Be My Valentine…Snack

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction is posted and shared. It can be your own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQ+.

To read a wide variety of samples of LGBTQ+ fiction, go here…

https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

I’ve started a new prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows and my Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest, appearing every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday! It’s called Be My Valentine…Snack.

Once more we return to Christopher’s Point of View, when he finds himself confronting a dangerous and hungry visitor, Damian’s aunt, Duessa Ashelocke. It’s particularly dangerous since she already considers him to be a tasty morsel and has asked him to be her ‘valentine’…

She lowered the rose, so I could see its color. Its petals weren’t red. They were a beautiful ruby purple. Exactly like the flowers which grew in the place where I’d first seen Damian, touched his hand. The very same color as his eyes.

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep anything too rude from escaping my lips.

To be continued on Monday…

 

 

 

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Be My Valentine…Snack

Welcome to #QueerBlogWed, a day to celebrate all that’s varied and different under the rainbow.

My Tales of the Navel and the Shadow Forest is just that. We’re going to end the year by kicking off a new prelude, ‘Be My Valentine…Snack’.

Christopher returns to narrate this story, sometime after the events of ‘Unwilling to Be Yours’, which ended on Christmas Day.

I’ll be posting this in parts every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, like I did with ‘Waiting for Rebirth’ and ‘Unwilling to Be Yours’.

All three of these preludes take place before the first novel in my Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest series, Stealing Myself From Shadows. It’s currently under revision.

Perhaps if you enjoy these preludes, you’ll take an interest in my book when it’s released. Stay tuned!

I’ve got another Tale of the Shadow Forest with Christopher posted at inspirationcauldron.blogspot.com. If you liked this, check it out!

 

“Be my Valentine?” Something soft and silky brushed against my cheek, exuding the scent of a freshly picked rose.

“Isn’t that what you call all of your lovers, Lady Duessa?” I studied the lady, who’d reached out one of her eight arms to offer me a single flower.

“Certainly not.” The lady smiled, exposing one of her sharp canines. “The roses I usually offer are red as blood. I consider it a subtle warning about my ultimate intentions.”

I didn’t make a move to touch the flower. Any gesture of acceptance could be dangerous.

Duessa nodded her head in gracious acceptance of my reticence.

“She appreciates modesty in a boy.” Damian had offered this bit of advice, regarding his aunt. “Especially if you act in a shy and virginal manner. She’ll remains within the bounds of gentlewomanly behavior.” He’d stabbed a warning finger in my direction. “Don’t be too bold and by all the dark powers, don’t ever flirt with her. It shows a willingness to be eaten.”

“Surely you’re joking.” I’d tried to laugh, only to remember the additional arms and fangs his aunt possessed.

“You’ve seen her true form.” Damian had raised an eyebrow with no trace of his usual sly smile on his face. “Do you think I’m joking?”

No. He hadn’t been.
I swallowed, glancing up at Duessa from beneath lowered eyelids. I prayed she’d interpret the gesture as shyness, not flirting.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates it!

I’ll be off, spending it with my family. Opening presents, having brunch, and preparing Christmas dinner. I doubt I’ll be here much during the day.

I haven’t forgotten Me Me Monday, though, or Unwilling to Be Yours. It’s time to pick up right where Peter left off on Saturday, gazing into Christopher’s eyes…

 

There were other colors in his irises besides red and purple. Bits of silver, blue, green, and gold swam within them, like reflected light swimming on the surface of a pond. “If you hold me too close, you’ll find out just how dangerous I can be.”

“I’m not entirely against danger.” I reached out a hand to touch his cheek.

He tensed.

I ran my fingers down his face in a slow, cautious exploration. “I’m willing to wait for a chance to hold you, for you to ask me to do so.”

The tension left Christopher’s mouth, as he looked at me. “You fool,” he whispered.

A smile trembled on his lips, spreading across them. He met my eyes, allowing their many hues to soften into something welcoming.

Something almost willing.

Such an expression had definitely been worth the wait.

It gave me hope. Enough hope not to give up…yet.

I’m not letting you have him, Prick. Not without a fight.

Especially now that I have a chance. I can see it in his eyes.

It’s only a small one, but it’s enough to cup in my hands and warm my heart. Enough to ignite my passion and keep it going.

Enough to be fanned into something greater and more enduring.

 

This is the end of Unwilling to Be Yours, the second prelude to Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest.

Next Wednesday, Valentine’s Day comes early and carries over to the new year! Duessa Ashelocke returns to the Navel and we return to Christopher’s first perspective in the third prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows, Be My Valentine…Snack.

 

 

 

Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction are posted and shared. It can be your own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQ+.

To read a wide variety of samples of LGBTQ+ fiction, go here…

https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

Mine is the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours, the second prelude to my novel under revision, Stealing Myself From Shadows.

Stealing Myself From Shadows is the first book in my Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest series, an ambient fantasy based on Tarot card imagery.

I’ve got Books 2 (The Hand and the Eye of the Tower) and 3 (A Godling for Your Thoughts?) standing by and awaiting revision as well.

The first prelude I shared here was Waiting for Rebirth, told from Christopher’s perspective.

Unwilling to Be Yours is from Peter’s point of view.

I’ve got a third prelude waiting in the wings, Be My Valentine…Snack. We’ll return to Christopher’s perspective in that.

Back to Peter where we left him on Wednesday (#QueerBlogWed) in Unwilling to Be Yours. He’d just caught a glimpse of what Christopher truly is…

 

“You’ve finally figured it out.” A smile twisted at his mouth, trying to stretch it into something reassuring. “I’m not sure if I’m a creature Damian created, or that he found in the shadows. What I’m not is some innocent Damian seduced and betrayed.”

He took a step towards me.

I couldn’t look away from his eyes.

 

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s #QueerBlogWed, a day to blog, post, and celebrate a rainbow of possibilities.

I’m doing it by sharing the next part of Unwilling to Be Yours, my second prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows, my novel under revision.

Peter picks up where he left off on Monday, wondering where ‘Waiting for Rebirth’ disappeared to and why Christopher is so calm about it…

 

“Well, I hope it stays far away,” I muttered, trying not to shiver and failing.

The intelligent part of my brain told me to shut up. Such honesty wouldn’t impress Christopher. After all, I was insulting his True Self According to the Perfect Prick’s Artistic Genius.

I half expected another outburst. Christopher was being surprisingly calm about all this.

I was the one on the edge of terror. I really didn’t like it when magical objects did things which couldn’t be explained away by the skeptical.

“No need to worry.” Christopher’s smile had disappeared from his face. “The painting is a Door. The Door has closed. People in this world can no longer see it, except for the faintest shimmer in the air.”

“What shimmer?” I gazed in the direction of the gazebo.

“Can’t you see it?” Christopher tilted his head, fixing a luminous purple eye upon me. “A trace of white, lingering in the air, like smoke or mist?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I guess whatever you saw was meant for you alone.”

“I guess.” Christopher dropped his gaze to his feet. “He’s not coming back. Not if he’s closed the Door behind him.”

“We don’t know what happened.” I was actually defending the Perfect Prick. The things I did to reassure this boy! “The painting disappeared. This doesn’t necessarily mean Damian isn’t coming back.”

“If he was lost, or indecisive, the painting would have remained in this world.” He raised his head, not quite looking at me. “The painting is of me, but it contains a little piece of Damian. If any part of him wanted to remain here, the painting would have stayed.”

“Why wait for me to bring it to the gazebo, before disappearing?” I asked. “Why didn’t it just vanish in the Navel?”

“Because the Navel is Gabrielle’s Place of Power.” Christopher looked down at his feet. “She’d never let any harm come to Damian in the Navel, even if it was just a little piece of him in a painting.”

“She asked me to take it out here,” I said slowly. I was trying to understand what Christopher was saying. “Why do that, if she’s trying to protect ‘Waiting for Rebirth’?”

“Because Gabrielle believes, absolutely, in free will,” Christopher’s hands trembled, anger sharpening every word. “Damian chose to leave us. She has to respect his choice, even if it’s to take every bit of himself away, leaving us with nothing.”

There was a redness in Christopher’s eyes, staining his purple eyes with a bloody tint.

It was a hue I’d never seen in another human being’s eyes.

Unwilling to Be Yours

It’s Me Me Monday! A day to promote, strut, and celebrate Your Me-ness!

Only Peter fears it may be all about Him, Him, Him, meaning the Perfect Prick, Damian Ashelocke and his hideous painting, ‘Waiting for Rebirth’. It managed to vanish, right out of his hands and he didn’t notice…

 

“What the…?” I turned around, searching every inch of the garden for a sign of a fallen canvas. “No, I don’t believe this!”

I glanced at the trees, the rosebushes, and the gazebo, half expecting to see a shadowy figure. “Way too magical for me!”

“Is it?” Christopher followed my gaze, showing no sign of surprise. “The magic in this place has always nourished me in a way human food can’t.”

“Nourishing.” I let out a half choked laugh. “Maybe the painting needed to eat. I have no idea what it was up to.”

“Maybe.” Christopher studied my expression, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “‘Waiting for Rebirth’ always had a will of its own.”

To be continued on Wednesday (#QueerBlogWed)…

Unwilling to Be Yours is the second prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows, my novel under revision.

Waiting for Rebirth was the first. I’ve already posted and shared it in segments.

The third and final prelude is Be My Valentine…Snack.

Stealing Myself From Shadows is the first book in my Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest series, an ambient fantasy based on Tarot card imagery.

I’ve got drafts of the second book (The Hand and the Eye of the Tower) and the third  (A Godling for Your Thoughts?) standing by, awaiting revision.

Look for updates to this ongoing story every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday.

Unwilling to Be Yours

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets! Every Saturday, six sentences of LGBTQ+ fiction is posted and shared. It can be your own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQ+.

To read a wide variety of samples from LGBTQ+ fiction, go here…

https://www.facebook.com/groups/RainbowSnippets/?ref=group_header

 

For mine, I’ve got another segment from Unwilling to Be Yours, my second prelude to Stealing Myself From Shadows.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, I post a segment. I’ve already shared all of the first prelude, Waiting for Rebirth.

Once Unwilling to Be Yours is finished, I’ll begin the third prelude, Be My Valentine…Snack.

Stealing Myself From Shadows is the first book in my Tales of the Navel/The Shadow Forest series, an ambient fantasy based on Tarot card imagery.  It’s currently under revision.

Peter picks up right where he left off on Wednesday (#QueerBlogWed) with Christopher in the garden. Only he’s forgotten something…

 

I gazed down at my empty hands, alarmed.

What had happened to ‘Waiting for Rebirth’? I’d been carrying it when I met Christopher.

Only when I embraced him, my arms had been empty.

The painting had disappeared. I hadn’t even noticed it was gone.