A sneak peak of my shape-shifter novel: Prologue The clash of metal on metal comes to an abrupt silence. Cracks of gunfire no longer tear across the battlefield. All manner of life ceases movement, even the trees hold steady in the wind. Soft whispers of encouragement and grumbles of doubt reverberate in my soul between each palpitation of my heart. Rain walloping on my helmet echoes in my brain as if distant drums banged in tune. My hot breath curls into the frigid air, forming wisps of steam. At that moment, I am surprised I can breathe at all. The thick, blood-soaked mud holds my hands and knees captive to the Earth. It hurts to move. Curious eyes - thousands of them – stare, waiting to see what will happen next. His eyes are filled with a bright, cobalt blue flame that burns with his every breath as he waits for my answer. Most people shake with fear in his presence. If I were smart, I would too, but I’m not scared. Not of him. Instead I feel something much more volatile. I’m pissed. I’m pissed that I’m here. I’m pissed that I’m cold and tired. Mostly, I’m pissed because I have no sure fire way of beating him. Hes stronger, faster and more experienced than me. Never mind he’s the God of the Underworld, and I’m only a teenage girl who’s barely scraped the surface of what I need to know to ensure a victory. But I can’t think about all of that now. I only have a moment to plan my next move. Do I stay on my knees and let him win? If I do, then Earth, the Otherworld and the Underworld will no longer exist as we know it. That would be too easy. If there’s anything I’ve learned these past few weeks - nothing is easy. The hundreds of bodies lying lifeless next to me are a reminder of the countless innocent lives that will be lost. Unless I do the one thing I don’t want to do, the one thing that would put an end to everything. But the day would be saved, and the three worlds would continue as if nothing happened. Maybe that’s what is really pissing me off. Just attempting it will probably kill me, and he’ll still win. Even if I pull off the transformation without dying, he could still kill me. There’s no guarantee with either option I’ll live to see the result of my sacrifice. But I can’t keep stalling, trying to make up my mind. The longer I take, the more anxious I become. One thought keeps fluttering in and out as I make my decision (and I’m sure it’s the same question you’re asking yourself now) — how the hell did I get myself into this position? To answer that question, I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning. No, I’m not going way back to my gross, slime-encrusted birth like some drawn out, cry-me-a-river, chick-flick. We’ll jump ahead eighteen years after that.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 16:58:24 +0000
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