Reading After Dark

Story 1: So Close

2010-05-01T16:02:00.000-07:00

So Close

By Sandra Connor

She could just see her grandmother’s cottage through the trees. It looked so close, a mere ten minute walk through the forest and she could be there; sitting in front of the fire, sipping hot chocolate and chatting easily as came so naturally with Granny.

The path led the long way around the forest and the creek that lay between her and the cottage. Yes the path was cobble-stoned and snaked cleanly through the clearing but it would take over half an hour to arrive.

“Stick to the path, Sophie,” her mother had said. “Only danger and ruin can be found in the darkness of the forest.”

“Doesn’t look so dangerous,” she said softly to herself.

The shadows shifted as the wind blew through the trees but other then that nothing moved. In fact everything had gone very quiet, even the birds had stopped singing.

A branch snapped and echoed in the silence. Spinning around, Sophie’s hand flew to her throat. Two yellow eyes stared out of the shadows in the trees. She stared, hypnotized by those eyes. Closer and closer the eyes moved closer till the sunlight broke the shadow and the long snout and face of a large wolf was revealed.

Sophie took a sudden, stumbling step back. The wolf bared it’s teeth and let out a low, warning growl.

Slowly she raised both hands out in front. It could smell her fear, she had to calm down, had to relax. Sophie took a long, deep breath and shut her eyes but when she opened them again the wolf was gone.

“Not thinking of straying from the path, are we?” A deep, gravelly voice came from behind her.

With a shuddering breath she turned to face the speaker and barely stifled a gasp at the man who now stood before her. He was tall with broad shoulders and very strong looking arms. Brown curls hung to his shoulders and framed his large masculine face and his chin was in need of a shave; in a roguish way he could be considered handsome.

The man’s smooth smile informed her that she was staring.

“I’m sorry, I – I thought I was alone,” she stuttered.

“Apparently so.” He arched an eyebrow at her and his grin widened sardonically.

Gritting her teeth she decided to ignore the look. Turning back to where she had been looking she asked, “Did you see a wolf?”

He moved up close behind her and looked into the forest. “What kind of wolf?”

“A – um – a big one.”

“Not so surprising, the forest is wolves’ territory.”

Sophie nodded and turned to continue on her way only to bump into the stranger. He had been much closer then she thought. His large firm body felt strong and warm against hers and she felt a flush spread across her cheeks as she looked up into his face.

“You want to be careful,” he murmured, dipping his head to speak into her ear. “There is much that could be dangerous to a young woman all alone.”

Nodding she backed away and took a shuddering breath. “Well I should go.”

“Where?”

“I’m taking a basket of food to my grandmother,” she said raising the basket so he could see. “I should keep going if I’m going to make it before dark.”

He turned and looked through the forest where she had been looking earlier. “Is that her cottage through there?”

She nodded. “The path will take me around the forest right to her door.”

“You’d be there much faster if you cut through here.”

“Agreed, but it’s dangerous in the forest,” she replied looking wistfully into the gaps in the shadows and trees to where she could just make out the cottage. “You said so yourself.”

“So I did.” He was behind her again so she could feel his heat radiating against her back. She swallowed hard and focused on calming her breathing. They looked together into the dark forest and he lowered his lips so they barely brushed her ear. “Tempting though.”

End

My First YA Book

2010-04-22T16:04:00.000-07:00

Alrighty so I've chosen the plot of my first Young Adult book. Remember those Point Horror books released by Scholastic? I used to inhale them and I still endulge now and then. There is just a vibe that came with those titles: Teacher's Pet, The Beach House, Trick or Treat. And I need to get it out of my system.

I don't think anyone publishes these any more. 50000 - 60000 words YA Horror/Mystery/Thrillers.

But I REALLY want to write one! And since my first book is mainly going to be stretching my muse in this new genre I think I will write one anyway and publish it free, maybe as a blog serial.

Possible Titles:

I Know You're Alone
The Stalker
Home Alone
Dark House

.....

Anyway I'm going to work on it as I work through the HTTS and I'll show my process as I go.

Sandy

I Think I Know Where I Am...

2010-04-17T23:28:00.000-07:00

Over the last few months I have been seriously considering a genre change. As you may or may not know I have had one novella and three short stories published in Erotic Romance, and don't get me wrong the genre is challenging and fun... But it's just not me any more - thus the Pseudonym.

I know I will always love romance and that romance will always be a large part of my stories BUT I really don't enjoy stories where romance is the main plot and conflict... I need action, mystery, scary stuff happening *Spars gruffly with self and laughs heroically*

*Thinking* You know back in the days when I wrote fanfiction I was pretty popular with the 13 - 24 age groups, or in other words Young Adults. After I knew this I started writing mainly for this group and loved it! The style flowed easily and I enjoyed the freedom of not having to be completely adult-logical. Just that little bit more wild, little bit more free, that little bit more surprised and afraid of things that we older folks barely blink at now...

So I know what I want to do. I want to write for Young Adults. I want to write about strong young women solving mysteries, living through scary ghost stories, facing bad guys head on and coming out victorious.

I have no idea if I'll be able to succeed in this genre but I'm going to give it a damn good try. Wish me luck!!

Sandy

Monday Muse Pic

2010-04-12T23:18:00.000-07:00

Ladies Man

2010-04-10T19:32:00.000-07:00

Ladies Man
By Sandra Connor

Flash Fiction

“You have been a very naughty boy, James.” Laura purred in his ear before stepping back and leaning against the high bed post at the end of the bed.

James pulled at the leather restraints that wrapped around his wrists. “I know and I’m sorry. But you knew what kind of man I was when you married me. I like women. I thought that I made that clear.”

“You did darling,” she replied softly and lowered her gaze before meeting his brown eyes again. “And it was very stupid of me to think that I would be enough.”

James pulled again at the restraints. “Look are you going to let me go or not.”

“I think not.”

Her footsteps echoed down the hall. A door slammed and locked.

The silence surrounded and slowly closed in on the still restrained man.

How to Think Sideways

2010-04-10T14:54:00.000-07:00

This wonderful new writing course by Holly Lisle is a godsend, not only does it teach the basics of writing but teaches how to be a successful author in the real world. How to choose and keep deadlines, how to write even when the muse isn't in the mood, how to keep working even when your world is exploding around you.

Friday Five

2010-04-08T23:19:00.000-07:00

1. I'm absolutely terrified of Spiders and Snakes! I see one and I have nightmares for days.

2. I am secretly addicted to Harry Potter and think I might be one of the few who liked the epilogue.

3. I am addicted to my Playstation 3 and practically inhaled the two Uncharted games.

4. I love Spongebob - There I said it.

5. I wrote my first story when I was 7 - It was about a haunted house.

Just a Dare

2010-04-07T22:59:00.000-07:00

Just a Dare
By Sandra Connor

Short Story: Horror

The whole situation was ridiculous. Of course there wasn’t a vampire living in the abandoned Braxley House. The whole thing was preposterous. It was well documented that Vampires only lived in Romania, Transylvania and the surrounding parts. And NOT in the English countryside and doubly not in the Braxley house.

So it stood to reason that Abby was not even slightly afraid to spend the night alone in said house.

It was all Clark’s fault. Abby hadn’t expected to see him in the small coffee shop near where her Aunt’s lived. The arrogant brat who had made her primary school years hell and now seemed hell bent on making her young adult years equally dreadful, was the very last person she would have ever expected to see. But as it turned out his parents owned a manor just down the road.

Just her luck.

A shocked meeting had turned into stilted conversation and finally an argument regarding the deserted house at the edge of town. Clark told her about the stories involving a vampire living in the house and missing teens. Abby told him that the stories were all nonsense. It was then that Clark made the dare. “Well if there is no vampire, you won’t be worried to spend the night there, will you? Unless you’re a scardy cat?”

“Jerk,” Abby muttered as she marched up the overgrown drive to the Braxley House. “I’ll just show him who’s the scardy cat.”

Not Abby’s proudest moment.

The house was even more foreboding as she drew closer. It stood three stories high. Once upon a time it would have been painted white but now most of the paint had peeled in the sun and wind leaving the looming mansion a grey-brown color.

Three rickety looking steps led up to a wide front porch. Abby took them slowly, trying not to put too much weight on them though they creaked and bent under her sneakered feet. At the door she moved to knock then with a wry smile grabbed the large bulbous doorknob. It creaked loudly on rusty hinges and she had to really push to open the door.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Mold, dust and that old house smell she recognized from her aunt’s house, only stronger. She looked over her shoulder and shivered, the sun had set and dark clouds were moving quickly across the sky. Cool wind blew her long brown hair around her face and looking up again she saw the flash of lightning.

Wonderful. There couldn’t be anything better then spending the night in an old abandoned house; possibly haunted or housing a vampire, during a thunderstorm. Abby rolled her eyes, pulled her backpack more firmly to her back and stepped inside then closed the door behind her.

Pulling a lighter and a candle from her pocket she lit the wick and looked around. The foyer was mostly empty. There was an old chair in the far corner and a little table with a vase that she imagined might have once held flowers. She walked on through over squeaky floorboards into a side room where there was an old sofa, another with a table and chairs. Everything was covered in dust. Through the dining room was another door and there was an old kitchen. She ran her finger over a dusty bench and opened a cupboard.

“But when she went there the cupboards were bare…” Not surprising really.

A loud creak came from somewhere upstairs. Abby jumped, her heart in her throat.

She exhaled slowly and let out a breathless laugh. Just an old house with creaky sounds. She was spooking herself. Well the best way to destroy a fantasy was a good old dose of reality. With another deep calming breath, Abby looked up at the ceiling.

“Here I go – I guess,” she said, her voice hushed.

Looking up the stairs she grimaced at the thought of just how old and unsafe they would be. She planted her hand firmly on the handrail and started up. Slowly, one foot in front of the other, again trying vainly to not put too much weight on her steps as she went. Each step creaked and bent but stayed.

THUMP

Abby stopped dead mid-step. She tipped her head to the side but no other sound was forthcoming.

She continued upwards.

One step at a time.

The last two steps she took at a run and pressed her back against the landing wall. “Well, that went well.” She peaked over the edge and down again. “Hopefully it will go that well when I want to leave.” If you get to leave.

Shut up!

The first door opened to a bathroom; toilet, bath with feet and a charming little sink. The next was a bedroom, but was empty; dark curtains shrouded a dirty window. All the other rooms were the same. Two more bathrooms and three more empty bedrooms took up most of the level.

CREAK

Abby jumped and spun around. The sound came from a room at the end of the hall. She licked her lips and starred at that door. It was larger then the others; the wood decorated with intricate carvings. That must have been the main bedroom.

And that was where the sound was coming from.

“Relax, Abby,” she scolded herself in the same hushed tone. “It’s probably just the wind or maybe an open window.” Yeah you keep telling yourself that.

Suddenly Clark’s sneering voice spoke in her head, “I knew you couldn’t take it, Abby.”

“I can bloody take anything you can dish out, Clark.” She muttered and started towards the room.

Her feet felt like they were made of lead. Each step seemed to take ages and the door felt miles away. But there were no more sounds from the room. That had to be a good thing. Right?

Three more steps and she stopped again. Was that music? The sound was so soft she could barely make it out. The rumbling of thunder drowned out everything but her heartbeat. Then as the rumbling subsided she could hear it again. Soft, melodic and sweet violin music, but who was playing?

Maybe it was coming from one of the neighboring houses? Blowing over on the wind… Could be.

She kept going – Too late to turn back now. No one could call her a scardy cat… Damm pride.

She reached the door after what felt like hours. The sound of the violin’s mesmerizing melody drew her closer. Something ticked in the back of her mind. A story she’d heard the end of, not so long ago. Someone swore they heard violin music coming from this house sometimes at night. Or was that somewhere else? Damn her imagination was in overdrive.

Still the violin played on. Rising and dipping it seemed to dance around her; pulling her closer to the door. Her hand seemed to move under its own volition and reached up to the knob but before she could touch it the door swung open.

Abby gasped at the vision that greeted her. Candles hung and swayed high in the room lighting up the main bedroom. She stepped inside. Shadows flowed and shimmered over a huge four-poster bed, a corner table held a large vase with blood red roses. The smell was delightful and the music seemed to fill her senses and somehow her soul.

“Surprised?” Clark said and stepped out of a dark corner, a violin hanging loosely in his left hand.

She laughed. One long breathless burst and fell against the doorframe. “Clark! You great bloody git.”

He grinned widely, white teeth glinting in the candlelight. “In the flesh, babe.” He swaggered towards her, black slacks and white undone shirt revealing his smooth, defined chest. His hair hung jagged just above his shoulders and his expression was a mask of smug masculinity. “Admit it, love, you’re glad to see me.”

Abby could only smile back at him. She was very glad it was him as apposed to say a vampire and there was an odd flipping in her stomach as he came closer. He’d always been handsome but she’d never really thought about it before. Now that they were alone together in this candlelit room, he looked damned near edible. And he was looking at her as though he felt quite the same.

“Were you the one playing?” she asked mainly to break the silence.

He nodded, moving closer.

Her heart started beating faster and breathing was getting harder. “And you did this for me?”

He nodded again.

She shook her head. “You are just full of surprises aren’t you?”

Clark reached out and took her hand. He brought it to his lips, wrist upwards, and placed a warm, lingering kiss there. Her pulse spiked and she felt him smile against it. “Babe, you have no idea.” He raised his face and grinned to reveal long, wickedly sharp fangs.

“Oh God…” Was all she had time to gasp.

Abby’s scream was swallowed by the storm.

Years later stories still circulated in dark corners of parties, from boys to their giggling dates, around fireplaces, in whispers and rumors. Some swore they heard the haunting sounds of two violins coming from the old abandoned house on the edge of town...

End

On Writing: New Enlightenment

2010-04-07T22:40:00.000-07:00

After writing on and off for the past few years with some success I’ve decided that it’s time to take my writing more seriously. I’m not getting any younger and my unfinished masterpieces aren’t getting any more complete, so I’ve decided to take a positive step and move my writing to a new level.

If I’m going to take my writing seriously and hopefully dig out a new career for myself I really need to learn how. I mean I know how to tell a story and I have the basics of English and Grammar up to scratch but what about other things? I need to learn about writers discipline, how to separate my good ideas from the lame ones, how to develop an idea from plot bunny to full fledged novel.

All this dancing around my head I Found How to Think Sideways: Career Survival School for Writers. This is exactly what I want! I don’t just want to learn how to write I know that part backwards, what I need help with is how to make a career out of my writing. Rather then just being able to plug out a story when the mood is right I need to learn how to write and keep writing no matter what is going on in my life. I want help with effective plotting and writing project management and I really think this is where I can learn all that.

That said I received the first lesson today and as I was reading through I actually felt the breath leave my lungs in a gush of realization. Holly talks about her family and how she pulled herself through hard times and points out the various barriers that block our creative minds and as I’m reading I’m seeing myself in one of the people she talks about.

And this is where it gets personal: If you're squeamish maybe you should leave it here and find one of my stories to read. This is the only time I'm going to mention this dark part of my past in any real detail so please don't run away :D

I was molested as a child – I don’t think that is ever going to be an easy thing to say – there were worse cases then mine and all in all I think I have grown up and moved on rather well but for a long time I was a victim. I would behave badly because I believed that I had been wronged and therefore had a right to sway from the rules, I blamed the people around me for not being the blinding force of protection I thought they should have been and I generally didn’t function well believing that I was broken so what was the use?

This all went on until one day I just snapped. I didn’t like who I was becoming and all in all truth self pity is very draining. I gave myself a lecture very similar to the one Holly gave her “friend” in her story. I told myself to get off my butt and stop wallowing in self pity. I was not the only one in the world to have something like this happen to them, in fact as a child of the 80’s I seem to be just one of many survivors of child sexual abuse. My case was mild, mild, mild compared to some of the stories we hear about so what the hell was I doing?

Who we are is not determined by others but by ourselves. How many times had I raged at a news report stating that a child abuser was let off lighter because he too had been a victim. We make our own choices! I was abused but I NEVER abused another, never wanted to and never would.

1. Because I find the whole idea of abusing a child or another human being absolutely abhorrent.

2. Because I made a choice not to be that person.

So what does this have to do with anything, apart from me needing to put all this into words? I realized something as I was reading Holly’s lecture about not being a victim and getting up and following your dreams. I like stories about broken people. In fact I never realized but I actually seek out and am drawn to characters who have either a childhood trauma, assault victims, or some other barrier holding them back from living the life they know everyone else is living. I love watching their struggle but more to the point I love watching them overcome that barrier. I loving reading about teens standing up to their abusive stepfathers, adults confronting their demons head on, and women finding love and refusing to hide in the shadows any longer.

These are the kind of characters I want to write. Women who have seen the dark side of the world and have suffered and lived in fear – I want to write those women getting stronger, making choices, falling in loving with men worth loving and finding out that there is good in the world through trial and error, making friends and confronting enemies, Women learning how to live and learning to love the new person they’ve become.

Wow I just kept on going there didn’t I? Anyway I just needed to get that all said, more to clear my mind then anything else.

I should get some sleep now.

Night all

XxXx

Sandra Connor

As the World Falls

2010-04-07T22:34:00.000-07:00

As the World Falls
By Sandra Connor

Flash Fiction: Horror/Romance

The groaning was getting louder. Deep and empty moans of the living dead followed them up the alley, round the corner and finally the two last survivors found a heavy door and quickly opened it and ran inside, slamming it behind them.

“Oh God, do you think they saw us come in here?” Katie gasped, staring at the door as though she could see through it.

Ray grabbed the edge of a table and dragged it over. “Probably,” he replied, breathing hard. “Get out the way.”

She moved and helped him with the table then together they grabbed chairs and anything else they could find and stacking everything against the door.

Ray grinned, blowing his fringe out of his eyes. “That should keep the bastards out.”

Katie curled her arm in his and leaned heavily against him. “Yeah.” She was too exhausted to say more.

He looked down at her and gently brushed a stray hair from her face. “We’re alive Katie.”

“Yes but…”

Ray shook his head and pulled Katie into his arms. “No, nothing else matters. We’re alive and we’re together.” He tipped her face up with a single finger under her chin. “And there is nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The deteriorating world outside slowly slipped away when Katie looked into those stormy grey eyes. His mouth descended and captured hers in a kiss that took her breath away the same way it had the first time they kissed.

The soulless groaning outside the small haven went on and slowly receded as the undead roving outside lost interest and moved on to find raw meat that wasn’t so difficult to get to.

Inside, Katie’s moans were music to Ray’ ears. The world might be over but their love was still a molten pot of passion. Whether they survived or not; they would at least be together.