Showing posts with label immortality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label immortality. Show all posts

Monday, 6 July 2020

Book Spotlight: The Seven Experiments

Today I have a book spotlight for you, on the psychic thriller/horror novel, The Seven Experiments by Stephen Kanicki. Enjoy.


The Seven Experiments by Stephen Kanicki



Doctor Gary Miller learns to manifest his heart’s desires through seven, easy experiments; his world will soon come crashing down. 

Doctor Gary Miller is introduced to the world of self-help in the form of seven experiments. Each experiment is designed to focus Dr. Miller's mind, so he can realize his dreams through the power of thought alone: conceive it, believe it, and achieve it. He's dubious at first, but frustrations at work and a loveless marriage lead him down the rabbit hole. Much to his surprise, the experiments work. In fact, they work unbelievably well, and he soon discovers they can lead beyond the acquisition of material wealth. They can make him immortal, and God-like. However, Dr. Miller will learn getting what you want isn't always a good thing. In fact, it can be quite maddening. Just be careful what you ask for.



The Seven Experiments is available on Amazon



About the Author






Stephen Kanicki enjoys thought-provoking, reality-based science fiction. His novel, The Seven Experiments, explores religious, spiritual and metaphysical themes woven into an imaginative and frightening narrative. Kanicki is a father, a teacher, and an award-winning photographer. When he's not writing, he likes to run and if his aging body can stand it, he would love to complete his third marathon. 


Saturday, 25 February 2017

Book Spotlight: Anaerfell by Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd

Today I have a book spotlight for the newly released second edition of the dark fantasy novel, Anaerfell by Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd. I have a look at the book and an excerpt. Enjoy!




Anaerfell by Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd





Drast, cunning but reckless, is on the hunt for admiration. Tyran, calculating but tactless, is in search of affection. Bound by a friendship thicker than blood, the two brothers have been hardened by their father’s ambitions. Drast and Tyran are forced to set aside their own hopes and dreams during their struggle to fulfill their father’s desire for immortality. Now, the two will face skin-switchers and dragons, ultimately leading to a final clash with Wolos, God of the Dead.



Anaerfell is available at Amazon







Excerpt from Anaerfell


Erzebeth convulsed. Her fur and skin shedding away while she wheeled about on the ground in agony. The bones readjusted and organs reset from beast to human. Where a beast had stood was now the naked figure of Erzebeth. Cuts and scratches patterned her body, but none were fatal.
Tyran had no place for modesty. The Vucari woman, within the privacy of the ice dome, struggled to her feet. Again, her dark eyes met his own, filled with compassion.
“You need to be put down, young Red.” Her voice was calm as her feet crossed in front of one another, closing the distance between them. “Your power is greater than any I have seen before, even from the Anshedar.”
“What?” Tyran said, forehead wrinkled with confusion. He had never heard of the race before, whether beast or otherwise.
“You are like a rabid dog, young Red. You are the perfect companion, loyal, and possibly even loving somewhere deep inside,” Erzebeth bit her lip. Her breasts, barely covered by her dark hair, touched the front of his chest. She halted her feet. “But, you are tainted by a disease that is stronger than the goodness in you. You cannot be left to live in this world, or you will corrupt every living thing around you.”
Tyran tilted his chin, lips parting. His free hand touched her pale skin, as whitish as the ice fortress that veiled this moment.
“You would taint me, young Red.” She stepped up on her tiptoes. “As with the rabid dog, you need to be put down.”
He grabbed her by the back of the neck, and pulled her to him. He kissed her with more force than he had ever kissed any woman.
This woman was not Isolde. This woman was battle hardened, and a warrior. She was not plain.
She grabbed his shoulders and returned the embrace, her tongue touching his lips. Her body was far warmer than his own, as if it were heated by the darkness.
He did not know what he was doing in this moment. It may have likely been the first time that his mind was clear from thought, acting without thinking. Though, in time, he may consider that when his death was nigh, he found that this was something he wanted to do before death found him.
The crashing against the ice pulled him from the moment. Tyran pulled back, moving the Vucari’s hair from her cheek. “You won’t kill me, Erzebeth.”
“No,” she breathed. Her hands fell to his chest. “But, it still needs to be done.”




Author Bios






Joshua Robertson was born in Kingman, Kansas on May 23, 1984. A graduate of Norwich High School, Robertson attended Wichita State University where he received his Masters in Social Work with minors in Psychology and Sociology. His bestselling novel, Melkorka, the first in The Kaelandur Series, was released in 2015. Known most for his Thrice Nine Legends Saga, Robertson enjoys an ever-expanding and extremely loyal following of readers. He counts R.A. Salvatore and J.R.R. Tolkien among his literary influences.
www.robertsonwrites.com/
@robertsonwrites









J.C. lives in the Midwest with his wife and two dogs. He recently earned his MA in English Literature and is working on his debut novel for his own fantasy world. Despite growing up with Dungeons & Dragons, Lord of the Rings, and a collection of both Dragonlance and Forgotten Realms novels, J.C. has an abiding love of classics and spends his free time reading anything he can get his hands on.
@jcboyd_author






Friday, 12 February 2016

#‎B2BCYCON Book Spotlight on Anaerfell



Today I have another Brain to Books Cyber Convention author feature. Remember, this great event for authors and readers alike is coming to Goodreads this April, on the 8th, 9th and 10th. Be sure to check out all the details and pertinent links for the event here: http://www.angelabchrysler.com/brain-to-books-cyber-convention-2016/




Now on with the main event, our Brain to Books author feature.


Today I have a great spotlight on the dark fantasy novel Anaerfell by authors Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd.




Anaerfell by Joshua Robertson and J.C. Boyd

Drast, cunning but reckless, is on the hunt for admiration. Tyran, calculating but tactless, is in search of affection. Bound by a friendship thicker than blood, the two brothers have been hardened by their father’s ambitions. Drast and Tyran are forced to set aside their own hopes and dreams during their struggle to fulfill their father’s desire for immortality. The two will face skin-switchers and dragons, ultimately leading to a final clash with Wolos, God of the Dead.

Anaerfell is available at:





Author Bios:






Joshua began crafting the world for the dark fantasy saga, Thrice Nine Legends, in 1999. Start the saga with Anaerfell, and then read the first two novels in The Kaelandur Series: Melkorka and Dyndaer. Joshua currently lives in Alaska with his wife and children.















J.C. lives in the Midwest with his wife and two dogs. He has recently earned his MA in English Literature and continues to craft his own dark fantasy world. Before he had completed junior high, J.C. had received his first box set of Dungeons & Dragons and devoured the J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. He has had a passion for the fantasy genre ever since.










I'd like to thank  the authors for sharing their book today, and be sure to check out the book at the convention this April.



Friday, 23 October 2015

A Fireside Chat with Gabriel Lennox

Today I have another Fireside Chat (with the debut of its new logo). Richard Dale will be interviewing the immortal, Gabriel Lennox, the main character from The Gabriel Lennox series by Monique Desir.  Enjoy...




A Fireside Chat with Gabriel Lennox


“Welcome everyone, to another Fireside Chat. I’m Richard Dale, your host. Today, our guest is the immortal being, Gabriel Lennox.” Richard nods to the man sitting opposite to him. “Welcome Mr. Lennox. Would you care to begin by telling our audience a bit about yourself.”

Gabriel reaches out his hand and gives Richard’s a firm shake. “Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Dale. There’s really not much to say about my past. Sixteenth century British parents bore my twin sister and me. All dead though. There were witch hunts in those days, notorious for their cruelty. I’m the last of my mortal bloodline. I’ve lived for almost 500 years.” Gabriel silently stares at the untouched glass of wine in front of him.  “I’d rather keep the remainder of my rather maudlin background to myself and share the much more pleasant present. There’s nothing like the present, eh?”
Gabriel laughs and smiles. “I’m currently the owner of a Host Club service in Florida, which caters not only to the Tampa Bay area’s ladies of the night, but to wealthy women of all shapes and sizes. I encountered these fascinating establishments while visiting Japan and just had to open one here. After all, what better way to explain a mansion full of abnormally young, beautiful, and age-defying men away to the rest of the world? I also self-publish books about the 17th century swashbuckling opera singer and bloodsucker – I added that juicy little tidbit—, Frenchwoman, Julie d'Aubigny, under the droll penname I.M. Alucard. Both the business and writing work wonders in paying the bills. After all, I have blood-children to provide for and clothe. And yet, most importantly, both keep me entertained year after year.”

“An interesting array of activities and obligations” Richard nods again, his expression rather passive. “If I might inquire, you are one of the Chosen, vampires if you will, though I know you are not fond of that term. And yet, you have rejected their way of life. Why?”

Gabriel leans back in his chair and narrows his eyes. “Because I simply find any addiction deplorable. And most importantly, the vampires’,” he enunciates the word with enough poison to kill an adder, “flavor of immortality leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Are the vampires of legend truly immortal? Of course not. When one really analyzes their nature, it’s quite pathetic really. Hide away all day, stalk the dark, drink blood, seduce this person or that. Try to rule the world or their insignificant and small region of said small world. Rinse and repeat. How do these goals set vampires a part from any ordinary human being? I want more than blood, lust, conquest, and darkness. I want to be my own god with no shortcomings – especially the ultimate shortcoming – death. I need to conquer that and then be able to do as I please without any inhibitions.” He shrugs his shoulders, frowning. He reaches for the glass, handling it delicately by its fragile handle and twirls the blood-red contents before draining it dry. “And sadly, I have learned that my desire comes at a price. A price that I’m unwilling to pay. So, I will discover another way. If there is a will . . .”

“A very determined attitude. What would you consider your greatest character flaw?” Richard smiles, adding, “And what would be your most virtuous trait?”

Gabriel grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “What if they’re one in the same?” He waves his hand in the air, as if dismissing his own question. “I’ve been called obstinate and I will claim the insult and accept it as a compliment. Stubbornness has safeguarded my life. However, since you didn’t say that the trait and character flaw could be one in the same, my most virtuous trait is loyalty. My friends and those who I have sworn to protect can depend on me.”

“Fascinating. As a member of the paranormal set, how do you view your fellow supernatural beings?”

Gabriel’s jawline stiffens and his voice deepens with resolve. “With caution. Creatures of darkness, such as demons, fallen angels and the like are on my personal hit list. My ultimate passion in life is to hunt and destroy demon-kind. There’s no love lost between us. I learned that my maker deceived me into binding a pact with such monsters and I will not rest until every last one is sent to the abyss. She even went so far as to enthrall humanity to these beasts.” He pauses, clenching and unclenching his hand, a faraway look in his emerald-green eyes, as if waiting for an inner, fuming tide to ebb away. The lines in his young and handsome face relax. “I have encountered elves and find them to be both equally charming and obnoxious. I suppose it’s a cultural thing. I look forward to encountering other supernatural beings and seeing where they fit in the paranormal puzzle.”

I don’t disagree with your assessment of demons, elves I have yet to encounter.” Richard grins, and continues, “What would you consider to be the best quality of human nature?”

“I suppose, resilience. You know, the courage to carry on even when defeat appears to be the only possible outcome. I suppose such overly optimistic thinking can also be rather foolish, but” he breaks off, chuckling, “it’s rather endearing, eh?”

“Quite. What is the strangest occurrence that happened to you in your long life?”

“The strangest occurrence I’ve experienced was a repetitive dream I had of a beautiful woman. She appeared every now and then as I slept to pass the time. But then, one evening I encountered her. She was weeping and resembled a spectre. I ached to touch this vision, but was interrupted. That first time I had glimpsed her was in 1888. And now, just a little while ago – no more than a week – I believe I saw her sitting in a coffee shop parking lot. Our eyes met and she slipped into her car and drove away. I wonder what this means.” He brushes the tips of his fingers across his lips, looking deep in thought.

Richard pauses for a moment to let his guest compose himself, and then asks, “What is your best memory?”

“Hmmm. That’s another excellent question. Slaying my first fallen angel, which is also my worst memory. You see, in order to conquer him, I had to absorb his essence. Little did I know what that entailed. And as you might realize it didn’t end well. You see, we’ve been somewhat er, uh . . . fused – for lack of a better word.” Gabriel crosses his leg over his knee and sighs. He taps the side of his head with his index finger. “He usually talks, spouting on and on about what I don’t know. And on occasion, he gives me advice on how to defeat others like him. But as of late, he’s been very quiet . . . too quiet.” He sighs again and fixes Mr. Dale with an intense stare. “If you know of anyone who can exorcise a demon, please send him or her my way.” He crosses his arms against his chest, trembling as if someone had walked over his grave. He forces out a laugh. “I suppose there is a bright side to this: I won’t grow bored devising a plan on ridding myself of him.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you on exorcism. I tend to shy away from anything dealing with demons. I did recently interview a priest, but I don’t think he practices that discipline.” Richard clears his throat. “On a different subject, what do you do for relaxation? Are you fond of reading, listening to music, or other leisure activities?

I enjoy gardening and enjoying the beauty of my labor. And there is of course reading and writing. A long time ago I amused myself with the notion of dating. But after several awkward first dates, I’ve come to the conclusion that modern women and I don’t have much in common.”

“One last question. What is your idea of perfect happiness?”

The shadow of a smirk plays on Gabriel’s mouth. “I have never entertained such idyllic thinking. In an imperfect world, how could one grasp such a state? And for the sake of argument, once one has obtained perfect happiness, how would one maintain it? That is a riddle I would love to unlock.”

“Well thank you Mr. Lennox, for agreeing to this interview. It has been enlightening.”

~*~


You can find the first book in the Gabriel Lennox series on Amazon



You can find about more on Gabriel Lennox and his author, Monique Desir at these sites:




Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Drabble Wednesday: The Raven

Drabble Wednesday flies off with the birds this week, especially with one bird, the raven

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”




Sentinels

They circle over head as I trudge. As it has always been. I trudge, they circle. My companions, the ravens. I welcome the sight of their black wings outstretched, the harsh croak uttered from their beaks.
It makes the punishment less somehow, even though this was not the intent.
No, they were sent to keep watch over me.
The ravens are my guards, messengers to those who imprisoned me with this ghostly immortality. They ensure my soul will never rest, and they are my only friends.
So I trudge, mile after mile, eon after eon, alone save for my ravens.

ef





Corvus

It sits outside my window in the oak tree. A common raven, a sooty feathered bird watching me. An ominous creature, perched on the edge.
Waiting.
I know it’s waiting for me.
But it shan’t have me yet. No, not yet. Not until I’m done. Not until I’m finished. Then the wretched bird can have me. Then it can feast on my corpse and peck out my eyes. Leastwise, I’ll naught be good for anything but worm food, when my project’s done.
It won’t have long to wait, just one more. One more to kill.
Then the raven can come…

ef




Shadow Against The Moon

The air shivers with the beat of their wings, and their shades flit across the moon, shattering its pale contrast against the inky sky. They scream, her raven servants, a raucous screech to herald her coming.
They clear her path, those black birds of the Morrigan.
Her silhouette chills the wind, and deadens the shine of moonlight. Beyond and above, the ravens fly, and some perch proudly on her shoulders. In one hand she carries a lantern, lit with fire, in the other a sword. In her footsteps, the trodden grass withers and dies.
Tonight, the Morrigan comes for me.

 ef



© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved 


Sunday, 26 October 2014

#CoffinHop Day 3: Dark Poetry Corner

Dark Poetry Corner






Every year I post a dark poetry corner for Coffin Hop, and this year is no exception. However, for 2014, I've given it a bit of a twist. Included in the poetry this year is a group poem, a collaboration I did with some poets over on Facebook.
Also on deck are two deeply disturbing bits of verse written back in April for National Poetry Month, and a more recent poem.






First the group poem:


A Walk to Immorality




Going out for a twilight stroll to refresh and regenerate. The night reveals its onyx veil dashed with stars to see what's beyond my door. Passing by a memorial park, looking over to catch a glimpse of the souls inside. The wind rises up and pushes me down an untreated path doing a makeshift pirouette to catch balance. Recovering, I look up and see an abandoned cottage. 

The shutters hang from glassless windows. Curtains, tattered and stained, beckon me on the breeze, as if ghostly fingerlings calling me home. Will we have tea? Me and whatever is setting the table behind that heavy, dark door. Will it light a fire to take the chill from my bones, and should I bring a gift? Wildflowers, perhaps? I gather handfuls of Queen Ann Lace from the front yard on my way up the porch, soundlessly begging the door to open as I approach. Already, I am under its spell. 

A creaking hinge whispers, hollow and hoarse, the noise inviting, yet forlorn. Come in, come in, chimes the echo metallic as the door swings wide like a maw. A firefly dances, inside the dark, a pinpoint of light to show me the way. A furtive stirring of air tickles my skin cold with goose bumps. I step forward, strangely hesitant, but I cross the threshold, floral offering outstretched. A murmuring resonates, from the deep black, rising slowly to words: “Enter and be welcome.” Behind me resounds a thud, as the door slams shut.

I am left in the dark. Sweat trickles down the sides of my face. I grope my way forward, seeking a chair. My knees are weak. I. Must. Sit. There are no sounds now, but in the silence I can feel someone near. Then I see him in my mind: his dark brooding, his ebony waistcoat, his white shirt open at the neck, his sophisticated walking stick. Click. Click. Click. He’s walking toward me now. I flatten myself against the wall, cling to the shadows, but know that he needs no light to see. Oh, I begin to crave his touch. What is happening? His breath is hot and so close, so close. I welcome the teeth. Immortality has found me, blood stains my collar. Tomorrow the sun will burn my skin.

Poem written by:

Rene Schwiesow



And now my solo poems:



Wild Born




Born on the untamed storm, black wind in the blood
Cold eyes of green, with a scream to shatter bone
Awake the dead, raven shadows call the flood

Red moon fears the surge, shrieking her tempest moan
A veiled gaze, darkened haze, in the endless howl
Bring the last, come the heir, to the thorny throne

Soar the bleak hurricane, rip the realm a scowl
Cascade forth the fury, nothing stands the wake
Fall to the oncoming rage, let life befoul

Wide rivers will burn and fair mountains will quake,
each in measured doom, blazing width and the depth
Child of the feral storm, all mercy forsake

Run to the edge, chased by the dark mist of breath
Run in vain, escape shall transpire in death




Another Day

Shadows lift with the morning sunrise, to unveil its kiss to the morning mist draped upon the mountains. Radiant sparkles flutter in the surface of the lake, as the birds chirp their song to the day.


The bells peal a dirge
The shuffle of feet stir dust
On an open grave










The Devil’s Deal

A sly tongue,
silver some may say
and falling lies
wrapped in tiny silvers
of truth…

…and moonlight at the crossroads

Don’t say yes,
Don’t sell your soul

But if you do,
and you hear
the yowl
of the hellhound
coming in the night

Run

Even if you won’t escape






Hope you enjoyed the poetry.
If you'd like to read more, try the Kintsugi Poets Society, another Coffin Hop participant.

Don’t forget to enter my contest, and creep over http://coffinhop.com/ 
and check out more of the Coffin Hoppers.




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