ISG meetings

Voices from the Past


I’m getting back into the swing of things, and I’m going to start posting my writing exercise for your reading pleasure!

And I am revamping my mailing list – look out for a new novella that you’ll be able to download when you join my VAD (Very Awesome Dragon) Reader’s group (is that name too much?)!

Anyway, the title is “Patchwork Magyc”, and it will be available in the next month or so, to tide all you wonderful people over until the release of book 6 (which I promise is coming!). 🙂

Until then, enjoy this little bit I wrote with the following words:

ghost, fork, coma,

He walked into the great hall and was immediately accosted by childhood memories. The table was the same, but covered with dust instead of the lace cloth his mother always insisted they used, and the knives and forks of silver for a special occasions. The gilt-framed portraits of his ancestors hung on the opposite wall, so they were able to join in for dinner in what became a creepy ritual and a never-ending source of rude jokes for him and his brothers. He wandered past the chairs, his fingers tracing the carved wooden frames. Some of them were covered in white sheets, making them look like lumpy ghosts, the souls of those tortured in the underealm.

“Henry!” a voice called from the next room, and his head jerked in that direction, a frown on his face. He was sure he had been the only person in the house.

“Henry!” the voice called again, and he took a step towards it.

“Henry!” The voice was almost sing-song now, and like a man in a coma sleepwalking towards the shadow of a nightmare he couldn’t escape, Henry walked through the doorway, and peered into the corridor that led from the dining hall to the kitchens.

It was empty.


❤ DragonBeck

ISG Meeting and Anthology

Hello world 🙂

Exciting news cometh: the fourth Ink Slingers Anthology, entitled Bent Horizons, is on its way! Get ready for imminent and concentrated awesomeness!!

Partially due to that fact, last Wednesday’s meeting of the Ink Slingers Guild was not a normal one. Other reasons include: one, I brought chocolate chip cookie dough to Lisa’s house and made cookies fresh so the whole place smelled amazing; two, Erika brought a boat-load of books for the taking. It was as though Christmas had come early. I took some of the Writers of the Future anthologies, several of the Forgotten Realms novels, a collection of Douglas Adams stories including Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, which I have been meaning to read for a long time, and some instructional books on writing Fantasy and Sci-fi by Orson Scott Card.

Three, and most important, Court skyped in and got with the authors about their submissions for this year’s anthology.  Meaning, this weekend I’ll be engaged in writerly things like conquests and rewrites 🙂

Which includes the sharing of the outcome of our biweekly writing exercises. All of us had to do our exercises solo this week, so at this exact moment, only I have ever laid eyes on the following:

Cankerous, Flustered, Treasure

Halley rushed around, putting everything in place, making sure everything was shiny, trying not to get flustered. It was common knowledge that dragons got, well…annoyed, when they were away from their treasure for any length of time, but Darcy was a special case.
Halley put the sapphires with the rubies, equally interspersed just like he like them, and just in time as a bellow came from the front entrance. Halley frowned. It sounded worse than usual.
“What’s the…”
She barely had time to get out of the way before Darcy came barreling in, a flurry of wings and claws messing up her perfectly placed gold doubloons and silver medallions. The dragon burrowed into the riches, still moaning.
“What’s the matter?” she finally got a chance to ask.
“I think it’s cankerous!” Darcy howled.
Halley sighed. “Let me look.”
Darcy rolled over, exposing his scaly underbelly. The delicate silver scales were flaking off in patches. Halley rolled her eyes.
“You’re shedding.”
“Dragons don’t shed,” Darcy sniffed.
“Then you’re dying of a horrible, slow, painful, dread disease,” Halley said. “It’s been nice knowing you. Can I have your stuff when you’ve passed on to the great beyond?”

Predator, Wound, Pushy.

He was being stalked, helpless prey as the cunning and lethal predator glided ever closer. His breath came faster, lungs burning as he ran, trying to escape the shadow that came relentlessly on. Carson woke from his dream, drenched in sweat. He lay in the dark, eyes closed, afraid to open them and find what he knew must be there. Tense, waiting, then he heard it. The soft scrape of claws on stone.
Whatever it was that was after him was still coming. Whatever it was that was watching over him had warned him in time once again. Carson rolled over and moved to a crouch, ears straining. The raspy breathing of his pursuer came from behind the rock ledge that Carson had collapsed on, too exhausted to continue.
Now he had no choice but to continue further up the treacherous mountain side, hoping against hope the whoever was guiding him with those dreams that were too real to be anything other than true knew what it was doing. But Carson was in no position to argue, beggars couldn’t be pushy or whatever that saying was. So he began to run up the mountain, hindered only slightly by the wound the creature had inflicted the first and last time it had caught Carson unawares, and the fist time Carson’s mysterious guardian angel had revealed itself. Sort of.
Carson pushed the thought from his mind. This was not the time to be distracted. He rounded the bend and ran into a sheer face of stone.

Have a delightful weekend, and I’ll be sure to let you know when Bent Horizons is available for purchase and your reading pleasure!

Until then,

Rock on!

❤ DragonBeck