The Fate's Endeavor Experience Book 3; Newly Released

It’s been a long time in the waiting … almost a decade.

The question is, was it worth the wait?

Some say yes.

We’ll let you be the judge.

For the first time ever, C. Desert Rose, in conjunction with All Authors Publishing House is proud to present you with the third book in the now dubbed Fate’s Endeavor Experience, “If Death Should Find Me”.

To run or not, to live or die …? Destiny is a bitch and here is why ….

 

Azriel has always been an enigma amongst the Hierarchy of Angels. He was born a duality; human and not. Azirel, for centuries, has been appraised harshly by mankind. Nevertheless, death is of the natural order. All things that live must at some point, die. Azriel is the usher into transcendence.

Such was his purpose and the Higher Sources saw this to be good … yet, things change.

So begins the measure of Travis’ enterprise into the hands of fate. Due to the magnitude of his venture, Travis finds himself caught between life and death. Angels and demons surround him, attempting to influence the paradigm of his fate. The only question in Travis’ mind is, what would happen If Death Should Find Me?

The Fate's Endeavor Series, surpassing the emotional fabric of angels and demons and delving into the delicate threads which infuse Fate's tapestry.

Months Later

Rural Location, Earth

~ Travis ~

Who knows how much time had elapsed. Days, weeks, months, whatever …? I didn't know. Didn’t much care, either. But honestly, it felt like I'd been running forever.

Shortly after leaving my home, while on the road at some crazed point, I sawed off my cast. I couldn’t deal with the damn thing any longer. And, although the memory is a bit foggy, I can somewhat recall that it was in a grimy motel room in the middle of nowhere. My tool of choice was a rusty old hunting knife that had been sitting in my car for ages.

But that day, in that moment I thought to myself, If I am really a fucking angel, then I can probably fix my own damn leg and rib. Right? Right.

I took a deep breath—instantly my rib hurt. Regardless of that, I focused all of my energy onto healing my leg and rib. I put one hand on my broken leg, the other one on my chest.

I closed my eyes, kept breathing deep.

Suddenly, a strange warmth started exuding from my hands. It seeped into the areas I was trying to heal kind of like they were absorbing the energy or something. Out of nowhere, the rush of heat covered me entirely. I could feel it pulsating like a strobe light. Within seconds, I didn’t feel any more pain. It was all gone.

Opening my eyes, I immediately knew that I was better. I moved my leg. It didn’t hurt. I tapped my rib, that was fine too.

Well fuck, look at that—I guess I am an angel, I thought.

But wait, that’s not all!

For your reading pleasure, C. Desert Rose and All Authors Publishing House are also proud to share with you the newly improved “If Death Should Love Me”.

Azriel is appraised harshly by mankind. Humans do not like to face death, therefore, they conjecture it is an ugly and terrible thing. Death is of the natural order. All things that live, must at some point, die. Azriel is the usher into transcendence.

Such is his purpose and the Higher Sources saw this to be good … yet, things change.

A dull roar, that's all I could hear. Souls, that's all I could see... So many people. Some good, some bad. Some breathing, some barely breathing. All souls. It was funny what you could see when you stood in the middle of the Emergency Room. Who survived, who didn’t. All of them, every one, a soul. A soul for the taking.

So begins your introduction to the floating, clustered world of souls that will have such influence on Sophia, the young Puerto Rican-American girl who has just lost her closest ally, her grandmother, "Abuela". It is just after the funeral, at the cemetery, where Sophia meets the tall, almost angelic man who will play the most unexpected role in her life.

A love story. A fantasy. An adventure. If Death Should Love Me tells a tale of “fate” far beyond the normal meaning of that little four-letter word. How else would you explain why Sophia wonders what would happen If Death Should Love Me?

Bed two. The doctor, the running, the yelling. The focus on bringing her back, futile. It was incredibly sad to say that she was just a child. A baby. Five years of age. Why did “fate” find it necessary to take her? She had yet to even commence to live. It was not my choice. I merely followed orders.

Her soul was lovely, just like a little girl's should be. A soft pink. Like a princess, I mused. Beautiful.

"Come child." I extended my hand so that she would take it.

"Where am I going?" She asked. The innocence in her voice was heartbreaking. Or would be, if I had a heart.

"I'm taking you to a safe place. Somewhere where you will never feel pain again. You will be happy there, sweet child."

"Cindy," she said. "My name is Cindy."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl," Her smile seemed as though it could quite literally light up the room. "Well Cindy, do you see that very pretty light just there?" I pointed.

"Yes." She responded with bright eyes.

"Walk into it. Go on, child … Pretty Cindy."

"But why? Where's mommy and daddy? Why do I have to go?" There they were. The questions that always followed once I had collected them.

"Do not worry Cindy, your grandmother is there waiting for you. I promise," I assured her with a soft grip of the hand, then continued, "before you know it, mommy and daddy will be there also." What more could I say to such a young and delicate creature?

"Okay." She replied, not at all convinced that what I was telling her was the truth. She obeyed nonetheless. When she entered she realized that my words were true and secure.

"Nana!" She called with a magnitude of happiness, then ran into her grandmother's arms.

 

I turned.

The mother, yelling. The father, failing at his attempt to be strong. The doctor, saddened. The confusion. The horrified faces. All of it, all too familiar, all too real.

Time for my next assignment.

Stay tuned for the upcoming link to "If Death Should Love Me"

"Peter Blade" Cover Release

Greetings, all!

It has been quite some time since I brought you all a Cover Reveal. So, I am ecstatic to announce the Cover Reveal for a story that I have been working on for some time ... "Peter Blade".
Without further ado, here you have it!

Title: Peter Blade
Author: Y. Correa
Genre: Psychological Drama
Release: October 31st, 2018
Available: All major book retailers
Blurb:

Autumn 1970, Manhattan, New York

“♫ Life gives you surprises but Surprises give you life, oh Lord ... ♪”

A single night can carry both contempt and horror.

The notorious Peter Blade is on the hunt … just like many nights before. Adhering to his father’s words, “You've got to get deep into the gut, that's how you'll be able to bleed the animal. It's the only way to get him clean ...” Peter ensures that every hooker he kills is bled to pristine flawlessness.

Dancing with the phantasms of a murky past and the reality of an ominous present, Peter Blade trades places with his victims for the foreboding remembrances which cometh after dark. This night is entrenched in the unexpected and Peter finds himself contending with life and death. From dusk to dawn, Peter Blade is inescapably haunted but to what end? Which could be worse, living the terror or dying by its hands?

Excerpt:

Having taken Maribel out of the house, Fausto wrapped his uncle’s dead body in plastic bags and dragged him to the garage. Carefully Fausto tore the front of the bags open guaranteeing that when pulled apart they would remain under the body. Meticulously he covered the remaining area of the room with more plastic, assiduously safeguarding that spatter would drip on the plastic and not the surface underneath. Finally, Fausto covered himself in plastic bags.

As is normal for most Puerto Rican men Juan was not a tall man, standing at about five-foot-six, but he was on the thick side. His plump belly was the only part of Juan’s body that protruded the bags.

Like a pig, Fausto mused.

And like a pig Fausto handled him.

First, tying Juan by the feet with rope Fausto managed to dangle him head down from a beam in the garage. Immediately, after having hung his uncle's lifeless body, Fausto grabbed a large bucket and placed it directly under the body. This was a trick he’d learned years before by Juan himself during the sparse times when Juan helped Fausto’s father kill pigs.

Reaching for a machete Fausto held it high and looked at it intently. The shine and shimmer jumped off the blade like stars sparkling in a dark night’s sky.

She is my mistress, Fausto considered.

Words could hardly express the fulfillment this entire procedure gave Fausto. It was something along the lines of heaven on earth and soulful satiation. A place where real met surreal and completeness was attained.

A tingle of jubilee- No … of keen and satisfying captivity … ran up and down Fausto’s spine as he began the painstaking process of butchering the meat.

A jab deep in the gut, pulled upwards; then a slit from ear to ear across the throat.

Fausto’s eyes varnished and coiled with enchantment as the thick, warm, red broth leaked. All at once the gushing sonorous of rushing fluids banged against the bottom of the bucket. As the stream grew lesser the sound lulled to a trickle, then a pitter-patter.

Dreamlike, all of it. But this was no dream.

It was precisely this that mesmerized Fausto—the fantastic manner of it all. Enthralled by the technique therein, the methodical words echoed in his head. Those words that would remain encrypted like a red-hot, cast-iron brand in his cerebral cortex, “It's the only way to get him clean ...”

In so doing, Fausto bled the body dry.

Removing the bucket aside then untying the rope, the body dropped to the ground. The flop sounded like a captured and dead baby whale plopping atop the firmament of a boat. Slippery, strident and heavy all at once.

Next was the severing process. With every hack and jolt of Juan’s body, Fausto did not flinch. His countenance remained unwavering, transfixed.

Now Available for Pre-Order on Amazon Kindle!

What does true love feel like, fire or home?

I truly have no excuse as to why I haven't blogged for so long other than to say that life has been flaring up. The proverbial "Murphy's Law" and then some.

Nevertheless, due to the content of this post, I felt the need to share it with you all. So, first apologizing for not being around more frequently, and second ... please enjoy.

The other day, after having had a profound conversation with my best friend about love gained and love lost a question occurred to me;

“What does true love feel like, fire or home?”

At that time, she gave me a quick summary of her thoughts on the matter, which then coaxed me to want to put the question out in the ether.

Enter, Facebook.

I created a poll. I even went as far as to add come gifs just to catch the interest of the multiple Facebookers I commune with. It took me a tad bit of work to figure out how that worked so I was a tiny bit upset that people didn’t take the time to even look at the poll.

  Well … what can you do?

At any rate, the question pestered me like a thorn in my side as I really wanted to know what others thought. Mostly, because my opinions might’ve been a bit askew or bias. Being the person that I am—open to other people’s points of view—it would have been great to hear some of them. But, as you have it, only 3 people bothered to take the mini, 2 question poll; a family member, a friend and myself. How pathetic is that?

That incident, of course, led to this blog post. So, hailing my handful of faithful friends, I invited them to give their feedback on said subject.

In come Adonis Mann, Synful Desire, C. Desert Rose and Da’Kharta Rising. However, before they jump in with their thoughts, here are mine ...

Y. Correa:

“I’ve been burned by the fire,” is the term that my mind keeps whispering, culminating in, “And, it hurt.”

The scientist in me claims that love is nothing more than raging hormones—rampant, delirious and delusional—destined to be satiated by the first fool you harness a keen eye for. The proverbial, “I fancy him/her” with the next step being a huge leap off of the closet bridge.

Pain, followed by tears, followed by wallowing in self-pity and concluding in the temporary dormancy of said hormones until such time as the next fool comes around. And then you do it all over again.

Fire.

A fire that burns so deeply, one questions one’s ability to have functioned prior to the existence of one’s flame.

Red, like blood; the blood that runs through their veins which gives you life.

Orange, like the sun, whose warmth keeps you tranquil and happy.

Yellow, like a canary. One who makes you feel as though you too can fly freely through the vastness of the world and never be alone again.

If true love is like fire, it can give life but also exterminate life.

There is no wonder why Hell is described as a pit of unending fire, for it is a place where empty souls go to live all eternity in torment and solitude.

And this makes me think …

If true love is like fire, it can make the cup that is your heart overflow with felicity. But should it ever end, it can also incinerate your pneuma to the point of oblivion.

I have felt that fire before. At the time, I surmised that it was true love. Now, I realize fire is both the beginning and end—the inauguration and corruption of our hearts. Therefore, I surmise that love should be home. Fire is here today and gone tomorrow. Home is constant.

By deduction, if love in the form of fire is wavering, then love in the form of home is forever, hence it is true.

Adonis Mann:

If I have learned anything at all, ‘tis that love is indubitably fire. Of this, I can assure you as I have experienced the warmth and sting of it.

Much like fire, love rises with a spark—a barely noticeable glint. A minute volley of atoms bouncing off one another until, boom, the flame is lit. Once lit, nothing but water or the flame itself can stop it. However, who in their right mind would want to extinguish something so precious, so incomparable, so new, so powerful. No one, to be sure.

We, the lovers, stand in both awe and stupefaction wondering how something so wonderful happened to us.

There is an inexplicable warmth that coats the soul with belonging and plenitude. Due to this, the lover is lost in the whimsical flickering of coral. ‘Tis a dance that hypnotizes the lover in such a way that all he or she can feel is its calefaction and naught a person can tear him or her away from it. The only person who can snuff out the flame is the flame itself. A perplexing conundrum, for how can fire put itself out.

In my experience, easily. When the flame is done … when it no longer wants to offer its heat … by its own volition, it tempers and ends. The sorrowful part, are the embers left smoking inside the heart and mind of the other party.

However, if the flame opts to continue to burn, nothing and no one will ever douse it.

Shamefully and sadly, I’ve had to endure the chill of a dead heat. Nevertheless, love burns like fire, for good or for bad.

Synful Desire:

I am not a person who believes in settling, especially in the arena of love. Love should be as vital as breathing with the amounts and the intensity. It has to be worth living for, fighting for, and dying for. It is not a muted instrument but a symphony which stretches the test of time. Any intangible must possess fire. The person I am with must be one who makes me warm from the inside out where and when ever I see him. If he does not, then it is easy for my interest to wane. If my mate is unwilling to do what it takes to keep my fire burning, then it is up to my heart’s authenticity and salvation to go elsewhere.

C. Desert Rose:

I suppose I will approach this question with another question;

Have I ever felt the fire of love?

Of course I have.

Here is another question;

Did I enjoy it?

For a time, yes. I did.

Last question;

Did it last?

No, it did not.

Therefore, life has taught me that the answer to the proposed question is that love should feel like home. No, as a matter of fact, it MUST be home.

“Why do you say that?” you may be asking.

The answer is simple, really.

I say it because fire is an element—1 of 4, to be exact. Fire, Air, Water and Earth. While they are perpetual in existence, they act like the waves of an ocean. Unstable and unpredictable. Here today, gone tomorrow.

Like the well known old idiom, “Home is where the heart is.” Allow me to explain.

Have you ever went away from home? On a trip, perhaps? To college, maybe, or overseas? I dunno … you pick. At any rate, have you ever left the sole place you call home and upon your voyage discover that you miss home profoundly?

Homesickness, is what it is called.

You find yourself envisioning home. You can practically feel the ambiance, smell the scent of the food cooking, hear the noises you’ve become accustomed to, and suddenly you feel incomplete. Empty. Like something very important is missing. Immediately, sadness consumes you.

THAT, is what love ought to be. EXACTLY THAT.

Love should feel like home. A place like no other. The one place where you can be yourself without apologies, without presumptions, without judgements and without explanations.

The bosom of your spouse/boy or girlfriend, should feel like you’ve belonged there all along. The smell of him/her should fill you with glee. The touch of them should calm your weary soul. The sound of them should appease any angst. It is with them that you should feel like 100% yourself. And, it is in them that you should long to be.

True love is home. It is the dwelling of the heart, the habitat of the soul, the refuge of the spirit.

Why? Because, “Home is where the heart is.”

Da’Kharta Rising:

I don’t think I’m the right person to ask this question to because I am not a believer in the fairy tale, Harlequin type bullshit interpretation of love. In my opinion, too many people speak it and have no concept of what it is about or how to properly use it. The act of love itself is a promise you make: whether said to a family member, a friend, or a loved one. Promises are set up to be impossible and therefore, easy to break. How else can you explain the number of marriages which end up in divorce? What else factors into betrayals that create family and friend sagas that rival reality TV shows for attention? There’s nothing “home like” about love. It’s dangerous, just like fire. It’s erratic, especially when you encounter someone which has you throw all reason to the ground just so you can soar for a few years, months, weeks, days, hours, seconds? I don’t know if it is “true”. All I know is the aftermath: how investing love in the wrong person can alter the way another person conducts business, not just in relationships but in her day to day. It’s a gamble where you don’t want to crap out. Love is all out fire. Enough said.

With so many thoughts on what love feels like, it makes me wonder which is more accurate? Furthermore, it makes me ponder on, “Can they simultaneously exist? Can love be both fire and home?” Perhaps, for some it is. For others, maybe not.

Please, don't hesitate to give me your thoughts. I would love to see what you have to say.

Until Next Time, y'all!

Guest Post by Michael Bolan: Reefer & Writing

Hey y'all, how goes it? Today I have a friend, writer and special guest who offered to entertain us with a small article I like to call "Reefer & Writing". I thought the concept of the article was hilarious yet super informative. I'm not saying I condone using marijuana while writing, but it indulges the imagination nonetheless. Without further ado, I present you with this Guest Post written by author Michael Bolan.

I started writing because it made daytime gin-drinking acceptable. Expected, almost. “Write drunk, edit sober”, that’s what Hemingway said. It seemed like the best excuse I was going to get…

From Kerouac to Joyce, writers and journos seem to thrive on a steady diet of booze (and who knows what else). Recent reports of cannabis being found in four of Shakespeare’s pipes made me wonder who else was under the influence of nefarious substances when at their most creative. A quick Google search and I was lost. Most revealing was an article about Lee Child, whose Jack Reacher books are so popular that one is bought every two seconds. “I’ve been smoking weed for 44 years, five nights a week,” he stated shamelessly. “My dealer’s on speed dial.”

There’s a theory that poetry and alcohol go together, as complementary means to achieve transcendence. You can trace the idea back to ancient Greece, where poems were created and recited at drinking parties. Many arguments have been put forward for why writers should rely so heavily on mind-altering substances. Kingsley Amis suggests displaced stage fright as a cause of literary substance abuse. The writer might not see his audience, but he’s still aware and still scared. He’s supported by Tennessee Williams, who wrote, "Why does a man drink? There's two reasons, separate or together. 1. He's scared shitless of something. 2. He can't face the truth."

But now science is suggesting something altogether more constructive, and it’s all in the mind, it seems: in the frontal cortex of the brain, to be precise. The average brain is bombarded by up to 100,000 different stimuli every hour and struggles to process them all. The frontal cortex sorts out the useful from the forgettable, processing the information that is most important and storing it away for later use.

But when you get tired, the activity of the frontal cortex slows dramatically because your body starts to block the dopamine receptors in your brain; dopamine is the feel-good chemical, associated with reward, but also with focus, planning and attention span. With the frontal cortex slowing down, other parts of the brain come into play, solving problems in a very different way. The state between wakefulness and sleep, which psychologists call hypnagogia, has often been cited as a creative well. Archimedes had his Eureka moment when he dropped off in the bath, Mendeleev drew the periodic table in his bed, and Paul McCartney wrote down the tune of Yesterday when he woke from a nap. (His original words needed some work, “Scrambled eggs, oh, my baby, how I love your legs”). How often have you had a great idea, a moment of intense creativity, while standing on the dreamy precipice between wake and sleep?

Getting drunk, (or high, or both), has a similar effect – it limits frontal cortex activity and allows different parts of the brain to take centre stage. So perhaps the love affair between creative geniuses and mind-altering substances isn’t so much a crutch to support them in the real world, as a gateway to the realm of creativity, where the normal rules don’t apply. Whatever the reason, and whatever the cost, we’re blessed that these people chose their own course, leaving us with a wealth of art we might not otherwise have had.

As Hemingway also said, “Drinking is a way to end the day”. And this post, so I’m off for a drink. G&T, please…

Well, there you have it folks. Now, go entertain yourselves with a book by Mr. Bolan, they are worth the read.

Come And Get It.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Earth 8-8-2

by Y. Correa

Giveaway begins July 25 and ends August 31, 2016.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter Giveaway

Women in Science-Fiction

Hello Everyone!

So ...

I've decided to make JULY the "Women in Science Fiction, Blog Month". What does this entail?

Well, I am asking FEMALE Authors of Science Fiction to stand up and join me on my blog to spread the word about their works. Let's stand together and show the world what we have!

First, answer these questions:

[polldaddy poll=9424933]

[polldaddy poll=9424936]

[polldaddy poll=9424937]

For the month of July 2016, I will need a total of 31 Female Science Fiction Authors, that would like to showcase their books on my blog. To submit your information and/or contact me to be part of "Women in Science Fiction, Blog Month" fill out the form below.

[contact-form to='ycorreafb@gmail.com' subject='Women in Science Fiction, Blog Month'][contact-field label='Name' type='name' required='1'/][contact-field label='Email' type='email' required='1'/][contact-field label='Website' type='url'/][contact-field label='Comment' type='textarea' required='1'/][/contact-form]

Upcoming Book: "Lilith's Dominion"

As you guys know, I'm always working behind the scenes on different things.  One thing I've been working on as of late is a novelette called "Lilith's Dominion", my very first "strictly vampire" tale.

So, you're probably wondering, "Who is Lilith?"

According to midrashic literature, Adam's first wife was not Eve but a woman named Lilith, who was created in the first Genesis account. Only when Lilith rebelled against Adam did God create Eve, in the second account, as a replacement.

The idea of Lilith has always fascinated me, mostly because of the mythology. Some believe that she was the first vampire, others think she became a demon, while others still think that God just shot her down.

My story "Lilith's Dominion" explores the aspect of Lilith having become a vampire, as well as what happened after her condemnation.

For your enjoyment, here is an excerpt.

It is believed that before the Genesis of the human age, Adam had a wife ... a first wife; Lilith.

Created from the same ground from which Adam was molded, Lilith proved to be a bit more than his subordinate.

She was his equal.

Legend has it that Lilith was strong willed, independent and unyielding. All of the things that Adam did not want in a wife.

Red hair, sensual curves and red-brown eyes, Lilith was voluptuousness in the form of a woman. Passion, ardent and burning vitality. Lilith considered herself Adam’s compeer in every way—second to none and nothing.

What Adam hated to admit was that Lilith was his weakness, his burning desire, and his fierce, iniquitous poison. As much as he wanted her, he also hated her. It was her authority that continually dominated him, and her lasciviousness that seduced him. He was less of a man when he was around her, yet he also could not feel more empowered.

Adam realized that his was an obsession with Lilith was a lecherous enthrallment and nothing more, for he could not love her. Neither could he be her master. This was the problem. Adam’s job was to be in control, to be the head. The leader of Lilith and all of their descendants. For this, the Creator had made him.

Yet, around her—Lilith—he was nothing more than a groveling, dribbling, insecure excuse for a man. She had him wrapped around her little finger, and this suited her just fine.

Adam, not so much.

This was not what the Creator had mandated. Not what he intended when making them both. He needed Adam—level headed and trustworthy—to be in charge. However, with the ever present seduction of Lilith, this wouldn't be possible.

Something must be done.

So, stay tuned for the upcoming release of "Lilith's Dominion" by yours truly, coming April 1st, 2016! Woot! Less than a month away!

Things For Authors

Hey there.

It's been a couple of days since I've been on here and written a fresh blog post. That is to say, write something that isn't post dated. LOL.

I've been bad about that lately. Most of what I've posted has been post dated material. I know, I know. I'm sorry.

Anywho, here is something hot off the press.

A couple of things, actually.

Thing One ...

All Authors Magazine, Issue 15 has gone live. Give it a peek! Who knows, you might find your book or the book of someone you know on it. It's worth a look. All Authors Magazine is vastly different than  most literary magazines on the market today, and the best thing of all is THAT IT'S FREE! Come check it out HERE.

Thing Two ...

All Authors Publications and Promotions is inviting authors whom might be interested in being part of a multi-genre anthology hosted by them, to submit their short story! If you aren't a published author, this could be your opportunity to be one!

So, if you're interested in submitting your short story to All Authors Publications & Promotions, visit THIS link for more information. Participation is absolutely FREE.

Okay, that's it!

What's New with Y. Correa for 2016

Hello! How goes it?

So, you're probably thinking that I have a shit ton of new things going on for the new year. Truth is, I don't. LOL :D

I have a few things happening, but that's about it. Just a few.

What is one of the new things I have going on?

The Earth 8-8-2 Series now has an official website where readers can go to learn more about the series and what's happening with it. It is NOT a Blog, but an actual website with information and fun about the series. Of course, it's brand new so there isn't much in the way of information. However, as the series grows, so will the site.

The best part is that you can feel free to leave a comment or even your review of "Earth 8-8-2: The Genesis Project", as well as any of the upcoming books right on the page.

Want to visit the page? Then just click the tab above (on the menu) or click ...

So, what else is new?

Other than the diligent work on "Concordant Vibrancy 2: Vitality" I've also been plugging away at "Earth 8-8-2: Genesis' Rebellion" which is the 2nd installment of the Earth 8-8-2 series. I have a feeling that if I don't release that book this Spring, some of my fans will hunt me down. So, far be it from me to let them down. LOL

I also have a couple more things up my sleeve, but I'm taking things one day at a time so as to not overwhelm myself in the process. I do hope to have at least 3 books out by the end of this year, if all goes according to plan. Wish me luck.

Anywho ...

That's about it in regards to an update. Please, visit my new site and leave your feedback. Let me know what you think of it and what you think needs changing. If you've read "Earth 8-8-2" then leave your feedback on the book. I'd be highly appreciated.

Toodles!

:)

Cover Reveal: Spaded Truths 2

She brought you ...

A controversial collection of poetry which endeavors to articulate subject matter that most won't discuss.

And now Queen of Spades brings you the continuation to this fire-eating collection, aimed to voice the angst, pain and introspection of the human condition.

Coming Soon

Blurb:

Truth has no expiration date.

A second helping of Spaded Truths has arrived in the form of Life-O-Suction. Seasoned with a rich blend of prose with poetry, this follow up explores the human condition with a simmering of stimuli that lingers long after one has reached the end.

Disclaimer: Some of the content may not be suitable for those under eighteen.

Without further ado, allow us to present to you the cover of "Spaded Truths 2: Life-O-Suction".

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2f7zlWaQOk&feature=youtu.be[/embed]

Me, controversial? * shocked face *

No, I lie.

I'm not surprised.

I am highly controversial at times.

Suffice it to say that I'm not very surprised that some people deem me controversial. Particularly, when it comes to my writing ventures.

Some time ago I was asked:

"Do you think that any of your sci-fi mashups stir up controversy? If so, which ones and in what way?"

Simple answer? Yes, all of them to one degree or another.

Not so simple answer?

I think the best plan of action today would be to address just one of them—the most dynamic one—my pride and joy.

The story of mine that is pretty heavy in the Controversy Department isn't even published yet. As a matter of fact, I've been trying to write it for a few years now and haven't even completed it. But, I'm perfectly okay with that as the story is replete with a tangled web of information. So much in fact, that my mind looks a little something like this when I think about it:

And that's ↑ an understatement!

I mean the amount of thoughts that cross my mind due to the complexity of this story is a kin to having Steven Moffat, Stephen King and Stephen Hawking (Side Note: I didn't realize that I had that many Steve's that I looked up to. LOL) inside of my head all at the same time.

(Other Side Note: THAT would be a dream come true to me! #LoveMeSomeSteves)

You know what? I just realized that I haven't even shared the title of the work with you all. Just goes to show how complex the story is. LOL :D

It is "Genesis Ellipse ...".

So, let me tell you a little bit about the controversial aspect of it.

Reason Number One

Religion, religion!

As most of you know I was brought up Wester Christian. "Genesis Ellipse ..." bends the basic fundamentals of that which I was taught to accept and uphold. It plays with the concept that all religions are tied into one another and that some of the information in the Bible has either been misconstrued somehow or is blatantly incorrect altogether.

Needless to say, the church in which I was brought up might not be very happy with my interpretation of the story.

Reason Number Two

Is science really fact or merely the translation/perception we get from an altered reality?

I toy with the idea that science as we know it today may stem from religion and may even be incorrect as a whole.

Well, those hardcore science buffs may not be all too happy with that.

Reason Number Three

"What If" is the name of the game.

I've come to realize that most readers today want everything spelled out for them. In "Genesis Ellipse ..." the reader is basically forced to use his/her imagination. Many times to "fill in the blanks". And do you know what? That's exactly the point.

So, I can almost promise you that this won't make some readers too happy.

In a nutshell, "Genesis Ellipse ..." will be so different, to so many, that it'll more than likely stir up all sorts of whispers and controversy.

With that being said, here is a taste of "Genesis Ellipse ..." my current Work In Progress.

EXCERPT!

The Genesis of Time

Heaven

“I am truly sorry Ish,” Michael said with a sympathetic frown, then turned to Isha and with an empathic nod, finished, “Isha.”

“But, why Michael?” Ish questioned, heartbroken, “We did the best we could after our mistake. We tried, worked hard, were faithful ... TO HIM ... and to each other!”

“'Tis not my position to offer explanations or excuses. It is merely to be done.” Michael responded, not knowing what else to tell them, all the while knowing that their hearts were grieving.

“Michael, please? I beg of you, speak to Him. Have Him understand our position. I beg!” Isha continued.

“I cannot!” He finally said, firmly. “Every choice, bad or good, has its ramifications. In your case, your choice was the worst of all. You chose death, over HIM! The life you lived on earth is not nearly enough penalty to pay back your deception. This, is now your punishment!” Coldly he spoke, having ultimately reached his peak of mercy.

An eternity? An infinity of time apart? Jumping back and forth in time, never able to be together? Having no memory of each other, having to always and forever, feel the gap of emptiness and solitude? Not having love, not having each other? THAT, was their price to pay?

How could The Eternal call this fair justice?

What justice was there in this punishment? What clemency? He called Himself the All Merciful, yet cast this chastisement on them, KNOWING that they could not live without each other. Just as HE, Himself, had created them to live!

Oh, how they pained at the revelation of their misfortune to come. How, they hurt inside. They couldn't fathom it! More than that, they simply could not except it!

They held each other, finding solace in one another's arms—consolation and security. In the safety of their lovers embrace they stayed for a few moments following. Isha began to sob. Ish, tried to remain strong.

Then, they felt themselves being pulled apart. The oddity was not that they were being pulled apart by an invisible force. No. The oddity was that as they were drifting from each other, yet within one another's hands remained the pulsing everlasting heart of the other. Red, gleaming like a ruby on fire. Beating with life and force.

Ish, had Isha's spirit heart in his hand and Isha, had his. Then, just like that, they were gone from one another's side.

Oh, but what little would they truly know about their fated future...