A reclusive novelist goes on a quest to avenge her childhood friend’s murder. After returning to her strange hometown for the funeral, Jacey Forestar is confronted with the tragic and heartbreaking truth about her bloodline, and that the spirits of her ancestors have called her home to fulfill her dark destiny. Jacey must harness her hidden gifts to save her life…and her soul.
I am currently working on the follow-up book in this three part series. Here is a link to The Dead Born, and I hope you love it as much as I do!
My speculative noir short story Ghosts and Heartbeats in the Rain is featured in this Anthology from OffBeat Reads Publishing. Pick up a copy, and see what’s around that dark corner.
The young girl pulled up the long hem of the dress and ran up the hill towards the red glow. The bonfire was massive and she could smell the logs burning, the smoke both sweet and acrid in the chilly air. The young girl turned around, seeing the tops of some of the small homes in the village. The celebrations had ended, the children tucked into their beds, bellies full with roasted meat and sweets. The young girl’s parents were full of cider, snoring peaceful and rosy cheeked, a fire roaring, offerings left for ancestors on their graves.
The moon’s light bathed the land in a pale white glow. As she got closer, the young girl saw shapes around the fire.
Hands came out of the darkness and held the young girl’s arms. Two women, both very beautiful, whispered to her.
The young girl walked with the beautiful women to the circle around the fire.
They faced the young girl, smiling. A third woman with long black hair walked out and stood in front of the two.
Next to the fire was a large wooden altar. There were wreaths of dried wildflowers tied around the edges of the altar. Symbols had been carved into it. The young girl looked back up at the women.
Their eyes looked as glowing red as the fire. The one with the black hair pulled off her dress. She stood naked in the circle of women. The other two women did likewise and took off their clothes, and stood naked with her.
The three witches walked to the young girl and pulled off her dress. The young girl tried to cover herself, but they gently pushed away her hands. The witches rubbed the young girl’s breasts, and her nipples stood out, so hard they almost hurt. The young girl felt herself getting wet between her legs; they rubbed her down there, and held back the young girl’s hair, nuzzling and giggling.
They led the young girl to the altar. They stood above the young girl, chanting. The young girl saw the stars begin to swirl above , making shapes that looked like angels and demons. The young girl felt hands on her body. The witches kneeled and placed their hands on the young girl’s body. The witches began to chant loudly.
The night air turned static. A black shadow circled the air above. Wings fluttered above; soft and silky but electric.
Suddenly, the young girl felt intense pain between her legs. The young girl raised up and looked. The black-haired witch was holding up something in her hands. Blood stained the witch’s hands.
The young girl saw there was blood between her legs. She put a shaking hand between her legs. The young girl held up her hand in the moonlight; the blood looked black. The young girl screamed.
The witches gathered around their black-haired leader staring at what she was holding.
The beautiful witch began to eat the young girl’s insides. The delicate white hand held up stringy and bloody sacs of eggs, and the witch popped them in her mouth like pomegranates.
The young girl slid off the altar and staggered to her feet. The women were waiting to get their share. The shadow coalesced and stood now as a figure: massive and muscular, hulking and snorting steam into the air. His wings were as black as oil, and they spread wide, then contracted behind him.
The young village girl saw the small flash of metal laying on the ground. She grabbed it and walked over to the witches. The witches were on their knees, their heads tilted back, eyes closed in ecstatic trances, and she swiped the blade across their throats, one by one.
The thing from beyond watched the events indifferently. The last remaining witch kept eating the young girl’s eggs, eyes closed, blood dripping down her mouth and her neck.
The young girl walked over to the black haired witch. She was bleeding heavily, and she almost passed out. The young girl knelt down in front of the witch.
The witch opened her eyes, pausing with her hand raised. The young girl glanced at her insides steaming in the cold night air.
The young girl brought the knife up and it flashed in the red light of the fire. The young girl plunged the knife into the witch’s heart.
The witch looked down, eyes wide and surprised, looking down at her chest. The young girl twisted the knife, and the witch fell forward.
The young girl took the remainder of her womb in her hands. The young girl pulled the knife out of the witch. The young girl ate the remaining eggs. Then the young girl dragged the witch closer to the fire.
The girl began to carve up the witch, and then the girl dug out the witch’s womb. The girl ate all of it, and the fire seemed to burn brighter. The girl felt the presence standing over her now.
The girl laid down on the altar. He came into her.
Dawn
She stood naked, blood caked on her thighs and legs. She watched as creatures came out of the forest. They were misshapen and had skin like onion layers, talons as sharp as fresh blades.
They sniffed the dead witches, some lapped their blood, and one began to have sex with one of the dead witches, she couldn’t tell which one. The others barked and screeched with impatience. The creatures looked at her with suspicion and hunger, but they were subservient. They began to drag the dead witches into the forest.
She felt the life already quickening inside of her. The Empress followed them into the forest. She was going home.
Things get biblically weird for a woman working night shift.
Light Bringer
This section of the hospital was old, and so it was the section most plagued with problems. It looked barren and neglected and had an abandoned feel to it. The walls were perpetually in need of repair: peeling plaster, there was an area where a huge hole had been patched and was always leaking tiny trickles of brown liquid. Soon it would be walled off, another connecting entrance would be built. Emery always felt like the place was about to cave in on her. Stuck. Forever.
The floor always felt sticky, as if the last person to clean was in such a hurry they sloshed down a puddle of industrial cleaner and did a cursory swipe with the foam mop.
But the lights were the strangest part of this journey down the hall.
There was no other way to go, unless one went outside the hospital and entered from another door, but that was not practical. The hospital had wings added on over the years, and sometimes they just didn’t connect.
The lights were constantly flickering or would just all completely go out when Emery was on her rounds. Now she knew when it was about to happen, because there would be a low deep hum and Emery would feel her teeth set on edge. Then the lights would surge with brightness and then either flicker for a few seconds, sometimes a full minute, or they would all completely go out in unison. Emery would turn on her phone’s flashlight and guide herself through the dark hall. She knew there were no X-ray machines running, no electrical work being done, because she always went and investigated the rest of the small hospital.
Emery had asked some of her coworkers about it, but they had never seen the lights flicker, or go out. However, they all hated going to the subbasement, down the gloomy hallway and into the small med supply room.
Emery worked night shift, so she was the one who ended up filling this med station machine. Tonight, she only had a few things to take, so she took her small container and headed out. She glanced at the pharmacist, who was Face-Timing his latest girlfriend, and he didn’t even glance up when she opened the door to leave.
Emery put in her headphones, the music blasting. It was the weekend, and the hospital was quiet and deserted. She turned the corner and began to walk down the hall.
She walked past the morgue, pausing at the door. She took out her ear buds, and she listened. The door was locked, and she heard things being moved, arranged. Not empty tonight. She thought of her mother being cut open by a stranger, caring but indifferent, a job to do. Her organs being taken out and weighed. Her blood being drained out by a large vacuum, replaced with pink fluid. The flash of silver blades against soft thin skin, cutting; it made
Emery’s body hurt, and she welcomed the pain, as if this would somehow make her mother forgive her for allowing this to happen. Emery should have just put her in the ground, pristine and finally peaceful. Emery pictured the blood washing into the drainage trap. Emery imagined she drank some molecules of her mother, or when she bathed, parts of her mother were in the water. She finally walked away from the door, continuing down the hall.
She paused. She felt it, starting as a vibration above her. Like she was standing under a transformer. It got louder and louder, then suddenly stopped. The lights went out, and Emery stood in the darkness. She waited.
She turned around, hoping to see him this time. Before she could only feel him and perceive him as a shadow figure. But now immense hands came to rest on her shoulders. His eyes were not completely visible, but she could see tiny pinpoints of light, black flames of eternity.
She saw the outline of the wings as they spread out behind him, then enfolded her. She closed her eyes, and in complete darkness, she could see some of what they saw. She couldn’t comprehend or collate these into sensical thoughts. They were flashes of images. Galaxies boiled into life; stars bursting and spewing out neon gases and collecting into new stars, burning with unimaginable intensity. She saw others: some floating, still and calculating, watching. Others streaking around like insane enormous, fiery insects. She felt fear but also wonder and shame and nothingness and eternity. Darkness and light battling each other, limitless and immortal.
Emery opened her eyes. She saw light, then blinked and realized she was staring up at the ceiling. The lights were working again. A voice in her mind spoke softly, but with force: Arise, eat.
She usually bled afterwards, but there was none this time. She saw the medications scattered on the floor. She left them and dressed and walked to the bathroom.
Emery looked in the mirror. Her eyes had two small points of light. She turned off the lights in the bathroom and continued to stare into the mirror. Her eyes shone in the darkness.
That which is born of darkness will bring light.
She felt the floor tremble beneath her feet. It was time to move on.
This movie is brilliant! The script is so sharp and witty and compelling it makes me ask myself what I’m doing with my life as a writer. The acting is flawless: William Holden and Gloria Swanson perfectly complement each other.
Sunset Boulevard (1950) certainly had a lot of influence on many filmmakers (the opening of American Beauty is a clear homage to Sunset), and I bet David Lynch loved this movie, just to name a couple.
The imagery is so dreamlike and unnerving: a beautiful Hollywood mansion in a state of early decay, just like the past-her-prime actress who inhabits the place. She is compared to Miss Havisham by broke screenwriter Joe (Holden), and Norma Desmond (Swanson) is indeed a slightly-grotesque yet glorious mess.
Their sun-soaked, boozy relationship culminates with Joe’s eventual murder, and we see Joe as we did in the beginning of the film, face down in a pool.
