A Bit About Kim

Hi All,

Kim Richards will be my guest here at my blog all day on June 29th. I do hope everyone will stop in, ask questions or just visit with her. In advance of her arrival, I'm posting a bit about Kim from her interview with her publisher. I'll be doing a second, and hey, maybe a third post, starting with an interview with Kim and IF my new puppy allows, I'll be adding a small review or two. Enjoy!

 

Publisher Eternal Press

Thank you, Kim Richards, for agreeing to an interview on Eternal Press Blog.

EP: When did you seriously sit down, and say to yourself, I’m going to write a novel?

Kim Richards: I’ve been writing in one form or another most of my life.  After my first marriage broke up, I decided I wanted to take writing seriously.  Then I found out how much I still needed to learn so I went back to school and took journalism, started attending conferences and reading everything how-to I could get my hands on. I’ve been lucky to have found mentors online and some great critique groups along the way.

EP: What do you find the most difficult to write? Dialogue? Back story?

Kim Richards: The most difficult for me are transitions from one scene to another.  I often get my point of view mixed up there in the first draft.

EP: Have you ever found that you didn’t like your Hero or your Heroine? If so, what did you do to change that?

Kim Richards: I’ve never experienced that. I have had a secondary character end up being my protagonist after I got to know the characters a little better.

EP: If you were to start again, with the knowledge you have now, what would be the first thing you do?

Kim Richards: I wouldn’t let anyone discourage me and I’d not let making money replace the writing.  For me writing is something I need to cope with depression so it’s more than just an occupation. It’s my life and I need it.

EP: Do you have the support of friends and family? Meaning, do they understand when you are writing that you cannot be disturbed? Or do you have friends that think since you’re home, you don’t work?

Kim Richards: I do now and it’s wonderful.  My previous mother-in-law used to ask when I was getting a ‘real job’ and I took business classes because I believed others who did not find writing an occupation. I’ve had to make it important to ME and shrug off what others think.  And yes, when my sons were young, many of their friends’ parents would send their kids to my house after school. You simply learn to deal with it. I figured at least I knew where my sons were at, even if the house regularly got trashed.

The best thing I did for writing is get a ‘do not disturb sign’.  I haven’t had to use it in years but it does get the point across when you can hang it on the door and just point to it when you are interrupted. At first people laugh; then they get the point.

EP: What was the biggest hurtle you had to overcome in your career?

Kim Richards: Taking myself seriously and believing my writing worthy.

EP: What genre do you write? Do you write more than one, if so, what?

Kim Richards: I write mainly horror, fantasy and some science fiction.  However, if an idea comes, it doesn’t matter what genre it is. Sometimes you don’t see it in your story. I wrote a children’s book back in 2000, thinking of a fantasy market. It was another author who saw it as a kids book. It was published that way.

Death Masks is a thriller. When I wrote it, I had horror in mind. It wasn’t until I started to submit it, that I realized where it best fit. You have to write the story and then worry about what mail slot it fits in.

EP: How do you research for your books?

Kim Richards: I love research and have to be very careful or I spend more time doing that than writing the actual story. I start online but am picky about my resources. If a website doesn’t list resources of its own, I tend to skip it unless there’s a bit of information I think I need…but I focus the research on finding supporting documents (or the lack thereof). I always end up with new books on my shelf when I research.  I’m full of what my sons refer to as “useless trivia”.

EP: How do you develop your characters?

Kim Richards:  My stories usually start with a what if. When I start worldbuilding and researching, the characters form on their own from the culture, the setting—it often falls into place naturally.

EP: Are any of your characters a person you’d like to be? If so which one?

Kim Richards: Lots of them. They’re usually stronger or smarter or more admirable than I am.

EP: Who inspired you to write?

Kim Richards: Many, many people. An 8th grade teacher who taught me to write my dreams in a notebook; a high school teacher who taught me to journal; authors I’ve met; hokey stories I thought I could write better.  It amazes me how there are many more people who do inspire me to write than discourage me, yet in the past it was the negative ones I listened to. Maybe they talk louder.

EP: What is the most humorous writing experience you’ve ever had?

Kim Richards: Meeting a man in an elevator at World Horror Convention. He saw my name tag and had read my science fiction novel out at the time.  He lectured me on how I killed off his favorite character. 

EP: If a new writer came to you for advice what would you tell them?

Kim Richards: Perseverence. Wrap it around your shoulders and tie it tight.


EP: Do you have a book coming out? If so what? Do you have a web site? Do you have a blog? My space?

Kim Richards: Death Masks is available from Eternal Press. I also have a story out in an anthology of dragon stories by another publisher.

Check out the trailer for Death Masks.  The metal band is from my home town, Roswell, New Mexico. 

My website

I’ll be doing a virtual book tour in June, 2008 so check there for the blog visit schedule. There will be prizes!

You can find me at Myspace, Livejournal, Facebook, Blogger, Good Reads and Writer’s Chatroom. All under the username Kim Richards.

I do have one announcement I’d like to make. I’ve just accepted the position of Marketing Manager for Eternal Press. I’m thrilled to be accepted on the team and excited about the upcoming possibilities for me and for the publishing house.

Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions for the Eternal Press blog. Good luck with your writing.

Guest Blogger on June 29, 2008

On June 29th, Kim Richards will be guest blogging here. So, I thought I would post a small bit about her in advance along with a small excerpt from her latest release: Death Masks

Kim's website: www.kim-richards.com

Publisher:  Eternal Press

Publisher's website: http://www.eternalpress.ca/deathmasks.html

Book Trailer:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lp2zpDNMfmMRelease

Date:  April 2008

Genre: Thriller

ISBN#: 978-0-9804739-4-0

Page Count: 111

Price: $5.95 U.S.

Blurb:

Bill Cristo takes up walking a per his doctor’s orders to lose weight and improve his health.  While at the metro park, he witnesses an assault. The assailant turns on him and he wakes in the hospital with a nasty bump on his head, wondering why he isn’t dead. The news reports nothing on any attack in the metro park but Bill can’t let it go…not when he realizes there are other young men missing from the same area. He digs up what he can on his own, drawing further attention from the murderer. Will he be able to figure out who the killer is before it reaches his live-in girlfriend?

Excerpt:

“Shhh. Please listen.” Her words dropped to a trembling whisper.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared.”

Bill hesitated a moment, thinking she might go on.

“Bill?” She sounded so small and vulnerable. He immediately wanted to reach out through the phone and pull her close. He longed to make whatever it was better.

“I’m here, Hon. What’s going on?” He shut down his computer as he talked.

“Someone keeps calling me.” Once she started speaking, her words came fast and clipped. “At first he kept hanging up. No heavy breathing or anything so I decided it must be those kids next door.”

“He? How do you know it’s a guy?” Bill used one hand to hold the phone and the other to begin stuffing his things into his carry bag.

“Because…” Dampened, low sounds came over the phone.

Oh God, she’s crying.

“Because I know what a man's voice sounds like. This last time, just a minute ago, he said I’m next.”

“Next for what?” As Bill said the words, he’d already guessed the answer. All the clues were in place, the footprints on the porch, the maniac figuring out Bill knew about him, and now the calls to Dix. He didn’t hear her answer.

Author Bio:
Kim Richards lives in Northern California; with wedding plans for May 2009.  She writes horror, fantasy, erotica and science fiction, as well as non-fiction chapters and articles. She has seen one children’s story published and Death Masks is her first thriller.  For more information on all of her published works, check out her website at www.kim-richards.com

Kim is an avid costumer and amateur bellydancer. She loves her coffee. She works as an editor for MyShelf Reviews and for Eternal Press as an author, editor and marketing manager. You can find her at Facebook, MySpace, Livejournal and Goodreads under the user name Kim_Richards

Twice Upon an Eventide is now Live

Hi all,

I wanted to let everyone know that Twice Upon an Eventide is live. The paperback will be released in a few weeks. If you have time, surf over and check out the cover and read the excerpts!

Sheri

Title:
Twice Upon an  Eventide
978-1-55404-573-0 (13-digit)             1-55404-573-8  (10-digit)              (Paperback)
978-1-55404-574-7  (13-digit)             1-55404-574-6  (10-digit)             (E-book)

Link to DDP

Blurb:

Award-winning  fantasy authors Shannah Biondine and Sheri L.
McGathy team up again,  delivering twice the mystical adventure
in this enthralling duet, Twice  Upon an Eventide. Here are
faraway worlds of danger and intrigue, where  dark mirrors hold
strange and dark secrets.

A Varlet's  Bond

Captain Praxis, wyvern rider, former slave turned royal reeve  and
bounty hunter, has never forgotten her brief partnership with
Prince  Zavend of Glacia. Years have passed and now find Praxis
a wealthy woman and  sometime comrade of Zavend's
disreputable brother, Vitus. A twist of fate  draws all three back to
the heart of Glacia, where an evil is spreading  across the land.

Can anyone or any sworn oath be trusted? Will Praxis  find her
heart soaring higher than a wyvern or crushed once and for  all?

Summersong

Summersong, a magical border Keep created to  maintain the
fragile peace between Man and Faery, has lost its glory,  its
grandeur, and its loyal guardians. The land is dark, filled  with
turmoil. Yet, one bright glimmer of hope still exists. Long  ago,
Myree, daughter of a proud nobleman, made a childish vow of
undying  love in a secluded garden to an equally as young
Connair. Now grown, both  have not forgotten their pledges.

When Myree is abducted into a realm  of shadows, Connair risks
everything in his quest to save her and recover  the heart of
Summersong.

Twice Upon an Eventide contains two  superbly woven fantasy
tales of magic, intrigue, and suspense. If you  haven't read
Biondine and McGathy before, this book is an excellent place  to
start! Very enjoyable and highly recommended! ~ Jeanne Allen,
author  of Orphilion Dreams
__________________

New Release

I'm very pleased to announce I have a new book release coming from Double Dragon. It is a shared book, a duet I have written along with fellow author Shannah Biondine. The book is titled TWICE UPON AN EVENTIDE and will release June 15th. My novella is titled Summersong.

Here's the blurb:
Award-winning fantasy authors Shannah Biondine and Sheri L. McGathy team up again, delivering twice the mystical adventure in this enthralling duet, Twice Upon an Eventide. Here are faraway worlds of danger and intrigue, where dark mirrors hold strange and dark secrets.

A Varlet's Bond by Shannah Biondine
Captain Praxis, wyvern rider, former slave turned royal reeve and bounty hunter, has never forgotten her brief partnership with Prince Zavend of Glacia. Years have passed and now find Praxis a wealthy woman and sometime comrade of Zavend's disreputable brother, Vitus. A twist of fate draws all three back to the heart of Glacia, where an evil is spreading across the land. Can anyone or any sworn oath be trusted? Will Praxis find her heart soaring higher than a wyvern or crushed once and for all?

Summersong by Sheri L. McGathy
Summersong, a magical border Keep created to maintain the fragile peace between Man and Faery, has lost its glory, its grandeur, and its loyal guardians. The land is dark, filled with turmoil. Yet, one bright glimmer of hope still exists. Long ago, Myree, daughter of a proud nobleman, made a childish vow of undying love in a secluded garden to an equally as young Connair. Now grown, both have not forgotten their pledges. When Myree is abducted into a realm of shadows, Connair risks everything in his quest to save her and recover the heart of Summersong.

Musings for May

This month I've been musing about robins. Yes, I said robins. In particular the pair of robins who have decided to "adopt" us. Well, in reality they tolerate us since they decided rather stubbornly to build their nest on my back porch.

Momma Robin

When the robins first started to build on the crossbar within an arms length of our back door, neither my husband nor I thought it a very good idea. We use the back door far more than the front, we are in and out with the dogs, going to and from the garage, etc. and worried that once their babies arrived, the birds would turn aggressive. I didn't relish the idea of walking out my back door and being dive bombed by a mother robin.

So, when the first long strands of dry grass began to appear, we swept them down, along with the mud drops they deposited for the mortar. This went on for days, actually a week or more. We'd knock it down, and they would rebuild.

We filled a large black trash bag with the construction materials and still they continued to try and build in that one spot though they originally had started at the top of the bar and each new attempt saw the nest starting lower down that bar.

Each time the nest was swept away, the pair of robins would double their efforts. One day alone between my husband and I we knocked it down sixteen times. It was actually on that day that they won. And how did they win? Well, the answer to that question is because hubby and I are complete softies under the right circumstances. And that circumstance was just when I was about to knock the strings of dry grass down yet again, I looked over to my back gate and saw Momma Robin standing there proudly displaying a large ribbon of plastic that she intended to place in her nest. I can't even describe how her standing there like that melted my resolve.

I set the broom back where it belonged and walked back into the house. She could stay.

It didn't take the two long to complete the nest once we decided they could move in. And the eggs came next along with long visits with Momma Robin as she sat dutifully on her nest. We began to speak to her, remind her she was a guest, and we did not intend her any harm.

After a while she would leave for extended periods of time while we sat outside. I think she thought we were the babysitters, which I guess in a way we were. All was going well, and she was proving to be a good guest. Yet, in the back of my mind I worried that once the babies arrived, she'd turn aggressive.

The babies apparently arrived without fanfare several days ago. I didn't even realize they were here until the other day when I noticed the change in Momma Robin, and Papa Robin was actually coming in to the nest with worms, which before, aside from helping to build the nest, he had stayed at a distance.

And Momma Robin has pretty much ignored us. So maybe she won't turn mean. I hope not. I'd really like to watch the babies grow and fly away. Who knows, maybe I'll feel a little like my children have left home when it happens.

It's been interesting!

Until next time, Sheri

Promises now online

I'm very pleased to announce that my short story PROMISES is now live and available from the ezine "The Lorelei Signal." The story can be read here:

PROMISES follows a warrior named Shay, who is determined to find the Spirit Blade that imprisoned her lover's soul and fulfill her promise to set him free by killing him.

I do hope you’ll surf over and read all the stories in this issue of The Lorelei Signal!

Current issue story listings can be found here:

Thanks!

Musings for February

This month I've been musing about dragons. What is it about them that has fascinated us throughout history and continue to fascinate us to this day? And, what exactly is a dragon, and how did their legend get born?
 
There are wingless dragons called wyrms, or wurms, or even worms, great serpents that are said to resemble snakes. There are horned dragons, dragons with wings, those who spew fire, and those whose breath freezes the world. At one time, dragons were associated with the gods, said to be creatures of the elements: water, air, fire, and earth, and endowed with the power to do great good or terrible ill.
 
We have tales of dragon magic and dragon gold, dragon lairs that are sometimes deep within the bowels of the earth, sometimes high upon a mountain peak. We have stories of dragon tears (rain) and dragon's breath (mist), and dragon's that guard the secrets of time. There are dragons that shift to human form and walk amongst us, and dragons that are so old that they have simply lost interest in our world and have lain down and allowed the countless dust of countless ages to cover them whole until they resemble nothing more than hillsides that occasionally rumble and shake, but never truly awake. Dragons fly, they crawl, they burrow and nest, they lounge around on a bed of gold or as some cultures suggest, are the real source of those mysterious fairy rings.
 
The notion of dragons is almost universal in ancient cultures, with stories and depictions of them appearing all over the world. I'm fond of the gallant knight battling the great fire-breathing monster to save the fair damsel in distress. Now mind you, she's only in distress because her village has decided to sacrifice her to an angry beast to save their own hides, but I like the legend anyway.
 
We write of dragons, whisper of them, dream of them, and immortalize them in song and art. Even the Greek historian Herodotus wrote of flying serpents in both ancient Arabia and Egypt. Did he see these beings and record them for all of prosperity? I don't know, but the practical part of me supposes that dragons where born, and then given life in countless song and story as a way for ancient cultures to explain the very real bones they might and probably did encounter. Bones, you say? Dragon bones? Possibly, but I suspect they encountered dinosaur bones and their imaginations filled in the rest.
 
Now, having said that, the child in me says maybe, and maybe not. I think we need dragons, in all their glory, and in all their many forms, because we need the fantastical in our lives, we need to believe in the impossible–we need to dream.
 
Until next time, Sheri

My Musings for December

MUSINGS:

This month, in honor of the Winter Solstice, I've spent the day musing or rather reflecting over the past year and how glad I will be to see 2007 fade into the twilight memories of the past. It was a hard year for me. 2007 started with medical issues that plagued me throughout the year and climaxed with the loss of beloved family members and friends to either sickness or old age.
 
No, I won't be sorry to say goodbye to 2007 and hello to 2008.
 
Though, I will admit, out of the pain of enduring one can find unexpected strength and be moved to unexpected actions. From reflection comes renewal. Out of the ashes, rise the flames of the future. Sorrow can give way to joy and an ordinary person can suddenly become a champion of hope.
 
I truly believe this.
 

Omnibus Excerpts

The Birth of Spring

A bitter chill hung heavy in the air and the sun was little more than a hazy glow in a sky dreary and gray as Astara crossed into the northern realms. A fine mist imprisoned the forest of winter-bare limbs in layers of ice while a fog floated over the ground, oozing around the tall, solemn tree trunks, swallowing all sound to leave the world clothed in silence.

Gray, willowy shadows lurked at the edges of the tree line, ghosting across the forest path like slow, slithering serpents. Within those murky shadows, Astara sensed other, real forms—silent, deadly, serious forms. She knew if she cared to peer into the shadowy depths, she would see glowing eyes glaring back. She kept her gaze trained forward, ever thankful the human children she carried within the folds of her skirt were safely hidden from prying eyes, their dreams shielding them from harm.

Off in the distance, rising out of the mist like phantom pillars of polished stone, loomed the tall towers of the Snow Palace. Astara had been there once as a child, when the old king had ruled the realm and the new one was nothing more than his beloved son. Though covered in the same ice and snow, the realm had not seemed so bleak then. The land had held a sense of wonder, a magic that had long since abandoned this place.

Astara could only hope some part of the old king's once-beloved son's heart could still be reached or her journey would be for naught.

As she stepped clear of the forest, a great howling rose behind her. She froze, unsure what the Winter Guard would do if she failed to heed their warnings to go no further. Other haunting howls rose from the Snow Palace in answer to those behind her. The eerie wails echoed throughout the valley, lacing the frigid air with a sense of doom.

Before Astara could decide what she should do, a lone figure stepped from one of the towers to stare down at her from his snow-covered perch. He stood tall against a wind that blew his unbound, snow-white hair across smooth skin near as pale. He appeared more spirit than living, a wraith adrift in a spectral realm of ice and snow and mist.

Thief of Dreams

At dark of night
when the spirits roam,
lost and lonely, far from home,

The veil shall part
and within be seen
the white stag prancing before the king.

If ye be timid, or faint of heart,
from the path, do not depart.

For if a ring, ye step within,
the eldritch flame shall surely win.
Forever more, ye will tarry,
trapped within the land of Faery.

Chapter One

Gerard Regan laid the copper down on the counter and took the mug from the merchant's grubby hands. He left the booth and moved into the crowd, his every step a carefully measured exercise in balance.

The mead sloshed over the rim of the mug, the sticky liquid oozing over his hand and through his fingers. He didn't care. Shoving aside any who dared to block his path, he made his way toward Lord Devi's tent which sat prominently at the head of the field. That's where he'd left Nerys.

"Nerys," he sneered as he neared the tent. "Nerys the fair, Nerys the beloved. Nerys Devi—my reluctant bride-to-be."

Gerard tipped the mug to his lips and drained its contents. Dropping it to the ground, he swiped his hand across his mouth and forced his way through the line of people gathered around the large table set before the tent.

He stepped into the clearing at the group's center just as Nerys bent her head low to allow a small peasant child to place a crudely-braided oak crown upon her head.

"Me lady," the boy whispered, his small hand lightly smoothing Nerys' wavy hair. "I crowns ye queen for the day."

Nerys raised her head and gave the boy a smile.

A faint pink colored his cheeks as the boy dropped down to one knee. "Wha's yer wish, me lady?"

"I—" she began.

"My lady," Gerard said, stepping forward, "wishes you to leave."

Nerys pursed her lips and glared at Gerard.

He sank down on the bench next to her. "I care not what these commoners think, Nerys."

She frowned and looked away.

Taking her hand in his, he said, "I see I've again met with your disapproval." He shrugged. "As you wish, my lady, I shall try to care. Who would dare upset the queen of this illustrious festival?"

Nerys pulled her hand away and placed it upon the boy's cheek. "I wish, my good sir, for the dance to begin."

The boy darted a nervous glance toward Gerard as he rose. Taking a step back, he flashed Nerys a toothy grin, snapped his feet together and said, "Aye, me lady, as ye wish." He delivered a quick bow, then fled toward the dance field.

Nerys continued to stare into the crowd long after the child had disappeared, his small form swallowed up by the throng. She kept her hands clasped tightly upon her lap, the knuckles white, and her expression closed, unreadable save for the tightening along her jawline.

Her displeasure hung in the silence between them.

"Take that thing off," Gerard growled, pointing at the crude crown encircling her brow. "You belittle me and my House by wearing it. As my bride, you will not disgrace me so."

"You forget, Gerard, we aren't wed."

He laughed. Leaning back, he rested his elbows against the table's edge and stretched his long legs out before him, ankles crossed. "Nay, I didn't forget. You don't [allow] me to. Yet you forget, it seems. 'Twas arranged long ago. I await only your father's final blessing on the day you turn twenty-one." He caressed one of her wavy curls. Winding it about his fingers, he forced her face toward him until her lips poised a mere inch from his own. "Then, you will belong to me."

Nerys pulled the slim dagger from her waist belt and sliced through the tresses of hair, barely missing his fingers. Leaning away, she stood and sheathed the blade. "Lest you forget—my father may have offered my hand, but 'tis my heart that must be won." She followed the boy into the crowd.

Gerard lifted the hair and rubbed the soft brown curls against his cheek. Staring after her, he laughed, the sound harsh and cold. "'Tis not your heart I require."

The Ancient One 

Talwyn knew no other time before the mist. She knew no other shelter. Born within the mist's cool nothingness, she could recall nothing else but its soothing embrace. The mist had always been there and she within it.

But the changing was drawing near. Her kind, the Golden, whispered of its coming, reveled in its nearness, and welcomed its arrival. She could sense the excitement ripple within the oneness they shared, yet she was not sure she was as eager to see her existence change.

Time passed slowly within the mist, yet with each turn of the wheel her world altered. The oneness began to fade, the sameness became less pronounced. Talwyn's body betrayed her as it ached for another existence, while her mind was clouded with strange urges she could neither banish nor control. The intensity of the thoughts frightened her.

The mist grew thin, its once thick, fluffy whiteness revealing brief glimpses of worlds beyond its hazy veil. Worlds that Talwyn had not known existed and wished would fade from her view.

Even as her mind filled with dread, eagerness filtered through the thoughts of the Golden, the one thought linked and shared amongst them was now a jumbled array of many individual thoughts and emotions.

". . .The departure comes. It draws near. . ."

". . .Time has begun anew. The wheel has turned full circle. The season of change is upon us. . ."

". . .Soon we shall recall the feel of Mother Sun's caress upon our skin. . ."

". . .Aye, and the touch of land beneath our feet. . ."

". . .Soon. . ."

Talwyn's fear overwhelmed her. What was this change? What would happen to her when it arrived? Would it hurt? She knew nothing about the worlds beyond the mist. How would she survive?

"Hold no fear, little one," the oldest of them whispered near her ear. "I have lived long and have seen many worlds through the blessings of the change." The old one's thoughts touched Talwyn's own. "Let me show you."

Memories of a time beyond the mist filtered through the collective, giving name to places and things that before held no understanding for Talwyn. A vision of moonlight as it glittered off the surface of a calm lake left her breathless while the feel of a cool breeze against moist skin made her shiver. The blissful warmth of Mother Sun made her sigh, and the wonder of color made her smile.

Talwyn grew still as images filled her mind, visions of her kind as they stepped free of the mist and walked on land. Emotions washed over her in great waves and gave her understanding. The knowledge given eased her fear. Excitement claimed her and she found she longed for this change to arrive.

Time passed and the mist grew warmer. Its shimmering silver curtain of moisture began to fade. Soon rays of sunlight filtered through the haze and hinted of something more waiting just beyond the veil.

Colors seeped in where once only gray prevailed. Shades of reds and pale yellows splashed against the silver veil of the mist, followed by greens and blues and browns. So many colors from so many worlds, yet no one world called to the Golden. They floated on.

Each dawn the mist revealed another world, and each time the Golden turned away, until one dawn, Talwyn felt a stirring amongst them, an eagerness that awoke the same strange stirring within her.

A whisper sang through the fluffy softness that surrounded her, "Be ready."

Talwyn was.

The mist parted to reveal a world filled with colors. Hues of browns and blues, greens, reds, yellows nestled beneath sparkling white haze. The Golden trembled. This was the one. This world called to them. It would be the place of departure. Here, the changing would commence.

"Now, child." Her mother, Nia, clasped Talwyn's hand. "We will step free together, you and I, and together we will know the joy of self."
 

Where Lies Beauty

Prologue

He looked upon the flower, to its dew-kissed bloom shimmering in the light of early morn. He traced the pad of his thumb across the delicate petals and downward along the contour of the curved thorn that hid amongst its pale green leaves.

He paused over the thorn's sharp point.

What was perfection without the shadow of fault? He pressed against the thorn. Its sharp point pierced his skin. When he withdrew his thumb, a bead of bright red blood lingered. Does beauty exist if the one who looks upon it cannot see its charm? Can beauty's light survive if hidden within the cloying mantle of darkness?

He could only hope this was so.He raised the bloom and inhaled deeply, taking in its unique aroma. "Bittersweet." His voice, though barely above a whisper, shattered the silence surrounding him. He was helpless to halt the sigh that escaped him. Within all beauty resides the remnant of its darker self. An unseen presence feared by most and shunned by all. A secret, locked away and closely guarded. Yet, within the ugliest of things, there remains true beauty. He did not believe one could exist without the other. It was a belief he would place all his hope upon.

He stared beyond the soft edges of the rose petals to the fading luster of a once vibrant land. The Hagath's touch crept ever closer, her vengeance seeking to destroy all memory of what once was, while tainting all in her path. Her laughter haunted the breeze—her glee, his great sadness. Soon, she would come for him. And with her arrival, his world would fade, leaving this realm without him. 'Twas the price he had agreed upon . . . to offer hope to the future and assure memory for the past.
Summoning the last of his light, he swept his hands before him. "Sleep, dream. . . and recall."

He laid the flower in the cradle of his palm and traced the tip of his finger along its fragile stem. "Within you lies hope. Guard your treasure well."

A single tear slid silently down his cheek and fell against the blood-red petals of the rose. His sadness weighed heavily upon him as he whispered, "And who shall shed a tear for me?"

Buy It

Copyright© Sheri L. McGathy. All rights reserved.

Story Accepted

I'm very pleased to announce that Wolfsinger Publications – Their ezine "The Lorelei Signal" has accepted my short story PROMISES. The short will appear in the April 2008 issue.

PROMISES follows a warrior named Shay, who is determined to find the Spirit Blade that imprisoned her lover's soul and fulfill her promise to set him free by killing him.