A blurb to remember

After much hemming and hawwing, I finally came to terms with the fact that my blurb just wasn’t good enough. So, instead of having another go at it and forcing the issue I let my main character take a whack at it. This is what came of it:


~The Dagger of Aita: Retribution~

Throughout history we have been here. Born of the union between the Watchers and the Daughters of Men, our human hearts pump the blood of Angels through our veins. Yet, we are neither human nor Angel. We are the Alimentatori, descendants of the divine, and this is just the beginning…

In my two-hundred and sixty three years I have witnessed much, yet nothing could have prepared me for the devastating murder of my brother, Julian. While he lies in stasis awaiting The Release, his killer roams the Lazio region of Italy free to seek other victims. But, all is not right behind the veil of this ancient landscape. Its beauty hides a world of ancient secrets, hidden agendas and political intrigues. In order to extract my vengeance, I must first play a dangerous game according to another’s rules. Unfortunately for them, playing by the rules has never been my forte. Toppling a game-board or two would suit me just fine. Regardless of the dangers that lie ahead, Retribution will be mine. My name is Jacen Trudeau of the House of Samsaveel and I’m about to open Pandora’s Box.


Once More Into The Fray!

Hello Everyone!

I know. I know! I’ve been conspicuously absent from my blog for the past…well, never mind. No excuses. I’m back now and ready to have some blogging fun. 

I have spent the last few months wallowing. Yes, you understood that correctly. I’ve been wallowing in a kind of funky melancholy that had me wondering if I was ever going to come out the other side. 

Well, I did and I actually wrote something that might hold promise. If I pursue it I’m thinking it might be a Young Adult. I’ve decided to post a little tidbit here just to prove I did it.

So, here we go…



      The sun set sinking ever downward until it gently kissed the distant horizon. Just before dipping below the surface of the water, the sky exploded into a brilliant blaze of rusty oranges and yellows. The last vibrant rays of summer shot across the ever darkening sky fighting against the inevitable extinguishing of the light only to be snuffed out moments later as darkness finally reigned.

      I picked up the last chair on the over-sized patio, overturned it and slid it into place on top of a stark white table.  Leaning forward, I crossed my arms over the underside of the chair. The night air washed over me with a soothing, gentle touch cooling the sunburn which had turned my cheeks a ruddy hue. With the breeze came the distant forlorn cries of a gull, not unfamiliar on the shores of Lake El’Ganah, yet the sound seemed lonely as it echoed over the water. An involuntary shiver coursed down my spine.  A sad, half smile touched my lips.

       I know exactly how he feels.

       I pushed myself up and brushed my hands together. The remnants of white sand, gritty between my palms, scratched along the callused surfaces. Absently, I rubbed my thumb against the worst of the hardened skin. The constant reminder of where I came from would assure no one would ever mistake me for an Ul’ran. Their precious hands would never bear the brunt of hard labor. In silent reflection, I spread the fingers of my right hand wide and stared at the various creases lining my palm. The rising moon lit the surface shadowing the valleys of the deepest folds. With my other hand, I touched the longest of them, running a finger from one end to the other. 

       Sometime ago, I’d heard of a traveling woman. I’d never met her but, from what other’s had said, she could look into the lines.  They told her things about you, your life, your love.  What would she have told me? A familiar pang of longing constricted my chest. Curling my fingers into a tight fist, I released a long, drawn out sigh then glanced around the patio to assure I was still alone. With a quick, self-conscious flurry, I dropped both hands to my sides and wiped them briskly against my tattered shirt. It didn’t matter. If such a person existed they would have nothing to tell me that I didn’t already know.

       You’re born. You serve. You breed. You die. It was the way of our kind. To Dream of anything different was futile. That is what comes from being born Nemh’ Erisant, Beyond the Wall.