Friday 31 October 2014

Rule Book: A Guide

There are rules for everything. Rituals for enduring the world. Disobeying yields serious consequences. And there is nothing more superstitious than death and the supernatural.

Death is not to be toyed with – neither is the unexplained magic in the world. She has rules and if you break even one of her rules, I cannot be held accountable. During Samhain, the veil between the worlds is so thin that death herself can step from the spirit realm and stalk the streets.

These are just a few of her rules:

·         Don't walk alone at night
·         Don't answer the door if you don’t know who’s there
·         Don't split up when you’re in a group
·         Arm yourself with a weapon – any weapon
·         Don't hesitate for even a moment
·         Don’t be curious
·         and
·         Don't. Fall. Asleep.

I cannot stress how important these rules are, especially on All Hallows Eve. That day does not belong to you. It belongs to the spirits and it belongs to death. And she is unforgiving.

Of course there are those rule related to the more recent tradition associated with All Hallows Eve (or Hallowe’en). Trick-or-Treating:

·         Always check your candy – do not presume that the world is fair and kind; it never was
·         Wear a Costume – if you must go out, hide from the spirits and they will hide from you
·         Pass out treats – appease the spirits with gifts
·         Never blow out a Jack-o-lantern – they’re there to protect you, I promise; they guard your soul

And the last is not a rule at all, it’s your only tool for survival:
  • Don’t ever, for even a moment, imagine that you’re alone


Because you’re not. You never are. They’re always with you. Like a shadow – but so much worse. They know everything about you. They’ve been with you since birth. And if you break a rule – especially on Hallowe’en – they’ll take advantage of the opportunity.

There are rules. They’re not many but they’re strict. I’m telling you the rules so that you know. And you can save yourself.

Tell others. But also…

If you get this message, please, know that I'm sorry. I didn't understand. She was protecting me. This place. It's...I didn't know. If you see someone who looks like me, do not interact with her. I know why they put her in the mirror.

My reflection – my shadow, but so much worse.

I’m so sorry.


I didn’t know.

Thursday 30 October 2014

Blackout: A Scene

BLACKOUT:

JULIA:
(Whispered)

I'm recording this so that whoever finds my body will understand what they're seeing.

FADE IN:

EXT. WOODS 10KM NW OF CONRAD, YUKON – NIGHT

It’s dark. The cellphone she’s recording her message on flashes green every six seconds, illuminating her left eye and occasionally her nostril.

She is JULIA, scared shitless. All we see of her is her left eye, a bleeding cut from her temple to her nose, and her quivering mouth. She is recording a message, her last message, to tell her superiors her story. Her voice is always hushed, whimpering, and panicked, spoken frantically like she’s scared she’ll run out of time.
JULIA:

My name is Lieutenant-Colonel Julia Williams. I am - was head of a reconnaissance mission out of the One Military Police Regiment of the Canadian Armed Forces. You'll most likely find my body about ten kilometres northwest of Conrad, Yukon.


She takes a long, deep breath before she continues, her voice stronger because she has to be.


JULIA:

My team of seven including myself was made up of Captain James Holder, Lieutenant Wes Kawalski, Lieutenant Amy Grainger, Officer Cadet Harrison Grainger, Sergeant Graham Reynolds, and Private Recruit Maurice Ygraine. Please notify their families of their passing. And apologize. You killed them.


She brings her cellphone close to her mouth, taking up what little her camera light is picking up.


JULIA:

We came here on orders from my superior, investigating mysterious disappearances outside of a training camp in Conrad. We found them. We found their bodies.


JULIA begins to sob quietly, her whimpers filling the silence, though as she continues to speak, her sobs become louder, more desperate.


JULIA:

Oh god. There's something in the woods.  I couldn't see it. It was too dark. But they're all gone. I could hear it. Most of our equipment was destroyed. I don't know where I am. My legs. I can't move my legs. Oh god. I can hear it. I'm sending this message to my commander. I hope you get this. I have one bar. I tried to call but no one answered. Why didn't you answer?


In the distance we hear the sound of snarling – like a jungle cat – and rustling leaves.


JULIA:

Oh god. It's getting closer.


She is crying now. Her eyes shut, lips quivering, she barely whispers into the camera’s microphone-


JULIA:

I wanna go home.


-before her crying becomes a scream of terror that fades back at least several feet. The camera falls facedown, illuminating darkness covered up by dried up leaves. We hear three cries of pain in short succession, all followed by a growl, like it’s an effort to perform this task. After this, JULIA cries out enraged, broken. We hear her voice from several feet away.


JULIA:
(Screaming, cursing)


You did this to me! You did this to me!


A sound catches in her throat and we know she is dead. A loud thump rattles the leaves and heavy breathing fills the air. Everything is silent except for the breathing when suddenly a gunshot rings out. Whatever killed JULIA snarls and growls but the sound becomes distant. It’s running away.


NEW VOICE1:

We shot him!


We don’t know anything about these NEW VOICE(S) except that they arrived too late. The two of them are silent a moment – no doubt taking in the horrific scene before them.
\

NEW VOICE2:

Oh my god. What did this? Did he-


NEW VOICE2 suddenly begins retching. NEW VOICE1’s voice is soothing.


NEW VOICE1:

Hey, are you okay?


NEW VOICE2 takes several deep breaths, trying to regain their composure.


NEW VOICE2:

What the hell happened here?


NEW VOICE1:

I don’t-hey what’s that?


Two sets of footsteps slowly approach the cellphone. Suddenly the camera is on two men, illuminated by a flashlight held by one of the men (NEW VOICE2). They are both wearing thick, black sweaters, NEW VOICE1 wears a yellow toque. Both men come to the same realization and their eyes widen.


NEW VOICE2:

She was recording? Holy shi-


CUT TO BLACK

Wednesday 29 October 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 10/29/14

Why do we kill? Why are there people in the world who delight in taking lives from others? Who desire nothing more than organized chaos derived from carnal pleasures of flesh tearing flesh?

My husband likes to think that darkness is fostered in children; "killers are made, they're not born", he says. Like it’s a condition, a disease. Some sort of trauma that should be purged. But even he agrees that everyone is capable of darkness. Everyone is capable of taking that knife and plunging it into someone else’s heart.

They just need the right motivation.

Some don’t need any push at all, they understand the bloodlust that runs through our veins – the desire for ultimate, intimate control.

And murder is the most intimate act, equated to sex. Passionate, driven, a release of emotion. Skin against skin. It’s easy to see how someone could be turned on by the idea of watching a man take his final breath knowing you took that from him.

I don’t wonder why I kill, and I don’t wonder why I’m not alone. I wonder why the ones who are seemingly appalled by what I do, crave it so much and so often. They seek out darkness they’re too afraid to touch themselves.

Are we simply a society of sadists? Delighting in the pain inflicted on others; worshipping those who are simply acting on the urges that everyone has?

It’s no coincidence that I’m still able to do what I do after all these years.

Attention.

Sensationalized, victim blaming, attention is what keeps me warm at night.

And my husband, of course, who assures me every day, that what I do is a public service. Perpetuating the economy through mass media.

“Keeping the dead alive.”

That’s not why I do it, of course. I do it for my own gratification. The violent release of energy against anyone I choose. As an afterthought I collect the victims in my journals but all of that information comes from someone else who thought that death was worthy of discussion over life.
Darkness over light.

I think of this in a time formerly dedicated to honour the no-longer-living, then a time for terrorizing children, and now a time spent humanizing even the foulest of monsters. 

How times have changed. And yet stayed the same.

This will be the first Halloween in fourteen years that I don’t go hunting; searching for the most hilariously ironic murder I can commit.

I love Halloween. I find it fascinating. It’s the one day that everyone wears a mask, and it’s the one day I don’t have to.

Even though I’m not going out there this year, I worry about the rest of my neighbourhood. Especially the children. There are some real creeps out there who wear a mask that exposes more than their true nature – it exposes their darkest fantasies; and those should be kept hidden.

Be safe this year; stick to the lit areas and watch out for people who aren’t wearing masks.

I’m not out there to protect you.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Tuesday 28 October 2014

Let Me In: A Poem

There's a girl who sits upon your stair
And asks you, please, to play with her
When you decline, the poor girl cries
A wailing, moaning cry

She begs all day without and never stops
But you always tell her no
And so at night she whispers
"Please, mama let me in."

You shut your eyes, cover your ears
The wailing never ceases
"Why won't you ever play with me?
Please, mama let me in."

Three sharp knocks against your door
That's how she always calls
It ruins all your nightmares
You haven't slept in years

It's not your fault, you want to cry
But all you do is sit
And stare against the cold, white walls
That were once stained with red

You tell yourself she wants to play
What harm can be in that?
But then you remember dying screams
"Please, mama let me in?"

You know you should, the little girl's
So lonely without you
But sometimes you hear her whisper
"If you won't play with me

"I'll find someone else who'll join my game
If you won't let me in
But I'll be back tomorrow
You best be ready, then."

You're thankful for reprive, but
Now your gut twists with a guilt
'Cause you let her out, that lonely girl
You let her out the door

That night she roams the neighbourhood
Knocking all the doors
Hoping that some poor lost soul
Will kindly let her in

Your hands against your bleeding ears 
Beg silence in the night
But then you hear a dreadful sound 
"Will you please let me in?"

It's not against your bedroom door
Though, somehow, you wish it were
It's against another's door
The one who's innocent

The one who sees a frail girl
And offers kindness there
Oh how you wish you had the strength
To pull her away from the door

But you're a coward, you know it's true
Your body shakes with sweat
Your eyes are bloodshot, your breathing gone
You wait to hear the screams

It doesn't come, you realize
When daylight finally saves
Perhaps your neighbour's innocence
Saved her from the child

But then outside you hear the noises
Crowds have gathered now
Someone found the body
Of your neighbour's innocence

You look outside your window
And stare out on the street
But she's in too many pieces
For you to even speak

And then you hear the dreadful noise 
That freezes 'gainst your heart
Three sharp knocks against my door
"Now will you let me in?"

© 2014 Victoria Trask All Rights Reserved

Monday 27 October 2014

Star Gazing: A Short Story

She leaned against the lamp post, the cold metal warming her through a thin grey hoodie, her folded arms blocking the logo across her chest except for a 'T' and a '7'. Every night she would stop by this same lamppost on her way home and just watch as the rest of the world went about their lives. There were the usual suspects most nights but this close to the center of downtown, there were always new faces to observe. She liked people watching – in a way it relaxed her – to see glimpses of people’s lives without really invading on their privacy.
Across the street she saw an old couple walking hand in hand. The gray-haired woman was assisting the balding man as he shuffled slowly, a pair of worn brown shoes the only thing protecting his swollen, wrinkled feet from the harsh elements of the October air. She remembered that a new seniors’ home had been erected just down the street so their destination was not in question. She wondered, however, why they were out at such an odd hour of night. The only couples who frequented these streets at night tended to be thugs and hookers – not a place for a sweet elderly couple. They continued to move along, seemingly impervious to the cold and surroundings until the man began hacking and coughing. Instantly the woman was squeezing his hand and using the other to pat his back with soothing forcefulness until the coughing subsided into slight wheezing. The man took out a green silk hanky from his baggy sweatpants and sputtered a few more times into it, wiped his nose with a loud sniffle and returned it to his pocket. They continued walking at a much slower pace.
Deciding that their fate rested with themselves, she turned her attention elsewhere.
A young couple in their early twenties turned the corner at the top of the block, stumbling into the brick wall as they did. The woman, dressed in a short mauve skirt and black overcoat, had managed to place the majority of her weight on the man, falling into his side every few steps. He was giggling and running his hands up and down her sides, groping her breasts and generally marking his territory. She hated those couples. The ones who took a wrong turn after pouring out of some nightclub and ended up stumbling around and generally disturbing the peace. They took a few more steps before the woman tripped over her feet and found safety with her back against the cold outside wall of a building. The man – not one to waste opportunities – pressed himself over the woman, resting his hands on the brick above her head, effectively trapping her. The giggles quickly subsided as he lowered his head to her height and placed sloppy kisses on the side of her mouth until he managed to reach his destination. They continued in that manner, just sort of sloppily tonguing each other’s teeth, until the woman suddenly broke into fits of giggles and pushed her partner away, dragging herself with him. She fell against the side of his body and they continued to walk along the sidewalk.
Shaking her head, the girl continued to look around.
A car door at the top of the street suddenly opened and what appeared to be a woman’s sparkly ass came into view followed by a long pair of silky brown legs and a pair of impossibly high heels. Her hand came up to grip the top of the door as her face came into view through the door hinge. She was pretty – not overly so but she was attractive enough – and probably worth the price any man paid for her. It was only then that the actual car became apparent. It was a navy Ford Taurus that seemed a little beat down by time and weather but not anymore than the rest of the cars on the block. The fatal difference seemed to be in the slightly steamed windows, obscuring the driver’s face from view. After a moment, the woman stood upright with a seductive smirk still plastered on her face as she closed the door and lightly tapped the roof of the car. She immediately took a step to cross the street and must have missed the obvious roar of the engine because an instant later, the car she had just stepped out of, swerved onto the street with a screech, nearly clipping her as it passed. Jumping back onto the sidewalk, clinging to the hem of her shirt in surprise, she recovered enough to gesture the driver and double check that no other cars were approaching the street. Once she was sure it was relatively safe, she sauntered across the street, managed to pass under the spotlight as she turned to walk up the steps of a building. Her face wasn’t caked with as much makeup as what would be expected but she was still wearing a bit too much for the girl’s taste. She watched as the woman pulled a key out of her small clutch and placed it in the lock. Turning it, she didn’t bother looking over her shoulder as she opened the door and closed it with an echoing click.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man whose face was mostly covered by a dark blue hoodie. What she did see was a slightly pointed nose and wisps of dark brown hair that seemed disheveled and disoriented. His hands were buried deep in his generic hoodie pockets and his jeans were starting to fade a little too much. She only caught a sight of his eyes once as he continued to twitch his head every way searching for some unquestioned answer. They were a pale blue under the cover of darkness and seemed bloodshot and tired. As his hands shifted in his pockets he rocked back and forth slightly as he continued at a fairly steady pace. His steps didn’t falter until he looked around and made direct eye contact with her. Neither expression changed – except for his eyes widened – nor his pace only swayed a moment before he stalked passed her and across the street, entering a familiar building and nearly slamming the door before he caught the handle and guided it closed.
He hadn’t realized he was hyperventilating until he became light-headed as he began the three flights of stairs to his room. He paused against the door to the second floor to hold his chest and catch his breath, his eyes shooting open at the effort before he continued his journey, using the barely-there railing for little support. He finally made it up the last flight of stairs and he walked down the hallway, his footsteps echoing in the night air, clutching his fist in his pocket he pulled out a small, rusty key. He fumbled the key between his hands before he gripped it hard enough to shakily move it towards the lock. No matter how many times he tried, he could not keep the key steady enough to fit it into the hole. An arm came around his waist and a slender hand snaked around his wrist to grip his hand with the offending object. Jumping in surprise, he turned to see a girl with too much make up on smiling kindly at him. He instantly relaxed and his hand steadied enough for the two of them to guide the key into the lock and turn it. He looked at the woman with a weak smile. She offered a head tilt and a teasing grin before she turned on her impossibly high heels and took the few steps to cross the hall and enter the apartment directly across from him. He watched her wink at him as she closed the door with a gentle confirmation.
He stared at her door with a goofy, surprised grin before he reached behind him to turn the now unlocked knob and sink into his own apartment. He barely remembered to grab the key and toss it into a ceramic bowl beside the door before closing it and quickly unzipping his hoodie. Throwing the clothing anywhere he could find, he stretched his arms above his head, still feeling tremors in his chest as he made his away over to the tiny window offering the only source of light in the apartment. By the time he was close enough to peer out the window, he was dressed in a white t-shirt, a pair of striped blue boxers and white tube socks. He looked out, clearing his head from the day’s interesting events and just watched the people on the street.
Just under his window, he saw an elderly couple shuffle around the corner, the woman seeming to sway with the effort of carrying her and her partner. He briefly wondered if she was alright before he turned to the other people on the street.
There was a girl barely twenty years old leaning against a lamp post, illuminated by the light, not waiting for anything in particular just looking around in curiosity. She wore a grey hoodie but he couldn’t read the logo across her chest. She had long brown hair, flung down her back and wide, brown eyes that were peering off into space. He smirked. She was cute – a little young for his tastes – but she was interesting. He’d seen her many times before but they’d never made any sort of conversation. He always had the feeling that it would be best to leave her be. But leaving people alone was usually the best course of action in this neighbourhood. After all, young women stood alone under streetlamps and young men walked around in their underwear and no one really seemed to care.
Assuming that she would still be leaning against the same pole in a few minutes, he turned his attention to the only other bodies in the street.
There was a woman leaning against the side of a car, bent uncomfortably as a man kissed his way down the middle of her neck, holding onto the back of her head, the other hand out of his line of sight. Her hands were nowhere to be seen and the thought made his eyebrows rise. The man continued to kiss any skin that was exposed which seemed to be quite a bit. His other hand suddenly became visible as it came up to the top of her tight-fitting button-down. His fingers lingered on the button of her shirt as his eyes opened the man looked up to catch him watching them with an amused smirk. He was suddenly drawn from his people watching as the telephone rang on his cluttered kitchen table and he was forced to leave the sanctuary of the window to answer it.
The moment the man’s figure left the window, he smiled down at his girlfriend and pulled her up to open the unlocked car door and slip inside. He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled her down into his lap, their lips never breaking except for short giggles and moans. Now straddling him with her knees sinking into the seat beside his hips, she brought both of hands into his hair to play with the dirty blonde locks as he pulled her impossibly close. Her tongue roughly tasted the inside of his mouth as she felt his desire growing. Encouraged, she rocked her hips into his as his fingers once again found her top button not waiting to slip it out of the hole, giving him more skin to caress with his other hand. After the third button had been undone torturously slow, her tongue left his to allow him to kiss all of her exposed skin. He had just begun to suck on her pulse point when he vaguely heard a tapping on the clouding windows. After the second tap, he was certain there was someone trying to get their attention. Breathing heavily, he pushed her off his lap and placed her onto the passenger seat, allowing her to fumble with her buttons as he pressed down hard on the window. It was down half way before he finally caught sight of the one responsible for interrupting the alcohol-hazed make-out session that he would barely remember in the morning.
The girl was barely twenty years old – if that – her brown hair was clinging to her face, obscuring her tortured features. Her grey sweater and jeans were completely covered in blood except for a ‘T’ and a ‘7’. She didn’t say anything save for crying incessantly and reaching her red stained hands into the car searching for something to grab a hold of. He didn’t need to look over to know that his girlfriend was just as freaked out, unsure what to do. The girl’s face was streaked with freshly-shed blood and tears and her clothes appeared to have several cuts and rips across her chest and arms. She continued to reach for some unknown object in the car until her brown eyes slowly clouded over. Her crying became less frantic and more subdued as she began to sink lower down the car. She leaned forward close enough to breathe down his neck before she must have lost her footing because she slipped faster and he cringed. He heard her forehead make contact with the edge of the half-closed window and linger for half a second longer than it should have before she collapsed in a pile beside his door, her head making contact with the cold concrete.
The couple stayed silent for a long moment, not looking at each other. After what seemed like forever, the man pulled himself up enough to look out the window – afraid of hitting her with the car door – and peered down. His girlfriend, meanwhile, had opened her door and daintily ran around the car – leaving her door open – to uncomfortably kneel beside the girl. She cringed as she brushed damp hair away from the girl’s neck in order to check for a pulse. Finding none, she glanced up at her worried boyfriend before standing, her legs stiff from the skirt, and glancing around.

The street was empty. The lamp she had stood under flowed steadily and not a single sound disturbed the echo of the city around them. Nothing moved or breathed as the woman glanced down at her boyfriend with pure terror in her eyes. Silently, she walked casually around to the passenger seat and closed the door as she slid in. By that time, he had fished his keys out of his now looser jean pocket and was turning it into the ignition. Shifting into gear, the only sound that could be heard on the street was the sound of tires screeching as they pulled out onto the street and drove off, leaving a barely breathing girl bleeding on the sidewalk.
© 2014 Victoria Trask All Rights Reserved

Friday 24 October 2014

Heirs of War Tour


ABOUT HEIRS OF WAR:

The NA fantasy series Heirs of War has taken Wattpad by storm with over one million reads, and the second installment has arrived. Catch up on Heirs of War (#1) for just 99 cents now!

Heirs of War #1:


When seventeen year-old Zelene finds herself thrust into a world of magic and prophecy, she discovers fighting destiny might not be the toughest battle she has to face. Now she must join with three other girls, complete strangers linked only by blood relation, to fight a war they know nothing of and rescue the twin sister she's never met.


Add it to Goodreads





The adventure continues with Heirs of War, Crown of Flames...


Heirs of War, Crown of Flames
Heirs of War #2
Mara Valderran
Cover Art by Gretchen Byers

Weeks have passed since Ariana and Alec escaped from Kellen's dungeon, but danger isn't far behind them. The guilt of his past weighs heavily on Alec’s shoulders, and his secrets only push Ariana further away. As they travel through unknown lands and encounter multiple threats, their biggest challenge might be trusting one another.

The world appears to be going on regardless of the risks Ariana faces. The Duillaine insist that they are doing everything they can to find Ariana, but their actions betray that claim. Despite the danger and the war closing in around them, all of Anscombe seems to be more interested in the upcoming Imbolc festival and Terrena’s betrothal than rescuing Ariana.

Well…not everyone.

Tired of waiting for the Duillaine to help her twin, Zelene starts plotting on her own and finds a surprising ally in Rhaya, even as the Cynewards prepare to make a move of their own. But Zelene’s plans go awry when she finds herself with a new ability, a mysterious new friend, and more enemies within the walls of Anscombe than she thought.

Add it to Goodreads

Wednesday 22 October 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 10/22/14

So…weird thing happened this morning…

James worked the night shift and he got home around six am. I went outside to take the trash out and found James, my husband, talking to Daniel, my stalker. And it wasn’t a confrontational conversation, either. Those dicks were laughing; joking, patting each other on the back. Smiling. It was weird.

I walk out there and Daniel is leaning against his car, so relaxed. And he waves at me like we’re old friends. I waved back like the world was imploding but they just kept on talking.

So now I’m standing beside James with the garbage in one hand and my darling husband introduces me to Daniel Westburn, private investigator. He held out his hand but I couldn’t bring myself to take it.

Then my loving husband filled me in, ever so casually. He was just telling Daniel, if he ever came near me, he’d fucking kill the private investigator; to which Daniel replied that it didn’t matter that James was a cop because he’d take him down with me. The two of them laughed and shook hands before James kissed my cheek and walked up the driveway.

Just like that. No other explanation was to why those two were even talking in the first place!

I just stared at James as he walked back into the house before I looked back at the object of my current obsession. His smile was gone but he was smirking like he knew exactly how dazed I was by the sudden exchange.

Bastard.

He told me that he liked James and would enjoy even more seeing the two of us behind bars. How my children would never see me again.

I was this close to punching him in the nuts when I noticed the wedding ring. He actually forced some poor woman to marry him. There had to be a way I could use this to my advantage.

Thoughts of revenge were the only way I kept my head clear.

So though I was anything but focused and pulled together, I smiled, waved, and walked away.

Once inside, before I could even start ranting about all the ways I wanted to rip Daniel Westburn apart, James kissed me and told me he had a plan.

And I think it’s a good plan.

But I don’t want to say it out loud in case I’m wrong (which is rare but still possible). I don’t think I even want to contemplate what really happened this morning. James won’t tell me how the conversation got started other than “I wanted to meet the man” and Daniel was gone before I left for work. Probably visiting his wife he must so rarely see.


It was such a brief exchange but I know I’ll be thinking about it for a while. At least until I can wrap my head around James’s plan.

You know, sometimes I long for the good old days. When I wasn’t plotting revenge against some crazed man; involving my husband in my schemes. Risking the lives and carefully balanced relationships I have with my children.

All I know is that Daniel thinks he threw me off balance this morning – thinks he’s shifted things back to his side – but he’s wrong. I will not falter, I will not break.

He will not get to me!

And he will not have the last word.

He is going to feel the slow burn of a woman like me. I will wrap my hands around his soul and squeeze the life out of him inch by inch. And he’ll see it coming because I want him to but he won’t be able to stop it.

Daniel Westburn, this is your final warning: you threatened my family. Nothing you do can stop me now.

Your life is in my hands.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Monday 20 October 2014

Altar of Reality Cover Reveal


Today is the cover reveal for Altar of Reality, the first book from Shifted Realities--a brand new series by Mara Valderran. This YA dystopian is set to be released January 31st, 2015 by Curiosity Quills Press. Mark your calendars, and be sure to add the book to your Goodreads list! Want to stay up to date on all things Altar of RealitySign up for Mara's newsletter so you don't miss a thing!

And now...the moment Mara's we've all been waiting for...


When sixteen-year-old Madeline suffers her first grand mal seizure, she finds herself in an unfamiliar reality, surrounded by strangers wearing familiar faces. Her best friend, Brandon, tells her that the world has fallen to chaos, the aftermath of World War III ten years ago. Madeline doesn’t remember anything from this life— especially not the explosion four years ago that killed her parents and landed her in a coma, or the Lord Commander; a zealot leader of the Southern Territories now searching for her.

Madeline barely has time to process everything before waking up to the life she’s always known. As soon as she dismisses it all as a strange and vivid dream, she finds herself back there once more. Unsure if she’s truly caught in the middle of a brewing rebellion, or teetering on the brink of insanity, she finds herself flipping between the two lives. Her heart becomes torn between two versions of the same boy and the lines between her realities begin to blur as she struggles to save her lives in both worlds.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

Mara Valderran is an author of young adult and new adult books, but she's more than just a madwoman with a writing box. She is an avid reader and fan of all things sci-fi and fantasy. She loves roller skating and movies, though typically not together. She lives in Las Vegas with her husband and demanding cat. She hopes to one day meet Daniel Jackson from SG1, or at least the actor who played him. When she’s not writing, you can find her reading, playing video games, or counting down the days until DragonCon.

Find Mara Online: 

Be sure to check out the Heirs of War, Crown of Flames blog tour going on right now! There are excerpts, interviews, a giveaway, and more. You can find the tour calendar here.

Look for my review of Heirs of War later this week!

Wednesday 15 October 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 10/15/14

My kids and I have always had a fairly open relationship. It's been a rule of James's ever since we gained custody of two troubled preteens. Honesty as often as possible. And with a few recent omissions (re: Sandra discovering my secret, and the reason for my break from reality) we've actually stuck to that rule. 

It made having the sex talk with a very confused 14 year old who just lost her mother so much easier. It might have led to some uncomfortable conversations when Sandra started to...you know...but I think we were better off keeping the lines of communication open.

It's funny how you start to regret your decisions when they come to bite you in the ass.

You see ever since I came home, I've been unable to kill. And I accept that as part of the readjustment process. I'm much more balanced now and I'm not going to go off the deep end any time soon. But it does mean that all the energy I've normally spent on hanging a man from a tree by his spleen (Halloween 2006; classic) is now bubbling around inside, seeking release. Of course my loving husband has been there to help me release some of that...energy.

Sex. We've been having a lot of sex. Just everywhere. All the time. 

Pretty much the moment we're both home (sometimes earlier) the clothes come off and we're ready to go. Sometimes we can't even wait for clothes to come completely off or for our partner to actually be present before we get started - but let's be real, frantic sex when he barely gets his pants unzipped before he pushes you up against the kitchen counter is fucking hot. 

Now normally this desperation for release is fine; the kids are always out late (Sandra is either at work or band practice and Jason, sweet Jason, is on his third girlfriend since July) so we have the house to ourselves for a few hours. But sometimes one of them comes home early and we get caught in a compromising position. 

Seven times.

Our fool-proof system for getting off without the kids catching us is failing miserably. The kids know we have sex - honesty goes both ways in our family - but actually catching your parents like that is enough to traumatize any child. Between Sandra's discovery, my break down and now this, we're very lucky neither of the kids have taken drastic measures. Actually, they've been taking the situation very well.

With the exception of Sunday night. 

The kids were home all day studying and whatnot so James and I had a quick round in the bedroom for once before joining the family for some quiet home life - something very rare in this family as you can imagine. James and I emerge from our bedroom to find the kids set up in the living room with two empty chairs in front of them.

They had a fucking intervention. 

Literally.

Two teenagers sat down with their parents and discussed sex. And how we need to stop. They called us "hormonal teenagers who need to control their urges in favour of public decency." 

Shut up. They're not right.

It's my house for god's sake.

Regardless, we agreed to tone it down to honour the sanity of our children. The things we do for them. 

So James and I stopped having sex outside our bedroom - no matter how great the laundry room is for...never mind - and the kids haven't caught us going at it like rabbits since Sunday. 

I may be regretting our "open and honest" policy just a little bit but not enough to throw it out the window. I mean those rules have gotten us through some tough times. Sandra was able to tell me when she hit puberty, when she got her first boyfriend, when they had sex for the first time, when she got her first F and that she’d ruined her chances of getting a scholarship; even Jason told me when he hit puberty, and got his first girlfriend. 

I pray to god that boy hasn't had sex yet. The thought of little Jasons running around before I'm too old to care just gives me a headache. 

I am glad that my kids share things that are important to them. James and I try to do the same even if it leads to incredibly awkward conversations like why your underwear is hanging off the china cabinet. 

But that is not the point. The point is I am incredibly horny and James just left for work. And Daniel just drove away. And the kids have already left for school. And I have to go to work in a couple minutes. 

Fuck.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Monday 13 October 2014

Heirs of War #2 Release


ABOUT HEIRS OF WAR:

The NA fantasy series Heirs of War has taken Wattpad by storm with over one million reads, and the second installment has arrived. Catch up on Heirs of War (#1) for just 99 cents now!

Heirs of War #1:


When seventeen year-old Zelene finds herself thrust into a world of magic and prophecy, she discovers fighting destiny might not be the toughest battle she has to face. Now she must join with three other girls, complete strangers linked only by blood relation, to fight a war they know nothing of and rescue the twin sister she's never met.


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The adventure continues with Heirs of War, Crown of Flames...


Heirs of War, Crown of Flames
Heirs of War #2
Mara Valderran
Cover Art by Gretchen Byers

Weeks have passed since Ariana and Alec escaped from Kellen's dungeon, but danger isn't far behind them. The guilt of his past weighs heavily on Alec’s shoulders, and his secrets only push Ariana further away. As they travel through unknown lands and encounter multiple threats, their biggest challenge might be trusting one another.

The world appears to be going on regardless of the risks Ariana faces. The Duillaine insist that they are doing everything they can to find Ariana, but their actions betray that claim. Despite the danger and the war closing in around them, all of Anscombe seems to be more interested in the upcoming Imbolc festival and Terrena’s betrothal than rescuing Ariana.

Well…not everyone.

Tired of waiting for the Duillaine to help her twin, Zelene starts plotting on her own and finds a surprising ally in Rhaya, even as the Cynewards prepare to make a move of their own. But Zelene’s plans go awry when she finds herself with a new ability, a mysterious new friend, and more enemies within the walls of Anscombe than she thought.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 
Mara Valderran is an author of young adult and new adult books, but she's more than just a madwoman with a writing box. She is an avid reader and fan of all things sci-fi and fantasy. She loves roller skating and movies, though typically not together. She lives in Las Vegas with her husband and demanding cat. She hopes to one day meet Daniel Jackson from SG1, or at least the actor who played him. When she’s not writing, you can find her reading, playing video games, or counting down the days until DragonCon.

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Wednesday 8 October 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 10/08/14

Daniel Anthony Westburn was born January 14th 1968, at least according to his driver's license. I also may have changed one or two of the details. I can't let you guys have all the fun. The point here is that I have his driver's license. And he knows it.

For a private investigator he is not subtle. There were days during the dark months - I'm calling them the dark months because "those two months where I went cannibalistically crazy and tried to kill everyone" is a little too long - when I could see Mr. Westburn clear as day, just staring at me. And he had the nerve to wave at me. He wanted me to know he was watching me and it worked. I mean, I got so paranoid that I…

Well you’ve read what was going through my head during those dark months. They weren’t pretty.
I vowed to get my revenge and that revenge has finally begun.

I returned to work on Monday to a shit-ton of paperwork and a fawning Heather. I think she’s worse when she’s trying to be nice to me. It’s disturbing really. She kept coming in every five minutes to ask me if I was alright, if I needed anything, if I was feeling okay. It was like attending another therapy session except my urge to kill Heather is much stronger.

So the urges are more under control, in case you were wondering. I’m pretty much back to my usual desires to murder my secretary to shut her up. I haven’t been able to actually kill anyone yet but I’m getting there. It’s going to take some time.

Of course I am all for patience but serious, my secretary needs to learn to shut up. Holy crap.

After just two days of her incessant prattling, I was ready to burst. So when I saw Daniel Westburn sitting across from my house yesterday, I snapped.

While I was away on my extended vacation, I had a nice reprieve from the watchful eye of that man, and I paid very little attention to my surroundings on the first days that followed my return. But the minute I returned to my normal routine, he was there. Like he could sense it.

So I called the police.

I told them I was a neighbour down the street and I wanted to report suspicious activity. I went on to list some simple details about Mr. Westburn that would ensure they knew exactly who they were about to harass.

Several hours (and a bottle of wine with my loving husband) later, a patrol car arrived down the block and two officers approach the car of one Daniel Westburn. They asked him for identification, he gave it and after a few brief words, he was left to his own devices. As I knew he would be. I caught his eye after the officers walked away and I waved.

Early this morning, he was still out there so I made him a cup of coffee, and went out to talk to him. I apologized for calling the police, I feared I had a stalker. Would he please accept this coffee as an apology? He didn’t say a word, nor did he accept the coffee so of course it ended up spilling onto his lap. Oops.

I then, of course, tried to help him clean up but he pushed me away with a grunt – he doesn’t talk much, does he? – so I went back inside. Not before swiping his wallet while he was distracted (I knew where he kept it after all).

So now I’m sitting here, getting ready for work, and I thought I’d share this little victory with you. How excited are you for the coming weeks?

We’re going to even the playing field with Mr. Daniel Anthony Westburn.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe