The Bloody Valentine Horror Event: Wedding Day

It's that time of year again, the time to embrace the bad side of love: the rejected lovers, the spurned spouses, and the generally lovelorn. It is a celebration of everything anti-valentine and down with romance. It's time for...

The Bloody Valentine Horror Event!

This is my annual Facebook/Blog Event for everything anti-valentine. This is an open posting extravaganza so anyone can join in on the macabre fun. And today's blog portion is a horror tale of the wedding from Hell...

Wedding Day

Noah remembered the nightmare. The stone room. The monstrous creatures.

The pain.

He remembered screaming.

And now... the soft comfort of his bed.

I’m awake. I’m awake. It’s over.

He lay in his bed, his heart racing, and stared at his bedroom ceiling. He counted the grooves in the cornices and the decorative plaster roses until his breathing eased and the fright subsided. Then he turned his head, and glanced at the window; slivers of the morning sun crept past the half-open drapes. His new wedding attire hung carefully on a rack beside the casement. Ready. Waiting.

I’m getting married today.

He smiled. Becky.

He sat upright, and then climbed out of bed. As his feet touched the ornate rug, pain stabbed into his back and he tumbled to the floor. Agony sliced through his body and he shrieked, his eyes shutting tight. His body spasmed, and then curled into a ball. He felt a cold hand stroking his cheek, and Becky’s voice whispered, “Don’t fight it. Let the pain take you. Let go...”

The words chased him into oblivion.

Noah heard voices.

“Get him up. It’s time.”

“He’s ready?”

“He’s been prepared. Anymore and he might die.”

“You’re right. These humans are so fragile.”

Humans? Who’s talking? What’s happening to me?

Noah didn’t want to open his eyes, but he did.

Fangs, horns and red eyes stared at him. Clawed hands held his limp body upright. His noticed his shirt was missing, and his skin... what he could see of his body was covered in arcane tattoos.

What have they done to me!  

Noah screamed. He thrashed in the strong grip of his captors.

“Hold him still! Pin his arms! We need to deliver him on time!”

Noah fought, but he had no strength. He could not prevent them from dragging him from his cell.

“Please let me wake up,” he mumbled as unconscious darkness claimed him.

Noah heard music. He opened his eyes.

He stood in front of an altar in his wedding suit. Becky walked down the aisle towards him.

It was just a nightmare. I’m getting married. To my sweet, adoring Becky.

He smiled as his bride stopped in front of him. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

Noah heard a voice say, “Do you take this female to be your wedded wife?”

“I do.” he replied.

“And do you take this male human to be your wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Noah’s heart raced.

“Then I pronounce you bonded in unholy matrimony! One in blood and in fire for eternity!”

Wait that’s not right. Why would he say that? Noah’s hands trembled, his body shook.

Becky stroked his cheek once more. “Shut your eyes, Noah. And remember.”

Noah dutifully closed his eyes.

Pain shuddered through his body.

Becky’s voice commanded, “Open your eyes, Noah!

His eyelids snapped open. The church, the music, the beautiful wedding, disappeared. Replaced by him tied spread-eagled to iron spikes, encircled by fire and monsters.

But Becky, his beautiful Becky, still stood in front of him.

Still dressed in her wedding... the light shifted, her face changed. Became— Noah gasped.

No, no! That’s not Becky! Red skin, horns, fangs... That thing can’t be... but it has her eyes, her beautiful green eyes.

“You can’t be Becky!”

“Oh, but I am. The very one you fell in love with. And married, only moments ago.” The thing that was Becky stepped closer, and stroked his cheek, her claws scratching his skin. “But it is nice to finally show you my true self.” She smiled, her rows of razor-sharp teeth glistening in the firelight. “Hello, husband. Time to kiss the bride.” Noah nearly gagged as she kissed him, her forked tongue flicking down his throat. As she withdrew, the same tongue licked across his lips. Noah shuddered. “No, no, it can’t be.” The whisper resonated in the air, like a mocking chuckle. “We were—this isn’t—the church—our wedding...”

“Sorry, love. All illusions conjured by your mind. You’ve been here for months, my dear."

“Here?”

“Hell, of course. Since the day you asked me to marry you. Or rather asked that human skin I fabricated.” She traced a claw over his tattooed skin. “It takes time to make a human ready.”

“Ready?” Noah’s voice trembled. “Ready for what?”

“To wed a demon.” She smiled, her tongue licking his neck, her claws scraping across his chest. “These symbols bind you to me, bind you to Hell.” She pressed her face next to his; he felt her hot breath wash over his skin. “You are mine, Noah. Our little ritual will bring me great power, and you great pain. Welcome to married life, my love. Welcome to unholy wedded bliss!”
Noah felt something sharp stab into his abdomen, his agony ripping a shriek from his throat. He glanced down to see his wife's claws piercing his body.
"Does that hurt, husband? Too bad, for what wedding would be complete without a feast? Shall we start with your spleen?" She sliced open his stomach and extracted his organ. She took a bite and ate it slowly while he watched. "Very tasty. Perhaps the liver next?"
"Please, please, no!" He moaned, pleading for mercy.
"Shh, shh, Noah." She stroked his cheek and he shied at her touch. "Don't worry, my love. Nothing I do here will kill you. That's what the binding is for. I will eat your insides piece by piece and fill your hollow shell with Hellfire. Then you will be one of us. Won't that be fun?" With a smile, she reached back inside of his abdomen. "Yes, I definitely think the liver, next."

Noah’s unending scream echoed on the trail of her laughter.

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 

And for more fun check out Facebook:

The Bloody Valentine Horror Event 

National Poetry Month Day 29: In Memory of Forgotten Loves #NaPoWriMo

To reminisce about lost love, on Day 29 of National Poetry Month...

In Memory of Forgotten Loves

Wandering the streets of old Paris, lost

in tender thought, our woven dreams rose glossed

Our sweet hands entangled, in youth’s concord

grasping absolute love, as we adored,

until affection fled with winter’s frost

Another love, passion’s kiss breathed star-crossed

Fire and ice, lovers sailing tempest tossed

The flame died quickly, we became unmoored—

wandering the streets

Years produced caution, and love less embossed

reflected esteem, contemplated cost

I tried, but often her heart, I ignored

The day she left, I watched as the rain poured,

churning the soot and the smell of exhaust

wandering the streets

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved

National Poetry Month Day 20: Love Insanity #NaPoWriMo

Today's poem, for this Day 20 of National Poetry Day, hearkens towards broken hearts and madmen...

Love or Insanity?

Love insanity

Love banality?

Banality bait

Banality—wait

Wait for love

Wait in vain?

Vain endeavours

Vain forever

Forever searching

Forever lost

Lost love

Lost your mind

Mind your heart

Mind your words

Words of love

Words of hate

Hate betrayal

Hate being lonely

Lonely life

Lonely anger

Anger building

Anger spilling

Spilling over

Spilling out

Out with heartache

Out and about

About you

About reprisal

Reprisal walking

Reprisal stalking

Stalking the ex

Stalking complex

Complex feelings

Complex thoughts

Thoughts black

Thoughts insanity?

Insanity maybe

Insanity swirling

Swirling around

Swirling brain

Brain clicking

Brain ticking

Ticking clock

Ticking off

Off to see

Off limits

Limits and hurts

Limits in love

Love

Hurts

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 

This Is The Bloody Valentine Horror Hop!

Welcome to the Bloody Valentine Horror Hop!

The place where Valentine’s Day is celebrated with heartbreak, love gone wrong, romantic mayhem and tragedy, and where you find out what happens when the rose petals die, the candy melts, and lovers are looking for payback.

The bloggers that signed on are offering many delights in romantic misfortune, and you can check out the full list at the end of this post.

First up, though, is my contribution:

• A creepy little story about lingering too long in a relationship
• Some poetry — two poems written by me and another penned by special guest poet, Sean Theall

So read on…

Leaking Out

Drip, drip, drip.

The sound dances with the sunbeams streaming through the bedroom window. It’s a rhythm, a mind numbing vibration of liquid striking metal. Such a strange sound to hear in the morning, the drip, drip, drip of the tap.

Or is it the tap?

Maybe it isn’t a leak. Maybe it’s something else. Blood flowing through the veins of the house. Drip, drip, dripping someone’s life away. All oozing out over the sink. Or the floor.

I wonder why I thought that?

I smell coffee.

I’m in the kitchen.

How did I get here? I’m not sure. My memory plays tricks these days. Or maybe time is playing tricks. Either way, I’ve gotten used to it. Mostly. But the dripping noise is gone. Maybe it never was. Maybe it was in my head. Probably was. Too many things are in my head.

But I still smell coffee. And toast. He made breakfast. He always made breakfast when we were first married. Or maybe I did. No, that’s not true. He did. He was sweet in the beginning.

I don’t think he’s here anymore. I think he left. But I don’t know why. Why would he leave? None of this feels right. All I know is the house is empty. Shut up tight. It’s so quiet.

And there’s no breakfast on the table. Just dust.

We were happy.

I thought we were happy.

I must’ve been wrong.

Something must’ve been wrong.

Our happiness had cracks.

He didn’t love me.

Or he wouldn’t have… no, I won’t… he didn’t… couldn’t have… he left me?

No.

I left?

Drip, drip, drip.

I can hear it again. The wet noise.

It isn't coming from the kitchen. It sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom.

But it may not be coming from anywhere, except my head. It’s hard sometimes to know.

I’m standing outside the bathroom door now. But I was just in the kitchen. Wasn’t I? I think I was. Maybe not.

I don’t want to be here. Why? Why do I want to run? Something happened in there? I think it did. My hand is shaking.

I’m afraid.

But I can still hear the dripping.

I open the door.

The room is empty. A cheerless room.

I look down.

The stain’s still there. It’s been scrubbed and scrubbed, but it wouldn’t come out of the tile. Where the blood dripped into the widening pool of red. Bright, bright red. The stain’s more pink now.

It’s even kind of pretty. If I forget what made it.

Blood. Too much blood.

Painted on my memory. Scarlet and screaming, and all jumbled with questions. Whys and how’s. I don’t have answers. I’m not sure I want answers. I might not like them. I’d rather forget. I like it best when I don’t remember it at all. Those are the best days.

But that’s not today. Today’s not a day when I don’t remember.

Today I know what happened.

Someone died.

No, someone was murdered.

I remember.

My husband murdered me.

~*~

Though I Be A Fool…

Though I be a fool, I shall weep

for you, and what will never stay,

my fleeting, broken love so cheap.

Though I be a fool, I shall weep.

And I mourn, my grief wide and deep,

as the sun dims, and clouds grow grey.

Though I be a fool, I shall weep

for you, and what will never stay.

~*~

Murmur’s Echo

A fume of glacial breath

beside you,

in the graveyard

Ephemeral vapors wafting,

far adrift

across the moonlight

Prickles teasing at your ear,

spinal shivers

One voice whispering

Stay with me…

Stay with me…

For Eternity

~*~

And Now For Our Guest Poet...

The Last Commitment

Here my lovely let us have one last meal.

one more chance to be together and

tell you how I feel.

Upon the table in a vase

is a half-life rose, this meeting

is to see if we still have a pulse

and where our future goes.

Steak or chicken your personal

choice. recite your order in

that sweet tiny voice.

Trying to get a emotional reading

from your laugh and smile.

taking my emotions placing

them on a railroad track

with a train coming, and

still expect love back.

All you really want is my

blood and my heart, do away

with my husk a brand new start.

Not to mention the green

my leather case. will this lunch

end in death by broken vase?

I would like to attempt to

beat you to the punch, wanted

to see what we could salvage

this was the idea behind this

lunch.

It appears we must take on

different roles. I as the mongoose

and you as the snake there is only

so much of that hidden evil smile

I can take. dancing around the

truth maybe realizing too late

we can't live under the same

roof.

One final gesture from me

silently holding my breath.

handing you a glass of red wine

nervously waiting for you to

take sip and end our jointed

time.

Feeling lightheaded or woozy

my angel? let me put you to

bed. sleep off your hangover

and fall quickly to your death.

The authorities will not suspect

a thing. all they will see is

you sleeping soundly in bed.

only I will know the truth,

you are finally gone;

stone cold dead.

Copyright 2011

Sean C. Theall

~*~

About the Hop, and the Blogger List

We also had a last minute entry not on the official list, but well worth the read:

http://timetravel21217.blogspot.ca/2015/02/a-bloody-good-time.html

The Bloody Valentine Horror Hop 2015

Once again I've decided to host a dark, blood dripping Valentine's Day blog hop on February 14th. This year's hop has a tweak though, with a slight name change.

It will now be christened: The Bloody Valentine Horror Hop. 

Now on with the introductions.

The Bloody Valentine Horror Hop

The premise of this hop is to be the antithesis of Valentine's Day. There's no sweet romance, or lovey-dovey stuff allowed. It's down with the idea of candy and flowers. For one day writers and bloggers will dispense with the sappy romance, and showcase the bad side of love.

We will be celebrating heartbreak, love gone wrong, romantic mayhem and tragedy, hopefully with that little splash of humour and blood. At the Bloody Valentine Horror Hop you will find out what happens when the rose petals die, the candy melts, and lovers are looking for payback.


Hop Rules:

• Sign up for the hop (see below) 
• Write a story, a poem, views on the bad side of love, basically any type of post celebrating the horrors of "love gone wrong" (that means no happy endings, no sweet romantic stories) 
• Add the list of participating bloggers or a link back here to this blog. 
• Add our lovely logo to your post (feel free to copy or download it) or create your own logo (just include the title: The Bloody Valentine Horror Hop) 
• Post on Valentine's Day

Note: Contests are optional, but can be included in the post and are welcome.

All you have to do, if you like to to be one of our bloggers and add your blog to the Bloody Valentine Horror Hop list, is click the "add your link" button below and sign up. Note: after signing up you should be able to grab a copy of the list code to add to your post here:  get the InLinkz code 
If you have a problem, let me know I'll be happy to send you a copy of the code.

So, join the fun and mark it on your calendar!

CLICK THE BLUE BUTTON TO SIGN-UP

The Bloody Valentine After Party

The Bloody Valentine After Party

Yesterday’s blog hop was great fun, with a wonderful selection of “love gone bad” posts. Some of my personal favourites were Chris Verstraete , Nina D'Arcangela, Jennifer Greene, and L.G. Keltner, but everyone who posted did a fabulous job. I hope everyone had as much fun as I did.

Now on to the my Bloody Valentine contest winner.
The Rafflecopter widget has pulled a name from its magic hat, and the lucky person who won my four ebook and digital artwork package is:

Nina D'Arcangela 

Congratulations, you shall be receiving an email shortly.

And thanks to everyone who participated, and to all who visited the blogs. See you next year for some more bad love.

Welcome to the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop

Greetings to all, and welcome to the second Bloody Valentine Blog Hop. 

A place where the red roses have died and the chocolates are poisoned.

So down with love, and on with the fun!

I have a variety of dark treats for you on this stop of the hop, plus as part of the celebration I'm holding a contest to win some books and some artwork.  And don't forget to check out the other hoppers when you're done here. There's a list at the bottom of this post. Just scroll way down to find it.

First up on the menu is a devilish assignation. This story features my character, the demon Balthazar, from Killers and Demons (and the upcoming sequel, Killers and Demons II: The Return). Here he's visiting an old romantic acquaintance:

Wicked Intentions

His thin hand lifted the wine to his lips and he sipped, savouring the flavour. A delicious vintage, a perfect complement to the company. Balthazar smiled at his companion, the attractive creature calling herself Mrs. Crocker.

“A lovely red, my dear.”

“A French vintage.” She returned his smile.

The pair sat in chairs facing each other, perched on the velvet upholstery of Mrs. Crocker’s parlour. The crystal decanter rested on the table between them, and a cozy fire crackled in the hearth.

“It’s been a long time, Balthazar. Not since that mess in Ireland. I’m looking forward to rekindling our acquaintance. The last time was quite… rigorous.” She laughed softly and licked her plump lips. “It was also quite memorable.”

“Yes, it was that.” An odd note of sentimentality crept into his voice, “I always had a weakness for you, Hala.” He stopped smiling and set down his half-empty wine glass.

“However, renewing our familiarity is not why I sought you out this evening.” He stood. “You know, I believe I may actually regret this. That will be a first for me.”

He could see the fear forming in her eyes; the grip on her glass tightened and she shivered.

“What’s going on, Balthazar?”

“He knows, our mutual employer knows. About your transgressions. And he sent me here to punish you.”

He snapped his fingers, and in a breath, demon fire engulfed her.

With horrific screams she burned, her body shuddering, flailing, sizzling, but for once Balthazar took no pleasure in a death. He simply watched stone-faced, until she became nothing more than ash scattered over the unsinged blue velvet of her chair and the parlour floor. Her wine glass fell, cracking, and left a red stain on the carpet.

With a sigh, Balthazar took his leave.

For the second course a small bite of a marriage ending in tragedy:

Recovery

Sally Benson prepared herself to die. She stretched out on the bottom of the lifeboat and closed her eyes. The water lapped against the side of the boat, the air passed over her with the faint scent of salt and fish. And in the distance, she heard the sound of a motor.

Two months later, she finally felt comfortable at home; a remarkable recovery from her ordeal everyone told her. Her rescue from the bobbing waves of the ocean by the Coast Guard had become a media sensation. She was heralded a hero, the lone survivor of the sinking of the yacht, and given deepest condolences on the tragic death of her husband.

Through her tears, Sally put on a good show with a brave smile. She answered the questions of the Coast Guard and the police, giving them the answers they wanted to hear, relieved when they ruled the sinking an accident.

Sally just wanted the truth to stay buried, submerged on the bottom of the ocean with her cheating, murderous rat of a husband. She didn't want anyone to know how her husband rigged the boat to sink, how he tried to kill her, tried to make her death look like an accident. She escaped though, even if the life raft she chose had a busted motor. Her bad luck she picked the wrong one.

And she needed one more truth to stay hidden. The truth she beat him at his own game of murder. The truth that a poisoned glass of champagne trumped a sabotaged boat.

And to finish, we end with some poetry:

Bittersweet Symphony

Bittersweet,

this taste on my tongue

as your fine chocolates

melt in my mouth.

I hear the strains of music,

something romantic,

a gift from you.

I breathe in the scent

of the soft, red roses

you gave me yesterday;

“My Valentine,” you said.

But, that was yesterday

when I believed,

when I lived the lie,

before this morning.

Before I watched you

kiss her.

Now I wait for you

with my bittersweet love

and my gun.

Black Rose

You gave me a rose

black as night, to match your heart

and I am alone

Here's the Contest:

Enter by the rafflecopter entry widget below for a chance to win a prize pack of four of my Smashwords ebooks, Fairy Tale Fusion, Reflections of Poetry, Killers and Demons and Gothic Cavalcade, plus some of my Bloody Valentine digital artwork, including the Black Rose poem seen above. 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Here's a list of participating bloggers and what the hop's all about.

The Bloody Valentine Blog Hop Starts Tomorrow!

Tomorrow, February 14th, the disturbing and deadly aspect of romance takes center stage with the darkly delightful, blood dripping, Bloody Valentine Blog Hop. This Valentine's Day blog hop combines horror with romance, where it's down with the idea of candy and flowers. For one day twenty plus writers and bloggers will dispense with the sappy romance, and show you the bad side of love. 

We will be celebrating heartbreak, love gone wrong, romantic mayhem and tragedy, hopefully with that little splash of humour and blood.  On the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop you will find out what happens when the rose petals die, the candy melts, and lovers are looking for payback.

So come back here on Valentine's Day where we kick things off, and then continue hopping on through the trail of broken hearts...

Join the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop 2014

Again this year, on February 14th,  I'll be hosting a darkly delightful, blood dripping, Valentine's Day blog hop where it's down with the idea of candy and flowers. For one day writers and bloggers will dispense with the sappy romance, and show you the bad side of love. 

We will be celebrating heartbreak, love gone wrong, romantic mayhem and tragedy, hopefully with that little splash of humour and blood.  On the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop you will find out what happens when the rose petals die, the candy melts, and lovers are looking for payback.

All you have to do if you like to to be one of our bloggers, is scroll on down to the bottom of this blog to the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop list, click the "add your link" button and sign up.
Then on Valentine's Day you simply post your story, poem or views on the bad side of love, adding a list of participating bloggers or a link back here to this blog. You can also add the lovely logo seen on this post if you wish.

So, join the fun and mark it on your calendar!   

Welcome to the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop!

Welcome to the Bad Side of Love, as you join in with the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop.  On this day of romance, hearts, chocolate and flowers, a stalwart few writers and bloggers have banded together to celebrate the darker shades of the Valentine.  You'll find no tender affection, no happy endings, as you wander through our morbid maze of love gone wrong, for we will be breaking hearts and trashing romance....

Here's a list of the participating bloggers.  Please visit as many as possible and join them in amorous mayhem.

Love, Romanian Style |   plagueofdissent.wordpress.com |  Dean Harrison-Horror Author
A Diamond In The Dark |  A Bloody Kind of Lust | Keith Pyeatts Horror with Heart Blog
The Cult of Me |  Bestiary Parlor: The Musings of a Zoologist |  Sheila Deeths Blog
Yours in Storytelling |  Bertrams Blog | Laughing for a Living
Worldbinding | Pagan Spirits |  Exile on Peachtree Street | A. F. Stewarts Blog

Here's my little contribution to the Bloody Valentine Blog Hop. 

Bring on the romantic misfortune and Down with Love!

First up, to whet your appetite, is a little Twilight parody:

Rod Serling Meets the Sparkly Vampires

Submitted for your approval.  One teenage girl with severe self-esteem issues being stalked by a conflicted love-sick vampire.  Next stop Twilight Zone...

“Oh, why doesn’t Ned like me enough?  Why does he keep pushing me away?  Oh, Ned, Ned, Ned!”  Ella throws herself onto her bed in a melodramatic huff.  “Maybe I should just forget about drooling after hunky vampires and chase after Jack, my dreamy, supportive, best friend werewolf instead?”  She groans spectacularly, as if in pain.  “Oh Ned, oh Jack, Ned, Jack, which one should I chose?”

Thirty thousand sighs later, she’s pacing the room moaning about Ned again.  “Oh Ned, I love you so, can’t you see that?”  The wind flutters the curtains and she turns to the window.  A shadowy figure sits on her sill, a silhouette in the moonlight.

“I do see that you love me, and I can’t resist you anymore.”  Ned enters her bedroom and crosses the floor to sweep her into her arms.

“Oh, Ned,” she gasps breathily.

“Just remember, you wanted this.”  In a flash, Ned strikes, sinking his fangs into her neck and eagerly he drains her blood from her body.  When he’s had his fill he carries her limp form to the bed and lays her down tenderly.

Ella’s eyes flutter open.  Knowing she is dying, her hand reaches out and her lips part, whispering, “Why, Ned, why?”

“Really, Ella, what did you expect?  I’m a vampire, it’s what we do.  Besides,” he said with a blood-smeared grin, “haven’t you heard, you always hurt the one you love.”

Now follow the decaying scent of the dead roses and read a few morbid tidbits from my new book of poems, Reflections of Poetry:

What Stays Behind

The lingering scent,

memories of rose petals,

drift in the silence

of an empty room

full of fading ghosts.

Alone again,

with cracked dreams

and a broken heart

thumping, an echo

of that slamming door.

Sitting in the shadows

with disappointment

and the promises dead.

Any hope out of reach,

lost this time, forever.

Tea and Tears

The hourglass runs its sand

as the tea pours; her hand, it shakes

in grief, for her heart breaks

with pain, her spirit aches, adrift.

She fills her cup, his gift

Their tea set, bought from thrift, by love,

flaws ignored, prized above

the chip on the edge of the spout.

She drinks, the bitter doubt

gone; her candle burns out in haze.

Somewhere a soft flute plays,

to echo soul’s malaise, so grand.

Spanish Melody

A sweet song in the night

of past love, adrift.

A mournful, raw lament

for the defeated heart.

On the wind it ascends

as the coo of a tender dove,

evoking gentle memories

across the mountains.

The harmony swirls regret, ache

through the swaying trees.

Even the iridescent moon weeps

with the forlorn singer.

Faded

A faded red silk ribbon

tied around an aged box

full of tattered love letters.

Regrets from a past youth.

Tucked away, overlooked,

but still there, dusty, waiting.

Someday fingers will unfold

the pages of pale memories.

~

Reflections of Poetry

Go through the looking glass into the world of verse and discover this eclectic collection of poetry. The poems range from musings on Celtic heritage to embracing emotional turmoil. Throw in a little moonlight, the soothing sounds of the sea, and mix well with some sci-fi and fantasy for a lyrical medley of reading enjoyment.

Available at:
Smashwords
Amazon 

And now, if you've made it all the way to the end, you get to read about my contest.  If you'd like to win a free Smashwords ecopy of both my new poetry book, Reflectons of Poetry and my short story collection, Killers and Demons (complete with a story of a very bad Valentine date) just leave a comment telling me which of the poems in this post you liked the best.  The more morbid and outrageous the reason, the better.  I'll pick my favourite as the winner.  Good Luck!