So, it’s Friday night and for once, I don’t have somewhere to go. Not too long ago, I mixed diced tomatoes, rich, red wine and a packet of Liption’s Beefy Onion. I spilled it over tenderized round steak and put it in the over to cook a long, long time.
And since I have that time, I’ve poured myself a glass of chilled Riesling, slipped in my earphones and here I am with my laptop and my open manuscript. I was supposed to be writing a calm scene, one where Beri is exploring the home of a very unique man. One she can’t read– a new experience for my lonely heroine. But I was listening to Opeth’s Damnation (No, not their usual death metal… it’s that fantastic CD they did that’s so different… so slow and deep.) There’s something about the song, Windowpane… it’s haunting, sultry and just lovely.
But I need a certain mood for this book so I switched to Graeme Revell’s Aeon Flux Soundtrack. I’ve said it before — it’s the perfect background music for contemporary fantasy writers. That first piece, Bregna 2415, is so good, I put it on repeat and now I’m writing to it. Only, the scene is no longer calm. It’s compelling. It’s wide open, lush and vivid– like the music. Or I hope it is. Before I realize it, Beri has taken over the space as she always does and made it her own. The room is no longer a boring living area but some place I’d like to see myself and Nikolos… well, he has a way of forcing himself into a scene. Think this one is turning into the ultimate Urban Fantasy with some hot Romance…
Since the wine has loosened not only my mind but my fingers, I’ll share a taste. (wg)
Shadows lengthened on the old wood as the sun’s slow slide toward land played out through the sheer curtains over the window. Beri ran her hand over its polished surface. Smooth. Warm from the sun.She didn’t trust this man. Nikolos. Didn’t believe his story. Didn’t like the way he commanded a room and she sure as hell didn’t like the way her stomach twisted into a tangled mess just by breathing his air.
It was like someone had dipped their fingers into a jar of slippery color and painted life onto the walls. She touched one, expecting to find damp heat and instead she felt the small bumps and chips, the cold wall. She rested her cheek against it, letting the chill creep in to battle the heat. This scene, this world, had been painted by someone who suffered a loneliness she understood to the very depths of her soul. Her breath hitched, tears burned the backs of her eyes. He had painted his home on the walls in every stroke, his memories and his pain mixed to breathe history and life into what had been cold stone.
She felt more than heard him enter the room.
Turning, she used the wall to support suddenly weak legs as he crossed the floor in a determined stride that scraped her gut raw. His gaze never wavered, fury darkening features that spoke more of his Minoan heritage than the painting behind her. A man born from spilled blood, from torture, bred to fight. A man who did not want anyone seeing so far into his soul.
If he knew what she really saw… the black, snarled mass of trapped souls around him. Countless victims of a man who’d lived through more wars than peace– he would probably kill her. Nikolos was not a man to want anyone knowing his secrets.
Especially something like this.
How he still lived, she didn’t know. She stepped away from the wall only to be forced back against it. His hot breath brushed over her cheeks. She wasn’t afraid of him. She raised her chin, met his gaze and ignored the burning in her lungs as something elemental, something basic and bleak, clawed its way free. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her arms and tangled her fingers in his hair.
“Fuck it,” she whispered before slamming her mouth onto his.
Ha! I’m having a blast here! What are you up to? And remember, you can write something to go with the picture at the bottom of the last entry right up until I post the results sometime next week. So far, the results are hilarious! You guys are great. Have a fantastic and fantasy filled weekend!!!!!