Ok, I’m working on a two WIP’s at the moment. Oath Of God is a story set in a world where the so-called ‘gods’ wish to remake what they percieve as imperfection. Whether that be the people or the land.
THIS IS A SNIPPET OF THE DRAFT
OATH OF GOD
Her chest hurt. Her eyes burned. And still she ran. Kama kept on running until the air cleared. She didn’t stop, even when the packed earth of the village turned to grass, wetting her ankles and hem of her skirt. Kama didn’t look back at her home. She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. They’d get her. Hurt her. Kill her. They had all the others. Her family. Friends.
The soft green under her clogs turned brown. Hard. Lifeless. Stone. Pebbles. Strewn bits of broken pottery or bone turned white by time and sunlight. Kama slowed. Then stopped altogether. Jagged rocks thrust up out of the gravel like weathered spears, rusted, leaking tears of blood that ran down the dull brown stones. She must have run further than she thought. How was this place even possible? There should be fields here.
Wrinkling her nose, Kama lifted her good arm and held her ragged sleeve up to her mouth. It was odd. The smell. Like spilt oil. Not the sort for cooking, but the kind used by-
She gasped. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, fighting to escape the body it knew was about to die. She should run. Mama said, go, live, save yourself, but she couldn’t move. There was nothing she could do, there was nowhere else for her to go.
The clank of metal and screech of cogs squealed protest as her killer turned to regard its prey with a deep green stare like a forest pool dappled with autumn leaves of copper and bronze swirling over the complex pool of the creature’s oddly liquefied gaze.
This was a weapon, built not born. Its outer casing of aged steel was dented and melted in places. One massive hind leg was shattered, but didn’t stop the thing moving, or at least dragging the ruined appendage as it pulled its body closer and loomed over her.
It was massive. A demon of myth. It couldn’t be real. It was just one of those stories told to frighten naughty children or morbidly delight those who loved such tales.
She wanted to scream. To rage. Fill this creature with the same fear burning inside her, but nothing came out. She stood and stared. The impossible stared back.
It watched her. Maybe it was disappointed with how small its meal was. She didn’t know. Didn’t care. It was over. Mama fought hard to save her. Turned into a living candle of melting flesh, gaping mouth screaming. ‘Get out! Get out!’ Until her lungs burned.
The thing made of metal and gears lifted its great head. A voice boomed from its sharply studded maw, ‘Do you know what sulks in the green, child?’
Kama’s eyes rolled back in her skull as if the words sucked the last of her strength. She fell, fell into a world of silence and darkness, of nothing and nowhere. She was alone.
My other project is a novel, Wolf Born. It’s based in the same world as my novella, Vastian Lore. The story is more in-depth than previously told.
THIS IS A SNIPPET OF THE DRAFT
Norarl stumbled into a tree, smearing a bloody handprint across the bark. He staggered back, blinking to adjust his vision. His mood soured. Demon’s Wood…Why don’t I just kill myself?
‘Moron!’ Dallin’s scarred hands snarled the front of Norarl’s tunic and dragged him closer. Norarl wrinkled his nose at the reek of stale beer on the old trader’s breath.
‘I told you,’ Darrin snapped. ‘Keep your head down.’ He glared, pale eyes so hard and cold, Norarl considered he may have run for nothing. Darrin could kill him easy enough.
Curling his lip into a snarl, Darrin threw him back against the oak. ‘I’ve lost all, no thanks to you. I should never have hired your kind in the first place. It was a mistake.’
Norarl bristled. ‘Because I planned this, obviously,’ he didn’t even try to keep the acid from his tone. ‘I didn’t goad them into killing my horse. Or sticking me full of holes-’
Darrin jabbed a finger in his direction. ‘You didn’t have to stab the blacksmith that was all you.’ Darrin shook with anger and perhaps fear. It aged him. Shrank him down small.
‘And I would have left, but they denied my request.’ Norarl stuck up a hand, oozing blood from the deep puncture in his palm. ‘Should I have let them pin me to the wall?’
A snap of branches in the undergrowth had Darrin moving before Norarl even got to touch a blade. Darrin flung out an arm, triggering the mechanism attached to his wrist. A flash of bronze erupted from his tattered shirt sleeve and five serrated discs tore through the foliage as if it were paper. They flashed like bright coins before vanishing into the wood.
A scream cut the air followed by a scuffle of running feet as whoever had been hit either took off with a wound or else it was a survivor leaving behind their dead.
Darrin turned to Norarl. ‘Don’t just stand there…’ The head of a bolt erupted from his chest…He frowned even as he looked to Norarl for answers.
Opening his mouth to speak, Darrin gasped out a breath as a trickle of blood ran down his chin before he fell to the ground, all loose limbs and disjointed bones.
Darrin’s sightless eyes stared back at Norarl as if to ask why the Hel he was waiting around to get shot.
I’m planning on releasing both early 2016. I think Wolf Born will be finished first as Oath Of God requires more research and note taking.
I’ve had, what I guess would be called, minimal sales for my paperback and the downloads of the ebook has dwindled also. Vastian Lore is kind of sitting around, waiting for readers to take note of its existence. I’m not one to bombard folks with endless tweets about my book. I also have a limited budget when it comes to advertising, basically a frayed, shoe-string budget, likely to snap under strain!
I am pleased that the book has been read. That’s always good. Although, I’m not sure what else to do at this stage? Other than write the next book.
I’m going to keep going while I have the opportunity to write mostly full-time. I’ve got about three years to really buckle down before the school run finishes and I can go out and get a ‘real’ job. Mainly, so I can use the income to do more writing and self-publishing. I’d love to have the luxury of having writing as my sole job in life, but alas, bills and reality don’t always allow for such ideals. I knew I wouldn’t make loads of cash being a writer, but I love doing it, so wanted to put my all into the process of creating new worlds and publishing good books.
I’d like more sales. (what author wouldn’t?) I’d like more than one review. However, it’s not about earnings, but about whether or not readers have enjoyed the book and whether they’d like to see more.
I wouldn’t ever claim to be the most awesome author ever! I’d like to think I’m…not bad? I’d like to hope my stories are interesting. I’d love to be able to type faster and edit like a hero with super, writing powers!
For now, I’ll settle for my New Year’s goals. Getting my two novels out and onto the second book in the series for Wolf Born, which will be titled, Wolf Song. This will become a trilogy, eventually. I’m hoping *fingers crossed* I’ll manage to get all three out before the end of 2016.
I’ve got plans, within plans. My mind is teeming with idea. Whether I’ll get all of them completed when I want is another story…?
Thanks for reading 🙂