Ok, so I’m teasing you all…
This is something I started to work on a back In January, and now, I’m going to turn it into an actual story. However, I’m a panster. I don’t plot. I sat down, I wrote, this is what I got. Now, it’s been sitting for so long, I’m not sure what I had planned for it. . . BUT I do have an idea…just not sure if it’s the best Idea. So take a look, and tell me, what do you think is going on here?
Is the Guy a Ghost? Someone form another time? or Plane of Existence?
Shout out your ideas, anad if you come up with one that’s better then the one I have planned, and I use it. You win the Paranormal Amber Pax collection it will be publsihed with in January.
Unedited excerpt:
I knelt reverently in front of the carved wooden box I’d pulled from the corner of my closet. A tinge of shame echoed in my heart as I realized how long it had been since I’d laid hands on the small chest. How long I’d been denying who,what, I truly am.
My fingertips traveled gingerly over the carved symbols on the lid and a shiver danced through my body. Quickly, before any doubts could seep into my heart, I lifted the lid of the box and reached for what I needed. Everything was just as I’d left it. Soon I was sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bedroom floor, surrounded by 4 candles, each a different color. Directly in front of me was a gold coin, a flat stone, and a copper penny; all engraved with ancient Romani symbols.
Ignoring the slight trembling in my stomach, I closed my eyes and concentrated. It came easily, as if the time it had sat inside of me, unused, had only made it stronger, more eager to do my bidding. I knew this was an illusion though. Power weakens when ignored, it doesn’t rest and regenerate. As if to prove this fact, once I’d flicked my mind out to the candles surrounding me and lit them, the energy flowing through my veins weakened to a slow pulse, drained.
Without opening my eyes I reached for the gold coin with my left hand and the flat stone with my right. The amulets grew warm in my grasp and I felt the power of my ancestry surge through me. Bracing myself, I summoned the image from my dreams.
He was tall, at least 6’3, and solid. Dark hair swept back from rough hewn features and bared dark eyes and full lips to my view. The lift of his head told me of his pride, his arrogance. But it did little to detract from the magnificence of him. His nakedness hid nothing from my view and I felt my blood heat at the sight of his golden skin stretched taut over firm muscles. The glinting silver hoops that pierced his nipples shimmered in the air. There had to be some significance to them, but I didn’t know exactly what it was so I filed the fact away for later research.
I studied the image in front of me. The one that had been haunting my dreams for weeks. I had thought it was just my repressed libido manifesting him in my dreams. The fact that I awoke each morning from dreams of him, wet between the thighs, but sated and heavy as only a well fucked woman can be, should’ve warned me that there was more to him than the cloudy existence of dream figures. But it had taken him appearing to me, in front of my desk at work that afternoon, while I was wide awake to make me accept that fact.
The woods are at the back of my property so only a few leaves should fall and we’ll hope the wind blows them back into the briar patch.
