A Prepublished Novel in the Process of Revisions and Rewrites

Saturday, November 8, 2008

As Promised, Halloween Mini Tales Stories for you reading pleasure. Enjoy:) Warning: Explicit Language and Sexual Content


By popular demand, below are the balance of Halloween Mini Tales entries. Bet you guys thought I forgot. Sit back, relax, and enjoy. Comments, of course, are always welcome. Anyone game for another go at this for Thanksgiving? Let me know. If enough of you are, we'll up the prize anty this time.

Her Fairy-God Lover by Cari Quinn

To cast the love spell, she lit red, orange and pink candles that bathed the small, circular room in seductive light, then she filled her chalice with fragrant rosewater. She'd aligned her chakras and centered her chi. Still, the object of her desire had not arrived.

Typical.

In twenty-nine years, Victoria Nix had yet to find a love that lasted longer than a single refill of her birth control pills. So she'd put in an order with the universe, her own version of cosmic takeout. Lo and behold, the drive-thru appeared to be closed.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply. Her lips parted as a sudden warm breeze stirred her long hair, and her eyes flickered open with a start. She hadn't opened the window, and she sure as hell hadn't called a bird.

The raven perched on the sill in a narrow shaft of moonlight, studying her. She scowled. This was what her love spell had summoned? A harbinger of death?

Victoria squinted at the raven. Correction. A harbinger of death wearing a shiny gold chain.

She shoved her spell book aside and started to stand. At once, she was on her back, her arms extended at her sides and a deliciously heavy weight pinning her to the cold hardwood floor. Muscled legs and a chiseled torso held her still, while firm lips teased hers. "You rang?" her mystery man said, plundering her mouth with his tongue.

He tasted of Chianti. And, possibly, Moo Goo Gai Pan. A cruel irony.

"Who-?"

"My name's Drew, Victoria." Her name in his husky, melodic voice sent a quiver of longing through her. "Open your eyes."

Had she closed them again? That explained the darkness. Victoria complied, already afraid to see what she'd conjured.

Oh, hell no. She sobbed out a breath. The object of her desire was younger than her?

He laughed, taking her chin in a strong, warm grip. "You didn't specify an age. And I was available."

"Oh." Were her thoughts that transparent? "It never occurred to me I'd end up with…a boy."

"I'm no boy, cherie." He lifted his head, and his wavy sable locks tickled her nose. His hair was longer than hers, and around his thickly corded neck, he wore…

A gold chain?

Her gaze whipped to the window, then back to Drew as he laughed, long and low, near her ear. "Are you scared, Victoria?"

She shivered. "Of what?"

"Of me?" His hand fisted in the bodice of her silk teddy. She'd chosen to dress lightly for this mission, and her exposed skin heated from within as soon as his broad thumbs skimmed her sensitive flesh. "Of what we can be together, should you choose."

God. He smelled like mint hot chocolate, and she'd missed dinner. "Are you…a bird?"

His astute blue eyes narrowed on hers. Held her tight. "No, I am your fairy godlover. If you will accept me."

Once his mouth seized hers, she acquiesced. Her questions could wait.

"I choose you," Victoria whispered.

Seduced by the Scarecrow by Vivian

"Mmm, babe, ever thought of getting frisky on a haunted hayride?"

I blinked at Joel, my blind date du jour. Uh, no. I had not thought of getting frisky on a hayride, particularly when I hated Halloween and all its silly traditions.

And to add innuendo to injury Joel was now…ugh, licking my neck in loud slurps while our guide narrated our nocturnal journey.

"Get off me," I hissed, jerking to my feet on the rickety wagon.

As it was approaching midnight, only two other couples had ventured out to have their "spines tingled." Six pairs of eyes gleamed at me in the darkness, but only one mouth opened.

"Babe! C'mere."

I eyed Joel, all buck teeth and grasping hands, through the windblown dark tangle of my bangs. "My name is Sara, not babe. Get lost."

He reached out; I stumbled back. And catching my stubby heel on the edge of the wagon, let loose a blood-chilling scream of my own as I tumbled backward into the darkness.

The impact with the hard-packed ground stole my breath, but soon, the agony receded into a pleasurable warmth. Someone's hands were on me, soothing my aches with gentle touches, and I arched, wanting to open myself to this.

To him.

It had been an eternity since I'd been touched in this manner, if I ever had. He responded to my body's instinctive writhing and parted my icy lips with tender flicks of his tongue. Our mouths linked, forming a connection more solid than even my hands fumbling on the oversized, clownish buttons on his shirt.

I didn't open my eyes. I didn't want to see who had me, but God, I wanted to be had. He tasted dark and wicked, and as smoky as the acrid aroma that singed my nostrils. Hungry for more, I pressed against his muscled torso, needing his warmth to fill the cold, gaping holes inside me.

Pain waited for me, I knew. So I fought against it, learning the long lines of his sinuous body as we moved together. He whispered my name, chanting it over the lonesome call of an owl searching for its mate. My heartbeat drummed in my ears, my blood pounded just under my skin.

Yes.

I needed this. If he didn't take me the way his bold possession of my breasts indicated he would, I'd die.

But he ripped his mouth away a moment before his warmth left my body, almost as if he'd been plucked away by unseen hands. I whimpered, my gaze locking on the wide, somehow hopeless eyes of the scarecrow pinned to a barren maple.

As my heart stumbled, I heard a murmur on the wind. "Stay with me, Sara. Please."

Could it be possible?

Joel approached me, leaves crackling under his feet. "Need a lift, babe?"

Transfixed by the scarecrow's oversized buttons, I slowly shook my head. Warm blood oozed down my cheek, but it didn't matter. I was right where I needed to be.

With him.

Return To Andorra by Kaye Manro

Lured by an irresistible urge, Claire Watson wandered through a fog-laden forest. Behind her tree limbs shifted, branches cracked in the late October stillness. Someone followed close. “Who’s there?” she called.

No one answered.

Running, she skirted a tree but stumbled on a protruding rock and fell down. “Damn,” she mumbled.

Suddenly an old man stepped out of the darkness and leaned over her. “There ain’t no where to run, girly.” He taunted.

“Get the hell away from me!”

“You belong with your own kind.” He chuckled.

“Stop harassing her, Jaxom.” Powerful words came out of the mist.

“D’terio” the old man said bowing his head.

“Leave us,” D’terio commanded and turned toward Claire. “Don’t be afraid, he’s harmless. Let me help you.” He held out his hand.

His mesmerizing presence defused her fear. With only a touch, she felt a familiarity about him, an immediate attraction. His stark black hair and alabaster skin were much like hers. “Who are you?”

He shook his head. “You are approaching your first hunger, and still do not know who you are.”

“What do you mean? I’m not hungry for anything.”

He inhaled deep. “You must realize your ancestors who colonized this world, decades ago were different. And you are the last.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the same as everyone.”

“No, you are an Andorran Claire, a supernatural Wraith being. I’ve come to take you home.”

Her voice quaked. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re saying I’m an energy-sucking vampire? You’re crazy!”

He nodded, “We all are-- you, me, even the old man.”

She took several steps backward. “This has got to be an elaborate Halloween prank.”

“It isn’t.” He caught her arm and stroked her in a calming way. “You must return to Andorra with me before your first feeding.”

“Why should I believe you?” she said, pulling away.

“Let me finish. I telepathically guided you here. Your Andorran blood grows weak. This planet can no longer sustain our kind.” He stared at her. “You will die.”

Dragging in a breath she asked, “If you’re right why don’t I know?”

“You do. But you must unlock the veiled memories.” The moment their eyes linked, the truth of his words flooded her mind.

He turned and strode into a swirling mist.

Claire trembled as primal cravings cascaded through her body. “Wait,” she called. “It is true, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Claire.” He smiled, opened his arms and drew her against him. Above their heads, a spacecraft hovered and a spinning light pulled them inside. To her surprise, the old man sat at the helm.

“Are we ready to leave orbit Captain D’terio, sir?”

“We’re done here, Jaxom. Take us home.”

“I promise you’ll enjoy our feeding ground,” he whispered. His heated breath against her ear stirred yearnings so deep, so sensual she could barely stand. Corporeal lust awakened within, and Claire lingered in D’terio’s arms as they headed for the Wraith world of Andorra.

Surrender by Willa Rawlings [my nom de plume aka L.L. Abbott]

The near full moon shone bright in the clear night sky. Juniper, sage, and sweet grass lilted upon the cool autumnal breeze as Sophie Lahey walked up the steps and onto front porch of the isolated mountain cabin. Just as her knuckles struck the cedar planking the door eased away, and a faint light echoed from deep inside.

“Hello!” Sophie hesitated and then called, “Conall?”

When a wave of melancholy drenched her senses, Sophie drew in and blew out a hard-drawn breath. She summoned her courage, pushed upon the door, and raised her voice, “Conall!”

“Miss Lahey?”

A quick sigh escaped her lips. Startled by the unfamiliar voice, Sophie closed her eyes and took a moment to collect her wits. Her heart raced as she craned her neck through the opening. An old Indian, bathed in the harsh lighting of the old miner’s lantern held down past his waist, walked in silent footfalls through an unearthly dark.

Soothed by his demeanor Sophie answered, “Yes.”

“I am Calvin. I do not believe my grandson was expecting you.” He motioned with his free hand to welcome her inside.

“No.” Sophie said as she crossed over the doorsill. “He wasn’t.”

The flickering light glistened and danced in the elder’s compassionate eyes. But Sophie couldn’t rid or disconnect herself from the desolation that permeated the shadows of the room.

“I, on the other hand, have waited a very long time for you.”

Sophie stood there agape, with not the first word in response.

“His sorrow was never mine to heal. My love cannot reach far enough inside to touch the agony that chases him.”

Sophie then sensed the presence of a spirit guide. Deer reiterated its lesson in healing, matching the old man's words when a guttural howl pierced the silence. The old man just stood there; unaffected. A chill rippled up her spine and Sophie knew it was Conall.

She feared the question forming. Calvin said nothing. Deer offered nothing. Sophie breathed deep and shook her head; refusing to give it voice.

“What haunts my grandson now haunts you.” Calvin closed the distance between him and his grandson’s salvation.

Sophie stood inert, shaking her head. Unwilling to accept what she felt. And from whom it came.

“You know these things are real.” Calvin said.

Chains thrashed and the clang of steel resounded in the dark. With yet another howl, a vehement rage swept through Sophie’s entirety.

“You think you came here by chance?”

Sophie writhed. Her heart surged in her chest. She began to back away; one laborious footstep at a time.

“Reach for his love. I know you have felt it.”

Calvin lowered the lantern to the floor and rushed to grab her forearms. “Touch his soul, Sophie. Temper what you feel now with your love. It is greater than his rage.”

Sophie fought to calm her breath and heart.

“You know it is there. See beyond what you hear and feel and reach for the love he refuses to surrender to.

The Knat by Mary Ricksen

It was one of those things that happen frequently to us all--a bug flew up her nose.

At the time, Erin didn’t think much of it. Creepy to think the tiny thing entered your proboscis and ick, stayed there. It wasn’t until she looked in the mirror later, that she noticed the phenomenal changes.

My God, her wrinkles gone, skin clear and tight, and her lips again full and lush, thrilled she marveled as she stared at her once more youthful face. Her pussy grew tight and moist at as she thought about sex. It’d been a long time since she’d mated, it wasn’t easy to date as a werewolf.
****
That damn bug he’d thought, it’s still up my nose and no amount of blowing into
tissues revealed it’s tiny body.

Later when Jamie saw himself in the bookstore window, he almost dropped his
drawers, he looked twenty years old again. A double take confirmed the shocking
revision, he sported a huge boner just from thinking about sex. His lack of libido in the past ten years gone, his huge erection throbbed and his penis leaked a drop of semen, something that it hadn’t done in years. He was back and he didn’t care how he got there.

The day whizzed by and by evening the shape-shifting world knew. The earth,
newly invaded by a strange small alien bug that only affected werewolves, now would
change dramatically for older lycanthropes.
****
“You’re open late.” Erin glanced over her shoulder at the hunk she heard walk toward her from the back of the store and she dropped the book she held. Her canine senses rocketed and carnal pheromones clouded her mind with instant desire.

“Do I know you?”

“You will.” He reached her side just after he’d locked the door and boldly began to
graze his hands up and down her bare arms. Her jaw clenched, she hissed satisfaction.

“Jamie.” He mumbled to her, just before he took her lips and plunged his tongue into
the sweet cavern of her mouth.

“Erin.” She managed to say one last intelligible word before they dropped to the floor, clothes flying.

The sex that followed as the moon threw a blast of light through the storefront windows, was incredible. They began as humans and ended as animals.

“You do know that we have been infected don’t you?” Jamie lay beside her, his chest
still heaved with exertion. “I am a possessive wolf, I want only one mate.”

“Mate, does this mean we’re mated? Do I get a say in this?”

His mouth answered for her with domineering licks and nips, driving her to scream
once again, as passion overtook her inhibitions.

He marked her as his, and at that instant the alien knats flew from both of their noses and were gone instantly, as if they’d never existed.

“A regenerating, aphrodisiac knat, from another planet--now that’s what I call a bug,” she smiled.

Erin had a good day today.

Well, that's all of them. I'm sure the authors would love to know what you all think so please take a moment to comment. And, by all means, let me know if you'd like to do this again.

Congratulations again to the winner Rhonda E. Dove, A Wolf's Reclamation and runner up Helen Hardt, Logan's Curse.

Have a wonderful and restful weekend:)

Dayana~

7 comments:

  1. I'd say that there is a lot of great imagination in The Wild Rose Press group of authors!

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  2. Amen, Mary. And, Mary, I didn't know you had it in you. I'm certain the bug made you do it! LOL. Great stories, everyone.

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  3. What diversity there was in all the entries. The human imagination is a great thing. *grin*

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  4. It's good to see all the contest stories posted. What interesting writers here. I can understand why Dayana had such a hard time deciding!

    Thanks for sharing, Dayana. Good luck with your own releases.

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  5. I really enjoyed reading these. Thanks for posting them! I don't know about the rest of you writers, but writing a whole story in 500 words or less was a huge challenge for me. It gave me a new respect for flash fiction. This was a really fun contest!

    Helen

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  6. [Sorry! I've been in recovery mode.]

    Some great stories here. And thank you, Dayana, for the opportunity.

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  7. Did you know you can shorten your long links with Shortest and get cash from every click on your shortened links.

    ReplyDelete