Showing posts with label My Writings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My Writings. Show all posts

Sunday, July 1, 2018

Suprise Release: Santa's Curse

Santa's Curse by T. A. Moorman
Published July 1, 2018 by GothicMoms Studios
Parnormal/PNR Short


What if Santa was a vampire?

Jacquelyn, an enchantress with an overprotective streak, thinks it's up to her to protect her older sister, Jadine, an enchantress who's also a paranoid hypochondriac. So, whenever a male comes along trying to use Jadine, Jackie gets rid of them, in a non-conventional way. When the last person Jacquelyn expects, a certain vampire she's had a not so little crush on, seems to be creeping around on her sister, she has no choice but to get rid of him, too. In front of witnesses. Only to find out one second too late that she had it all wrong.

Victor, like many males, has issues expressing how he truly feels. When he finally decides it’s time to stop running from fate and claim his mate, he goes to her sister for advice. But, creeping in and out of Jadine’s place like a thief in the night leads the very person he wants to win over to draw all the wrong conclusions. Which leads to him trading in his pale good looks for a white beard and a red velvet suit.

Now that the town knows Jacquelyn is the one behind all of the disappearances, and thinking she’s killed all of those that are missing, they're out for her blood. And the only one who can save her is, well, Santa. But will he be able to make it back to her before it’s too late?

Enjoy a brand-new tale of how Santa Clause came to be.


The Yule log crackled in the fireplace, making the room feel nice and warm. While the smells of apple, cinnamon, and other fresh baked holiday treats permeated the air. The only sound to be heard was the creak of the rocking chair as the children jumped onto her lap. “Listen closely, and I’ll tell you the tale of how Santa Clause truly came to be. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful enchantress. Her ebony locks cascaded in thick, black waves down to the middle of her back. Her skin was the same color of the sweetest chocolate, with curving eyelashes surrounding shimmering, golden eyes encased in a rounded, angelic face that belied a look of innocence. She possessed a voluptuous body that most humans would call overweight, but her weight was in all the right places, and made most of the other supernatural beings fall in love with her at first sight. If not love, at least lust. Her name was Jadine Lanstross.
   She was a fun and loving free spirit, and her powers were more than formidable, though she didn’t use them very often. Jadine was forever afraid that if she overtaxed her powers, one day she might no longer have them. Most thought her silly for it, thought it was a waste to let so much magick go untapped. Jadine figured if she was going to be alive for at least a millennium she wasn’t taking any chances of doing so without magic. Yes, even an enchantress can be paranoid and a hypochondriac; it’s not just a human thing.
Her sister, Jacquelyn, thought she was a waste of magic and space. It wasn’t always that way, because Jacquelyn used to adore her older sister. When Jacquelyn was a small child, she used to look up to Jadine. She followed behind her like a lovesick puppy dog, wanting so much to be just like her. But, just as human females had the tendency to turn into cold-hearted bitches during puberty, Jadine did not, but Jacquelyn did. Unlike most human females, Jacquelyn didn’t grow out of it. Everything became convoluted in her mind and took on a new, much darker light. Even though their parents loved them both equally, Jacquelyn grew tired of the way they doted on Jadine, acting as though she was a piece of fragile glass they had to keep protected because of how sensitive she was. Just because Jacquelyn didn’t cry at every drop of the dime like her big sister, it didn’t mean she didn’t want to be shown the same amount of attention. The knowledge that Jadine’s powers surpassed her own, yet she hardly ever used them, felt like a slap in the face. Jacquelyn thought her sister was a fucking idiot for even thinking she would run out of magic, which made her wish she could just syphon it from her and use it for herself. They say there is a thin line between love and hate. Jacquelyn both loved her sister, and hated her fucking guts.
What really heated Jacquelyn’s blood was the fact that she was model-thin, perfect latte complexion, with eyes the color of a metallic midnight blue sea, and thick, luscious dark brown locks of hair flowing down her back. Yet it was Jadine that all the males fawned over, competing for her devotion as they continuously attempted to court her. If it wasn’t for fickle human men, Jacquelyn would probably still be a virgin, and she was already pushing one hundred years of age, which was more like twenty-five in human years.
But, none of them meant her sister any damn good, but Jadine was too rainbow-eyed to ever realize it. The ironic part? Jadine was in such fear of using up her magic that she failed to notice how the males she bedded all walked away a little more powerful. While most men adored Jadine, her poor fool sister tended to choose all the wrong ones—the rule breakers, heart takers, and just plain assholes. She was so busy seeing the best in everybody that she became blind to their worst parts. Since Jacquelyn loved her sister more than she hated her, she did away with the fucktards who hurt her one by one.
Oh, she didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re thinking. Jacquelyn was far more creative than that. Since the majority of them acted like children anyway, she cast a spell on them to look the age they acted like, and threw in pointy ears for good measure, so they couldn’t even attempt to mix in amongst humans. Wouldn’t do to have any of the vampires or shifters confused for regular humans. She also cast them far away from their alcove, that was hidden from human eyes, to the coldest, most desolate land in the north.
She had a special dislike for vampires in general, due to how they always teased her, saying how she didn’t have enough meat on her bones to hold the amount of blood needed to feed even a baby vampire. So, she tacked on an added extra to their spell; they would only feed on one night out of the year, and only a small amount from each victim they fed from. She did give them the ability to flash or teleport, so they could do so undetected, but they had to leave a small gift for each human. And what better day to do that than on the eve of the humans’ most famed holiday, Christmas?
But there was one vampire in particular that set her blood boiling. He had been a thorn in her side since grade school. Enchantress’ were a different sect of witches—more powerful, more long-lived—and they were practically immortal, like the vampires. Which is how many of them ended up being together, most quite literally grew up together. This particular asshat was the ringleader of all of the teasing, and he continued to pester her well after their schooling was finished.
Then the tall, handsome, drool-worthy fucktard had the audacity to start seeing Jadine in secret. He never took her sister out on a proper date, always met with her alone. She would catch him coming in and out of Jadine’s home with a dumbass grin on his face. Would catch them together in various places talking, then they would quickly stop as soon as they saw her.
Honestly, who did he think he was? With his long, thick, jet black hair that sat just past his muscular shoulders. His hard but beautiful features looked as though he had been chiseled from stone and brought to life. He had gunmetal grey eyes, surrounded by eyelashes so thick and long any male or female would envy them. And his body? It was no wonder he was such an arrogant, cold-hearted, jack—”
“Woman, are you telling that story again?”
“Of course, dear. It is their favorite Yuletide story.”
“Well, could you at least lay off on calling this poor, misunderstood male so many cruel names?”
She laughed a little at his mock outrage, then replied with a smile as she winked at him, “Anything for you. Now, children, where were we?”

About the Author:

When you become a Mom, you begin to put yourself last, and your combat boots begin to collect dust. Going to your child's PTA meetings in full Gothic, especially industrial, regalia is pretty much frowned upon. Especially by your own children, and your teens would die of a heart attack. But, one should not have to completely stop being themselves, uniqueness is greatness. So all of that darkness is put into words in her books, and designs in her jewelry sold in her Gothic Moms Dark Charms shop on Etsy and Rebels Market.

Single mother of five beautiful children, but by far more than just that. T. A. Moorman is an artist, a former violinist, a seamstress, a crafter, a writer, a blogger, a reviewer, a dark confidant and a darkly dangerous, fiercely protective friend. She still hopes to one day find her Dark Knight in shining armor, since Prince Charming would never be able to handle her. And currently broke, so go buy something of hers and tell everyone you know how much you love this book.

Author Links:

Sunday, June 17, 2018

Six Sentence Sunday

#SixSentenceSunday #Underlayes #NotSoWicked

Yes, I am still working on Not So Wicked! But, I have reached my halfway mark and going with full steam ahead...

In Underlayes race is not an issue, or even a subject that's ever brought up. And as most of us know racism is taught, not inherited. So what happens when a group of Underlayes teens get thrown into a world where not only does racism exist, but in a time during the heart of the race wars? Here are six sentences from Not So Wicked...

“Dat is not what I’m on about.” Vincent shook his head, “Dese humans, they only see in color, most anyway. And they’ll notice us being a mix of black and white hanging together.”
Next it was Jenna that spoke out, her face even more twisted up than her sisters had been, “But no one here is black, or white. We’re kind of creamy, Roshina is brown, almost as brown as you are. Then those two,” she continued, pointing towards me and Drake, “they’re sort of tan, or maybe beige. Narissa, well, I don’t what color she is, maybe gray.”

“Wow, y’all really don’t get out much do you?” That came from Stacey, who well, was really white. Her skin was so pale she could give a porcelain doll a run for it’s money. A sure sign she had really been away from Underlayes for too long, that girl needed some sunlight.

Thirty #5Star reviews out of 32! Read the book other readers have already fallen in love with. Now available on #KU

“The way the authors voice was #strong yet #spunky was fascinating to watch it play out...” – SLHReviews

“The characters feel real they have flaws and personalities that draw you to them…” – Cupcakes and #Books


That last statement he mumbled so quietly I almost missed it. Not that it mattered—everything else he was telling me was almost too much to take in all at once.

“No, I don’t wanna hear any more. Just stop. If what you’re saying right now is true, then that means…” What had I done?

“That you killed—no, brutally murdered an innocent? Yes, it means exactly that. No worries. I think it just makes you so much sexier. Rawr. You sexy little minx, you. Seeing you in action like that gave me quite the boner. I had to quickly wax on whack off—good thing no one could see me.”

“I’m glad to see you’re so happy right now. What I’m not understanding is just what you get out of all of this? Besides getting your rocks off.”

“Don’t you get it? I am now a free demon. The one who summoned me died before he ever had a chance to send me back, never had a chance to banish me from this realm. Granted, I’ll have to stay in this body, but it does look soooo much better on me. Its original owner never did wear it to its full potential, now did he?”

There went that damn laugh again. To say I was sick of hearing it would be a truly drastic understatement.
It was all too much to take in. Not only had I lost days of my life to lust, but I had just killed an innocent witch. Granted, the idiot had had no business summoning a demon, especially when he’d apparently had no idea what he was doing. A demon is so much worse than a djinn. Much worse. The level of magic it had taken to bring a demon through the barriers into this realm had to have been astronomical. All that power that Bran must have possessed. Now it was all gone to waste after one dumb-ass decision. What had he even been thinking? It wasn’t like he’d needed to win me or anything; he’d already had me, whether I wanted him or not. Whether he wanted me or not, for that matter. So this need to make me want him made no sense whatsoever.

“And you my lovely, will now be my bride. We are betrothed, after all.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh yes, with all the commotion and a little bit of smoke and magic, I made it seem as though Bran were at least somewhat alive. Now all I have to do is use my own demonic powers—which, yes, I do still have in case you were wondering—make my face look like so much charred meat—you know, the state you put the poor fool in—lay up for a while, then voila! An all healed-up Bran!

“No one will be the wiser. I mean, really, who’s going to tell? You? That would just make you a murderous bitch who committed treason against the would-be king. Bran was an innocent, after all, his palace under siege, a captive right alongside you.

“Well, I’d better get going, I do have my death bed to get to and all. And no worries, when I do ‘come to’, I’ll just reassure them we were merely having a lovers’ spat that got out of hand. I do rather like it rough.” Laughing, he flashed away, leaving a trail of sulfur in his wake.

And I was left standing there like a deer shifter caught in the headlights. This time, I wasn’t stupid enough to ask whether the day could get any worse.

Book 1: Witch Wars

Book 1.5 Hybrids

Book 2: The Succubus, The Demon, and The Witch

Sunday, September 3, 2017

Six Sentence Sunday

#SixSentenceSunday #WitchWars #ComingSoon #AfterGlowsPublishing

It's here again! Here are six sentences from my upcoming release, Witch Wars, which can now be pre-ordered on Amazon. Be sure to come to the Release Day Party on Facebook! There is a full lineup of authors and will be tons of prizes, games, and contests. Hope to see you all there! 

“It doesn’t matter.” I replied weakly.

“Yes the hell it does matter. I am not giving up that easily, Tia. If this is the last chance I have with you, I am taking full advantage. I will make it so that every time you look at him, you will wish it was me.” He ground out each word slowly and precisely through clenched teeth, “Every time he beds you, it will be my face you’ll see, my hands you’ll long for, my name on the tip of your tongue.”

Saturday, August 26, 2017

Six Sentence Sunday

#SixSentenceSunday #WitchWars #ComingSoon

Here are six sentences from my upcoming release, Witch Wars. Available for purchase at your favorite book retailers September 12. Be sure to come and celebrate with myself and other authors during the Release Day Event! There will be tons of games, contests, and sneak peaks. 

I could feel my eyes turning molten gold, then to a blazing red. I could feel fire threatening to burst from my every limb, but I’d had no idea I was crying; that was something that hadn’t happened in years.
 “You claim not to know how I feel? Well I’m telling you. So just shut the hell up and listen!

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Release Day Blitz: Resignation Letter

Resignation Letter by T. A. Moorman
"Sometimes non-fiction is even more tragic than make-believe."

Resignation Letter
T. A. Moorman
Published January 10, 2017 


The first in a serial series of non-fiction short stories of a life that has seen too much heartbreak.

Loving someone isn't easy. Accepting the one you love may not love you back is even more difficult. Step into a world where more nightmares live than dreams.

Sometimes, real life has even more drama than the most popular of Soap Operas.


About The Author:
When you become a Mom, you begin to put yourself last, and your combat boots begin to collect dust. Going to your child's PTA meetings in full Gothic, especially industrial, regalia is pretty much frowned upon. Especially by your own children, and your teens would die of a heart attack. But, one should not have to completely stop being themselves, uniqueness is greatness. So all of that darkness is put into words in her books, her first title Witch Wars, and designs in her jewelry sold in her Etsy shop, GothicMomsDarkCharms.

A mother of five beautiful children, but by far more than just that. T. A. Moorman is an artist, a violinist, a seamstress, a crafter, a writer, a blogger, a reviewer, a dark confidant and a darkly dangerous, fiercely protective friend.

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Friday, July 29, 2016

A Witch in Need

I've been through a lot of things in my lifetime. Enough to know for a fact that I must have been one evil twisted witch/bitch in a past life for Karma to be riding my back as hard as she does.   But what I'm going through right now may very well be the final straw that breaks this camels back. There are some days, more often than not, that I hope to not even wake up at all. One thing I've learned through all of this is to never look a homeless person on the street the same way again.

Many of you may know or not that my family and I are now homeless. We are some of the fortunate ones at the moment because most nights we have enough money to afford a hotel/motel. Some nights we aren't so lucky and my mate and the youngest of the clan end up sleeping in the parking lot of the hospital I work at while I'm on the inside at work. (Yes, I work midnights, in a lab, working with blood, I most definitely appreciate the irony.). And no, we don't have a lot of money, I just know how to search the web and find the best and cheapest deals for our area. Anything to keep us off of the streets. Some nights my family will graciously (yes, I am being sarcastic) keep the eleven and three year old. The seventeen and fourteen year old they will keep for all nights as they have successfully, along with the catholic school I paid for them to go to, brainwashed them into thinking that I am evil incarnate, and think they hate me to the point that they cannot stand to be in the same room as me. That is a story for another day. But, my most of my family does hate me, and walking into that house without any guards up I am hit with not only all of that hatred at once, but the utter confusion coming from my children, not knowing how they really should feel about me, the animosity my family carries for one another. Its like walking into a fog so thick that I can't even breathe. And being forced to go there more often than not due to the situation is a true punishment. What's worst? They're willing to let me come back, if I'm willing to stop going to work. Become a welfare Mom living off of the system. For one, not that easy, for two, that's just not me. I have nothing against those that do, more power to you, just too many hurdles for me to deal with and not even enough in the end game to be worth my while.

Being homeless is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and yes, I have more than a few. Not knowing where the people I love will lay their heads from one day to the next is the worst punishment Karma could ever throw onto me.
The worst part is all of the opinions being thrust onto me from all sides. Until you can bare to walk even more than a block in my shoes... My partner made some terrible mistakes which lead up to this, for which I picture myself murdering him and again for doing so. But, what some may not know about me is that I'm also an empath (yes, a witch, or a sensitive, or whatever category you want to put it in). No, I can't go running around moving things with my mind, but I feel what others are feeling, some more strongly than others. So when a person is doing something due to shear maliciousness, I know it, when they do something because they truly believe its the best thing to do, no matter how wrong or stupid it may be, I know that too. Trust me, that's not always a good thing. Because that also means when a person hates me, truly, I feel it coming at me in waves so strong it would give Point Break a run for its' money. And when a person truly does love me and my children, I feel that just as strongly. But, I also feel the frustration, the friction, the unease, the anger, every bitter emotion that comes with not being able to do for the ones you love. Compound that with my own feelings it makes it a struggle day by day to just go on.
To say this has been a true journey would be a drastic understatement, I just wish that we come to the end of the road of it very soon. People have so many different opinions and suggestions that I do appreciate and have been trying to follow these leads. My luck just sucks and what has worked for some isn't quite that simple for me. Most places that may have helped us want to see an eviction notice, which is something we never received. Some want to see everyones birth certificate, which I don't have the money to replace everyone's right now, and with the haste of the move, most are missing. They want proof we've been living out of the car, and though a lot of our things are inside of the car, that isn't proof enough.
And trying to find a place? Somehow agencies and housing companies have pretty bought up the entire market where we stay, there are very few private landlords left. And they have so many stipulations and requirements you would think you were buying the house. It would probably be easier to get a loan, which is also next to impossible. And everytime it looks as though we are about to break free of this nightmare something else claws its way to the surface and drags us right back down. For instance, the car will be shut off due to non payment tomorrow because I had to take the money I had already borrowed for that to pay for the car to be fixed since the tire decided to pop off while I was driving on the highway. With the kids inside. Even though I continue to try to explain to them that I am trying to work extra days to rectify everything and to pay them, they aren't hearing it. But, how will I get to work without a vehicle? And here is another important question, where will we even be when they decide to disable the vehicle? They have already told me whenever it goes idol, it will be disabled on either Friday or Saturday morning, wherever we are, even if that may be a gas station. What kind of world are we living in where that is allowed, especially for only one payment, not several, not even two.

They say you aren't given any more than what you can handle, but I would really love a reprieve right about now. I finally had everything planned all out. I was going back to school online, going to finish out my book series, work more on my art, finally become someone my kids can look to with their heads held high and say that's MY Mom. And I still plan on doing all of that, but it's next to impossible without a stable roof over our heads.
Truly need some relief.

Sunday, May 8, 2016

Happy Mother's Day

Picture from's+day+gif

Do me a favor? If its' still early enough wherever you are, do something nice for a Mom. Even if its not yours. The hardest job in life, and the least rewarding, is being a mother. Once you bring a child into this world you realize that none of them come with an instruction manual. The only thing each of us can do is whatever we feel is right for our child(ren), and most of us usually get a lot of it wrong. But, each and every Mother deserves an A for effort on this day.
So, if you can, just offer a smile, a few kind words, a flower, a small trinket, or even a card or a balloon. Not every Mom has someone to make this day special for her for whatever reason. And trust me, even the evil Moms that try and pretend that they don't care, they truly do want to.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016


This transgender bathroom issue is getting more and more ridiculous by the day. It seems the only thing that this great 'free' country is good for is spreading hatred in one form or another. I would like everyone who has their head up their ass in regards to this to take it out for just a moment and think about this: this didn't just start today, this month, or even this year. If a person was born as a male or female and is no longer identifying with that sex and become the opposite? Guess what, they've been going to whatever bathroom that coincides with the gender they live as day by day. Know something else? You never even knew it, and still won't. So this hate bandwagon is not only unnecessary but just plain and simple, fucking stupid. 

Please stop saying that the problem is the worry of your 'children being molested', because that is the last thing this group is thinking about. And if you are truly worried about your child being molested, perverts come in all shapes, sizes, gender and race. If a transgender male goes into a female restroom, she will be going into a stall and you would never know. Same with a transgender female, he won't be standing at the urinal, he will be in a stall minding his own damn business, why don't you try doing the same. 

The LGBT community is always being razed and ostracized for one reason or another. After this people will be saying that lesbians and gay males need to have their own bathrooms as well. 

When its' all fun, games and/or entertainment, everyone is just fine with it. When it comes to watching a man dress as a woman in a comical scenario there is no complaining then. And no man that I know complains about seeing two women kissing or doing much more than just that. But when it comes to real life...

Dear America, start worrying about the million and five REAL issues this country has. Enough with the bullshit.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Reproductive Rights and Justice (Sample 1): Tubal Ligations

Sample #1

Bitch Media, I just love saying their name, is getting ready to offer fellowships for writers. Catch? You have to have three writing samples of the topic of your choosing out of the four options provided:
  • Reproductive rights & justice
  • Pop-culture criticism
  • Technology
  • Global feminism 
The top one being the closest to my heart as a mother of almost half a dozen children. Thought you all would like to ride along this journey with me as I attempt to be published for some actual mula , and not just for free. Feel free to leave your opinions, especially if you notice any typos. I have until all Hallow's Eve to get this done. So, send me all the light, love and luck you can!

Picture from

Reproductive Rights and Justice: Tubal Ligations

Something I have wondered for as long as I've been old enough to know what all of the birds and bees subject was all about was, why on earth does a woman need her husbands signature in order to be able to have her tubes tied? For any and all women in the United States of America who are single, once they reach a certain age, plus the particular doctor's criteria, is able to have their tubes tied, clipped and burnt without anyone's permission other than her own. Yet, when it comes to a woman who has said those two all important words, 'I Do', they have to have a permission slip signed by the man they have promised to honor and obey. 

Now, correct me if I'm wrong, cause I am not one of those people who suspect that they are right at all times, but, does a man whether married or not need to have permission to have a vasectomy? If that is indeed the case, which I'm about 99.9% sure that I am, why is it not the same for the woman? Why do women have to constantly jump through different hoops in all things in life, especially when it comes to their own body? This is a complete and utter injustice no matter what way you look at it or debate about it. For there to be any equality or justice in this area it should either go both ways or be a demolished practice altogether; either both need the others' permission or neither. 

Don't get me wrong, this is most definitely a subject that should be decided among the couple regardless of which party would like to have him/herself fixed. It should not be a law where the woman has to 'ask daddy', and have it in writing, whether or not he will allow her to have such a procedure done to her body. It is the equivalent of saying that once married the wife's body is now the property of the husband's, but his still belongs to him to do with as he pleases. In a world where it is now accepted for the husband to be a stay-at-home dad, it should not be right for that working mom, especially one who may be struggling as it is, to have this decision as anything but strictly her own.   

Friday, August 28, 2015

Handle With Care

Words by me, picture found on

Handle With Care...

When dealing with someone who is used to practically living in a shell and/or behind a mask, when they let you in, try not to forget what a truly fragile thing that is. How honored you should feel by being allowed to see how that person truly feels, knowing that only a very tiny portion of the world has ever known their true feelings. True, they may have shown their anger and rage to the world, and even may wear it as a badge of honor. When it comes to their innermost feelings, hurt, sadness, fear? Those feelings they are so used to locking away feeling that if they do say something, no one really gives a damn anyway. Laughing louder than anyone else rather than drown in their own tears.

They've already been dumped on, abused, misused, even set aside as non-important. They already know how the world will view their feelings; thinking that in some way, shape or form whatever has happened to them is in some way their own fault. Something they should have done or said differently. Someone they shouldn't have been around in the first place or had the nerve to trust. That something they're afraid of is so tiny and insignificant they should never have been afraid in the first place. Forced to wrap their feelings in a tight bubble inside of their heart that they only let burst in private, though all the while some of those feelings leak out so they just smile while enduring their private pain.

So when they put that trust in you to be that one person they believe within their heart and soul they are able to turn to, their rock, solid ground when they feel as though they are sinking, handle that title with tender care. Try not to forget how hard it is for them to trust in the first place.

Monday, July 13, 2015

Undying Inferno

Image found on Pinterest via Google

Undying Inferno by T. A. Moorman

Someone asked me recently what is that a woman really wants in a relationship? Here's my response...

Every woman wants to feel irresistible, irreplaceable, wanted, needed, desired whether you've been together sixty days, months or years. Women want to know that spark that was ignited the very first night you lay together is still there. Women want to know that fierce, burning inferno of passion is a flame that will never die out. Women want you to let them know just how much you truly yearn for them. They want to feel your touch, your dark, sensual caress. They want to know that your body becomes aroused at the very thought of being allowed to lay down beside them. They want to know that feeling of longing they feel for you whenever you're apart is reciprocated. They want to feel, not only hear, just how beautiful they are to you both inside and out. Life may not be about sex, but when you're with someone, knowing that you are the object of their darkest fantasies? Knowing that they drive a passion within you that is so strong you simply need to be inside them? That is something that goes way beyond being priceless. No money in the world can ever purchase a gift as great as that.

Thursday, June 25, 2015

A Mother's Burden

A Mother's Burden

Words by me, picture found on Google under "Gothic Babies"
A Mothers' Burden:

I don't think people realize how hard it is to NOT spoil a child after you've lost one. My son is only two years old, and is an extremely active, spoiled Momma's boy. Yes, I did it. Yes, I admit it. While I know that makes him extremely difficult to deal with at times, most of the time, I can't help it. I gave birth to him less than two years after giving birth and then losing my first son when he was no more than two weeks old.

So, yea, he does get away with a lot of things that he shouldn't, but he isn't all bad. He is still a sweetheart, albeit a devilish one.

I guess my point is this. Before you start judging someone and telling them what they should and shouldn't do when it comes to their kid, stop and think about what their reason might be behind their actions. Losing a child is the most soul wrenching experience any parent can go through, especially losing them to death. So those lucky enough to have a second chance, to be graced with that soul once again? Well, to say they are frightened, excited, happy and terrified doesn't even begin to describe the multitude of emotions they experience. And there is no time limit on how long they may feel that way.

Those that are talking their shit, but are there through the thick, thin and craziness too, giving that support (even from long distance) and just telling it like it is, this doesn't apply to you. Cuz trust me, we need all the help and LOVING support we can get. Just don't forget that sometimes with this sensitive area, we need to be handled with child-size-black-lace-gloves. And even though it may not seem like it, we do appreciate your help and advice, most of the time. Lol.

Those that talk shit and are just around or touch bases only every now and then, or even once every few months? Can it. Unless you're a Cobbler and can literally walk a mile in my shoes, I'm really sick and tired of hearing what you have to say.

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Chapter 2: The Succubus, The Witch and The Vampire

This work by no means should be duplicated, reused, reprinted or reposted in any way, shape or form. This is an unprotected proof. Opinions are welcome, piracy is not. 18& older only should this content.

Chapter 2

Meanwhile, that chaos was beginning to rein in the orphanage of Underlayes.

Blowing the doors off the hinges of what appeared to be a simple cottage, not caring that by doing so removed all form of glamour hiding it for what it truly was. An enormous Gothic Cathedral, built to house all sorts of beings and keep them hidden and protected, turrets reaching the darkened moonlit skies. Sentry Gargoyles that were once perched upon the rooftop crunched beneath the Queens booted feet, she hissed as she realized she was walking among the remains of long-time friends. Friends of who have now given their very lives protecting that which she tried her damndest to keep hidden from the world. Just the thought of the excruciating pain they must have endured being crushed while in their stone form sent chills up her spine. No more would they sail the skies, nor would they protect what lay behind these hollowed walls as vigilantly as only a Gargoyle could. What truly made her cringe was imaging what creature could have welded such power to do so, and the fact that the being now had Jelissa in their clutches. Just as the Queen began to enter, flaming with rage, quite literally, flames swirling around her irises she heard faint hiss off to her side. Turning and crouching slightly, Queen Tialanna let out a hiss of her own ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Focusing more closely on the rumble she caught a slight movement. 

“My…Queen”, the faint whisper came from the direction of the debris, “…please. Tia.”

As badly as she wanted to have hoped that hearing that voice meant there was at least one survivor amongst the carnage, she knew better. There was far too much rumble littering the ground for a whole body to be intact. And while this dimension may have many beings with the ability to regenerate a limb, a Gargoyle was not among that list. Stiffening her spine, Queen Tialanna begrudgingly made her way towards a voice she knew all too well. 

“Dear Goddess, why?” She seethed between her fangs. Walking slowly at first, Tia picked up her speed with the last few steps, knowing she could not avoid the inevitable. “Ebrahim, how could this have happened?” She asked more to herself than anyone else as she knelt down beside the Gargoyle whom had once stood sentry on her own childhood home.

“End. Me. Please..” He from lips that were part stone, part flesh. Peering more closely, Tialanna was coming to realize to her sheer horror that all of the Gargoyles had been destroyed mid shift. Severed arms and legs interspersed with wings and talons of stone, some still writhing in agony while most had mercifully moved on. In broken words he begged, “I cannot…shift. Too much pain. Nor…can I heal. Nor…move on.”

Knowing what was being asked of her, yet dreading it all the same, Tia knew this was not something she be able to do alone. “ELYSSIA!” She bellowed out to her sister, a sister whom she prayed to the Goddess could shed some as to what had happened, and how.

Flashing, molecules unforming then reforming at her sister’s side, trying and failing desperately to contain her very own rage, she could feel her ebony skin frosting over by the second. Princess Elyssia had been hiding who and what she was for the past twenty years, an elemental witch from the House of Sekhmet. Baby sister to the Queen, as well as Leader of the Royal Guard, her true elements being wind and water, though while her sister’s fire flamed when she became enraged, Elyssia frosted over with ice. Her dark ebony skin casting a pale blue luminescent tint, eyes turned to glaciers with swirling diamond flecks. Her smooth and gentle waters turned to an ice that she could wield as a weapon deadlier than any blade.  

Sent here to build this very orphanage so that she could aid the Queen in hiding their family’s biggest secret, and their greatest treasure. Doing away with her “seers” robes, she flashed into her war gear; black and metallic silver leather jumpsuit with an insignia of her sisters crest, a circles of flames, steel toed knee high combat boots with throwing stars strapped to the sides, arm sheathes carrying her athames and a belt hanging diagonally along her hip holding her leather barbed whip. Whipping her long blue hair into a high ponytail before kneeling beside her sister, she heard gasps coming from inside the orphanage and knew the other “seers” would soon be joining them. The time for hiding was far from over. A slight tug came to her lips as she pictured the alarmed and surprised looks of the caretakers and children when they saw her two cohorts as the vampires they truly were. The vampires were family members from Tia’s other side. Guess Elyssia and  Tia should have taken heed from dear old Mom that secrets can never remain hidden.

Despite the dire situation they were facing, and the gruesome scene before her, she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself at the thought of her Father turning over in his grave now that she was cavorting with the 'blood sucking cretins'.

“What would you have of me, Your Highness?” Knowing how much it irked Tia for her to address her as such, she couldn’t help the jab. Even though trying to lighten the mood was a futile, and more than a little immature attempt.

“Cut the bullshit Elyssa! They have her! What the fuck are we going to do?” Fire gleaming in the banks of her eyes, Tialanna did her best to rein in at least some of her anger as flames licked up her arms. “Ebrehim protected us for most of our lives, and how do we repay him? By allowing his family and friends to be slaughtered, a truly royal way to show gratitude. If whoever took her is capable of this type of destruction, what could they be doing to her right now? This is all my fault! She doesn’t even know who she is, nor any idea why she’s been taken. As far as stupid plans go, this one was epic.”

“What else could you have done? Seriously, Tia? Not a damned thing. She wouldn’t have stood a chance at surviving even this long had we not secreted her away. We’ll find her Tia.”

“Oh, yeah? Why don’t you enlighten me on exactly how we’re going to do that?”

“Where’s Grimm?” At the mere mention of her former mentor and one of her husbands, Tia turned away from her sister, unable to make eye contact. “Tia, please don’t tell me you still haven’t-”

“No, I haven’t! When Darvyn and I got him back it was a fragile thing, if we told him then it would have broken him. An alpha werewolf, who had not only been captured and tortured, but also couldn’t even protect his mate? We kept waiting for the right moment. Dear Goddess, how am I going to tell him now?”

“Twenty fucking years, Tia? You have GOT to be kidding me!”

Anya watched on as her two sisters faught back and forth with one another from the broken doorway of the orphanage. With her platinum blonde hair hanging just shy of her waistline, extremely pail skin and the fangs she had been born with that never completely retracted, it was no wonder their mother had kept Tialanna, and not her. Anya and Tialanna are twins, if it wasn't ovious enough from the description they're fraternal. Not only do their appearances differ, but so to do their powers. Both hybrids born from the descreet union between the original Queen of the Witches and King of the Vampires. One raised by the Queen since she could be passed along as no more than a witch, the other by the King due to the undeniable vampire traits in which she possessed. While Tialanna knew nothing of her twins' existence, Anya had known all along. Her pscychic powers never allowed for much to be hidden from her. Along with being able to call on the wind, another of her abilities was also that of tremendous instinct for when she should, and should not act upon what has been shown to her. Knowing always that even though you may know the outcome of something to be tragic, sometimes you must step back and let things run its course. Otherwise, the outcome could become catistrophical. Which lead to a very lonely life, that is until someone came along that saw her resistance of being close to anyone as a challenge. Kierra has stood by Anya side throughout every storm life has leashed upon them thus far, and has never once bristled at any of the decisions Anya has been forced to make, or to ignore.

Kierra could be described as a beautiful Amazon warrior; with her sleek muscles that by no means overtake her femininity, long, thick, corse black hair that she keeps in cornrows that she can easily pull back in battle, dark, unmarred ebony skin and lush deep red lips that beg to be kissed. Her weapon of choice is that of a battle axe, though no-one can figure out where she keeps it hidden when wearing her Royal Guard uniform that doesn't leave much to the imagination. Only her beautiful wife, Anya, and Tialanna know that it waits in the ether until she has need for it. A secret they keep from everyone as it would reveal what she truly is, its' one thing to flash clothes onto your body, something only the witches, and vampires' if they are powerful enough, have the power to do, but a weapon forged in the fires of Hel's domain? Not likely. Hidden among the vampires since birth, Kierra is truly a demon with an angel for a father. Its no wonder she and Anya are perfectly mated for one another; one with a gift that could possibly make even the kindest of souls hate them, the other with an ability anyone would kill for, able to turn her feelings on and off at will. So even if Anya is forced to let even an Apocalypse take place, Kierra could quite naturally sit back with her love in her lap and enjoy the show. There are only two types that a demon cannot turn off their feelings for; their true soul mate and their children. Even with them their feelings can be muted at times.

Anya began feeling her loins heating up, a sure sign her wife was near and had sex on the brain. A sure distraction that she truly didn't need right now, even though to say she wanted it would the Goddess' honest truth. Not bothering to say a word and not heed to the open door, Kierra pulled Anya back tightly against her front slipping her hands beneath the folds of her robes knowing she wore nothing underneath, making her fight desperately to hold in a gasp as she slowly guided one hand to cup her breast and with the other slipping two fingers into her tight, wet folds.

“Hungry”, Kierra rapse in her deep, gravelly voice just as she pierced Anya's neck with her fangs, both upper and lower, thrusting her long, callused fingers ever deeper into her wet heat.

Knowing on a soul deep level that her wife became ravenous for both blood and sex in times of stress, two things that helped to shut her feelings off, Anya let Kierra take her fill. Moving her body to the rythym her wife set, she thrust images of each and every way she planned to devour her once the situation was at least marginally under control.

Just as Kierra was licking her wounds closed, Anya had a vision of exactly where her niece was being held captive. And that it was not the time to find her, yet. 

Disentangling herself from Kierra and flashing out of her robe and into her own uniform of the Royal Guard, she took in the scene playing outside once again. Watching as among the rumble her brother, Bastien, and Tia's husband, Darvyn, flashed into existence before turning to her wife, “Let's go.”

Her mental to-do list growing by the millisecond; stop her sisters' from killing each other, help release  the Gargoyles from their torment, and keep the fact she knew where Jelissa was secret until the time came to help her niece.

Side by side they stepped into what just may be the beginnings of a brand new war.

Friday, November 21, 2014

Dedication Page

Words by me, picture provided by Google.
Dedication Page

Sitting here alone in the dark I find myself contemplating on all of the decisions I have made in me lifetime. While some were all wrong or right for all of the wrong reasons. Some leaving me hurt and bleeding from the inside out. I still cannot bring myself to regret not a one of those choices. Even though with a different one I may be richer, more successful and maybe even happier, I have to ask myself would it be worth it if changing even the smallest thing meant losing anything/anyone I hold dear and near to my heart and soul. Regret is a word I will forever stricken from my vocabulary for it holds no place in the woman that I am nor the even more glorious one that I plan to become. I will hold within me all of the pain, the hurt, the sorrows, the madness and the rage, but along with it I will also embrace the love, the joy, the passion and most importantly the knowledge.

Many people whom have lived even a fraction of all the obstacles I have overcome and still must endure have not even lived to tell their tail or have succumbed to that darkened place within their hearts, minds and souls and retreated to a place of no return. There are plenty of times I have wanted to let go and just tell life 'NO MORE!', I have not, I will not, I shall not. I embrace the darkness within me along with the light, even though it is a constant struggle I will never give up this fight. I will continue to laugh in the faces of people who want no more than to see me suffer and watch me break down and descend into a downfall i which I can never climb my way out of, I vow to never give them that satisfaction. One day not too far in the future my name WILL be in print and my dedication will read:


Sunday, October 12, 2014

Breaking Point

Breaking Point

Sekhmet, my Goddess, my strength, my inner warrior within, I need you now more than ever before. A killing rage boils within my blood and I fear for the fate of the world if I allow it to be unleashed. These pitiful humans in this world think I cry of sadness but they r tears filled with anger and a hate so cold it would chill the world of ur sisters, Hel, and for the first time in eternity she would be able to feel pinpricks of ice upon her brow.

Never again will I allow anyone to walk over me and take my kindness as weakness. Never again will I bend over backwards for ppl who would do no more than spit on my face if they saw me engulfed in flames.

I pray to you to hold my madness within. For the next time, I will unleash this power and relish in the fact that what happens as an end result will make even the Horned God cringe.

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