Wanda at The Romance Studio gave Del Fantasma: Texas Tea 4 and 1/2 hearts and says: Such a gratifying work of art, Maura Anderson formulated. Through her imagination and ability to create such striking images, she tied together into a beautiful bound package, a twist of doubt, along with a modest amount of romance, which turned out to be a pleasantly puzzling story. Just enough to leave this reader wanting more. This awesome page turner, with its fast moving plot and memorable characters, gripped me with tantalizing suspense. There were no sudden jerks or jolting parts to slow the action down. Matthew, and the manner in which he was brought up, had qualities of gentlemanly and lovable attributes. That showed me he appreciated his mother, in view of the way he showed respect for women. He didn’t try to control. That surprisingly touched my heart. Will Lara become too involved with Matthew and try to transform him to a wilder side? Or will the two drift away from each other once the truth is known? I had to find out, and so will you. I highly recommend this impressive read.

You can read more on the TRS Site.

Wrote my newsletter with the exception of the free read book whose chapter two I’m finishing now.

Total Words: 9235
Goal Words: 6750
Percentage of Goal: 137%

After the newsletter story, I have two stories to plot and the Friday Flash to write for the week.

It looks like last week’s Friday Flash Fiction is turning into a whole story :)

Done and now in for edits! It came out at almost 17,000 words and will appear in the Babes in Toyland II anthology from Aspen Mountain Press, available mid-November 2007.

Blurb:

Recovering from a near-fatal accident, wiccan priestess Kayleigh Brennan has taken a leave of absence from her job to focus on recovering her health and rediscovering herself. When she discovers an ancient holly tree in a clearing behind her rented bungalow, she catches the full attention of Ilex, the Holly King. As his reign ends for the year and an ice storm moves in, will they lose each other again to the cycles of the year and of life?

Excerpt (Unedited):What a beautiful day.

Already chilly, the lack of any cloud cover was a certain sign that it would get far colder overnight. The weather had been unpredictable and there were already dire warnings that this winter would be a record breaker.

She made her way down the wooden stairs from the deck to the ground, keeping a tight grip on the railing and testing each step carefully before putting her full weight on it. The mere thought of getting hurt again made her stomach churn. She wasn’t about to risk a tumble down the steps.

The carefully groomed gravel path started at the base of the wooden stairs and meandered in swoops and curves toward the woods, following the slight contours of the yard on its way to the woods. Its organic flow made it seem like it might have always been there, despite the fact it was clearly manmade.

The crunching sound of her footsteps drew her to the brink of a different state of awareness. Her stomach gradually relaxed and her hands unclenched. Her mind stilled as she focused on her feet and the path, each slow step taken with care. Each deliberate stride pulled her deeper into her light trance.

At the edge of the grass lawn, she seemed to cross from one world to another in the space of a few steps. The gravel path changed to a rougher trail of packed earth with a layer of leaves and needles. The trees grew thicker and larger, nearer to the small path. The scent of the cedars was both sharp and comforting, overlying the musty and rich smell of the thick layer of decaying vegetation that filled the floor of the woods. Screened by the woods, the light breeze was replaced by a quiet stillness, not even broken by the sound of birds or squirrels she’d heard in the yard.

The path was well-defined and Kayleigh continued along it, sinking a little deeper into her trance. She loved the feel of nature and the trees around her. Alone in the woods, she could have been the only person in the world, at home with the Goddess and the sense of impending Yule.

Tugging off her gloves, she reached out to caress the wide, craggy trunk of a pine tree that had to be a hundred years old. She wouldn’t even be able to get her arms around half the trunk. Fingers quickly growing cold, she stuffed them and her gloves into her coat pockets.

Her steps took her further down the path, touching bushes and dodging the few spider webs that impinged on the trail. It seemed like she walked forever — away from the loud modern world and into a timeless, primeval realm of some sort.

Her breath caught, a sense of excitement suddenly flooding through her newfound peace. A shiver traced down her spine and goose bumps rose on her arms. A presence, an ancient, inhuman sense of wisdom and power, flooded over her mental shields. It seemed somehow masculine, deeper and rougher than the feminine Goddess energy she usually felt. And it was very close.

What is out here?

A blind turn in the path, around a large maple, brought her to the edge of a clearing. The crowded woods abruptly gave way to a grassy open space with a huge holly tree in the center, flanked by several smaller holly trees.

“Goddess, where have you brought me?” Her own whispered words seemed to flow out into the still otherworld of the clearing on the fog of her breath, twisting and turning as she stood in awe of what she saw and felt.

Every Instinct and training told her this was no ordinary landscape feature. This was a sacred place of some sort and it belonged to the presence she felt. The huge, ancient holly tree in the center seemed to be the focus.

The longer she looked at the tree, the more she felt a need to touch it, to be near it. The smooth bark almost glowed in shades of tans, browns, yellows and golds. The spiky leaves were a glossy dark green and created a lush canopy that overshadowed the two smaller holly trees.

The grass was already yellowed from the cold fall weather and wet but didn’t appear to have been mown at all recently. It seemed deeply wrong to just walk into the clearing. That space belonged to the presence and no matter how much she wanted to get near the huge holly, she needed to remember she was only a visitor — an uninvited one at that. A wave of tingling electric sensations ran over her skin and just under it, an eerie sensation made it clear that whatever lived here had noticed her.

(c) 2007 by Maura Anderson

I was upset with myself for being behind until I remembered the 750 words for yesterday’s Flash Fiction Friday.

So, including that, I’m now at 5354 words written and 119% of goal.

YAY

So, in a moment of sheer perverted masochism …. I mean brilliance, really… I’ve decided to try something and turn my Friday blog posts into a Flash Fiction bit each week.

Flash Fiction, for those who haven’t heard the term, is a extremely short story. For my own purposes, I’ll call the limit at 750 words but there is no generally accepted length.

I enjoy these brief glimpses into a story or character – hopefully you all will too. Comments and other people’s flash fiction are always welcome!

———————————————————

Mariten could no longer feel her hands. The pain of the tight bonds turned to cold numbness hours ago. Her hysterical fear had likewise turned to icy calm.

Used to the furtive glances and rejection of the townsfolk, she’d not paid much attention to the whispers and avoidance yesterday. She should have known that Hadriad would seek revenge after she’d rejected him, however privately. But even she would not have guessed he would have the priests declare the need for a sacrifice to bring back the warmth and drive away the cold. They required that the sacrifice must be one with red hair, which assured her death. She was the only unmated person with red hair.

The townsfolk filed past, each bearing wood to add to the growing pyre around and under her. Some looked at her in sorrow, most would not look her in the face. The mound of wood grew and the sun moved low in the sky until only the thinnest rim remained above the horizon.

Cold. She was so cold. The thin red robe she’d been clothed in was no protection from the frost. Another twist of her wrists proved her bonds were still tight. The stickiness on her hands must be her own blood. All day she’d attempted to wriggle free and somehow have a hope of escape, but to no avail. The gag in her mouth made speaking impossible – she could not even plead for her life.

She sagged in the grip of the ropes. They’d come for her before dawn, before she could have any chance to defend herself or escape. Stolen from her bed by Hadriad and his group of cronies, she’d feared rape or even slavery.

Never had she considered her life would end in a forbidden practice – as a sacrifice to the Fire Dragon.

“Not so proud now, Mari? You should have accepted my offer.” Hadriad spoke with quiet menace. “You would have lived a much longer life.”

The once fit warrior, now fat with excess and laziness, moved to stand next to her. His small, dark eyes narrowed in obvious satisfaction as he examined her. A sneer curled his lips at her flinch when he tightened the rope about her body yet again, making it even harder to breathe.

She straightened her trembling legs. She’d be damned if she gave him any satisfaction. She might die but she refused to cower before him. Hadriad was the true coward here. She narrowed her eyes attempting to convey her loathing.

Hadriad held his arm to the side to receive the torch handed to him by one of the priests. The fire would have come from the sacred fire of Dregalla, the Dragon Queen, creator of the world.

Fear clenched her belly again. This was the end. A few tears escaped eyes she thought were beyond any more tears.

Hadriad lowered the torch to the pile of wood and lit the pyre, then stepped back and laughed as the fire caught and spread.

The horror of her impending death ate through Mari’s shock. The heat of the fire increased as it surrounded her.

Great Dregalla, save me from the pain. Let me pass quickly if this is my fate.

The flames licked at the hem of her trailing red gown, closing in around her bare feet. It was hot but not painful. Yet.

Hadriad stared at her, almost waiting for her torment to truly begin.

The flames enveloped her and consumed her gown in a flash. Mari looked down and saw her flesh itself was on fire, tendrils of orange and red racing over her skin. But there was nothing there to feed the fire.

Sudden ferocious pain slammed through her and she threw her head back, a silent scream erupting from her throat. Afraid to know, she still forced herself to look back down at her body. If a soul really remembered the last moments of their prior life, she wanted to remember. She wanted to carry that vision with her into the future. If vengeance could not be hers in this lifetime, she would have it in the next.

Blinking her eyes rapidly to clear the smoke, she stared in horror at herself. Her charred and burnt skin dropped away in sheets from the flesh beneath. The fire opal red scales of a dragon. A fire dragon’s skin.