Small Taste of What’s Coming

Hey guys! It’s been so long!

A new chapter of Esoteric Whispers will be up very soon, and I thought I’d share a little of what I’ve been working on lately to tide you all over! 😉  As most of you already know, I work on many projects at once. However, Esoteric Whispers, Sinister Spell, and this new book are definitely up there on my priority list!

The new book is titled Novus Opacus. It’s still in rough form and I’ve been working on translating it since I originally wrote almost all of the book in Latin and Greek. The main characters in the story are Calonai, Avaritia, and Yurijah(pronunciations: Cal-un-nay, Ava-writ-ee-ah, Your-eye-uh)

Sit back and enjoy…


I clutched my blanket to my chest and tiptoed out of my bedroom. I’d intended to make a mad dash for Mother, but the intensity of her screams caused me to stop in the hall and shiver uncontrollably. Wild shadows played on the wall by firelight. In my mind I knew the shapes I witnessed were my mother kneeling and the cradled head of my father, yet behind the veil of fear my heart was convinced I was seeing the monster from my dream.

“Mermaids aren’t real,” I whispered to myself, “especially not killer mermaids.” These words gave me strength enough to go to my mother, who knelt with my father in the den, his head in her lap and her tears drowning his mouth and nose. The creaky floorboards gave me away, and Mother looked up at me with anguished eyes, her lips forming a perfect O of astonishment. Mother loosened one of her arms from the back of Father’s head and reached out for me. She did not say a word to me. She did not have to. The fog of fear lifted, only to be replaced with sudden sorrow and dread, for in my mother’s arms there did not lie a sleeping man-though the expression was one of peace-but a dead man. ..My dead father.

Hurriedly, I went to kneel beside Mother and hold her hand. In a daze, I allowed my eyes to fully take on my surroundings. A puddle of water had pooled on the rug. Involuntarily, I began to tremble as I recalled my nightmare, but as I studied the pool of water more closely I began to see that the liquid was red. I gagged as I realized the liquid was my father’s blood.

As if from worlds away, other cries began to intermingle with my mother’s. “Yes,” I thought to myself, “it is only right that the world should weep with us on this tragic night.” Then I realized, as the cries got louder, that they were coming from the nursery. I let go of Mother’s hand, which she immediately placed on Father’s cheek, lowering her head to his shoulder as she continued to cry. Like a zombie my dear friend Hezra had described to  me (for her own mother did allow her to watch and read of such things, and she illustrated these things to me quite eloquently) I made my way to Nimna and Ragii’s nursery.

With one arm, I lifted Nimna to my left breast, and with the other I lifted Ragii to the right. Long after their cries had turned to soft baby cooing, the echo of my mother’s grief played on.


I am my father’s daughter. Some would say I have my mother’s temperament. Others might say I have my mother’s nose. But I have my father’s eyes. I have my father’s passion for music, literature, and dance. There was once a time when I wanted to be like my mother. She wasn’t always the way she is now. In part, I blame it on Daddy’s death. But I suppose much of it has to do with Saevio. When I was a little girl, my mother and I were very close. She and I would play with dolls together, read books together…..

She doesn’t know how he really is, nor does she know the way his eyes watch me behind her back. Lusty. Not like a father. I tell myself every day that in four years I’ll leave this place and never look back.



I opened my eyes to quickly close them again. What–how would I tell Yurija? Prom was in four months. Maybe I wouldn’t go. I opened my eyes and Mother started pounding on the door so I swaddled the stick in paper towels and threw it away. She was screaming, but I ignored her as I yanked open the bathroom door, stalked to my room, and  pulled out my luggage.I began pulling my clothes from my dresser drawers. Mother was silent. I cut a glance at her. Her mouth hung open, a vein in her neck throbbing, as she stared at me with confusion and anger. “You bitch,” I yelled, feeling my fury roll through me. “I’ll not listen to you any more! For I am leaving tonight, and you cannot stop me. I’m to be a mother.”  As she sputtered, the alarm I’d caused her filled me with utter delight, and I continued. “You mean shit to me. I have never loved anyone. Well, no one other than Yurija.” I paused, the mention of his name making me feel a little warm inside, and so I added, “Be not dismayed, Mother. It is not your fault. I have always been this hateful. Perhaps you just never really noticed.”



Tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. When I’d seen the look on her face, I’d been sure at the time that it would be harmless.


I am a fool.


~ by Daylilypetals on 06/19/2010.

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