Parking Lot

Hollow unrelenting rain

In a parking lot

I found you

Down below the concrete and asphalt

A midnight hour

Where we could kiss with haste

Eyes on the horizon

I’ve dug myself bloody

Every single moon

To be here now

Where I know you are

Left, forgotten

By all but me

The soil underneath is hard

Like the bones of your fingers

Packed into unfertile waste

Yet we’ll make something beautiful

In the taste of decay

Something perfect

In your marred visage

Close to mine

Let’s twine like roots

Become one heart and soul

Because true love transcends death

Rise of the Machines (7)

Rise of the Machines (1), Rise of the Machines (2), Rise of the Machines (3), Rise of the Machines (4), Rise of the Machines (5), Rise of the Machines (6).

Amanda glanced at the twitching housebot. “Nice shot, you must have hit the motherboard.”

Darnell didn’t have time to ask how such a beautiful woman knew what a motherboard was. Amanda motioned for him to follow. A din floated from the kitchen, clanking, whirring, gurgling. Apparently every gadget in the heavily automated space had come to life.

Amanda looked around the corner, then pressed against the wall, nodding at Darnell. “I thought having a kitchen that could make us breakfast in the morning was the best thing ever, not so much anymore. Cover me, I’ll try to take out the drone.”

As soon as she rounded the corner something shiny and sharp glanced her cheek. Darnell didn’t think twice, jumping in front of her. If he died, this was a good way. The drone was hovering the island, lord of machines. Darnell took one shot, blowing a hole in the cabinets, then another, sending the drone spiraling with smoke and sparks.

The silence was deafening. Darnell turned to Amanda, who was holding her bloody cheek. “We better take care of that,” he said, as if he wasn’t just about to shit his pants.

Amanda smiled. “Let’s.”

Machines 5, humans 2.

The Witch’s Bookshelf : Marked for Life by (book review)

Marked for Life: Emelie Schepp


Summary: Jana Brezelius (lead character), is a public prosecutor who works closely with the police. When the head of immigration is shot, apparently by a child, Jana ends up in the middle of an investigation that will turn her world upside down.

Review: ‘Marked for Life’ has been on the bestseller list, and has fit bragging on the cover, that’s why I chose to read it in the first place. Every once in a while I like to see what everyone else seems to be enjoying, sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised, sometimes I’m not.

This one is a not.

Now I don’t like to be too rough or trash other peoples works, because as a writer I know just how damned hard it is to get your novel to the point that it’s readable, much less golden. That being said, Emelie Schepp’s writing is good, readable, very nice. The characters are interesting, the plot is alright. But isn’t that the problem? It was alright. All this, despite the inclusion of human trafficking, and children turned hitmen.

Part of me resents whoever wrote the blurb on the back, because it feels like it gives away too much of the plot. That leaves me wondering if I would enjoy the book more having not read the blurb (my summary is different than the blurb fyi).

The next book in the series is ‘Marked for Revenge’, but I can’t seriously see myself wasting anymore time on this series. There are so many amazing, life changing books I want to read, I have to be picky.

If you’re not picky though, and you want an easy read, I’d give it a try. I’d also keep an eye on Emelie Schepp, she has a great deal of promise. ; )


Have you read this book, or any other books by Emelie Schepp? How were they? What was the last book you read that you wish you hadn’t wasted your time on?


The Snow God: Part 3 (Erotica)

This story is rated R.

Read part 1 here. part 2 here.

It was only fitting that Val should mount her with the energy and abandon of a deep winter blizzard, skin kissed with ice. Kara wrapped her legs around his fit torso, trying to hold the storm in, to never let it leave. His cock was relentless between her legs, making wet quick noises, poking and prodding her center of pleasure, and even though all the pleasure had already been spectacularly released, Kara could feel a new wave rising.

He could feel it too, blonde hair tickling her collar bone as he leaned close, sucking her nipples, letting his teeth worry them. She imagined that his tongue was still soaked in her scent, wet and warm, like an animal.

Like an animal, hunting me, instead of me hunting it.

Her limited experience with men told her he must come soon, so she tensed, pushing her hips to the rhythm, chasing the elusive second orgasm, praying to gods unknown. But every second she expected, nothing came of it, instead the feeling that he was intent on her pleasure only grew. Kara relaxed in response, digging her fingernails into his perfect back, loving how pliable his skin was, how good it smelled.

“A dirty girl like you needs a strangers cock to come twice,” he whispered in her ear, with not even a hint of breathlessness. That was the nail in the coffin, sending her over the edge.

A strangers cock, I’m fucking a stranger, and I’ve only known him for half an hour tops, half an hour and two orgasms.

Val must have been holding himself back with all his strength, because as soon as he felt the clench of her orgasm he also came, cock twitching and ramming deeply, breathing rising to a crescendo. When he was finished, he kissed her lavishly, sweetly all over her bare shoulders and cheeks.

“You are spectacularly explosive, like fire.” He paused in mid thought, words obviously heavy on his lips. Kara waited, staring at them intently, at their perfect curve and hue. “I only hope you won’t burn me.”

“I won’t burn you. Why would I?” Me, meek old Kara? I can’t imagine.

His blue eyes flickered with worry for a second, but then he smiled brightly. “Come with me then. I could use the company.”

Kara’s heart seized slightly, she’d let him have his way with her, that was one thing, but now he was asking her to go somewhere with him. “Where is it you want me to go?”

“I have to find my sister, we’re in a great deal of trouble.”

“Does this have anything to do with you turning up naked in the snow?”

“Everything, unfortunately.”

Kara gave him a suspicious look. “Exactly what kind of trouble are you in?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Val rolled off of her, away from the fire, wiping sweat from his brow. “Either way, I have to go.”

She sat up too, pulling the blankets up against her chest. “You just got here.”

“It’s urgent.” His blue eyes were fixed on her again, and she felt the same tingle as he leaned in to kiss her. “Can you come with me?” it was a whisper, a pleading.

“I-I barely know you… Besides, I have to take care of things here. I’m the only one.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I understand.” He stroked her cheek lightly giving her one more passionate kiss.



The Snow God: Part 1 (erotica)

This story is rated R (no sex in the first part though)

The loneliness burned behind her eyes, smoldered in her insides. Kara gazed out at the wintry expanse a deep weight settled where it should have been light and unnoticeable. Finally with a sigh, she tugged at her fur lined hood and trudged out into the pristine snow, breaking the shining crust with sensible winter boots. The sun had come out, but that didn’t mean it was truly warm. Whenever you passed the barren trees at the edge of the field the shadows pulled at you with their freezing fingers.

Before Kara could take more than a few steps into the forest, her foot sunk, landing on something odd. Kara scuffed it with her toe, the fingers distinguished from the snow, slightly less white. She gave a squeak that echoed in the empty forest like a ricocheted bullet.

It wasn’t cold anymore.

Once she’d pulled herself together, hand pressing hard against her palpitating chest, she considered the scenarios. Some luckless soul had gone wandering off no doubt. Maybe a drunk. Best to mark the spot well, trudge back and take the snow mobile into town. She staked a large broken branch close to the hand, tying her sea foam green scarf to it. The tails of the scarf waved in the breeze, a poor mimic of summer’s glorious foliage. Kara looked ahead, hesitating. She still needed to check the traps, if she went back now, she might not have time today.

That was when the hand stirred, ever so slightly. At first she thought she might be imagining things, but as she stared down at the hand it twitched again, fingers curling into a loose fist.

Kara dug.It was like her life depended on it, like she’d gone completely mad. Following the arm led to the shoulder, following the shoulder, massive and bare, led to the head. She was huffing and puffing as she leaned over the square jawed face, white clouds of breath falling and dissipating into his blonde hair.

A model. What is a model doing out here? Better question, why is he shirtless?

She shook off the disconcerting thought. He had to be warmed. If he wasn’t dead already, he would be soon. Kara dug around his shoulders again, then came up behind, getting a good grip under his arms, thanking every god in the book that she’d spent so much time hauling heavy cords of wood. He was heavy alright, muscle heavy, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

He came free with a good solid tug. Kara almost dropped him then, the sight of his complete nakedness blinding.

“Fuck, what in the fuck.” She kept her head turned to one side, staring off into the trees with wide eyes, then set him down gently, doing the only thing she could think of, taking off her over coat and laying it across his man parts.

The rest was a frantic blur.

Ebony Ghost (Horror)

Rated R for language and disturbing and violent scenarios. (489 words)


Every time Huck looked out into the forest to the north, he remembered. It was an involuntary remembrance, and what he wouldn’t give to stop it. Sometimes he even dragged all the wood to the front of the house, back to the forest, just to spare himself the sight. Still, every once in a while, he’d look. Accident maybe. Maybe he really did want to look. Maybe he wanted to remember her.

Soft. That was what her skin felt like. Smooth, shiny and ebony. Her lips, God almighty. Molly’s lips couldn’t hold a candle to them.

Molly, just another reason to shake off the memory. Whenever he got that distant look in his eye she’d get suspicious, wringing out her apron and pressing her thin lips together.

“What’cha thinkin’ about Huck. Wood won’t cut itself.”

Huck would just nod and grunt. Then he would shiver slightly, the memory of her fingers stroking down his back so tenderly, flooding his skin. She was innocent, sweet like a flower, but wet inside, like a humid New Orleans day. If he could have stopped himself from touching her. Well it wouldn’t be like this.

That was always when the memory turned bad. There he was, face to face, almost nose to nose with the figure. He could smell the alcohol on his breath, see the sweat beading under the white cotton, blue eyes peeking out from their peepholes.

“This nigger whore don’t deserve to carry your child!”

And all Huck had been able to say- “Please.”

Please what? Please, fucking, what?

He should have smashed the fucker in the face, told him to go mind his own business, go back to screwing pigs. But all he could do was watch, and when it was over, when they’d tramped away like ghosts into the woods, leaving him with her, then he could only hide his face against his knees. His Levi’s smelled like cow shit and mangled grass. He breathed it in, trying to imagine just for a second that he was out in the field, tossing hay bales off the truck. No luck, so he’d picked himself up, cut her down. No one deserved to just hang there, all exposed and forgotten. The crickets close by took up their deafening song again, so Huck did the only thing he could think to do, cradle her, humming a soft lullaby close to her ear, feeling her warmth escaping.

If he’d had the guts, he would have buried her, or better, avenged her. Instead he was here, five years later, chopping wood until his muscles burned.


A blow to the head.


That cotton would be soaked red now.


If he cut the shoulder sure enough, the whole thing would come off.


God almighty, have mercy.


On a wretched soul like him.


“Huck, suppers ready, haul that wood in before it gets cold.”


“In a minute Molly dear, just a minute.”

Starting a Fire (Short Story)

Dear readers: My book has been coming along well, but as you can see I’ve been neglecting my blog. This is my first time self-publishing so I’m finding that there’s a lot to learn, a lot that I won’t have to learn next time around (unless I forget), so it’s pretty intense. I’ll be back to my normal posting schedule next month though, so don’t worry!

For now, here’s something awesome! ERWA posted my short story in their gallery. What’s ERWA? The erotica readers and writers association, which is pretty nifty, esp. if you’re an erotica writer. They also have a super cool email list that allows you to read and critique other erotica writers work, as well as post your own work for consideration.

Anyways here’s a link to my story (only 200 words, very short, hopefully very funny as well) (My story ‘starting a fire’ has been taken down (they only keep it up for three months), but this link for some reason links to my new story featured there, ‘larger burger’. Enjoy!)

While you’re there don’t be afraid to check out the work featured by the other erotica writers, they do some pretty awesome stuff!


Writing a Novel: When the Honeymoon Phase is Over (5 Tips)

The Blackwater Witch was only the second novel I’d even finished the first draft of, that being said, I was pretty damned excited (wohoo, look at me over here, I have an entire first draft!!!). It was easy, I was in love with the story, the characters, the world, they were mine. It was dirty, gritty, scary, twisted, and best of all, it had a beginning, a middle, and an end.

Cue the editing…

Noooooo, why is this so hard!

I’m pretty sure every author who has stuck with it long enough has experienced this feeling. So how did I get through eight or nine (lost track) drafts, and to a semi-polished story? Well, here are my top five tips, maybe they’ll help you, maybe they’ll make you bury your head in your hands and sob in despair, I hope sincerely that it is the first of the two.


1. Determination: If you want to be a writer you’re going to have to develop some pure determination, things don’t just happen, and the best writers don’t just become so overnight. If you aren’t a hundred percent determined that you’re going to finish your project, it will chew you up and spit you out.

Don’t despair though, as far as I’m concerned, determination is something you can achieve at any point in time, in another words, it’s never too late (unless you’re literally on death’s doorstep).

So maybe you have days where everything looks like crap and you want to get in a rocket, and take your manuscript to the nearest blackhole (it’s 1,600 light years by the way) and toss it in, but the important thing is that you pull yourself back up, brush off and keep soldiering on.


2. A Plan: This is my favorite advice. Why? Because editing a novel is nothing like writing a novel. Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m a pantser, but when it come editing time I do one of two things, A: Make no plan and end up swimming in a swirling abyss of confusion Or B: Make a plan that I can follow, and see my progress.

Progress is the most important word here. Progress helps you see the light at the end of the tunnel. For me this means that once I have all my chapters lined up (in separate text documents) I edit each one once, mostly looking for big stuff like holes that need to be filled and story lines that need to be tweaked, and things that say ‘blurgh gurg’ when the character is really supposed to be saying ‘I love you, dammit!’. In short, the obvious stuff. I go over each chapter four more times after that, tweaking and polishing as much as I can, but keeping in mind that even after that I’ll still be able to go over it again. Each chapter that receives five full edits gets put in a special folder titled 5. It’s kinda like getting little sticker stars for a job well done.

Then I give myself some time away, that way when I come back it will look fresh, I’ll see things I didn’t see before (wow this chapter seemed so awesome when I read it last time, how come it’s so terrible now?). I go over all the chapters two more times, as quickly as I can so that I get a better overview, then, only then, do I go out and hunt a beta reader…

3: A Deadline: I don’t know about you, but for me a deadline really sets a fire under me. Sure I’m the one who made it, so if I break it no one is going to punish me, but nothing stings like disappointment in ones self.

Make your deadlines reasonable though. Make sure you have the tools you need to accomplish them, and don’t be too worried if you go over a day here and there. If deadlines do nothing else for you, they will give you extra structure to work with, a goal to work towards.


4: Editing First, Internet Last: I know you’re currently scrolling around, hunting for that unsubscribe button, but that’s only because you know it’s true. Sure, it’s hard. Come on, just one peek, what’s in my email, how’s my blog traffic doing, just a little, then I’ll work.

Nope, the internet is a web, one designed to keep you tangled up until your novel rots into oblivion, so be careful.


5: Discover New Things About Your Characters: Even if you did tons of outlines and character bios to start with, there’s always something new and juicy to discover. My favorite exercise is to write pivotal scenes from my characters life, even if they don’t end up in the book. I just write them, loosely, discover them.

Learning more about your characters can open your world back up, make it exciting again, and that excitement goes a long ways. This also helps you fill in details that you couldn’t before, make the story more life like.



What are your favorite ways to get to editing? Have you even started? Do you even have a first draft? Let me know down below!

Debtor’s Penance (Poem)

The streets were empty

Stretching on forever

Endless vistas

Bloodless arteries

And in clinging to them, we clung desperately

To the ghost of life once lived

Offered but a glance.

Our pale lips stung with cold

As we whispered yesterdays

Felt them leave our souls

Flying away with hope

On wings stilted

And well worn.

Our only respite



When the roads we clung to

Gave way finally to wilderness

(how strange this place never visited)

Our hearts to sorrow

We lay under the wet sheets of pouring rain

Ashamed and afraid

Knowing our hand in demise

That we were

planet destroyers

World rapers

Death reapers


Finally, alone

And silent.

The Witch’s Bookshelf: The Girl on the Train (Book Review)

The Girl on the Train: Paula Hawkins


I knew I would like The Girl on a Train when I saw the movie trailer in theaters (Snowden being the movie of choice). Now there is always a big difference between movies and books, I know that, but there was just something about the story that pulled me in. So I lept at the chance to pick up a paperback copy of the bestseller and dove in.

Most books take a page or two to get into, a sort of breathing area where you get used to the authors voice, or try to put the world together in your mind. This novel managed to skip all of that. I felt quite at home in Rachel’s skin right away. Honestly this preceding sentence sums up the entire book, feeling at home, cozy. Not that the plot was a cozy plot, it was indeed a rather twisted and mysterious plot, but the voice and world were cozy. I know no author ever wants to hear this, but I could easily put the book down and come back later. I think this is a compliment to her writing style though. You don’t always want to read an edge of the seat sort of novel.

The novel is split into three different points of view, which from what I’ve heard makes the movie rather confusing. Rachel feels like the main character, most of the time is spent in her body. She is a lonely drunk, fighting the feeling that she is crazy, fighting the blackness that comes when she gets too drunk. She spends everyday riding the train into London (hence the title), and staring at the houses as they go by, fixating on the one a few doors away from her former house (where her ass of an ex lives with the girl who he cheated on her with, Anna). Megan Hipwell (who Rachel has christened with another name, imagining her life from the outside) makes up the second point of view. Megan is, in Rachel’s point of view, missing for pretty much the whole book, but we flash back to her life as it was before she disappeared. Anna is the third point of view, living there on that street, suffering Rachel’s constant harassment. All of these points of view come together to weave a nice puzzle, each chapter leaving another clue. To tell you the truth it had me guessing til the very end, which is no small feat.

I highly suggest this novel, especially if you like something slower. It was well written, well put together, a perfectly done plot, the ending was in no way disappointing. If you’re worried you won’t like it, I’d read the first part of chapter one, you’ll know by then.


Have you seen the movie yet?