalromance,#vampires ...

And the fun doesn't stop here. WEP's October challenge is near. Our Year of Art continues with Munch's The Scream. How could you fail to be inspired by this work of art made fetchingly into a badge by Olga Godim? 

Join us HERE. We LOVE new writers! It's a chance to get feedback on a WIP or a story before submission. There's a critique prize for the winning entry. Our prize for August is a first chapter critique or query/synopsis critique from our very own Jemi Fraser, our most recent recruit to the WEP team.

Happy writing!

Denise

#WEP/IWSG October challenge - #FlashFiction - Meet my Renaissance hero, Duke Vipunin de Castellina.

Hello friends!

It's time for the October Write...Edit...Publish challenge. This is always our most exciting month where we delve deep into horror ... or we don't. 

Part of the blurb for this challenge is:

Write a ghost story, or a mainstream one. Most of our members go with horror or speculative for October. But that's not written in stone. Nothing rigid about us - we are a culturally diverse mix and we welcome all interpretations of writing prompts.


This is the perfect month to introduce my Renaissance-era vampire, Duke Vipunin de Castellina. I've written a 'reader magnet' to gift people when they sign up for my email list on my new website (not yet operational). From this short story, I harvested 2,000 words, then painstakingly edited it down to 1,087 words.

I don't yet have my pen name website up and running, but here is a sneak peek:

 What do you think? It takes a village and all that, so grateful thanks to my buddy Lynda Young for her fancy work on my pen name, 'Silver Tree'. and Wallpaper Access for the medieval battle image. Thanks to my husband Geo for his dab hand at Photoshop to pull it all together.

And more excitement! When this post goes live today, I'll be in Castellina, Tuscany, spending the day checking out the ruins of the castle and the subterranean tunnels which run underneath and feature in Book One. 

So ... ta da ... Meet the Renaissance hero of my Paranormal Romance, Duke Vipunin de Castellina. 

For this WEP challenge, I’ve reworked the end of Book One of my  four-book (so far) soon-to-be-published vampire series. 

THE STORY SO FAR: 

It’s Duke Vipunin’s 30^th birthday. He’s left behind his life in Florence as an advisor to Cosimo 11 de’ Medici to take up his inheritance at Castello de Castellina, the family home in Tuscany.

Tonight’s the celebration of the grape harvest on his lands, but tonight more than grapes will be harvested. A vampire queen, Alliyra, has lied her way through his gates and into his parlor.

For those who shudder at vampire stories, or violence, I hope you’ll read as much as you can. In this scene, Vipunin fights for his human life.

Harvesting His Soul

Castello de Castellina, Chianti, Tuscany, 1610.

ALLIYRA placed her hands upon Vipunin’s head. Looking into his eyes, she snapped her fingers, breaking the spell that had held him in thrall. ‘Come, Duke, drink in the night.’ She walked toward the window, gesturing for him to follow.

He felt powerless to do anything but obey.

Her eyes glinted. ‘Duke Vipunin de Castellina.’ She pointed outside. ‘See the darkness beyond your walled garden – the burial ground, the forest, the all-knowing moon? That is where you belong. A night creature.’ 

He jumped backward to avoid the power of her gaze and stood, legs apart, hand on sword. How dare you. Beyond the wall was sacrosanct; the cemetery where his parents and grandparents lay. All who’d lived and died at Castello de Castellina were eternally bound with the rich soil. One day he would join them.

Not today.

Ripping his sword from its scabbard, he was comforted by its ting-shink-ting-shink. ‘I belong here.’ He clutched his weapon in both hands, rotating the hilt.  

She locked the windows, jerked the curtains closed and turned to him. ‘I will have you,’ she rumbled. ‘Tonight you celebrate your grape harvest. I celebrate harvesting you. Put away your sword.’   

He stepped backward and tightened his grip. ‘I’m no creature of the night.’ Gesu’, give me strength to kill this creature.  

She tisked. ‘Kill me? Your knightly arts are useless against my powers.’ With a movement that tricked his eye, she kicked his sword. It arced across the room and speared the door where it shuddered, hilt and pommel trembling.   

‘No!’ He spun to retrieve his weapon. Once again, his feet stuck to the floor. Gesu', she’s mesmerized me again.

She clicked her fingers to release the spell. ‘Come. I will show you something.’  

He reached her side in time to see her hold out an emerald necklet, his face visible in the facets. What trickery is this?

As the stone began to vibrate, Alliyra nodded, replaced the emerald down the front of her gown. ‘The spell was cast many years hence. I chose you as my new companion the night your brother Abelli brought you to me as tribute when you were a boy. I refused you then, but I take possession … tonight.’

‘No!’ He shoved her away, fighting the spell. Slipping his dagger from his boot, he stood, legs apart, body forward. ‘I remember you drank from me that night.’ He panted, tightening his grip on the knife. With his other hand, he felt the two raised marks on his neck. ‘You branded me.’

‘I did. You tasted divine.’

‘Help me, Celso!’ His manservant should be outside the parlor door by now. He slashed at Alliyra with his dagger. Abelli couldn’t inherit while Vipunin lived, so he’d arranged his death. If Vipunin died, everything would belong to his half brother. 

‘Ah, Duke.’ Alliyra’s voice poured over him like sickly sweet wine. ‘Celso has been called away to attend some crisis at your gate. Perhaps a dead gatekeeper.’ She tutted. Maneuvering with lightning speed, she grabbed both his arms in an iron grip. ‘Isn’t this cozy?’ She squeezed his hand until the dagger fell from his nerveless fingers.

As a knight, without weapons, what did he have? She’d killed Beppe, his faithful Captain of the Guard and the de' Medici knights who guarded his gate. ‘Witch! Leave me!’  

‘I’m not one of your subjects. You … obey … me. Her eyes blazed red. Silver specks swirled around the edges.  

His heart rammed against his ribs. The evil he’d read about in his grandfather’s library had been given life. ‘Filth.’ He balled his fists, punched at her face, but she stood unmoved, smiling when he yelled, ‘Revenant. Demon. Vampire.’

Alliyra cackled. ‘You’re dead.’ Her clawed hands rose into the air, hovering near his face.

He took jerky steps backward across the room. He could make the door … grab his sword … run her through.

A blur. She had him. 'Uhuhuheh,' she growled.

He squirmed in her grasp. ‘Holy Gesu’, protect your servant.’

She clawed his face and warm blood oozed down his face. ‘There … is … no … god … to … protect … you ….’ She licked him. Rivulets of blood dripped down her chin, bathing her white neck. ‘We are a pretty pair, are we not, Duke?’   

He kicked, he writhed, revolted by the transformation of beauty into hideous specter. ‘Get out of my life.’  

‘But your brother wants your life, dear-ling. He wants your titles. He wants your castle. He wants your land. But most of all, he wants you dead.’

Driven by jealousy, Abelli had tried everything over the years to kill Vipunin. He must not succeed. The title was his.

‘You will no longer care for titles, dear-ling. Your worldly life will be cast aside – your betrothed Ciassia will wed your brother and his progeny will inherit. Soon you will care for nothing, nothing but the sharp claws of blood hunger tearing at your insides. And you will care most of all for me, your maker.’   

‘God is my Maker!’ The door is so close. Salvation is so close. Hot blood seethed through his veins at the specter of his brother taking his beloved Ciassia from him.

Alliyra's beautiful, inhuman face with its mad, night-dark eyes loomed over him. ‘I am your maker. I choose whether you live or die. Forever and ever. Amen.’  

‘Never!’ Reaching behind, he felt the heft of his sword. A little farther and he would grab it, behead her.  

She slammed him against the wall. ‘Huhhuhsss,’ she hissed.

His sword was but a hair’s breadth from his face.

She held him upright with one arm and wrapped the other behind his back, pulling him close. ‘Merveilleux,’ she gasped. ‘You are mine.’ With her free hand, she tore at his cloak, ripped his doublet, his shirt, then licked his neck with her dagger-like tongue.

He kicked at her knees with every shred of strength, but she pressed her body against his, imprisoning him. ‘Get away,’ he groaned, his voice hoarse with the terror that pulsed through him. 

Her fangs scratched his skin. Her claw-hand vibrated at the back of his head with some dreadful, alien power. ‘Together, Duke de Castellina. You and I. For eternity.’ She plunged into his flesh, the pain as excruciating as when she branded him those many years ago.

Loud crashing outside his door. His name called over and over. 'Vipunin ....'

Too late Celso.

I'm a dead man.

WORDS: 1084 - I tried so hard to get it below this ... :-(

FCA

Thanks for reading. I'd love constructive criticism. Depending on where my travels take me, I may be a little slow in replying, but reply I will.

Go HERE to read more entries.

The WEP/IWSG challenge prompt for December was dreamed up by Tyrean Martenson: 

And here is the challenge list for 2020. Start thinking.