tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31932921845178517942024-02-07T07:50:29.399-06:00A New JournalThe Ramblings of a Confused Writer
Stacy A. MoranAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.comBlogger21125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-84601874634404141602016-01-14T19:35:00.002-06:002016-01-14T19:44:46.799-06:00For my Uncle Jim<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><b><span style="color: #351c75;"> Everyone’s Favorite Uncle</span></b></i></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Everyone’s favorite Uncle <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">With you, the sounds of laughter filled the air <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">They followed you like a shadow <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Leaving smiles and happiness in your wake <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">That’s what I will remember most <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Everyone’s favorite Uncle</span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><o:p></o:p><br /></span>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">The leader of our family <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Who gave us more than he will ever know <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Through all the important moments <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">You were always there to share the joy <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">That’s what I will remember most <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Everyone’s favorite Uncle </span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">There were so many lessons</span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Lessons to teach and lessons to learn <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Most important to be proud of who we are <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">And to stand up and fight for what was right <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">That’s what I remember most <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">My favorite Uncle Jim </span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">Your love of life and of your fellow man</span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><o:p></o:p><br /></span>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">The twinkle in your eye and your mischievous grin</span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">The love you shared</span></div>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><o:p></o:p><br /></span>
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<span style="color: #351c75;">That’s what I’ll remember most.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-23859956435149268542015-11-07T20:14:00.004-06:002015-11-07T20:39:17.460-06:00 Just An Echo<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Just an echo in the darkness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The wind whispers across my cheek<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">A shadow catches my eye<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I think I feel your breath on my neck<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is that you purring in my ear?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Are you really here or<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Just an echo in the darkness?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wake up drenched in tears, alone<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Every night, I spend without you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Crumbles my soul<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My body grows so lonely, longing for your
touch<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I feel your lips on mine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My fingers in your hair<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But this isn't real, it’s<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px; text-indent: 0px;">Just an echo in the da</span><span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px; text-indent: 0px;">rkness</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Reading-Stars-Ashley-Nemer/dp/1941194060/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1446767493&sr=8-1&keywords=reading+the+stars+stacy+a+moran" target="_blank">Reading the Stars</a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-44384950064676455812014-03-20T00:19:00.000-05:002014-03-20T21:21:25.619-05:00ON MY MIND...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A
face with bright blue eyes and ruby red lips, is on my mind</div>
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Warm hugs, a kiss on the cheek and a pat of the hand, is on my mind</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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Kind words spoken with the gentlest voice, is on my mind</div>
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How your smile remained during the months of pain, is on my mind<br />
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The
last battle you could not fight, is on my mind</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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Your fight to stay with us, is on my mind</div>
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You
must of known your time was soon, is on
my mind The tears that were shed and the goodbyes that were said, is on my mind</div>
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In the end how I missed so much, is on
my mind</div>
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Trying to understand, is on my mind<br />
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Your
beauty and grace, is on my mind </div>
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The love you shared, is on my mind<br />
<br />
A mother’s love, is on my mind…</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-67304158875425930492014-03-03T20:21:00.001-06:002014-03-03T20:24:10.011-06:00Moving Forward...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There are changes happening here in my worlds. The past
year has been filled with medical issues, causing my writing to be delayed. I
am now recovering and ready to start getting back on track. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Starting
with the Myth Series...<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After careful consideration and keeping readers and
peers suggestions in mind, the Myth Series is undergoing an overhaul.
Blood Myth will be released and combined with The Beginning of the
Myth creating an extended version of the book under the title Beyond
the Myth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Beginning of the Myth is a new addition to the novel
and will also be available separate for those readers who have already read
Blood Myth. Both the novella and the novel are stand-alone stories but
they provide a much richer story when read together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b>Spring 2014 Releases</b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: bold;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Beginning of the Myth (Novella) - Baset and
Akhekh <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Beyond the Myth (release novel Blood Myth)- Zakah
Sange and Sorina Ruzicka<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Summer
2014 Release</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Betrayed by the Myth (Novel) - Afina
Dakhla and Cheres Mirzaei<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fall
2014 Release</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Allure of the Myth- Tanerk Raka<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Late
Fall/Early Winter 2014 Release</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Guardian of the Myth- Gavril Dakhla</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-27228260210341904742013-11-03T12:29:00.001-06:002013-11-03T12:29:19.348-06:00Souls Around the World Amazon Gift Card Winner<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Winner of the Souls Around the World Blog Hop $10.00 Amazon Gift Card is Anne Consolacion.<br />
Congratulations and thank you to everyone who left a comment.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-15470899785307837802013-10-29T07:00:00.000-05:002013-10-29T07:00:01.467-05:00Teaser Tuesday: Pieces of a Broken Soul<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYRS31DwhMyy7Sa0qowfzbJ3ZC_XBAxJJfz2ydh6PsdZKUv0FrASyzCG_sWcpcTYtxNVXas2wAIVxTuAiaW_HTLQqLNqQ8GEoBmBjtD91_1ZPbO2QjaWnkykOwBp769J-VQ7YA-SmMrc/s1600/Jen's+Book+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKYRS31DwhMyy7Sa0qowfzbJ3ZC_XBAxJJfz2ydh6PsdZKUv0FrASyzCG_sWcpcTYtxNVXas2wAIVxTuAiaW_HTLQqLNqQ8GEoBmBjtD91_1ZPbO2QjaWnkykOwBp769J-VQ7YA-SmMrc/s320/Jen's+Book+Cover.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Debut Book by Jennifer Dante</h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
Pieces of a Broken Soul </h2>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Category: Poetry, Erotic</h3>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Pre-Order Today</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/366590?ref=artofsafkhet" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></h3>
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Blurb</h3>
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<span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13737" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pieces of a broke soul is the first book by Jennifer Dante</span><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13737" style="color: black; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> that tells a journey about the author's life dealing with heart breaks and death while trying to find love and attempting to pick up the pieces of her life. She hopes that her poems connect with each of the readers in some way.</span></div>
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<h3 style="text-align: center;">
Excerpts</h3>
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<b id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13757"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13756" style="font-size: 14pt;">Aphrodisiac</span></b></div>
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<span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13760" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Arms pinned above my head<br clear="none" /> His hard body molded perfectly against my soft curves<br clear="none" /> Heavy breathing along my skin ,goose bumps appear across my flesh<br clear="none" /> His husky voice coated with lust speaking my name<br clear="none" /> My legs part with ease for him</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
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<b id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13763"><span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13762" style="font-size: 14pt;">Hurricane</span></b></div>
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<span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13779" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The day you walked into my life<br clear="none" /> You came in like hurricane<br clear="none" /> whisking me off my feet.<br clear="none" /> You caught my tears<br clear="none" /> wiping them off my cheeks<br clear="none" /> My heart slowly healed itself<br clear="none" /> You picked up the pieces<br clear="none" /> Putting it back together for me<br clear="none" /> I started to smile again</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
<div align="center" class="yiv3171808048" id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13778" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
About the Author</h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13740" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Jennifer was born and raised in Maryland. She is a single mother of a very active seven year boy who is her heart. As a little girl, growing up Jennifer found a love in art in high school and it continued thou college<span class="yiv3171808048">. </span><span class="yiv3171808048" id="yui_3_13_0_rc_1_1_1381883742296_13739">Her love of the arts has never stopped and about three years, she entered the world of writing. She met a few women that shared similar interest with her and have created stories together for their own amusement. With much encouragement from those women, she decided venture out and show the world her with publishing her very first book.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Ashley Nemerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01303841504912648250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-2592850403059040702013-10-17T17:16:00.002-05:002013-10-17T17:18:17.516-05:00Author vs. Writer.... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">*Disclaimer* </span></span></span></h2>
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">These are my thoughts based on my own experience and the recent </span></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.33333396911621px;">decisions, I have made to ensure I continue to be a writer. </span></span></span></h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.33333396911621px;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17.33333396911621px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><i>L</i></b>ast February, I went back to my home town. This is the
first time I returned home as a published author. My family and friends always
knew I wrote poems and short stories but not many of them took it seriously. It
was never something I talked about much before with them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Even when I returned home, I never brought up writing. I
guess I felt if they wanted to know more about it, they would ask me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Some did ask me, mainly the same question. “I heard you are
an author now. How is your book coming along?”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You would think as a writer, I would be able to answer the
simple question but nothing came to mind. Ok so that is not completely true.
The problem is my actual answer, is not exactly something people want to hear
or understand. If they knew I could finish writing a novel in a month, if I
wanted, they would be shocked and most likely think I was bragging. They want
the romanticized answer. “I have spent years perfecting, my novel. I am still
working on completing the final pieces.” People want to know it is hard because
not everyone can imagine writing a complete book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Occasionally, I would give them the truth, “The book is
going great and is now finished; actually I now have five titles out and am
working on three more projects.” I found when I said this most people became
quiet and ended our conversation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">More
discoveries</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I also learned most of my friends and family believed being
an <i>Author</i> was more profound than
being a <i>Writer</i>. I believed this as
well until; I saw a post on Facebook that said <i>“Writers Write”</i>. Funny one quote picture on social media could
change someone’s outlook on their dream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A writer is always writing and working on their craft. An
author is someone who has written past tense and sadly stops with one novel. It
takes time and preparation and innovation and training to get past the myths
society puts on writing novels. Most writers and readers never get past the
myths and thus remain authors instead of writers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What
are the Differences?<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A Writer writes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An Author has written.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Simple, right? Nope. Writers are Authors most of the time
but Authors rarely are Writers. Confused, yet?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here
is an example…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am the Author of Whispers in the Storm, Blood Myth, and
Sekhmet’s Revenge. I will always be an author no matter if I write again or
not. Those works are out there for the world to read, buy, and review. However,
if I never write again I am no longer a writer. I must continue to write to be
a writer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writers are always focused on their current project or the
next novel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writers are focused on what is next, the future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Authors are focused on the past, what they have already
written.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today it is very easy to get published with small presses
and indie publishing. This is an amazing time to be an Author and a Writer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An Author strives to finish their work. Their
“masterpiece”. Their “baby.” Once it is completed, the novel has been through
editors, beta readers, and finally has the perfect cover. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, it is time for the Author to make a choice. They can
go with the traditional and more accepted route, sending it to an agent or
publisher or they can join the new era of indie publishing. The choice is up to
the author; neither is wrong but must make sense for the individual. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fast
forward…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Choice has been made, the author then goes straight to
making sure their time and work is not wasted, by promoting their finished
work. <b><i><o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Twitter, Facebook, Blogs, and on and on the promotional
monster begins. Promotion is all the Author thinks about now. They must get their
work out to the masses, after all it is their “baby”, it deserves the time of
promoting and nurturing to make it successful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So now the Writer becomes the Author, all of their writing
time becomes promoting time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
Different Choice…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Finished! Yes! Off to editor and beta readers, now it is
time for the next project. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally! Edits are back, cover is finished, and Writer does
a blurb, gets the book on buying sites but continues to write the new story.
Book is indie published quickly and Writer goes back to work on next project,
finishing it and getting it proofed while he starts the next project.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writers after the initial announcement of the book and
posting on websites do not promote like Authors. There simply is no time in a
Writer’s mind to do such things. The next novel is their only focus. Writing
time is more valuable than promotion of an old book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writers are inclined to believe their own writing is their
best promotion, so they remain a Writer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
simple break down of things I noticed in my own world…<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writers are people who write the next story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Authors are people who promote their last story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Writers receive feedback from simply writing and finishing
stories.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Authors receive feedback from sales, promotions, and
reviews.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In the new age of indie publishing Writers are going to be
told there are ways they must handle their career to be successful. When in
reality a Writer, only has to write, unless they want to become solely an
Author. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We
all must decide why we write.<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Do you write to be published, to become famous, or accepted
by the industry? If this is why you write then you are an Author.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am not saying praise and acceptance from peers isn’t a
great feeling. It is an amazing feeling but if everyone hated your work would
you continue to write? That is the question. If you would not continue then you
are an Author. You become a has been… Someone who has simply written past
tense.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On the other hand do you write because worlds develop in
your mind and you must get them out? Do you love the excitement you get of
telling stories? Will you write if everyone hates every word you type? Then you
are most likely a Writer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Can
you be both? <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">YES! The most successful in the field are both but never
let the promoting beast take your writing time. The best promotion for any
Author or Writer is their next book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-8869368929549072502013-10-07T05:16:00.001-05:002013-10-07T05:16:17.675-05:00Join The Art of Safkhet Pride & Elite<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<h3>
The Art of Safkhet is looking for readers to help! Here is what we need:</h3>
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<li>Here, readers will interact with the authors and have behind the scene chats to get the word out there about our book releases. We will have contests and special swag that is offered ONLY to our Street Team.</li>
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Some of you will want to be both, a Pride member and an Elite member. At this time we are asking that you pick one or the other. This may change in the future but for right now we ask that you just pick one. If you are interested in either of these please let us know.<br />
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Ashley Nemerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01303841504912648250noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-78367347808023298472013-09-30T16:38:00.002-05:002013-09-30T17:24:10.914-05:00Souls Around the World....Beginning of the Myth Blurb<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b>The Beginning of the Myth</b></span>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">CHAPTER
ONE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The light of the moon highlighted the owl soaring over the
canopies of the trees, winging its way along the edges of the roofs of the Gods’
Temples. Baset kneeled in front of Isis’ temple mesmerized by the large bird.
She prayed for death but not her own but the death of her father. Baset had
spent her entire life treated as an abomination. Her father hated Baset from
birth but she could not blame him after all she killed his wife, her mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Baset was born sixteen years earlier. Her mother died the
moment she opened her eyes and saw Baset. Her father had told her several times
she was the result of evil. Baset was born with red hair, golden green cat
eyes, and alabaster skin. She looked nothing like her parents or anyone in
Egypt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tomorrow was the day of her birth and at sixteen her father
would sell her to the highest bidder. She would become someone’s slave or
whore, to do what they pleased to her. The owl changed courses circling around
a grouping of wildflowers before settling on top of Akhekh’s Temple. Baset
tilted her head up, she surveyed the temple. Serpents were carved into the
pillars of the Serpent God’s temple. Baset often thought about the evil God. As
a child she wondered if he were in fact her father? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She whispered to herself, “Stop being a fool, Baset.” She
gathered her incense and crystals, placing them in an ornate circle, Baset
prepared to pray to the Goddess Isis. She would try and pray for freedom,
protection, and knowledge. Maybe tonight Isis would give her a reason for life
and not death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Great
Isis, Mother of all the gods, I call to thee.<br />
Lady of the crescent moon and mistress of the sea.<br />
Queen of the Earth, I call to thee.<br />
Mistress of the elements and embracer of the land.<br />
Come to me, Isis and join me in your temple<br />
And empower thy servant</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The owl swooped down heading straight toward Baset. She did
not move but continued to chant, her eyes never leaving the large bird. It flew
quickly, wings flapping fast then suddenly the bird changed directions,
maneuvering through the tops of the temples. It flew straight toward the
Serpent God Akhekh’s Temple and landed on carved snake’s head at the top of the
steeple. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Settling down there, the owl folded its mighty wings almost
majestically, its enormous round eyes secured intently on Baset. She returned
her attention to the items she placed in a circle. She lit the incense, shaped
the crystals, and some of the herbs she picked from her garden. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Baset was drawn to the magick the earth. She studied and
practiced the art of healing and magick she learned from her village’s healer.
Baset shivered suddenly as the moon hid behind the clouds forming, leaving an
ominous warning of danger to come. Very slowly Baset stood, dusting the dirt
from her hands and then her skirt as she lifted her head to gaze up at the bird
seated so pragmatically in the tree top. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“So you are you my reply from the goddess?” She said aloud,
her voice soft and husky in the silence of the dark. The bird stared straight
at her, its large round eyes gleaming and bright. A sudden glow of moonlight
highlighted the feathers of the owl, making them seem iridescent, before the
clouds concealed the moon completely. Baset heaved a sigh as she shoved at the
long unruly mass of hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. She
pulled a couple of twigs from her crimson strands. Baset appeared just as mystical
and mysterious as the silent owl, wild and untamed with her bare feet and green
eyes but elegant with her delicate pale features.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At this moment she realized what she was, a young,
beautiful witch. Perhaps she was born of evil like her father believed. Baset
had always been drawn to the supernatural, to spells, and magick. She practiced
the enchantments the town’s healer taught her. Baset weaved spells easily and
instinctually knew what plants to use for ointments.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Suddenly a hush came over the land, the winds stopped
howling, the insects ceased their humming, and the animals in the distance
stopped their cries. Baset looked up at the large owl, “Are you my answer?” She
looked toward Isis’ Temple, no sign of the goddess answering her prayers. Baset
tilted her head back in to the direction of Akhekh’s temple. “Are you my
father? Am I born of evil? Is this why, I am shunned by even the mother of all,
Isis?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She lifted her arms outstretching, Baset turned facing the
four directions, north she faced Re’s temple, then east was Isis’, in the west
sat Sekhmet’s temple, and the south Akhekh’s. The wind began to pick up,
tugging at her clothes, her hair whipped around her like a cloak. The power of
the wind created a dust storm. The sand stung her eyes; she gathered the ends
of her skirt and began to run for cover.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Baset ran toward the nearest shelter, Akhekh’s temple,
racing for protection against the sand storm. A small gasp escaped her once inside,
she tilted her head toward the colossal statue of what she knew must be the
Serpent God. The grand structure towered to the ceiling, a male figure with
sapphires eyes, snakes crawling around the large column of his legs and
continued around his muscular arms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Beautiful.” Baset whispered, it was the only word she
could think of to describe Akhekh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You are lovely as well, Baset.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Baset’s peridot colored eyes grew wide with fear as the
statue began to move and the rich sultry voice echoed in the room. The snakes
began to come to life and rock fell from Akhekh’s body. She began to move
backward tripping on a kneeling bench. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Akhekh chuckled, “Why are you running? You called for me.”
He lifted his arms, spanning them wide, dust and rock falling from him. “And
here I am.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I did not call for you.” Baset stuttered the words. She
tilted her head up to look at the hulking figure come alive. His thick chest
and broad shoulders broke free of the stone confines but it was his glacier
blue eyes that pierced her heart and looked directly into her soul.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Akhekh shrunk his body to a more mortal size, still
towering over Baset but less intimidating. “Yes you did, you pray for me every
night. You pray for wisdom and power to punish those who wrong you. Did you
think Isis would give you power to punish others? Of course you called for me.”
Slowly he walked toward her, his hand touched her cheek. She looked nothing
like the women of Egypt, nothing like the women he bedded. Akhekh felt his cock
twitch and harden as he touched her soft skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He felt her fear and it excited him. “What will you give me
for the power to stop the auction tomorrow?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wha what do you want?” She whispered the words, Baset knew
she should not make such a agreement with Akhekh but she could not stop the
question. She would do anything to have the ability to stop her father from
selling her off like a common whore. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Exactly as I thought,” His hand slid from her cheek
finding a place in the wealth of her hair, fisting at the base he snapped her
head back. “I can feel your fear but you know what I feel more than your fear?”
He seductively purred the question into her ear. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I feel nothing, fear or anything else.” Baset tried to
sound confident but the shakiness of her voice gave her away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He laughed; the sound filled the temple shaking the stone
walls causing pebbles to fall to the ground. “Little liar. You are excited by
my power, so much I bet you are nice and wet between your legs and the idea of having
just the tiniest bit of my power is causing your juices to flow down your silky
thighs.” His other hand yanked up her skirt and his finger plunged inside her
body. “Drenched you are a little liar.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Baset was soaked but she was also angry. Her body shook from
the amount of anger Akhekh pulled from her. She struggled and managed to free
herself from his grasp. “I will not be anyone’s whore, not even a god’s.”
Quickly she turned and ran from the temple, the sound of his infuriating
laughter filling her head.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-57818631171606113192013-07-04T18:58:00.001-05:002013-07-04T18:58:59.148-05:00The Lotus by Delilah J. Mack & Stacy A. Moran<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/dkxNqiSf-kM" width="480"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-28366405991640631532013-07-02T17:42:00.001-05:002013-07-06T17:24:35.040-05:00Write or not to write… Umm, re-write of course.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">By: Stacy A. Moran</span></i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Writing
is like breathing to me. I must write to live. Yes, I know how cliché and
obnoxious that sounds but it is my reality. I love everything about writing. I
get lost in the research for my worlds. I love the feeling, I get when a new
world and characters begin to develop. I do not remember a time when I did not
have a character whispering stories in my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">As a
child, I had notebooks full of characters’ biographies. From my very first
character Queen Melissa of Heart Land (I was in first grade) to Tanerk Raka an
evil demon in my Myth Series. The creation of characters is a natural, easy
process for me. However, once the character starts to come alive, all my
preconceived ideas quickly dwindle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">I can
throw various difficult situations at their way, trying to get a certain
reaction from them. However they do not care what I want because they have
already developed their own personalities. They take on a life of their own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">One
day I can be discussing one of my characters or story lines with a
friend or family member and how happy I am with the way the story in unfolding.
The next day, I am complaining because the characters decided they did not like
where I was taking them and decided to write their own story.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Even
as I am writing this blog right now, a character from the
second installment of the Myth Series is changing the direction I
wanted her to go. I write because I love being able to escape to a world of
supernatural beings and bring the magic of myths and legends alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">So
ultimately it is not a matter of write or not to write… write or re-write.
Re-write will always win because once the story has begun it is no longer my vision;
it has become its own being.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
<u1:p></u1:p>
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<u1:p></u1:p>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-24626546500904035952013-06-25T21:21:00.002-05:002013-06-25T21:31:35.685-05:00Wordless Wednesday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2E9rjsRdP0cYzFJKvs32FoHymM30V5kY55J4jDiyvwVYTWK39kj9UL0z3Fk_m6fkOY7GlJbSK7ruLZFNGsKiiQUdhhxL5Et-mV89kXuJzVfxUmChYISF1WJstQpfrYZY7hK2UqPPOrtW/s1600/wordless.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif2E9rjsRdP0cYzFJKvs32FoHymM30V5kY55J4jDiyvwVYTWK39kj9UL0z3Fk_m6fkOY7GlJbSK7ruLZFNGsKiiQUdhhxL5Et-mV89kXuJzVfxUmChYISF1WJstQpfrYZY7hK2UqPPOrtW/s320/wordless.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgPzuVxq9ieDwWIYqvjBSRukR3nZTyPxQl0F8yL8IDOSIoSWLP05E2279-svTtC-BTMLyPzcm5G_BzjjlzB4_3nZH5J4PLLcqsZ0uCGoCWe-vKBAPgTcQDl0f36L4PQbLXlDaqjfhAbgL/s1600/tumblr_mo0v1ar7l51s9iwl8o1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdgPzuVxq9ieDwWIYqvjBSRukR3nZTyPxQl0F8yL8IDOSIoSWLP05E2279-svTtC-BTMLyPzcm5G_BzjjlzB4_3nZH5J4PLLcqsZ0uCGoCWe-vKBAPgTcQDl0f36L4PQbLXlDaqjfhAbgL/s320/tumblr_mo0v1ar7l51s9iwl8o1_500.jpg" width="228" /></a></div>
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Just because well, he is hot and love me some John Abraham</div>
<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-80694671431867023922013-06-23T11:23:00.004-05:002013-06-23T11:23:59.897-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoONJMl3SsJNLjeB1frLBHMelZMljPWBeeeh4CA5C0oCh_4CjeQGEcsG_UkW8PujvvZwXHIjDW7_jKc7sN2Dhm0Ez0OhFMtbzwVZrx5VTaHBFUf6ECdXGEa0b9rioxgq0Fq9boepB1-463/s1600/SAM+Promo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoONJMl3SsJNLjeB1frLBHMelZMljPWBeeeh4CA5C0oCh_4CjeQGEcsG_UkW8PujvvZwXHIjDW7_jKc7sN2Dhm0Ez0OhFMtbzwVZrx5VTaHBFUf6ECdXGEa0b9rioxgq0Fq9boepB1-463/s320/SAM+Promo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00C76FIRA">SAM on Amazon</a><br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-12259697536901428952013-06-16T18:45:00.000-05:002013-06-16T18:51:50.470-05:00What is your favorite genre? (genre that you read the most) - Recommend a book!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://www.coffeeaddictedwriter.com/"><img border="“0”" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fxaMZ5zodVv_JJkl4hKazGh2IX61EhyphenhyphenT15lqs-JCz3AQK33QUDArcus2td9VgOj9kqwEyS8qw_KuBxIdpS4HU1xJru26F-D8ZklqtTuRaM2z_fQRRkmQ-gcZxZgzp_ETBs54IFerbeQ/s1600/book+blogger+hop.png" width="90%”" /></a>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;">The fifth volume of Rice's Vampire Chronicles, Memnoch the Devil is one of her most controversial books. The tale begins in New York, where Lestat, the coolest of Rice's vampire heroes, is stalking a big-time cocaine dealer and religious-art smuggler--this guy should get it in the neck. Lestat is also growing fascinated with the dealer's lovely daughter, a TV evangelist who's not a fraud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;">Lestat is also being stalked himself, by some shadowy guy who turns out to be Memnoch, the devil, who spirits him away. From here on, the book might have been called Interview with the Devil (by a Vampire). It's a rousing story interrupted by a long debate with the devil. Memnoch isn't the devil as ordinarily conceived: he got the boot from God because he objected to God's heartless indifference to human misery. Memnoch takes Lestat to heaven, hell, and throughout history.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;">Some readers are appalled by the scene in which Lestat sinks his fangs into the throat of Christ on the cross, but the scene is not a mere shock tactic: Jesus is giving Lestat a bloody taste in order to win him over to God's side, and Rice is dead serious about the battle for his soul. Rice is really doing what she did as a devout young Catholic girl asked to imagine in detail what Christ's suffering felt like--it's just that her imagination ran away with her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, Palatino Linotype, Palatino, serif; font-size: medium;">Memnoch the Devil is one of my favorites; it is compelling, fiendish, startling and sensual.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-18329418697373340192013-06-06T20:47:00.001-05:002013-06-22T22:40:01.030-05:00The Last Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">The Last Day<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Temptation Tuesday<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Copyright
© 2013 by Anabella Adrian</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Milana looked up at
the entrance of the Renaissance inspired architecture before she hurried into
the school. She raced down the wide hallway, her footsteps echoing in the vast
empty space. Everyone else was in class and the rustling of paper and the
occasional shout from a teacher urged her along. Capello School for Girls was
nestled in the heart of Florence and was one of the most exclusive schools in
Italy. Capello had an impressive reputation, focusing on not only on academics
but the arts as well. Wealthy parents
considered it a status requirement to send their daughters to the beautiful
campus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Would she miss it here? Would she miss
Florence? Milana had spent her entire childhood here, away from her family. She
started at the young age of twelve, entering into middle school just on the
other side of the campus. Now was the last day of her senior year, and she was
leaving to spend a summer with her mother in Milan before going off to college
in the States. Her parents were divorced and her father lived in the States,
New York to be exact. This was one of the reasons she chose to go to Julliard,
to be close to her father. Well that and it was the best school for her to
study music.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Her mother did not
care what she did once she turned eighteen as long as it did not involve moving
in with her. Milana would cramp the style of the former model. Her mother
probably felt Milana would be competition. She shook the thoughts off, walking
steadily toward the large door at the end of the hall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Milana stopped
abruptly in front of the door; her gaze traced the lettering etched in brass on
the nameplate. Mr. Victor Capitani. Chancellor. Her heart thudded painfully
against her chest as her hand went to knock on the door. Could she do this? For
three long years, she’d watched him from afar, yearning to feel his strong
hands upon her. The teenage crush grew over the years into an infatuation until
she could not leave this place without taking this step. Mr. Capitani was
unlike any Chancellor she’d ever seen before. In his late thirties, he still
had dark hair, with the slightest hint of grey at the temples, and he was
breath taking. A strong curved nose that led down to the most kissable lips she
had ever seen all set within a strong jaw.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> So this was it, the day she stopped longing
and took action. Mr. Capitani. She was of age and he was not married. Why that
was, she was unsure, but she’d heard he’d yet to find someone with the ability
to keep up with him in the bedroom. How could any woman tire of such a man?
Milana took a deep breath, lifting her hand she knocked on the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Come
in, Miss. Moreno.” His deep voice called from the other side of the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Slowly, Milana opened the door, her stomach
rippled with nerves. She stepped across the threshold of the doorway and felt
as if she entered another dimension. Milana lifted her head, surveying the
room. Bookshelves lined three of the walls from floor to ceiling; a massive
mahogany desk took up a great deal of space near the far wall, and a deep,
leather wingback sat behind it. A single straight-backed chair was set on the opposite
side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Despite the afternoon sunlight filtering in
through the window, the room still seemed dark. Chancellor Capitani motioned
toward the narrow chair directly in front of him. He sat behind the huge desk,
a grand piece of furniture fit for the Chancellor of the prominent school. Any
other man would look slight and insignificant behind such a desk. Not Victor
Capitani. His presence was entirely undiminished. Licking her dry lips, Milana
took him in. Mr. Capitani kept his shirt sleeves pushed up with his top collar
buttons open, showing a small bit of tanned, hairless flesh. A navy vest was worn over his shirt and placed
neatly on the back of his chair was his dark suit jacket. His dark eyes darted
up from his papers. “Miss Moreno, shouldn’t you be in class?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Milana’s cheeks redden with heat as she
struggled with the temptation to flee, but a spark of purpose forced her on.
“No, Mr. Capitani. I’m leaving school today, you see.” Chewing on her lip,
Milana wondered how she should broach the subject.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Yes, I
know. Why are you here?” He had given brief glances and the occasional
courteous nod before and for the first time the Chancellor was genuinely noticing her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “You see, Mr. Capitani... I want… that is…
Well, it’s my last day here…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Yes, you said that,” he told her with the
raise of an eyebrow. Placing his pen down and propping his chin on his hands,
he eyed her as she flustered under his intense gaze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Well, the thing is…” She licked at her lips.
“I want you to… to have sex with me,” she spilled the words out in an
embarrassed whisper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Milana waited for his response. She looked
toward the beveled window behind him. She couldn’t look directly into his eyes,
she felt as if she was waiting for death. Would he turn her away? Would he
laugh? He was going to turn her away, she knew it. Milana would never know what
it felt like to have him inside her. She
would leave here today a virgin and humiliated from rejection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> After an endless time, he leaned forward,
propping his fists on the desk. “Look at me, Miss. Moreno.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She felt his eyes bore into her face, with a
nervous sigh; she lowered her direction and faced Mr. Capitani.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “It’s against school regulations, you know?”
The powerful sound of his voice filled the room even though he practically whispered
the words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She found herself mesmerized by his
movements; he stood from his chair and slowly moved around the desk. Her legs
trembled with anticipation and fiery heat spread through her arm as his hand
lightly touched her own hand. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Mr. Capitani simply held her hand in his.
“Have you been with a man before, Milana?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “No.” The one word was all she could muster.
She did not know what else to say. It took every bit of strength she had to ask
for him to have sex with her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “If we do this,” he told her as brought her
hand to his lips, “we will do this properly.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Milana swallowed, Mr. Capitani pulled her up
to him, his mouth so close to hers, and she smelled the faint smell of his
cologne. His warm breath brushed over her skin. “I want everything, do you
understand? I will not be gentle because it is your first time. I will make
sure you are willing and eager, but I will not be making love to you Miss.
Moreno. Do you understand?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Yes.” Her knees virtually buckled as his
hands came around her, one hand on her lower back and the other to the back of
her neck, burying under her bright blonde curls. The heat of his hand seeped
through her shirt, sending shivers up and down her spine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> His lips came to her ear, his breaths
tickling her and causing her to shake. “Anything? You will not refuse me once
you agree. This is your only chance to leave, until I am done with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> His arousal pressed against her stomach
through the fabric of his trousers. Unconsciously she rocked against his
length. Milana would do anything to take the away the ache she had whenever he
was around. She would do anything to have this man. “Anything.” The word
slipped from her lips, a shaky whisper.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Victor smiled before he grasped her mouth in
a deep, powerful kiss. His strong hands
slid down her back until they landed on her firm, round backside. “Perfect.” He
broke the kiss abruptly, leaving her to sway precariously.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She gathered her footing as he made his way
back around his desk and sat down. He crooked his finger, motioning for her to
join him. Trying not to seem too eager, she breathed in slowly before she
sashayed over to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She stood between his spread legs. His dark
eyes held hers captive, her fingers clutched the sides of her school uniform
skirt, nervously awaiting his next move. Milana’s breath caught when his
fingers slowly trailed up her thigh, until they settled beneath her skirt. They
continued their path up to the curve of her ass, and she jerked as they brushed
her skin. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> A reverberating chuckle sounded from him as
she wriggled under his grip, desperate for his fingers to explore the rest of
her body. Unexpectedly, he yanked up her skirt with one hand as the other one
hauled down her panties. Cool air drifted over her bare bottom and she
shuddered with anticipation. His warm palm brushed over her pale flesh and her
eyes drifted shut at the exquisiteness of it. She had known it would be like
this.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Oh!” Her lids flew open as his hand hit in a
sharp sting against her buttocks. She whimpered as he repeated the action, each
time coming down harder and harder. And though it hurt, her core was getting
wetter with every slap. It clenched with each spank, and she found her bottom
reaching up to meet his smacks. Mr. Capitani varied the blows, never hitting her
bottom on the same place twice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> He would pause briefly, leaving her to wait
with bated breath, and then his hand would swoop down again, the sharp slap
ringing in her ears. He spanked her with eagerness, growling at her reaction,
until she was sure her bottom would go numb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Between the spankings to her bottom, his
other hand found its way to her sex. His thick finger teased her swollen core.
Another finger joined his other one, spreading her damp lips wide. “You are
exquisite,” he murmured as he pushed into her heat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Milana couldn’t respond. All she was capable
of was gripping his shoulders to hold on as he plunders into her body with his
thick fingers, over and over again until her body tightened and she cried out
her release. It was the most powerful thing ever to happen to her body, and she
wasn’t sure she could take whatever came next. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Tenderly, he held her slumped body to him
before he pulled her skirt back into place and gave her bottom an affectionate
pat. Milana briefly wondered if that was it, but from the great size of his
manhood jutting against his trousers, she couldn’t believe that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Victor caught Milana’s gaze locked on the
bulge straining against his pants. “You want to continue, beautiful?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She licked her lips and nodded. “Please.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> He considered her for a moment. “Kneel.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She breathed. “Yes, Sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Good girl.” He started to unbuckle his belt
buckle, drawing the leather through the loops of his pants.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Milana was becoming frustrated with his slow,
teasing pace. In hopes to hurry him along she dropped to her knees and
proceeded to lift her hands to his zipper. She fumbled with the metal zipper
and the top button of his wool trousers. Finally his cock bounced free, hard
and intimidating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She leaned in purely on instinct and inhaled
deeply, taking in the fragrance of him as she shoved his pants and briefs down
his muscled thighs. Milana thought she heard him groan when her lips opened and
her pink tongue touched the tip of his length.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> His thumb pressed down on her chin to open
her mouth, while his other hand gripped his long shaft tight at the base. He
rubbed the smooth, pre-cum slick head across Milana’s lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Open, Milana.” Mr. Capitani moaned low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She opened her mouth slowly, ran her tongue
around the broad cockhead. He jerked and her stomach flipped. It pleased her to
know she was not alone in her desire. She affected him as well. Milana
stretched her mouth wide to take his manhood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> The back of her hand brushed lightly over her
cheek as his other hand continued to guide her mouth over his arousal. Milan
looked up at him, watching his face while she took him further into her hot
mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> His nostrils were flared. “You look lovely
with my cock in your mouth, Miss Moreno,” he said gruffly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Her sex pulsed in response to his words. She
couldn’t respond with her mouth filled with his erection. Milana’s eyes never
left his; she became mesmerized watching the heat flare in those dark eyes. She
bobbed up and down on his cock, taking him as deep as she could until she felt the
crown of his head hit the back of her throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Suddenly his hand yanked her from his cock,
“Tongue under my ball sac, slowly beautiful.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Milana whipped her tongue all around his sac,
following her instincts she sucked his balls into her mouth. Pleased when she
heard him moan, she pressed in closer, gobbling him up. The fresh smell of his
soap lingered, filling her senses. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Mr. Capitani’s cock bounced hitting her
cheek. “Fuck,” he growled. “Take me down
your throat. Now.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Quickly Milana shifted to take his large
girth back into her mouth. Victor pushed forward forcing his engorged head to
the back of her throat. He swelled, gagging her as he slipped himself down her
throat. “Relax, Milana, you can take me.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Her watery eyes lifted to look into his, she
held his stare. Milana never tried to pull away; she continued to suck him
deeper into her mouth until she felt the warm spurt of semen flow down her
throat. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> His hand caressed her cheek before burying it
into her hair. “You are a natural.” Slowly he slipped himself from her mouth.
Milana’s tongue flicked out swirled around his crown before he left her mouth
completely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She whimpered at the sight of him tucking
himself back into him trousers. Milan’s core ached with need, her juices
dripped down her legs. Even though his breath was uneven he continued to
straighten himself. He tucked a strand behind her ear. “You did well, and I am
very pleased with you.” He whispered before he stepped away from her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Milana felt like her heart would burst at his
praise. “Thank you, umm Mr.…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Sir will do for now.” His smile was a touch
rueful. Mr. Capitani turned to walk back behind his desk. “Was there something
else, Miss. Moreno?” He asked before he diverted his attention to his computer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “I thought, well that you…we would.” Milana
stuttered the words. All her nerves were back in full force.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “We would what? What do you want Milana?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> He sounded amused, which was frustrating and
embarrassing, but she couldn’t muster the courage to walk away. She came too
far to back down now, Milana cleared her throat and blurted. “You to fuck me…
Sir.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Victor examined her thoughtfully for a few
moments, a grin playing across his lips. “Come here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> Her feet moved on their own accord before she
could think, and he drew Milana into his lap. Mr. Capitani stroked along her
back lightly and kissed my forehead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “I will not take your innocence here in my
office. I want to do so many things to your delectable young body, that risking
interruption is unacceptable.” He lifted her chin with his thumb. “You will go
have a healthy lunch, and then bathe and shave that achy pussy of yours. I will
send further instructions. Do you understand?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> “Yes, Sir,” Milana replied, anticipation for
instructions heightening her already exquisite arousal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="CSP-ChapterBodyText">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> He set her away from him, smiling. “Go now,
Milana. You’ve taken a very brave step today. I’m proud of you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"> She beamed. “Thank you, Sir.”</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><br /></span></span>
<div class="Style2" style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-CA"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">All rights reserved.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">No part of this story/blog may be reproduced except small excerpts for review purposes without the expressed written consent of the author. This includes any reproductions by forms including but not limited to electronic and mechanical.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;">All characters inside this book are works of fiction from the author and any resemblance to a real person is purely coincidental.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">A product of the</span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Art of Safkhet<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Published July 2013<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-76218572235326446772013-05-30T18:26:00.001-05:002013-05-30T18:26:18.717-05:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Haunted<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">By: Stacy Moran<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The night calls to me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">A small breeze caresses my face<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">I close my eyes as a single tear slides down my cheek<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">All my memories of the past flood my soul<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">ALONE in my hell,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">What you did<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">No one walked away unscathed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Even now after all these years<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">I am losing another piece of myself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">I stand frozen your words still haunting my very thoughts<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The more I think<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The more you consume me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The anger mingled with hurt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Your voice surrounding me but I do not see you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">You’re hiding in my memory<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Pounding in my heart<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Even
through death you haunt me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-90991184010700615062013-05-14T21:33:00.001-05:002013-05-22T18:34:50.742-05:00Through all the Years<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Through all the years, we stood side by side
Always true friends till the end<o:p></o:p></div>
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Or so I thought<o:p></o:p></div>
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All of life’s changes, I was there Knowing one day you would do the same<o:p></o:p></div>
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Or so I thought<o:p></o:p></div>
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A shoulder to cry on when times were rough The time
would always be made <o:p></o:p></div>
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Or so I thought<o:p></o:p></div>
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Supporting all our hopes and dreams
Backing each other through it all
<o:p></o:p></div>
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Or so I thought<o:p></o:p></div>
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Always true friends till the end<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-25229135014888289272013-04-12T17:25:00.002-05:002013-04-12T19:24:02.731-05:00Upcoming...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The past few months have been filled with new and exciting things for myself and one of my best friends and amazing talent Ashley Nemer. We have decided to join our resources and publish our books under The Art of Safkhet an independent label we created to give us more control over our books.<br />
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April has started out with a bang, with the release of Blood Myth (The Myth Series) my baby is finally in print and eBook Whispers in the Dark an emotional poetry book, written by myself, Torie N James, and Ashley Nemer was released in print and eBook this past week.<br />
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As if that wasn't enough great news, Ashley's book The Maverick Touch, The Cat was also released in late March in both print and eBook Oh, it doesn't stop there for Mrs. Nemer, she also is working on releasing her Blood Purple in print and Blood Yellow the second installment in her Blood Series is up next for release soon.<br />
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So many things coming up so soon, The Art of Safkhet will be Ashley and my home for awhile and we have big plans for the summer. Starting in May we will release two short series, Temptation Tuesdays is a series of short stories of awakenings and desires opened. It is a coming into one's own self awareness, through sexual exploration. This will be available the first Tuesday of each month.<br />
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The second series is one that has been in both of our heads for sometime. Sekhmet's Revenge, is a series of shorts that will take you on a journey through ancient Egypt to modern day Israel. This series will be a mixture of adventure, sisters, magic, war, betrayal and revenge. Sekhmet's Revenge will debut May 22nd, 2013 and each new installment will be available the third Wednesday of each month.<br />
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Locally we will be attending our first book signing at Houston Indie Book Festival April, 20th 2013, come out and join the fun and say hi if you live or will be in the Houston Area. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/MenilCollection">https://www.facebook.com/MenilCollection</a><br />
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My next goal is to have the second Myth book in the fall.<br />
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Finally, anyone who joins one of our blogs between now April 12th and April 19th 2013 will receive 25% off any of our eBooks. A coupon will be sent to your email once you join our blogs.<br />
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<a href="http://ashleynemer.blogspot.com/">http://ashleynemer.blogspot.com/</a><br />
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<a href="http://artofsafkhet.blogspot.com/">http://artofsafkhet.blogspot.com/</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-73841627533657781632013-01-08T00:00:00.000-06:002013-03-30T15:48:07.222-05:00Neria Meets her Master by Ashley Nemer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"><b>Neria meets her Master...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 14px;">It was the start of a new year and Myth was opening its doors to the spirits again. Every year it welcomed the supernatural creatures and each year her and her sister decided they didn't want to waste time hunting for men where the common folks conjugated. Except this year. Neria was bored and needed something to take her mind off of the creature she recently met while on an outing with Lakra. </span><span style="background-color: white;"><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">She summoned her wind, her favorite form of travel, she let the elements whip and twist around her body, the air burn and linger along her skin. Mother Nature's strongest element tore her molecule by molecule only to bring her back to life outside of the nightclub in Romania. She walked along the side of the building and into the door. She moved pasted the body guard undetected and past the bartender, he seemed too busy talking with the odd redhead to notice her anyway. This is why her sister and her stayed as recluses. The men today were not worth the effort.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;"></span></span></span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Neria swiped a drink from a tray that she passed by while walking through the crowd; she saw something out of the corner of her eye, a man, a tall man, and dark hair, his demeanor very powerful, very attractive. He was heading upstairs and she wanted to know what was up there. She finished the drink quickly and set it down on someone's table then made her way through the crowd of people to the edge of the stairs. This time the guard at the bottom was more alert than the bouncer at the front of the door. </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"You cannot go up there." He looked down at her, his gaze dark and pointed.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"I just want to have a little fun." She batted her eyes and pressed her body against his. She was trying to be playful and sweet, she knew how the game worked.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"You're not on the guest list."</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"I don't see a list."</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"She's with me." A voice said from behind her.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">Neria turned around and a man, a tall man, looked down at her. His eyes were powerful, his chin was chiseled, his skin dark and his body was toned perfectly.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"You know her?" The guard asked the stranger who had come to Neria's rescue. </span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"No, but that's never stopped me."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">The man put his hand on her back and pushed her past the guard and escorted her up the stairs. They walked in silence. She heard nothing but the steps each of their placements of their feet made on the wood. The crowd's music and voices were muted with just his touch on her skin.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Pick a room Beauty; you said you wanted to have some fun." He leaned over and whispered into her ear.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"That is what I told the man downstairs. It does not mean I want someone to dictate to me what that fun is." She went to step away from him but something was keeping her body stuck next to him. Something, powerful. She liked that.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"You are new here so you will need to learn a few things. One, no one refuses my wishes, two, if I tell you to do something you do it and three, pick a room." His voice echoed in her head, it was as if he made it linger inside of her mind.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">Neria looked around the room for a few moments at the open rooms, she always knew never pick in a moment of haste, always choose wisely, always make smart decisions. She saw there was no one occupying room number thirteen, she liked prime numbers, and being a witch, she liked things that tended to drive people away. </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"13."</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Ah Beauty, are you sure you haven't been here before, that's my favorite. Come."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">He led the way, his hands till on her lower back. She was still unsure what she had gotten herself into, had she bitten off more than she could handle this time?</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"I can feel all of your thoughts Beauty, rest assured by the end of the night you will leave here sedated."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">She felt her face flush a crimson color. How embarrassing was that.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"If that's going to cause you to blush then you might want to not go into this room." He paused just before they reached the door. "There is no going back. When you are ready, you are to go inside, you will strip, kneel before the bed and await further instructions. You've picked The Master's Chambers."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">Neria's eyes dilated, her body instantly warmed.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Oh the Beauty is excited."</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"I am."</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"From now on it's Yes Master."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">Neria watched him open the door and she walked inside. She heard the door shut and she looked around and could see nothing. She summoned some fire and caught her breath when she saw all of the devices laid out along the walls for use. What did I get myself into… She stripped her cloths and folded them neatly and set them on the chair, she kneeled next to the bed and extinguished the fire just a minute before the dark haired man came back into the room.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Are you ready?"</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Yes Master?"</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">She couldn't see him but she felt him moving around her, he grabbed something from the wall and walked up behind her, she felt the leather strap dangle along her back, a whip. It teased her skin, her hair and the whip both danced along her creamy white skin than in an instant, crack.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"In the Masters Chambers I will use you as I see fit, stand Slave." </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">The rush of her adrenaline shot through her body, she complied and now was standing, her hands were shaking, she had no idea what was coming next. </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"In the Masters Chambers I like to be serviced, come, kneel before me."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">She still couldn't see him, there were no windows in the room and he provided no light, but his body emitted a warmth that gave off his exact location. She knew precisely his location. She walked up to him and went down on both her knees. She began to lower her head when her face was met with his member. She needed no instruction; she knew what was to be done. </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">She started slowly, inch by inch she took him, she felt his free hand run through her hair for a moment then as if he couldn’t take her hesitation he jammed her mouth around him. She wanted to gag, she wanted to resist and she wanted to fight. Every fiber of her being wanted to resist but she knew she couldn't. She couldn’t give into this stranger. </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">Her tongue circled him, her mouth formed a vacuum and she sucked. She felt his hand form a fist and he pulled on her hair when he let a moan escape his lips. Neria and her sister were known for what they were able to do to men, their goals in life were obtaining the seeds of powerful males; this was what she was made for. Just not in this environment.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">She milked this man until he was on the verge of exploding; he was almost there when he called out, "Stop." </span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">Neria pulled back and looked up at him; her eyes had adjusted and could now see the outline of his dark face. She heard him utter one word, "Bed."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">She stood up from her position and walked over to the mattress and leaned over, she preferred to be on top and wasn't sure how he wanted her. She felt him walk up behind her and felt the sting of the whip again, this time across her ass. The searing pain made her want to call out but she didn't want to give him that victory.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Mhmmm Beauty I think this is your best quality."</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">Neria said nothing; he whipped her again before spreading her and pushing his cock deep inside. He shoved it hard and fast ramming it over and over. She felt the tip of him rubbing along her clitoris, her knees started to tremble, it had been so long since she had been worked over by a man. Her arms were starting to turn to mush, he was using his powers on her, he was enhancing her orgasm and she didn't care.</span><br /><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Who's slave are you Beauty?"</span><br /><span style="line-height: 14px;">"Yours Master."</span></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-46272989265588675762012-10-25T18:26:00.001-05:002012-10-25T18:26:15.632-05:00Promises of Euphoria<br />
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of Euphoria<o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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love letters you type, the words you whisper in the dark...</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 8.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Just an illusion, another facade</span><br />
<span style="background: white;">You play the game so well...</span><br />
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<span style="background: white;">Does it give you meaning?</span> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 8.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Tahoma","sans-serif"; font-size: 8.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Can you see the hurt
you cause?<br />
Or does the pain you spread elude you?<br />
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The existence of true feelings seems bleak...<br />
Ah but the euphoria you promise feels so close<br />
Your victims can almost taste it...<br />
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Will it slip away just before they grasp it?<br />
When does the euphoria turn to dysphoria?<br />
Or will you change the course?<br />
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Your illusions of euphoria have become a dysphoric curse...<br />
A trail of victims left to survive after your disease takes over their lives...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3193292184517851794.post-53377701311851906312012-10-24T20:31:00.001-05:002012-10-24T20:31:20.058-05:00A New Journey<span style="background-color: #f4f1e6; color: #7d633b; font-family: 'lucida sans unicode', 'lucida sans', arial; font-size: 12px;">I have always believed everyone has a book inside of them. Since, I was a child becoming a writer has been a dream. I had fantasies of living hidden in the mountains and writing my days away. Of the course the books I wrote would be one best seller after another. I have been a writer all of my life, writing for myself. I rarely shared my writing with anyone. Always feeling it had to be perfect or comparing it to other authors. Until one day, one of my many characters running around in my head decided she wanted to share her world. Sorina Ruzicka was not my first character but she was the first to demand her story. She pounded in my head for almost a year to let her out before I gave in to her pestering. Sorina’s journey like mine has just really begun…</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10950357777231380081noreply@blogger.com0