Author C. Desert Rose

Excerpt from "If Death Should Love Me"

Chapter 1

A dull roar. That was all I could hear. Souls. That was all I could see. What was this that I was living? If you could call it living at all. I did not see people, but shadows. I did not feel life, but death. I did not feel emotions, but emptiness.

I did not feel... anything.

It was all a blur. Clustered together in an array of colors and shapes. The sound? That dull roar, it was difficult to make out. My thoughts were focused, not so much on the sound as there were on the colors.

So many people. All different. 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 did not. Who cried, who laughed. Who mourned, who celebrated. Yet, all of them, everyone: a soul. A soul for the taking.

I remember, almost, what it was like when I floated in the middle of this cluster myself. Before my life—or should I say, my death—changed forever. It felt like eons ago.

I did not want this. I never asked for it. Why was I not allowed to be like everyone else? 'Fate'. This was the answer I was given. 'Fate'. What a bleak and meaningless word to express something no one can truly explain.

I wanted- No! I needed a change. My vast emptiness had drowned me in a lagoon of unwillingness. In a river of curiosity. A fountain of deception in an ocean of questions. Questions, yet unanswered by the Higher Sources. Questions, that still lingered in the clouds of my destitution.

Why am I? Why do I exist? What is the purpose? When, if at all, would it change?

I had a plan. A strategy to subtly replace myself once again into this world of colorful souls. To persuasively introduce myself, yet again, to THIS my most intriguing temptation. I believe I am who I once was. Though time may have clouded its lucidity. This, was not me. This, was who I was forced to be. Withal I fought. I disputed this unwanted persona that had been involuntarily cast upon me. One day! One day, I would be who I once was. One day, this monster would cease to exist.

Excerpt from "Demoness Enchanted"

Chapter 3

The large man knocked on a door in some sort of code, “Mauricio, she's here.” Within seconds the door flung open. Mauricio, stood there with a large grin.

“Pretty girl, I see you decided to come. So nice to see you,”

“Hello.”

“Please come in, come in,” he stepped to the side giving me just enough space to walk in. I heard the door being closed, then turned to see Mauricio’s hand holding the knob.

“Come child, follow me,” he led me into a dark room. Its sole contents were a dirty, broken, tattered mattress, tossed on the floor. I felt a tingle in the pit of my stomach. When I looked back up at Mauricio, what once rung in his voice now twinkled in his eyes. He had the look of a cold-hearted snake. My hands shook. “So, pretty girl. You never told me your name ...”

“Zita.” I said, still on guard.

“Zita … Oh, how pretty. I like it.” I could hear the hissing in his tone again.

“It's just a name.”

“It's a lovely name. Now Zita, let me show you how money is made by beautiful girls such as yourself.” he locked his hand on my arm. I jumped.

“What are you doing?” I asked nervously.

“Helping you make money.” he said, this time the hissing snake in his voice began to sound more like a lion roaring at his prey.

“Let me go!”

With fierceness, he pulled me in.

Henceforth, it all sort of went fast and slow at the same time. My memory seemed to blur one thing with another. I remember fighting, screaming, kicking. I remember being tossed around—manhandled. I vaguely remember my clothes being torn off.

Then, in the midst of it all, everything in my mind cleared. Suddenly, I was no longer fighting. As soon as I stopped fighting, his grip loosened.

He had me pinned on the bed, half naked, but not yet violated.

Excerpt from "Nethanyel's Lady Lune"

Chapter 1

Baton Rouge, Louisiana 1940

The look of the moon never ceased to amaze him. Nethanyel was more than happy with simply sitting there and staring at it. The shade of it—the swivels of blue and gray with the specks of black and white—the porous texture. Everything about the moon was intriguing.

Alluring somehow.

Nethanyel sat rather comfortably in the straw chair on the balcony. The look of the moon was even more vivid from here. Gazing beyond the opening of the balcony wall, far past the trees and fields of green, he considered her.

She was like a precious treasure floating in the sky, which was merely there to be admired and appreciated for all of her splendor and glory. A goddess.

It was days such as these that he wished that all those legends of werewolves were true. He'd give anything to look at the moon as the Enchantress that all the legends made her out to be. There was something about the silence of the night and the glare of the full moon that mesmerized him.

At times—nights such as these—Nethanyel, would think of names that he might call her, his Enchantress the Moon, had she been a real woman. He thought about all the myths, stories and legends which surrounded her splendor. Hymns written for her magnificence … lives given in cede to her power … societies built in homage to her; she was an absolute seductress. Yet with all of her radiance, Nethanyel remained clueless as to what it was about this celestial being that intrigued him so.

She, the moon, was Nethanyel’s Lady Lune.

+++

Legend recounts that many, many years ago a Maori native of New Zealand named Rona—a mother and wife—was fetching water from the river. It is said that Rona could have possibly been the daughter of the male Sea God, Tangaroa. Different renditions of the legend tell various accounts of why she was toting water. Some say her husband was thirsty, others say it was for her children, and still others say that she fetched water for herself. No one knows for sure.

However, every retelling is consistent in this ...

Upon her return home from gathering water, in a bad mood due to the late hour of her outing and lit solely by the light of the moon, in one miniscule moment the moon hid behind some clouds. Her brilliant light failed to shine Rona’s way, causing Rona to stub her toe on a rock.

Rona was infuriated as well as in pain. She reacted by cursing the moon. Rona blamed the moon for her pain and misfortune. The moon became insulted by Rona's comments and so she punished Rona. She cursed Rona, snatching her away from home.

Some say that she is now forever frozen on the surface of the moon. That her likeness can be seen during a full moon. Others say that her body simply disappeared or remains enchanted somewhere until this day. No one knows for certain where she might be, because ....

Rona was never seen again.

Excerpt from "From Whence Jasmine Blooms"

Chapter 7

Julian had a large smile on his face, his eyes beamed with pride. “I hear that you did well in your last lesson …”

“I literally just walked out, so how did you hear that?”

“News travels fast here.”

“Yeah, I can see that. At any rate, thanks.” Jasmine smiled. Picking out her crumpled schedule from her backpack she looked to see what the next lesson was. Furthermore, it was an unexpected but gratifying thing to notice that she only had three lessons left.

Strolling down the hall to the next class Jasmine fully expected another ginormous door with another shiny sign. Ready for the next lesson she trolleyed down the walkway with a mellow swagger that she hadn’t previously had.

Shortly thereafter she and Julian had reached their destination. Only, something was incredibly amiss and suspect. Jasmine quickly found that there was no door or sign here. What there was, was an opening which led to a diving board that was approximately one hundred feet above a small tub of water. Above the opening a glowing red arrow was directly under the word JUMP.

Jasmine’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I am not jumping!”

“Oh?” Julian asked in faux shock. “Why not?”

“Nope! No. No, no, no, no, no! I can’t even swim! I am not jumping!”

“Hmm … do you need a push?” Julian scratched his chin.

“Absolutely not! Julian, this is not happening. Period.”

“Alright,” Julian said then turned his back to walk away. Before leaving, however, he said one last thing. “Unfortunately, you cannot graduate unless you complete this course. To complete this course you have to jump.”

Jasmine conjured up myriad cuss words in her head. None of which were nice.

She paced, then stopped, then paced again. This went on for five or so minutes. Jasmine struggled with the having to and the wanting to. She couldn’t tell which one would win. Every so often Jasmine would glance up at the sign.

JUMP … JUMP … JUMP … blink, blink, blink.

Damn it! This is ridiculous!

Jasmine scratched her head, took two deep breaths then taking five steps back and a running start she dove off the board. Jasmine held her breath the whole way down. The only thought in her mind was that she better not die. One-one thousand, two-one thousand and plop.

Excerpt from "Hairy Situations"

“Oh, I know. I’ll tell you about my fortieth birthday.

“Go for it, dog man."

“So there was this dirty, grimy ol’ crackhead-”

“Why was there a crackhead, Roger?” Silvia looked at me and rolled her eyes.

“If you’d quit cutting me off, Silvia, I’ll tell you.”

“Fine.”

“Thanks.”

++++

So there was this ol’ crackhead over at the football stadium. I’d gotten myself some tickets for the game which I never normally do. But since it was my birthday I treated myself. There had been a riot on that same block the night before so the place was empty. Not even the cops had popped on by.

Next thing you know, the crackhead—a filthy ol’ coot—sauntered around trying to trade some tickets for some crack money.

He was fifty feet away from me and I could already smell the residual, crust vomit on his jacket. I gagged. I was trying to get away but this son of a bitch kept following me around. “Mr.! Hey, Mr.! Mr.!”

I kept trying to walk away—I could already smell him from far away, I honestly didn’t want to have to smell him up close and personal. He continued calling me. Finally, I got tired of him hollering so I stopped. “What! The fuck! Do you! WANT!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hiccupped. “No need to be mean,” his words were slurred and choppy. “The question is, what can I do you for?”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Bro, I’m not gonna give you crack money.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, I never said that. I’m just offering you a simple transaction.”

“I don’t need your tickets. I have my own.”

“You’re a bummer, man. I’m leaving.” So he turned and walked away, stumbling the whole way.

++++

“Okay, then what happened.?”

“Nothing.”

“‘Nothing’? Then what was the point in telling me the story?” Silvia seemed agitated.

“Because.”

“Because why?” She snapped.

“Because it was interesting. Especially because I didn’t buy the ticket from him and resell them myself. That could have been a great turn over.”

“Oh, mighty Mary Mother of Mercy!” Silvia shook her head. “I wanted to hear another story about being a werewolf.”

“Hold on! I don’t get it! You want me to tell you good stories, but when I tell you I accidentally killed someone or ate them you get all accusatory. But if I tell you a story where I didn’t do anything, you don’t like it. You’re confusing me woman!”

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