Followers of Awesome Writing

Thursday, October 29, 2015

In the Beginning - Man Lessons

Chapter 32, go me! All other chapters are below.

After six years, Jack still had occasion to wonder if he was a bad parent. There were moments where he even wondered if he was a bad person. Those always brought back memories of his closeted youth. No boy should have to live in fear and shame. Thomas would learn that.

The boy returned home crying. He was surrounded by other boys. Somehow he always seemed to attract these other children. Boys flocked to him and accepted the slightly undersized young man as a leader. The caliber of Thomas's friends worried Jack. Their character was exemplified by their costume choices. There was a Manson, a couple of Nazis, and a questionable ghost amongst others. Thomas stood in the middle of them dressed as Lincoln.

Also fitting.

"What's the problem?"

Jack asked the question despite his detective nature answering half of it. The other boys look upset and nobody had any bags. They had been trick or treating, so they should have candy. The lack spoke of bullies. Jack hated bullies, but he was determined to teach his stolen son to grow up to be a man who took care of himself. To hell with modern sensitivity.

"A girl!" Thomas let it out between sobs. "Dressed as Eve. She came along and stole all our candy."

Jack looked between the boys. One girl? He wondered if she was a monster. Though, the thought of her dressed as Eve, other than sending a cold shiver down his spine for the correlation, made him think it might have been a stunned by seven year old puppy love thing. Great. He was raising a little heterosexual. Where had he gone wrong?

"Well, what have I taught you?" Jack ignored the other boys.

Thomas took calming breathes and squared his shoulders as his tears tapered off. He stood taller and met his father's eyes.

"A man stand's up for himself."

"Correct, but he also thinks things through. What do you want to do?"

"Beat her up!" One of the Nazi's chimed in.

"Is that right?" Jack asked.

"No, sir." Thomas dropped his eyes and spoke quietly.

"Good, there is never a reason to hit a girl." Jack hoped it was a lesson the boy would take with him. However, Jack himself did not know if he could follow the advice if he ever met the boy's mother again. "There are other options though. How do you think around problems and get your property back?"

The other boys looked to their leader, their president, their future dictator. Their eyes held wonder and hope. Thomas's brow furrowed and he chewed his lip for long moments. Finally he smiled and it was one of the darkest things Jack had ever seen. Then the voice was even worse.

"She has a little brother."

Jack knew the lesson had to come in its own way. He sighed as they turned towards the door as one. He had to say something though, just to be sure.

"Don't kill him."

#shortstory #novel #author #writer #writing #writingprompt

Marnie Cate's Relaunch

Remember: Protectors of the Elemental Magic

To celebrate the relaunch of Marnie Cate's beloved first novel, Remember:

Protectors of the Elemental Magic,  it will be available on Kindle for $0.99 / £0.99

beginning  October 29, 2015 through November 4, 2015

Author: Marnie Cate

Title: Remember: Protectors of the Elemental Magic

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy


Hiding the truth from you is no longer protecting you. Sit and I will tell you what you

need to know.

With those words, the secrets of my great grandmother, Genevieve Silver, were

unburied and my role as a protector of the elemental magic was revealed.

My name is Marina Addisyn Stone but Mara is what my friends and family call me.

I had always felt that there was something missing and that nothing was permanent.

Why would I feel that way?  I was being raised with my little sister by my

grandmother that loved and doted on me. Then, there was Cole Sands. Who could

forget the blue-eyed boy that had stolen my heart? What more could a girl need?  I

always thought I was just being dramatic and that bad things do happen to people

but that is part of life.  People die.  People go away. Little did I know that with one

secret, my life would change forever and my new world would be surrounded by the

world of elemental magic?


As I felt my determination build, the mirror in front of me began to change and the

reflection filled with rippling water. The image made me think of the choppy water of

Sparrow Lake. At first, the small waves were calm but the speed and intensity of

each movement of the water grew. I found myself being splashed as the waves grew

harder and began to slap against the mirror. Standing up, I moved away just in time

to watch the mirror before me shatter and the violent water burst out towards me.

The room began to fill with rushing water. Feeling around the room, I searched for

an exit. Behind the shattered mirror, I only found solid rock. Looking to the ceiling, I

could see the same hard stone. Feeling the emotions build inside me, I began

search the floor and walls around me for any exit.

"Damn! Damn! Damn it!" I cried.

The water did not slow. Instead it continued to fill the room as I frantically

searched for my escape. The water soon reached my knees and, what seemed like

seconds later, I was wading through waist high water. As the water continued to rise,

I was soon struggling to keep my head above water. It was not enough that the water

was filling the room so rapidly but soon the water felt alive. The cold waves kept

tossing me back and forth as the water rose and I began to feel like I was in a game

of Ping-Pong where I was the ball. Soon, I found myself pulled under the icy water

and surrounded by thousands of bubbles. Frantically kicking my feet to keep my

head above water, I broke the surface.

Remembering the swimming lessons my grandfather insisted on, I thought about

the times I spent with my grandfather learning to swim. I began to feel less scared as

I recalled his calm voice and gentle words telling me that I would be safe. As I floated

in the rising water, it seemed to respond to my emotions. The thrashing became

calmer as I focused on my grandfather’s words. My brief moment of peace did not

last. Before I knew it, I had almost reached the ceiling that had no exit and I began to

panic. At this rate, I would be trapped and drowned in minutes. As if it was feeding

off my fear, the water began to toss me around again.

As the water began to rise up my neck and almost over the top of my head, I tried

to calm myself. You are the granddaughter of Mae Veracor and the great

granddaughter of Genevieve Silver. You are the descendent of strong women. You

have nothing to fear. With these words, the water once again calmed and I was able

to tilt my head back above the water. How am I going to get out of this?

Remember: Protectors of the Elemental Magic is on sale $0.99 / £0.99 Kindle

from Thursday, October 29th to Wednesday, November 4th!


Amazon Book link: My Book

Marnie Cate Biography

Marnie Cate was born and raised in Montana before adventuring to the warmer

states of Arizona and California. Her love of Dame Judi Dench and dreams of

caticorns and rainbows inspired her to chase her dreams. One great sentence came

to mind and the world of elemental magic and the humans they lived amongst filled

her mind. With Remember, the story has begun.

Other Works by Marnie Cate

Exigency: Protectors of the Elemental Magic – Coming Soon

The story of Mara Stone continues.  Her world was shaken but she is a fighter.

Facing new adversaries, Mara is learning what it truly means to protect the magic.

Awethology Light – Contribution Story

Beginnings: Protectors of the Elemental Magic (Novellette)

The story of Genevieve Silver and the origins of the protectors of the magic. With the

balance of the elemental world shaken, four elementals take on the task of protecting

the magic.




Twitter: @Marnie_Cate

#Awethors #novel #writers #bookrelease

Sunday, October 25, 2015

In the Beginning - A World Without God

Chapter 31, this follows the madness of the poem and actually inspired that.

Jack watched the sleeping boy. He fingered the gun resting under his jacket and shook his head. Jack had named the boy Thomas, after the priest. That might have been his mistake. Instead of ending this madness he spoke to a child too young and too unconscious to understand.

"I should do it. I should kill you. Know why I don't?"

A soft snore was the only response.

"I'm not doing it because of the old question. If you could save the world, but to do it you had to kill one innocent child, would you kill the kid? You're supposed to say yes. I can't though."

The child rolled over, which Jack took as an invitation to explain.

"I can't because of the priest. You know what he would say? He'd say, Jack, stop being an idiot. It's not about if you can save the world, but if you should. He'd say, what kind of world is based on the death of innocence? If I only I thought about this two days ago, or even three. When he called."

"I have cancer."

"Sorry to hear that, father. You shouldn't call me anymore. Still, your god will see you through it."

"It's past that. I'm starting to have prophetic dreams. Something big is coming."

"Something big was always coming."

"Something big for us."

"There is no us anymore."

"Shut up, you titanic ass. I called to tell you one thing."

"What's that, father?"

"Don't feel bad about what you have to do."

The line went dead before Jack could respond.

Nicole, Jack, and the ever annoying Peter entered a museum that was supposed to house some artifact of sacrificial importance for this impending prophecy. Jack was getting tired of pretending to care about the insanity. Still, he could play muscle a little longer.

It seemed O'Reilly was done playing the role of quiet bystander though.

The priest stepped from the shadows to stand before their objective. He wore a mask of mirth to please the reaper upon his lips. Peter stepped forward but Nicole stopped him with one hand and a gentle voice.

"It is time for Jack to prove his allegiance."

Jack walked around them, wondering if this was what the priest was on about the night before. He took the hammer Nicole held out as he passed. O'Reilly nodded to him, as if in answer to his thought about the meaning of their earlier discourse.

"Make it last." Peter growled and Nicole's giggle showed approval.

Jack met the priest's eyes. He saw forgiveness and understanding there. So he went to work. He made it last. O'Reilly never screamed, but he prayed for the souls of his murderers through the intense, bone obliterating torture Jack laid upon him. It lasted long enough that the sheet covering their objective absorbed enough blood to rival the shroud of Turin. He was just about to finish the job when Nicole stayed his hand.

"I think Peter deserves some reward, let him crack the skull. Come with me."

So Jack had not had to watch the priest die. The next night though, while Peter and Nicole took the artifact to a safe deposit box, Jack absented the manse with Thomas, until then known only as the boy. He left the girl behind. The girl was too far gone. Jack hoped that rescuing Thomas would end this madness. There could be no prophecy without the son.


Now, in his own apartment with the kidnapped child, Jack wondered how he managed to keep being a cop. He looked at the boy and shook his head. Sitting down heavily he touched his eyes and realized that, for the first time since his lover died in this room, he was crying.

"So, tell me Thomas. What kind of world are we saving when it is based on the death of a loving god?"

#shortstory #novel #author #writer #writing #writingprompt

Thursday, October 22, 2015

In the Beginning - Pantomime

Part 30, stupid poem prompts.

Pain was his world now
Penance without reckoning somehow
Pleasure unknown
Pardons unsewn
Patriarchy fading in a world now owned

Pizza means something
Part understood
Purplish hazing
Plethora not so good
Pandemonium rising from under black hood

Plague bringing vermin
Passing for human
Patchwork dark sermon
Parceled by woman
Passing time until Armageddon

Pulsing putrescence
Purified by pain
Pulling the essence
Parlaying the gain

Plagiarized is the gospel of O'Reilly

#poem #shortstory #novel #experimentation #author #writingprompt #writer #writing

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Coming Soon

Coming out tomorrow. Be ready. They are free on Kindle, so you have no excuses. Other than once you're done you'll have a whole bunch of new authors you need to buy books from.

My story, The Think Drug, is on the dark side. Is anyone surprised?

Get your reader ready. There will be physical copies too. For people like me who love real books. At least that is my understanding at the moment.

Oh, here is the important link. Awethology Dark

But, if you want to get both you can do that here. Burdened by the Light

I guess you can tell what team I'm on.

#awethors #shortstories #anthologies #goteamdark

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Cover Reveal for The Phoenix Project by D.M. Cain

It’s here! Dark, gritty psychological thriller The Phoenix Project undergoes a makeover in the

brand new Booktrope edition. Completely re-edited and re-designed, don’t miss this

stunning cover by the talented Amalia Chitulescu.

The book will be available to buy soon from a wide range of digital and paperback


Author: D.M. Cain

Title: The Phoenix Project

Genre: Psychological thriller/Dark thriller/Dystopian

Book Content: Occasional adult language, graphic violence, and mild sexual content.

Original Cover Design from the first edition:


How can you fight to the death, when you’ve given up on life?

A thought provoking and compelling dystopian world that will change the way you view


A man fights for life—and redemption—in D. M. Cain’s riveting re-released novel, The

Phoenix Project.

Britain has descended into chaos as violence and terrorist attacks seethe across this once-

peaceful country. Outraged by the steady stream of lawlessness, citizens demand a harsher

penal system, and the Phoenix Project is born.

In prisons across the country, inmates fight to the death in a weekly bloodbath while the

nation cheers them on.

Raven Kennedy, a prisoner who has never forgiven himself for his unspeakable crime,

struggles against his own guilt and self-loathing. But even as the real war wages on within

himself, Raven is forced to battle some of the prison’s most ruthless killing machines. Can he

survive long enough to unravel the anger and regret that shackle him—and one day find the

forgiveness he seeks?

‘The Phoenix Project by D.M. Cain is a superbly written debut, soaked in tension and

intrigue,’ Jack Croxall, author of the ‘Tethers’ trilogy.

D.M. Cain Biography

D.M. Cain is a dystopian and fantasy author working for US publisher Booktrope. She has

released two full length novels: The Phoenix Project - a psychological thriller set in a

dystopian future, and A Chronicle of Chaos – the first in a dark fantasy series. She is

currently working on the next novel in the series – 'The Shield of Soren' and a novella to

accompany it.

D.M. Cain is also a member of the International Thriller Writers and is one of the creators

and administrators of the online author group #Awethors.

Cain lives in Leicestershire, UK with her husband and young son, and spends her time

reading, writing and reviewing books, playing RPGs and listening to symphonic metal.




Mailing List:





Tuesday, October 13, 2015

In the Beginning - Quentonian Nightmare

Chapter 29, all other bits are down below somewhere. Kind of conflicted on whether I think this is genius or crap. Comments welcomed.

Father O'Reilly knew the Saturday morning preachers weren't talking to him. Why would they be? He was a man of God. They were the faithless shepherds of a well fleeced flock. Their message was not for him.

It was for someone though.

He could see they were speaking to that one, passing along messages of death and damnation. They spoke in tongues, expelled riddles that only the most damaged of minds could mistake for the Word. One of those minds was surely hanging on every syllable.

That scared the priest more than anything.

When he looked back on it later, Father O'Reilly didn't know if it was the fourth wall breaking ministers or the tumor growing in the center of his head, but something prepared him for velvet Jesus.

His reaction to bare feet was one of the things that drove him to a vocation that denied him a family. Ever since he was a child just the thought of a bare foot was enough to get him giggling. The sight of one turned that into gales of laughter. So, when the velvet Jesus turned from offering food to the masses and told him to attend all three days of the foot fashion show, well, who was Father O'Reilly to argue? Jesus was his boss, and he could do a lot more than strip away the retirement plan.

Come to think of it, He had kind of already done that.

When the priest saw the insane book thief wandering through the fetishist demilitarized zone he understood who the talking heads were speaking for. Of course it would be that maniac. But how was he out?

O'Reilly kept his focus on the other man as much as he could. One stray glance at a toe though, and he was snorting. The enemy turned, offering the smile of a cannibal standing up to supper. The priest who spoke first.

"Peter, I am surprised to see you here."

"I have it on good authority that Jesus said much the same to another man with my name." The laugh underlying the words made the father's skin crawl.

"I have it on good authority that Jesus said a lot of dumb shit he never did." The priest nearly vomited out the words.

Peter tilted his head, to the left of course, the corners of his mouth turning down. "So where do we go from here, father? You have no authority."

"But I can save the world some trouble."

O'Reilly reached into his coat and drew, aiming at the madman. Peter flinched, then cackled wildly. O'Reilly gave him his best, what's so funny look. Peter pointed to the finger aimed at him.

O'Reilly looked down and realized he had no gun. Why should that be surprising? He was a man of peace and love. He also didn't own one. Which made him think.

He also didn't own a velvet Jesus painting. So why was he here? This fight could happen another day. As O'Reilly turned to return home, Peter called out to his retreating back.

"Oh, don't go away. We're just getting started."

#shortstory #novel #author #writer #writing

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

In the Beginning - Parole

Chapter 28

One of Peter's few joys was the television in his single bed "apartment". Only the most politically correct of terms in this not prison for those deemed mentally unfit by the beautiful people of normal society. Peter thought the term crazy as a shit-house rat needed to come back into style. He had never been politically correct, by any stretch of the imagination. Probably why he was going to survive while most of the planet burned.

That was not something Nicole or her now defunct husband told him. No, this information came from a different source. Saturday mornings he sat down to the different religious programming on his television, which sat unused for most of the week. Saturday's were reserved for getting right with God though. The rest of the week, Peter spread His word. Even a dutiful servant needed his faith replenished on occasion though.

It was a Saturday, much like this one, when one of the televised prophets first spoke to Peter. Telling him that he would survive this coming storm if only his faith was strong enough. Since then the preachers looked directly at him and imparted personal messages more and more often. Even that couldn't keep him tuned in though.

The Word was too big for one man to spread. Unless that man was Peter. He did not know if it was the medication they insisted he take, the power of the message, or just the onset of adult ADD, but the talking heads would speak, in cryptic messages, of the prophecy for a moment and then move on to the boring pleas for money. When that happened, Peter changed the channel.

He sat, waiting for his pizza. On Saturdays the orderlies (guards, his mind insisted) allowed him to eat in his room. He always asked for pizza, and they always brought him the shoe shaped instant variety that chewed like leather and tasted like old shoes.

He reached down and took a sip of the soda on the table in front of him, as he changed the channel again. His didn't remember obtaining it, normally cans were forbidden. He also wasn't a fan of cherry-lemon-lime. It wasn't in a box though, and beggars couldn't be choosers. He was setting the can back down when the knock came at the door.

Peter kept himself from singing, "Pizza, pizza, pizza" as he rushed to the door. He flung it open with a smile. Then he croaked instead of speaking.

Nicole stood on the other side, smiling and holding his street clothes. He was sure she must be a delusion. Then the smell of her perfume hit him, and her voice a moment later. She held the clothes out to him.

"Special dispensation to let you live with the daughter of a holy man. I need your help, so it's time to go home. Your ministry work will continue when you attend group sessions."

Peter croaked again. He wanted to dance but a little, happy hop was all he could manage. A few minutes, a change of clothes, and an electronic ankle-bracelet later and he was on his way back into the war.

#shortstory #novel #author #writer #writing #writingprompt