Blood Mercy: A Vampire Tale Staked in Profound Meaning Guest Post by Janeen Ippolito When we created the world of Blood Mercy, Julia Busko and I wanted to shed light on hidden issues. Things that people normally keep to themselves, lest they face stigmatization from society. Conditions and life experiences that…
I'm so excited to introduce you to visionary artist, Kat Heckenbach and a figment of her brilliant imagination. Angel, her imaginary interviewer, also works full-time as the protagonist of Heckenbach's Toch Island Series. I've included links below, so you can get a taste of the readable delicacies in Heckenbach's trilogy. Enjoy…
I wish the sky fell. Or disease overwhelmed us all in a matter of weeks. Nuclear holocaust. Terrorist regimes. Give us any other form of devastation. Humanity once feared the world would end. We now can only pray for such mercy. But no one prays much anymore. The concept of…
Certain days become moments of uncommon fortune. Today, luck has met you here. This blog has morphed into a vessel and extend its gangplank to you. Welcome to Scenescaping, a venture into uncharted stories where the readers suggest tale fragments and an author navigates us through them and beyond. Shall we take…
Afternoon rays cast golden hues over the marble sill. Joyce wrung lemon-scented suds from her dishrag and gazed through the window. Tweeting mounted around their backyard’s birch. A robin swooped into the tree, nudging a scraggy-feathered youngling. The front door banged shut. Joyce turned from the window. “Alyssa?” “Hey, Mom.” She…
The Forbidden Wood’s ebony thickets clamored at the moon, stealing half its light. Plumes of dust galloped toward it along the East Road. Luren. He would murder her mother like the others. So clever in other matters, why had she insisted on devotion to the King? She pressed her lips onto…
Kardia stirred from a dreamy fog as her shoulders jostled against the bed ropes. She rubbed away sleep’s haze. Her father’s face blurred into view as he leaned over her. A fairy charm jangled from the cord gathering his lengthy beard. She parted her lips, but he clamped an icy palm…
As they settled into the chairs, a prick stung Jackson’s thigh. He bounced up. “Ow!” Garvey examined his hindquarters. “Poison?” Jackson plucked needles from the seats. “What’s your game?” “There’s always a game.” Dale slapped a card deck onto the table. “This one’s for your life. Without the antidote, you die…
Kyria shredded the propaganda, hurling sweat-drenched fodder at a barrel of flaming tongues. For Momma. Grandpa. Everyone. Scrap phantoms billowed in a taunting dance. She kicked the rusty dragon, splaying its fiery guts across the refugee camp. Cool hands seized her trembling arms. Her ruddy fists dropped. Tears blurred her view…
An author could pause in the middle of a story's climactic scene for various reasons. Writers must strive to torture characters and keep an audience in suspense. Plots thrive upon tension. Lengthening an intense moment could serve to amplify it. But I stop here for ulterior motives. Allow me to draw…