Okay...so...I need a pick me up today so...in case you do to I thought you might enjoy the 1st chapter of the Cameron Chronicles. As you can see by the title I've finally picked a title for the first short book. It'll be called Clandestine. I chose this because this is the book where he learns about the Clandestine World...what it holds...not just dead vampires but ones that were born and live that way...werewolves...shape shifters and witches, of all four factions; air, fire, water and earth. He learns how some of the Clandestine World are good---not all are evil. Some are on this planet to help---seen as Jesus' foot soldier's on this earth. Either way, in this book he will learn about this world so hence the title.
Here is a rough chatper one...there will be mistakes I'm sure so...just keep that in mind.
Chapter 1
I could see him—sitting across the room from me at the club, but he didn’t see me nor was I even on his radar. His mistake. Of course, why would he? Notice me, that is. Who was I to him? I was nobody. Well, correction, he might see me as dinner for all I know but from where I sat, he didn’t even seem to even consider me worthy of that. I was just one of many young human adults dressed in black, lounging in the city’s most popular Goth/Industrial club.
It was a new genre of music that was really taking off as of late with groups like Nine Inch Nails, The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Skinny Puppy and so on. Kids would dress in black clothes that either had a feel of the Romantic period with long flowing skirts and corsets or they would look more industrial; think leather or ripped jeans with black shirts and combat boots.
I myself found I loved this music and the majority of the people who hung out in these clubs as well; which was good considering my prey seemed to flock here as well. It made perfect sense. Many of the kids in this scene were gamers who were into “Werewolf the Apocalypse” or “Vampire the Masquerade”—live action role playing games. There is no better place for a vampire to hide than with those who try to pose as them. Thing is, I know the difference.
Simply put, it’s in the way they move. As much as vampires try to blend in with human’s they don’t. Don’t get me wrong, to the untrained eye they could stand next to you or even talk to you and you’d never know the difference. But I was not untrained, though many would wish I was.
Their walk was smoother; their actions were more deliberate as if controlled. This was because they had to concentrate on all they did so as to move at a human speed. Not that it took a lot of concentration for those who’d been doing it for years—but I still could tell. That and they tended to drink the same thing; blood wine in a green or blue goblet. That made it almost too easy for me. It was much harder to locate one in a coffee shop, but in the club scene? As the saying goes, it was like taking candy from a baby.
I decided it was time to get closer to my prey—a small guy with slicked back, black hair who’d I’d been following for a week. I’d witnessed him killing a few girls after a part in an alley the other night on the lower east side. New York City wasn’t the safest place in the late 80’s and this guy was definitely one of the offenders.
Downing the rest of my beer I slipped my hand to my back where I made sure my wooden stake was securely wedged between the waistband of my jeans and the small of my back. To be honest, I had one in each combat boot as well but once I was sure my primary weapon was safe and secure I stood up and pulled my black leather biker jacket on over my black Cure concert T-shirt. I’d not seen them perform but I now dressed to blend. I took this from the home of the last vampire I’d killed. He didn’t need it anymore so was it really considered stealing? I liked to think not.
I weaved in and out of people as I approached where he was—hitting on a human female. Not wanting to see her face on the news tomorrow I eavesdropped, waiting. He just needed to make one error—be careless—and he was mine. I felt the adrenaline start to pump through my veins making me jittery and excited. The kill always did this to me.
It didn’t take long for me to hear it. He asked her if she’d like to step outside for a smoke. I heard her giggle and say yes. Dear ladies, you can smoke inside here in good ol’ NYC. If a man asks you to step into a lonely alley to smoke…maybe it’s just me, but I think that would be the equivalent of a Times Square neon sign that spells “trouble”. But hey, that’s me.
I pulled out my pack of smokes and headed for the front door of the club. I kept my head down so the bouncer wouldn’t notice me, and he didn’t. Didn’t even look up from the girl he was hitting on.
I lit my cigarette and waited. They didn’t take long. Once outside he didn’t even glance at me; careless fool. He lit a cigarette and then, when he pretended to have trouble lighting it due to “the wind” he motioned for her to step around the corner of the building with him. So typical. This dude needed to get a new playbook. Well, he wouldn’t be around long enough to do so. Oh well. Let me dry a tear for him…oh wait, I don’t have one.
As he and the girl slipped around the corner I was sure to walk heavily to the bar door, open it, and let it shut. Then, silently I moved to the corner to see what was going on. I pulled out a small pocket mirror and used it to see around the corner and I could see him—which was strange. Sometimes I could but most of the time I couldn’t see their reflection. I was unclear as to the reason for this anomaly but to be honest; I’d not cared enough to ask around.
I stayed still—watching him smoke as he chatted the girl up. I waited. I knew the procedure now...I’d don’t this enough. As he finished his smoke and crushed it on the ground with his foot he pulled her close and kissed her. As he kissed her he moved her backwards, until her back was pressed against the other building.
Reaching behind me I silently pulled out the stake…we were almost at ‘go time’. You had to wait until he hurt her, as sick as that sounds. One time I didn’t wait. Just the once. For some reason I always have to learn the hard way. The girl had screamed and not because the guy had turned to dust in front of her, fangs exposed, but because I’d killed him. She reported me to the police and everything. But—no body equals no real reason to book me on murder. Hell, the vamp had been so old plus the girl hadn’t been smart enough to get his last name so there wasn’t even a missing person that matched her description of the “sweet, murdered young man”. Sweet my ass.
Anyhoo, got lucky. Lesson learned. Wait until they scream in fear or until I see the vamp bite their prey. And trust me, each victim reacted differently…and never in the way I would’ve pegged them for.
This one was a screamer. Excellent! I like a good “cue”.
I moved quickly into the narrow alley and before my prey could turn from drinking his, I shoved the stake through the left side of his back, piercing his heart, and reducing him to dust. Then, all I was facing was a pretty blond girl with puncture wounds on her neck, tears in her eyes, and paralyzed fear in her face as her open mouth, now silent, mimicked the scream that had been coming from it.
Girls, I have found, have three reactions at this point. A. They run. B. They cry and fall into my arms. C. They pass out. Men only have only two reactions. A. They run/walk away. B. They cry like a child and hit the ground. This lovely lady was female option B.
“Thank you thank you,” she muttered into my chest over and over again as the tears caused her mascara to smear down her face and onto my shirt. And you wonder why I wear black shirts.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. I want you to go home, okay?”
She numbly nodded.
“Come on, I’ll hail you a cab. Is anything of yours in the club?”
She held her bag that was clutched tightly in her hand towards me, “No.”
I gently put my arm around her and led her to Avenue A and lifted my arm to hail a cab. It took a few moments and one pulled over. As she slid into the back seat I asked her if she would be all right.
She nodded again. Shock—it is hell on your vocal chords sometimes.
“Be more careful. If he’s colder to the touch than you think is normal don’t be alone with him. You got that?”
She nodded, fear and shock plainly painted on her features. I shut the door and the taxi sped off as I lit another cigarette, my reward for a job well done. I sauntered back over to the front door of the club, the adrenaline of the kill still making me feel like I was on a runner’s high, and took my original position by the door. Another girl stepped out about half way through my smoke and looked this way and that.
“You lookin’ for someone?” I asked her, though it was apparent she was. I hoped it wasn’t the guy. This girl looked a bit pale and for a brief second I considered he had a partner but then I saw her bite her lip and how it got redder with the tight pressure of her teeth on human skin and I relaxed.
The pale girl turned to me and said, “My friend, Emily, came out here with some guy…”
“Blond hair? Rather short?”
“Emily is, yes.”
“She just got in a cab and left.”
“What?!”
“I heard her having trouble with some guy in the alley and then she got into a cab and left.” It was basically the truth—so I skipped a step, whatever.
Emily’s friend leaned around the corner and looked around and of course saw nothing. “Did he leave to?”
I inhaled on my cigarette and grinned. “Oh yeah. He’s outta here.”
“Well hell, if she didn’t want him he coulda come back in for one of us.”
I almost choked on the smoke I’d inhaled.
“He wasn’t a guy you should be hangin’ with, trust me.”
“He was hot, that’s all I know. Okay. Well, thanks.”
I nodded my “your welcome” nod at the stupid girl and she went back into the club. Stamping out my cigarette I decided to follow her in. It was time to pick my new target—and no better time than the present. I looked at my watch; it was almost one in the morning. I still could get lucky—find another vamp to dust tonight...work a “double shift” as I liked to call it.
Heading up to the bar I began to let my eyes scan across the pale faces of the club. Who was just that much paler? Who moved just that much more smoothly? Who was holding a green goblet? Who stood out?
I ordered a beer and sat on a bar stool, my back against the bar, and looked around. No one stood out to me yet. My beer was delivered and I paid the bartender and went back to my people watching. Subtleties are hard to see sometimes. Hell, the guy I’d just dusted in the alley took me a week to find.
After about fifteen minutes I thought I’d found my next victim—a woman. She had spiky dark hair with the tips tinted pink. She wasn’t as pale as the rest but she moved with fluidity that humans just don’t have. I sipped my beer and I watched her intently. In fact, I was so engrossed in studying her that I didn’t notice someone sit down next to me. So when she spoke to me I about choked on my beer. I know, classy huh?
“She’s not your type,” the woman said smoothly.
I turned to look at the woman next to me. She was pale but her cheeks were flush so either she was a vamp who’d just eaten or human. She didn’t smell like the usual vamps I killed so I hoped this pretty lady was human. And I do mean pretty. Tall and elegant with long blond hair and blue eyes like the ocean water after a storm. Yeah yeah, I know that sounds cliché but it was the truth. She was quite stunning and had a sultry yet powerful voice to go with it.
After I choked on my beer I said, “Excuse me?”
She nodded towards the girl with the pink tipped hair. “She’s not your type.”
I couldn’t help that the corner of my mouth turned up in a sly grin. “Oh? You know my type…woman who’s talked to me for all of two seconds.”
She gave me a broad smile and turned away, looking at my chosen prey. “I do. I’ve seen you around. She’s not what you’re looking for.”
Maybe it was the words or possibly her tone but that sentence gave me pause. Did she know the real reason I was here? Did she know what I was, what I was looking for? I had to work to keep my grin in place.
“I think she’s totally my type,” I finally said and sipped my beer again.
Again the lady shook her head. “You can do better…a man like you.”
A man like me? What was that suppose to mean? Did she find me attractive? Was she hitting on me? That would be a first. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not unattractive but I’m sooo not the tall, dark and handsome guy girls swoon over. To be honest, I’m a bit on the short side at about five foot eight—nine with shoes on, with a head of dark haphazard, large curls that hung in my eyes most of the time while the back was clipped short. I was well built but you wouldn’t know that from looking at me with clothes on.
To the average person looking at me I’d seem like a small, slender guy with unkempt hair, a propensity to be a few days late on shaving my face, with unusual honey hazel eyes. Pair that up with my dangerous and “loner” vibe and most women steered clear of me. Which honestly made me chuckle, when you consider they approached a blood sucking, killing vampire happily without batting an eyelash.
After a moment’s pause I said to her, “And what is that suppose to mean?”
“What I mean is, with your background you can pick more wisely,” she turned to me, her face a bit more serious as her eyes met mine, “She’s not what you’re looking for.”
At this I laughed. How could I not? This random woman acting like she knows me. “Lady, I don’t think you have the first clue what I’m looking for so if you don’t mind—thanks for the advice but I can take it from here. I’m a grown boy.” I then toasted her with my beer bottle to make my point and took a drink.
“Uh huh. Okay. If you say so.” She got off the stool and just as I thought she was going to slink away into the crowd she did the opposite. She gracefully slipped right up next to me and leaned into my ear and whispered, “I know who you are…what you do. She’s not one of them, take my word for it. Leave her alone.” She backed away from me, her eyes stern and powerful as they met mine, making it hard for me to swallow the sip of beer I’d started to take as she’d faked leaving.
Once I finally swallowed my drink I whispered in a deep tone to her saying, “Ma’am, you have no idea who I am so I suggest you back off.” I was trying to sound scary even if I was the one that was scared.
A tiny smile touched her beautiful face—so flawless yet flushed with color, her teeth perfect and her eyes gleaming. “Oh really? So tell me, man I don’t know, in what instance is it that three walk out of a bar and only one walks back in?”
“What?” Now I was in a panic, but I couldn’t let that show. “I stepped out for a cig.”
“So did they.”
“She left in a cab.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“What are you insinuating?”
“Nothing. I’m just here to warn you that you’re starting to make a name for yourself and that you need to be careful—need to make sure you don’t kill the good ones, or your fate will match theirs, I can promise you that.”
“Good ones? What the—”
“Remember that, Mr. Cameron.”
And with that she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me stunned with my mouth gapping open and my beer forgotten.
© Copyright Tamsin Silver 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Seriously??? Come on, really?
BEWARE. I'M ON A RANT...
Snooki? NO really...tell me you're joking...Snooki...that orange TRASH from that horrible reality TV show has a book coming out?! Are you fucking insane? Tell me I'm imagining this...tell me I'm in an alternate reality because to honestly believe that someone like THAT gets their book published while I sit here busting my ass to write something worth while and I CAN'T get an agent to save my life....OH...MY...GODDESS!!!!!! Shoot me now. Why do I try? Seriously folks...why are the talented writers that I know even trying when shit like THIS is what agents and publishers WANT? It's completely ludicrous!!!! Have we as a society really become this stupid...do we as a people not read anything of substance anymore? Obviously not if THIS is what the publishers of America think people will buy! Holy shit! No wonder I'm stuck in this holding pattern. No wonder I get emails like this:
Dear Ms. Silver,
Thank you so much for your query. Unfortunately, however, this project doesn’t sound right for me. I encourage you to continue to submit elsewhere, and I wish you every success in your writing career. Thanks again for thinking of me.
Yes yes yes...it's a nice rejection (which I'm thankful for and honestly appreciate...they didn't have to answer me at all if they'd not wanted to) and but let's look a the words I've bolded, shall we? I send my book to Fantasy Agents for adult books....HOW CAN THIS BOOK NOT BE RIGHT FOR YOU? Read it...or talk to me about it...give me a chance to show you how cool the picture is for this series/saga! Hear how I have three different series that tie in together to tell an amazing tale! -----I know I know...no agent has that kinda time...to talk to you that is...reality is what it is I suppose.
Ha! Not right for you. But Snooki...this whore without two brain cells to rub together...yeah, SHE gets a book. SHE is "right" for you (as in agents/publishers)?????!!!!! Come the fuck on!
**Throws hands in the air** Why do I try? Why why why why why why why?????
If America is done reading stories that make you think...stories that take you on an emotional ride with adventure and real life issues you can relate to and characters that make you feel and care....well then hell...we're doomed as a society.
You know that movie "Idiocracy"??? Well congrats America...you're on your way!!!!
Alas...I do love what my cousin Carmen had to say..."Look on the bright side. You have a brain in your head and you're not a shameless whore... :)"
Carmen...I love you.
Tamsin
P.S. DISCLAIMER: All writings here are only opinion and written in a moment of irritation (possibly a PMS rage) and are in no way meant to offend you personally...it's just ranting folks...take it as just that.
Snooki? NO really...tell me you're joking...Snooki...that orange TRASH from that horrible reality TV show has a book coming out?! Are you fucking insane? Tell me I'm imagining this...tell me I'm in an alternate reality because to honestly believe that someone like THAT gets their book published while I sit here busting my ass to write something worth while and I CAN'T get an agent to save my life....OH...MY...GODDESS!!!!!! Shoot me now. Why do I try? Seriously folks...why are the talented writers that I know even trying when shit like THIS is what agents and publishers WANT? It's completely ludicrous!!!! Have we as a society really become this stupid...do we as a people not read anything of substance anymore? Obviously not if THIS is what the publishers of America think people will buy! Holy shit! No wonder I'm stuck in this holding pattern. No wonder I get emails like this:
Dear Ms. Silver,
Thank you so much for your query. Unfortunately, however, this project doesn’t sound right for me. I encourage you to continue to submit elsewhere, and I wish you every success in your writing career. Thanks again for thinking of me.
Yes yes yes...it's a nice rejection (which I'm thankful for and honestly appreciate...they didn't have to answer me at all if they'd not wanted to) and but let's look a the words I've bolded, shall we? I send my book to Fantasy Agents for adult books....HOW CAN THIS BOOK NOT BE RIGHT FOR YOU? Read it...or talk to me about it...give me a chance to show you how cool the picture is for this series/saga! Hear how I have three different series that tie in together to tell an amazing tale! -----I know I know...no agent has that kinda time...to talk to you that is...reality is what it is I suppose.
Ha! Not right for you. But Snooki...this whore without two brain cells to rub together...yeah, SHE gets a book. SHE is "right" for you (as in agents/publishers)?????!!!!! Come the fuck on!
**Throws hands in the air** Why do I try? Why why why why why why why?????
If America is done reading stories that make you think...stories that take you on an emotional ride with adventure and real life issues you can relate to and characters that make you feel and care....well then hell...we're doomed as a society.
You know that movie "Idiocracy"??? Well congrats America...you're on your way!!!!
Alas...I do love what my cousin Carmen had to say..."Look on the bright side. You have a brain in your head and you're not a shameless whore... :)"
Carmen...I love you.
Tamsin
P.S. DISCLAIMER: All writings here are only opinion and written in a moment of irritation (possibly a PMS rage) and are in no way meant to offend you personally...it's just ranting folks...take it as just that.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Cameron Chronicles
********Today is 1/4/11 and this is a redo of a previous post I did at the end of December, 2010. I had written a totally different Chapter One but after I did it...I hated it. LOL! I realized that it needed to be a prologue and it needed to be...well...not what it was. I'd taken what was more of a back of a book jacket and made it into a long chapter and it, well...it sucked...to me at least. SO...this is a redo of that blog entry. If you read the original...scroll down until you see the first picture...the stuff after it is all different. I left the pre-amble of the blog alone. If you didn't read it...well, I left it below.********
Over the Christmas holiday I had an interesting conversation with my best friend, Angie. SHe has a friend who is a published author (with many books under her belt) who is friends with Anne Rice. She had been telling this friend, we'll call her Alice (so as to stick with names that start with "A" cause its fun), that she'd read my 700 page book over her vacation and Alice asked if I was published and when Angie said no...she had some advice.
Alice told Angie that a writer who's never been published would be smart to try and sell a shorter book---no more than 350 pages (double spaced/12pt font) first. Anything over that would overwhelm an agent or publisher into not giving them the time. I can understand this. Mind you, there are exceptions...I hate to mention Twilight but it is an exception...so to put TONS of stock in this advice from Alice need not be manic...but it would be wise for me to consider, for sure.
As I spoke with Angie she agreed that the last 200 pages, though good, did have her feeling like the book was long. Then again...I have a friend who read those 700 pages in three days and it didn't feel long to her at all. Then again, Angie isn't a big reader of Fantasy that I know of and Niki is...so the "it feels long" comment coming from someone who rarely reads anything that long makes sense.
But...you know me...I like a challenge.
As we spoke I thought about something my editor of LDG had told me once when I spoke of spin off novels I had left openings for. She'd mentioned a series of books about how Sean Cameron, my "legendary" vampire hunter in the LDG Saga, became a legend. I had said it was a brilliant idea and that I'd call it The Cameron Chronicles.
So as I spoke with Angie I mentioned this. I figured I could write a 350 page novel easy enough...hell, it'd take half the time my normal novels do. If I would cut my chapters down to 10-12 pages I'd still have about a 30 chapter book....OR....I could concentrate on writing a 50,000 word novel (like with NaNoWriMo) but since my stories tend to be more complex than a 50,000 word novel can hold I decided I could write THREE of them that connect. Hence its still my normal 150,000 word novel but it would be in three parts...hence Chronicles not a single chronicle.
Three books at 50,000 words. Ten pages for me usually holds around 3000 to 3200 words. If I went with this format each book would be about 15 chapters. After 3 books it'd total 45 chapters.
ANYHOO...
I got off the phone with her and went to my computer...driven by a challenge...and began. I only got a 1/2 page done before I was tired and needed to head to bed but since then I've written the first chapter. I'll put it below...I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Remember...this story would be a prequel to the LDG Saga. It would begin in 1987, when Sean is 20 years old. Ten years before he'd meet Atlanta. Five years before he'd be captured and "turned" by Valencia. The Prologue though is him giving a brief overview of how he became Sean Cameron; from age 16 to 20.
**Note: I didn't write the story as being from 16 to 20 because that would make it a YA book, and as much as I like YA, I would prefer that all my books stay in the adult range so they can all be sold in order, together. I know that sounds crazy--and I might change my mind as I write this and go back and write those years out--but for now...it starts at the age of 20...
********Also...a positive note: Alice did say it was impressive not only that I was able to write such a long novel, but that I'd written four of them. So...let's keep that positive thought shall we?********
Onward and forward, yes?
I would say THIS is what Sean might have looked like before he cut off his hair and facial hair...
THIS would be the back of the book, maybe? You know, the back of the dust jacket...
Blood.
It has become the obsession of my life.
More specifically, those who need it to survive.
I still sometimes shudder to think these creatures are real. If I’d not seen them kill with my own eyes—if I didn’t still see that night in my head every time I closed my eyes with utmost clarity I’d think I had dreamt it. But I didn’t have that luxury. Those I love are dead and gone and these creatures—these vampires—are real.
As I lay in the hospital not speaking to a soul about the truth of what I’d seen I begin to contemplate my options. I had exactly three; A. Repress and forget this ever happened—but that would mean forgetting those who had died…and that, I didn’t want to do—couldn’t do. B. Go mad. At the age of sixteen I didn’t think that held a promising future. C. Take my fear, my anger, and channel it into power—power and knowledge so as to take my revenge.
Option C.
I trained for four years, saving money, learning all I could—and then I left. What I didn’t realize was that shortly after I would set out on my quest that another fighter would join me—-changing my life. She would also be a royal member of the vampire world, called the Clandestine World--and it holds more than just vampires.
I have so much to learn.
THIS would be the first chapter....enjoy.
Prologue
I was on the other side of the lake when I heard the call for help. It was if it had carried to me on the wind—the sound of my mother’s voice saying my name, “Sean”, as if a plea. I suppose most people would’ve thought they were hearing things but the eerie piercing darkness of the forest that surrounded me seemed to justify its truth.
Without a second thought I began to run, my sixteen year old professional gymnast legs propelling me forward with utmost speed and purpose. A scream that sounded like my sister pierced the air and I rushed around the lake faster than I thought I could move—the trees of the dense forest flying by me in a blur. As I reached the long stone walkway to our cabin my oldest sister, Cassandra, came running out to meet me—her hand pressed against the side of her neck.
Her face was pale and the fear in her eyes was enough to stop my breathing and make my heart race. The ends of her long blonde hair on one side were dark as if dipped in ink—ink that was still dripping from the tip all over her. It was pushing its way through her fingers on her neck as well. As she fell to her knees in front of me I rushed to her.
This was when I realized it wasn’t ink—it was blood; looking black due to no real light at this hour. Her eyes looked at me and with her last breath she said only one word, “Run!” She collapsed forward and I caught her. I kept saying her name over and over again in a whisper, but she was gone. I heard something smash inside the cabin and for a moment I honestly considered running, just like she had told me to—my darling little sister, only fourteen.
I gently lay her down and stood up, turning to run get help when I heard my other sister, Page, say “Leave her alone, she’s just a child!” This could only mean one thing; my little sister Flora, only six, was in danger. Without thinking I turned towards the cabin and as quietly as I could, I moved towards the open door.
The light above the table in the kitchen area of the great room of the cabin was near the door and I could see it was shattered. The only light was coming from a bedroom and bathroom, creating a creepy haze of lights and shadows about the room. And though enough to see by it wasn’t bright enough to wash away your childhood fear of the boogieman—which, I had to admit, this felt like.
As I stepped up onto the porch and peered into the room as best as I could without being seen, the first thing that caught my eye was my mother’s body on the floor and the pool of what looked like black ink around her head. My throat closed in on itself as a wailing cry caught there by my own fear.
I then noticed my father was on the floor, not far from her, his head at an unnatural angle and for a moment, just a moment, I thought I was going to hyperventilate and pass out. But luckily my twelve year old sister Page brought my focus back to the living—to what seemed to be a stand off in the middle of the room between her and our attacker.
The moon shining through the window seemed to illuminate the invader and I saw something I’d only read about in books—the face of an animal on a human body; eyes that seemed to glow in the dark like a cat’s, elongated canine teeth and blood on his face that ran down his chin and onto his clothes, a grin on his face.
I froze. I knew I should’ve gone charging in and attacked or run in and grabbed Flora and run as fast as I could—but I didn’t. I just stayed were I was, crouched outside the door, sweat pouring from every pore—watching as he playfully taunted my siblings with jokes and threats, his voice like silk and his words like fire.
When I finally found my head, my shaking hands reached out for the only thing near me—the wooden broom my father had used earlier that night to sweep the front porch. I grabbed it, stood up and broke it over my knee, keeping the end without the bristles with me and setting the other back down. There was no mistaking what this creature looked like. We’d all seen movies about them, read books—hell, I’d seen Dracula a least a dozen times.
I looked at the wooden broom handle in my hand, broken in such a way that the splintered end was pointy, and somewhere in my subconscious I decided to try and stake him with it. If these creatures were real then maybe, just maybe the lore surrounding how to kill them was too. Many stories are based on truth and I was hoping this one was as well.
I dropped back down to the floor and crawled into the room and under the table and stayed quiet. I could see Page, her petite twelve year old frame doing its best to hold steady. My eyes had adjusted and I could see better now. It was evident that Page had been bitten—the bite not hitting a main artery so blood wasn’t shooting out of her like it had with Cassandra. Yet she stumbled slightly, obviously week from whatever blood loss she’d withstood. And though feeling woozy, which is how she looked, she seemed determined to protect Flora, standing between her foe and her sister.
Waiting for my moment I watched as Page backed Flora away from the thing in our cabin with the glowing eyes that looked like the devil himself. But that devil followed them, walking past the table not even seeing me as I crouched now in the dark shadow of the table. I knew what I needed to do but I needed the element of surprise.
Finally, when he lunged for them I made my move. Without even thinking it through I came out from under the table with a roll that brought me to the space between the devil and Page. I stood up and with no hesitation I brought the wooden broom handle down where I knew the human heart would be.
The next three seconds felt like three minutes as my senses soaked up the visage of what was once possibly human. The thing smelled of blood, making me want to vomit. But I held it back, transfixed on his face and the inhuman perfection of it. Skin paler than a human’s yet passable as such—flawless and beautiful. It looked like if I were to touch it that the skin would feel like satin. An angel in the body of a demon was my deciding conclusion.
But as I drove the stake into his heart his perfectly flawless face transposed from playful taunting to utter shock and before I knew it, he turned to dust and disappeared. Just as he did I heard Flora scream out my name. I spun about to see a second devil, a woman who’d been in the shadows that I’d not seen, coming towards Flora with eyes on me.
“What have you done?!” she wailed out, pain on her face and then rage as she lunged for Flora.
I stepped in between them and fought with the woman, her long razor sharp nails reached for my eyes and her teeth for my neck. But I spun—using my own gymnastic training as well as her movements to my advantage. But she was stronger and faster than me and with one simple slashing motion and a side step that wasn’t fast enough, her one nail missed my eye by an inch, slicing my face open from temple to jaw.
With that distraction she was able to grab my arm, spin it behind my back and break it, as easy as I’d broken that broom handle. I let out a scream of pain and fell to my knees. As I did, the woman snatched up Flora and ran out the front door.
I ran after them. As my original weapon had rolled somewhere I picked up the other half of the broom in my good arm as I zipped through the door. As I rounded the bend of the cabin I saw her—a beautiful woman with short black hair and a smile on her face that sneered in such a way that I had no question in my mind that I’d kill her without hesitation.
She then laughed at me, as if the idea of me chasing her was absolutely hilarious. She resituated her hold on Flora who called out my name, her little Tigger toy that I’d given her years ago clutched in her hand, eyes pleading for me to come to her as her arms reached for me. It’s all it took to propel me forward. I ran through the grass and uneven ground towards her and then, as my eyes met Flora’s she disappeared.
In no way do I mean she vanished into thin air, though that is what it felt like. Flora’s captor had just simply turned and broken into a run and even though I continued to follow her it was apparent to me quickly that another myth was true—vampires were faster than humans and my lovely little Flora was gone.
I stood there for a moment, tears in my eyes, screaming her name but nothing answered me back—the forest was silent and dark. I must’ve stood there for at least five minutes trying to accept my sister was gone and worse yet; I could do nothing to help her. With the utmost difficulty I fought my feet’s will to stay put and turned around, walking slowly back to the cabin. I needed to talk to Page and find out what had happened.
When I got back to the cabin Page was lying on the floor by the front door. Obviously she’d tried to follow me but hadn’t been strong enough. The phone receiver from the old rotary phone on the wall above her was in her hand.
“Page?” I said tentatively as I approached her, cradling my broken arm.
“I called 911. Help is on the way.”
She looked very tired as I crouched down next to her. “It’s going to be okay,” I said, touching her blond curls. “Just, hang in there. We’ll be okay.”
I then saw her neck was still bleeding. I tried to rip the bottom of my shirt but with a broken arm it was rather difficult. Instead I just pulled it off and pressed it to her neck to try and stop the flow of blood.
She motioned to me and I leaned close to her. “There was a knock on the door,” she said, “We could hear a woman crying, saying her boyfriend and she had been in a fight. That he’d gotten physical with her and she was trying to get away from him. She claimed to just want to use our phone to call her family. Dad let her in and before the woman could even tell us what had fully happened or make a call there was a banging on the door.
“It was her boyfriend—the one you killed. He was acting drunk and out of control, yelling about how he loved her and to give him a second chance—he called her Cammy.” A sob caught in her throat and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Shh—you don’t need to go into this now sweetie. Just wait until—”
“No. I need to tell you now.” She wiped the tears away even though they were still falling. “Dad went out on the porch to talk to him, shutting the door—leaving that girl alone with us.” With a pause for a labored breath her brown eyes looked at me as if fighting to stay awake. “It all happened so fast, Sean. The girl broke the light above the table and grabbed mom and bite into her neck, tearing it open! Sean, what does that?”
“I don’t know sweetie.” I could have told her it was a vampire but I didn’t want to believe it yet myself.
“I started screaming and Cassandra came out of the bathroom just as the front door opened with a bang and the man from outside came in, with dad over his shoulder and threw him on the floor near mom. He carried and tossed him like he weighed nothing Sean! Dad.”
Our father was a large man. Easily six four pushing 280 lbs of muscle—so to carry him easily was unfathomable to my twelve year old sister. To me it fit into the mold I was starting to accept as fitting the myth of vampires—except one thing.
“Did you hear dad invite the man in?”
“No. In fact, he told him that he wasn’t able to come in and talk to her right now.”
“Did dad say he could once he was sober?”
“No.”
Myth number three was a lie—vampires could enter your home without an invite. I shuddered. “What happened next sweetie?”
“Cassandra ran for the door but he caught her. He was nowhere near the door but in a blink he had his arms around her and bit into her neck. I would’ve run to her but the woman grabbed me and—” Page just resituated my T-shirt on her neck. “And I’m sure they would’ve drained us dry but suddenly they just stopped. Flora was hiding in the doorway of your room and they both saw her peaking around the corner and stopped, dropping us both. Cassandra was the closest to the door so she ran out of it to get help.”
“And she found me.”
We heard the sirens approaching now. When they arrived Page was bandaged and put into the ambulance. I answered a few questions to the cops as someone tended to my face, but due to my broken arm the paramedics wouldn't let me stay and ushered me into the back of the ambulance with her. As I sat down, my arm in a sling now to keep it steady, I took Page’s hand with the hand of my good right arm. She was cold to the touch and for the first time I considered the idea that she may not make it. Tears filled my eyes.
“You hang in there Pagey, you hear me? You’re all I have left.”
She gave me this smile, the same kind my mother used to give me when I’d ask her to do something for me she couldn’t do, but wished she could. It was so adult of her—the look of acceptance she gave me as she squeezed my hand lightly.
“Sean? How did you know how to kill them?”
“I don’t know—I just did.”
“Don’t you ever stop—you hear me?”
“Page—”
“You find Flora and you kill as many as you can. Promise me.”
“Page—”
“Promise me, please Sean.”
I leaned down and hugged her as best as I could. “I promise.”
“Thank you. I love you big brother.”
I felt her kiss my cheek and then her whole body relaxed as she died, right there in my arms, peacefully, knowing I’d keep my promise.
Obviously I wasn’t able to compete in the Olympics that year as I was suppose to and my spot was filled by a nice guy whose name I honestly don’t remember. Instead I went to live with my mother’s sister’s family who lived in upstate New York not far from the cabin and a week after it had all happened I’d slipped out of my aunt’s home and driven to the cabin. The yellow police tape was still up.
I walked around the property and even ventured into the woods multiple times for the rest of the spring. I found evidence of where they’d been living out there; a cabin with no windows—proving another myth correct; sunlight was a weapon. I knew Flora had been there as I found her Tigger toy, but not her.
As the summer started I joined the local Jujitsu dojo. Gymnastics held too much pain for me but the foundation it created made martial arts seem like a natural progression. By the time school registration began I had a plan. If I was going to keep my promise to my sister I needed to not only learn about these creatures, but I needed to train—I needed to learn how to use every weapon, including the human body. I tore through the yellow pages and the school extra-curricular activities. I joined wrestling, archery, and track as well as taking other martial arts when I had the time.
One day, shortly after my 20th birthday I woke up and knew I was ready. I was toned, fast, and a deadly force with or without weapons. I’d been researching, learning, and training for four years and it was time. I packed my bags, left money and a note on my aunt’s kitchen table and my keys under the mat out front.
I got into the car and as the engine hummed to life I looked up at the home that had housed me for the past four years and I knew I’d miss it. I also understood with utmost clarity that I could not begin my fight without putting them in harm’s way—hence why I was leaving and why I was doing so as a different person. So with one last look I put the car into drive and I left.
With onle one more errand to run I stopped by a random barber shop that didn’t know me and had my long dark hair cut short—exposing my wide, almost black, curls again, and then had him shave my face smooth. I now looked like my fake ID and papers I’d paid a lot of money for a year ago that at the time had made me 21, now 22. I had a new driver’s license, high school transcripts, passport and birth certificate.
I got back into my beat up old black, 1967 Dodge Charger Hemi that reminded me of a short hearse to be honest, and pulled the driver’s license out of my backpack and smiled—I thought my mother would be proud to see I’d chosen her maiden name. From here on out Sean Valentine, the hippie looking child was no more…he was dead and gone…and Sean Cameron, the vampire hunter, was born.
© Copyright 2011 Tamsin Silver
THIS might be an idea of Sean AFTER her shaved it all off...
Over the Christmas holiday I had an interesting conversation with my best friend, Angie. SHe has a friend who is a published author (with many books under her belt) who is friends with Anne Rice. She had been telling this friend, we'll call her Alice (so as to stick with names that start with "A" cause its fun), that she'd read my 700 page book over her vacation and Alice asked if I was published and when Angie said no...she had some advice.
Alice told Angie that a writer who's never been published would be smart to try and sell a shorter book---no more than 350 pages (double spaced/12pt font) first. Anything over that would overwhelm an agent or publisher into not giving them the time. I can understand this. Mind you, there are exceptions...I hate to mention Twilight but it is an exception...so to put TONS of stock in this advice from Alice need not be manic...but it would be wise for me to consider, for sure.
As I spoke with Angie she agreed that the last 200 pages, though good, did have her feeling like the book was long. Then again...I have a friend who read those 700 pages in three days and it didn't feel long to her at all. Then again, Angie isn't a big reader of Fantasy that I know of and Niki is...so the "it feels long" comment coming from someone who rarely reads anything that long makes sense.
But...you know me...I like a challenge.
As we spoke I thought about something my editor of LDG had told me once when I spoke of spin off novels I had left openings for. She'd mentioned a series of books about how Sean Cameron, my "legendary" vampire hunter in the LDG Saga, became a legend. I had said it was a brilliant idea and that I'd call it The Cameron Chronicles.
So as I spoke with Angie I mentioned this. I figured I could write a 350 page novel easy enough...hell, it'd take half the time my normal novels do. If I would cut my chapters down to 10-12 pages I'd still have about a 30 chapter book....OR....I could concentrate on writing a 50,000 word novel (like with NaNoWriMo) but since my stories tend to be more complex than a 50,000 word novel can hold I decided I could write THREE of them that connect. Hence its still my normal 150,000 word novel but it would be in three parts...hence Chronicles not a single chronicle.
Three books at 50,000 words. Ten pages for me usually holds around 3000 to 3200 words. If I went with this format each book would be about 15 chapters. After 3 books it'd total 45 chapters.
ANYHOO...
I got off the phone with her and went to my computer...driven by a challenge...and began. I only got a 1/2 page done before I was tired and needed to head to bed but since then I've written the first chapter. I'll put it below...I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Remember...this story would be a prequel to the LDG Saga. It would begin in 1987, when Sean is 20 years old. Ten years before he'd meet Atlanta. Five years before he'd be captured and "turned" by Valencia. The Prologue though is him giving a brief overview of how he became Sean Cameron; from age 16 to 20.
**Note: I didn't write the story as being from 16 to 20 because that would make it a YA book, and as much as I like YA, I would prefer that all my books stay in the adult range so they can all be sold in order, together. I know that sounds crazy--and I might change my mind as I write this and go back and write those years out--but for now...it starts at the age of 20...
********Also...a positive note: Alice did say it was impressive not only that I was able to write such a long novel, but that I'd written four of them. So...let's keep that positive thought shall we?********
Onward and forward, yes?
I would say THIS is what Sean might have looked like before he cut off his hair and facial hair...
THIS would be the back of the book, maybe? You know, the back of the dust jacket...
Blood.
It has become the obsession of my life.
More specifically, those who need it to survive.
I still sometimes shudder to think these creatures are real. If I’d not seen them kill with my own eyes—if I didn’t still see that night in my head every time I closed my eyes with utmost clarity I’d think I had dreamt it. But I didn’t have that luxury. Those I love are dead and gone and these creatures—these vampires—are real.
As I lay in the hospital not speaking to a soul about the truth of what I’d seen I begin to contemplate my options. I had exactly three; A. Repress and forget this ever happened—but that would mean forgetting those who had died…and that, I didn’t want to do—couldn’t do. B. Go mad. At the age of sixteen I didn’t think that held a promising future. C. Take my fear, my anger, and channel it into power—power and knowledge so as to take my revenge.
Option C.
I trained for four years, saving money, learning all I could—and then I left. What I didn’t realize was that shortly after I would set out on my quest that another fighter would join me—-changing my life. She would also be a royal member of the vampire world, called the Clandestine World--and it holds more than just vampires.
I have so much to learn.
THIS would be the first chapter....enjoy.
Prologue
I was on the other side of the lake when I heard the call for help. It was if it had carried to me on the wind—the sound of my mother’s voice saying my name, “Sean”, as if a plea. I suppose most people would’ve thought they were hearing things but the eerie piercing darkness of the forest that surrounded me seemed to justify its truth.
Without a second thought I began to run, my sixteen year old professional gymnast legs propelling me forward with utmost speed and purpose. A scream that sounded like my sister pierced the air and I rushed around the lake faster than I thought I could move—the trees of the dense forest flying by me in a blur. As I reached the long stone walkway to our cabin my oldest sister, Cassandra, came running out to meet me—her hand pressed against the side of her neck.
Her face was pale and the fear in her eyes was enough to stop my breathing and make my heart race. The ends of her long blonde hair on one side were dark as if dipped in ink—ink that was still dripping from the tip all over her. It was pushing its way through her fingers on her neck as well. As she fell to her knees in front of me I rushed to her.
This was when I realized it wasn’t ink—it was blood; looking black due to no real light at this hour. Her eyes looked at me and with her last breath she said only one word, “Run!” She collapsed forward and I caught her. I kept saying her name over and over again in a whisper, but she was gone. I heard something smash inside the cabin and for a moment I honestly considered running, just like she had told me to—my darling little sister, only fourteen.
I gently lay her down and stood up, turning to run get help when I heard my other sister, Page, say “Leave her alone, she’s just a child!” This could only mean one thing; my little sister Flora, only six, was in danger. Without thinking I turned towards the cabin and as quietly as I could, I moved towards the open door.
The light above the table in the kitchen area of the great room of the cabin was near the door and I could see it was shattered. The only light was coming from a bedroom and bathroom, creating a creepy haze of lights and shadows about the room. And though enough to see by it wasn’t bright enough to wash away your childhood fear of the boogieman—which, I had to admit, this felt like.
As I stepped up onto the porch and peered into the room as best as I could without being seen, the first thing that caught my eye was my mother’s body on the floor and the pool of what looked like black ink around her head. My throat closed in on itself as a wailing cry caught there by my own fear.
I then noticed my father was on the floor, not far from her, his head at an unnatural angle and for a moment, just a moment, I thought I was going to hyperventilate and pass out. But luckily my twelve year old sister Page brought my focus back to the living—to what seemed to be a stand off in the middle of the room between her and our attacker.
The moon shining through the window seemed to illuminate the invader and I saw something I’d only read about in books—the face of an animal on a human body; eyes that seemed to glow in the dark like a cat’s, elongated canine teeth and blood on his face that ran down his chin and onto his clothes, a grin on his face.
I froze. I knew I should’ve gone charging in and attacked or run in and grabbed Flora and run as fast as I could—but I didn’t. I just stayed were I was, crouched outside the door, sweat pouring from every pore—watching as he playfully taunted my siblings with jokes and threats, his voice like silk and his words like fire.
When I finally found my head, my shaking hands reached out for the only thing near me—the wooden broom my father had used earlier that night to sweep the front porch. I grabbed it, stood up and broke it over my knee, keeping the end without the bristles with me and setting the other back down. There was no mistaking what this creature looked like. We’d all seen movies about them, read books—hell, I’d seen Dracula a least a dozen times.
I looked at the wooden broom handle in my hand, broken in such a way that the splintered end was pointy, and somewhere in my subconscious I decided to try and stake him with it. If these creatures were real then maybe, just maybe the lore surrounding how to kill them was too. Many stories are based on truth and I was hoping this one was as well.
I dropped back down to the floor and crawled into the room and under the table and stayed quiet. I could see Page, her petite twelve year old frame doing its best to hold steady. My eyes had adjusted and I could see better now. It was evident that Page had been bitten—the bite not hitting a main artery so blood wasn’t shooting out of her like it had with Cassandra. Yet she stumbled slightly, obviously week from whatever blood loss she’d withstood. And though feeling woozy, which is how she looked, she seemed determined to protect Flora, standing between her foe and her sister.
Waiting for my moment I watched as Page backed Flora away from the thing in our cabin with the glowing eyes that looked like the devil himself. But that devil followed them, walking past the table not even seeing me as I crouched now in the dark shadow of the table. I knew what I needed to do but I needed the element of surprise.
Finally, when he lunged for them I made my move. Without even thinking it through I came out from under the table with a roll that brought me to the space between the devil and Page. I stood up and with no hesitation I brought the wooden broom handle down where I knew the human heart would be.
The next three seconds felt like three minutes as my senses soaked up the visage of what was once possibly human. The thing smelled of blood, making me want to vomit. But I held it back, transfixed on his face and the inhuman perfection of it. Skin paler than a human’s yet passable as such—flawless and beautiful. It looked like if I were to touch it that the skin would feel like satin. An angel in the body of a demon was my deciding conclusion.
But as I drove the stake into his heart his perfectly flawless face transposed from playful taunting to utter shock and before I knew it, he turned to dust and disappeared. Just as he did I heard Flora scream out my name. I spun about to see a second devil, a woman who’d been in the shadows that I’d not seen, coming towards Flora with eyes on me.
“What have you done?!” she wailed out, pain on her face and then rage as she lunged for Flora.
I stepped in between them and fought with the woman, her long razor sharp nails reached for my eyes and her teeth for my neck. But I spun—using my own gymnastic training as well as her movements to my advantage. But she was stronger and faster than me and with one simple slashing motion and a side step that wasn’t fast enough, her one nail missed my eye by an inch, slicing my face open from temple to jaw.
With that distraction she was able to grab my arm, spin it behind my back and break it, as easy as I’d broken that broom handle. I let out a scream of pain and fell to my knees. As I did, the woman snatched up Flora and ran out the front door.
I ran after them. As my original weapon had rolled somewhere I picked up the other half of the broom in my good arm as I zipped through the door. As I rounded the bend of the cabin I saw her—a beautiful woman with short black hair and a smile on her face that sneered in such a way that I had no question in my mind that I’d kill her without hesitation.
She then laughed at me, as if the idea of me chasing her was absolutely hilarious. She resituated her hold on Flora who called out my name, her little Tigger toy that I’d given her years ago clutched in her hand, eyes pleading for me to come to her as her arms reached for me. It’s all it took to propel me forward. I ran through the grass and uneven ground towards her and then, as my eyes met Flora’s she disappeared.
In no way do I mean she vanished into thin air, though that is what it felt like. Flora’s captor had just simply turned and broken into a run and even though I continued to follow her it was apparent to me quickly that another myth was true—vampires were faster than humans and my lovely little Flora was gone.
I stood there for a moment, tears in my eyes, screaming her name but nothing answered me back—the forest was silent and dark. I must’ve stood there for at least five minutes trying to accept my sister was gone and worse yet; I could do nothing to help her. With the utmost difficulty I fought my feet’s will to stay put and turned around, walking slowly back to the cabin. I needed to talk to Page and find out what had happened.
When I got back to the cabin Page was lying on the floor by the front door. Obviously she’d tried to follow me but hadn’t been strong enough. The phone receiver from the old rotary phone on the wall above her was in her hand.
“Page?” I said tentatively as I approached her, cradling my broken arm.
“I called 911. Help is on the way.”
She looked very tired as I crouched down next to her. “It’s going to be okay,” I said, touching her blond curls. “Just, hang in there. We’ll be okay.”
I then saw her neck was still bleeding. I tried to rip the bottom of my shirt but with a broken arm it was rather difficult. Instead I just pulled it off and pressed it to her neck to try and stop the flow of blood.
She motioned to me and I leaned close to her. “There was a knock on the door,” she said, “We could hear a woman crying, saying her boyfriend and she had been in a fight. That he’d gotten physical with her and she was trying to get away from him. She claimed to just want to use our phone to call her family. Dad let her in and before the woman could even tell us what had fully happened or make a call there was a banging on the door.
“It was her boyfriend—the one you killed. He was acting drunk and out of control, yelling about how he loved her and to give him a second chance—he called her Cammy.” A sob caught in her throat and tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Shh—you don’t need to go into this now sweetie. Just wait until—”
“No. I need to tell you now.” She wiped the tears away even though they were still falling. “Dad went out on the porch to talk to him, shutting the door—leaving that girl alone with us.” With a pause for a labored breath her brown eyes looked at me as if fighting to stay awake. “It all happened so fast, Sean. The girl broke the light above the table and grabbed mom and bite into her neck, tearing it open! Sean, what does that?”
“I don’t know sweetie.” I could have told her it was a vampire but I didn’t want to believe it yet myself.
“I started screaming and Cassandra came out of the bathroom just as the front door opened with a bang and the man from outside came in, with dad over his shoulder and threw him on the floor near mom. He carried and tossed him like he weighed nothing Sean! Dad.”
Our father was a large man. Easily six four pushing 280 lbs of muscle—so to carry him easily was unfathomable to my twelve year old sister. To me it fit into the mold I was starting to accept as fitting the myth of vampires—except one thing.
“Did you hear dad invite the man in?”
“No. In fact, he told him that he wasn’t able to come in and talk to her right now.”
“Did dad say he could once he was sober?”
“No.”
Myth number three was a lie—vampires could enter your home without an invite. I shuddered. “What happened next sweetie?”
“Cassandra ran for the door but he caught her. He was nowhere near the door but in a blink he had his arms around her and bit into her neck. I would’ve run to her but the woman grabbed me and—” Page just resituated my T-shirt on her neck. “And I’m sure they would’ve drained us dry but suddenly they just stopped. Flora was hiding in the doorway of your room and they both saw her peaking around the corner and stopped, dropping us both. Cassandra was the closest to the door so she ran out of it to get help.”
“And she found me.”
We heard the sirens approaching now. When they arrived Page was bandaged and put into the ambulance. I answered a few questions to the cops as someone tended to my face, but due to my broken arm the paramedics wouldn't let me stay and ushered me into the back of the ambulance with her. As I sat down, my arm in a sling now to keep it steady, I took Page’s hand with the hand of my good right arm. She was cold to the touch and for the first time I considered the idea that she may not make it. Tears filled my eyes.
“You hang in there Pagey, you hear me? You’re all I have left.”
She gave me this smile, the same kind my mother used to give me when I’d ask her to do something for me she couldn’t do, but wished she could. It was so adult of her—the look of acceptance she gave me as she squeezed my hand lightly.
“Sean? How did you know how to kill them?”
“I don’t know—I just did.”
“Don’t you ever stop—you hear me?”
“Page—”
“You find Flora and you kill as many as you can. Promise me.”
“Page—”
“Promise me, please Sean.”
I leaned down and hugged her as best as I could. “I promise.”
“Thank you. I love you big brother.”
I felt her kiss my cheek and then her whole body relaxed as she died, right there in my arms, peacefully, knowing I’d keep my promise.
Obviously I wasn’t able to compete in the Olympics that year as I was suppose to and my spot was filled by a nice guy whose name I honestly don’t remember. Instead I went to live with my mother’s sister’s family who lived in upstate New York not far from the cabin and a week after it had all happened I’d slipped out of my aunt’s home and driven to the cabin. The yellow police tape was still up.
I walked around the property and even ventured into the woods multiple times for the rest of the spring. I found evidence of where they’d been living out there; a cabin with no windows—proving another myth correct; sunlight was a weapon. I knew Flora had been there as I found her Tigger toy, but not her.
As the summer started I joined the local Jujitsu dojo. Gymnastics held too much pain for me but the foundation it created made martial arts seem like a natural progression. By the time school registration began I had a plan. If I was going to keep my promise to my sister I needed to not only learn about these creatures, but I needed to train—I needed to learn how to use every weapon, including the human body. I tore through the yellow pages and the school extra-curricular activities. I joined wrestling, archery, and track as well as taking other martial arts when I had the time.
One day, shortly after my 20th birthday I woke up and knew I was ready. I was toned, fast, and a deadly force with or without weapons. I’d been researching, learning, and training for four years and it was time. I packed my bags, left money and a note on my aunt’s kitchen table and my keys under the mat out front.
I got into the car and as the engine hummed to life I looked up at the home that had housed me for the past four years and I knew I’d miss it. I also understood with utmost clarity that I could not begin my fight without putting them in harm’s way—hence why I was leaving and why I was doing so as a different person. So with one last look I put the car into drive and I left.
With onle one more errand to run I stopped by a random barber shop that didn’t know me and had my long dark hair cut short—exposing my wide, almost black, curls again, and then had him shave my face smooth. I now looked like my fake ID and papers I’d paid a lot of money for a year ago that at the time had made me 21, now 22. I had a new driver’s license, high school transcripts, passport and birth certificate.
I got back into my beat up old black, 1967 Dodge Charger Hemi that reminded me of a short hearse to be honest, and pulled the driver’s license out of my backpack and smiled—I thought my mother would be proud to see I’d chosen her maiden name. From here on out Sean Valentine, the hippie looking child was no more…he was dead and gone…and Sean Cameron, the vampire hunter, was born.
© Copyright 2011 Tamsin Silver
THIS might be an idea of Sean AFTER her shaved it all off...
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Naked Picture or Innapropriate Touching?
Only a few more days till Christmas and even fewer until I get molested by an airport employee...oh the joys of the holiday season...
From what I understand I have the option of a body scan that is like X-ray vision---seeing through my clothes to my fat ass OR a gratuitous feel up of my personage to make sure I'm not hiding a knife in my vagina. Un-fucking-believable! We are out of control! It's like the Red Scare but instead of people pointing fingers at others and screaming "Natzi" we all are looked at as potential terrorists because the government has us all scared stupid. *sigh*
I've heard stories that when someone had the "pat down" (not what I'd call it but hey, "backroom lovin'" isn't probably the best title anyways) the TSA decided to reach down into someone's pants. I personally have a problem with this. This is violating my person. If a man I didn't know (or woman for that matter) walked up to me on the street and reached into my pants or down my bra I could have them arrested but its "okay" if the government does it? Ah...ah...ah...BULLSHIT (said w/in a sneeze to make it less harsh).
I can understand the old "pat down" and I can even understand the archway that discovers metal objects...both of which I feel do the job fine. If I've got a gun, that metal detector will go off. So why do we need a body scan? And why does it need to be so clear on our body parts? Men...the size of your penis will be on display so be prepared, we'll have a picture! And ladies...well...I already know how we feel about our bodies SO...I KNOW how this concept makes us feel...HORRIBLE. FAT. UNCOMFORTABLE. VIOLATED. Need I go on? Some of us don't like the idea of someone we love having to see us naked let alone a stranger so...the scan makes us VERY unhappy. But, alas, the government doesn't care about your feelings...they're trying to make sure you're safe. And I understand that...but there had GOT to be a better way than this...there has to be.
Here is what a Backscanner X-ray Scan looks like:
Here's what a Millimeter Wave Scan looks like:
So, would you rather have their hands ON you or have them see you naked?
It's bad either way, right?
Well...since I'm flying home for Christmas on Thursday morning (like...at some ungodly hour making me need to be there at 4am) I will get the honor of choosing. Naked photo or inappropriate touching? Hmmm...tough decision. Guess it depends on how lonely I'm feeling at that moment and if the guy doing the "gropping" is hot. ;)
Celebrities must be really hating this. Someone could leak those pics...someone could feel them up just to say they did...hell, I know of one celeb who FedEx's her underwear back to her home after vacation so that no one will steal her used underwear. Crazy huh? Not that crazy...I had my clean underwear stolen once on a flight to Michigan! And honey, I'm not famous and they were just satin thongs from Victoria Secret...not lace...not string thongs...not worn. I have NO idea why someone took them. Weird people. So now all my underwear goes in my carry on. Why that celeb doesn't do that, I have no idea. But hey...each to their own.
But enough on the negative...let's look at the positive shall we? I get to see my dad, step mom and step sister for the holidays AND I get to drive about town in my dad's van and visit friends from high school and so on and so forth. It will be very fun! It will be worth the "Naked Picture or Innapropriate Touching" moment.
I enjoy playing Santa...do you? I've picked up four presents for each member of my family who will be at the house on Christmas morning and all of them are going to be a suprise! I hope they like what I got them...I'm pretty sure they will. My dad is sorta hard to buy for because when you ask him what he wants/needs he says, "Nothing. I don't need anything." *sigh* Thanks Dad. That helps sooo much. But I usually get him a Borders Gift Card, movies, or sweaters. This year will be no different. I got him some movies, the BGC, and though I didn't get him a sweater...I'm excited to be taking him out for a lunch date to see The Dawn Treador. I made that poor man read that book to me THREE times as a kid...so...I think he deserves his daughter to take him to see it on the big screen. :)
As far as my step sister and step mom go? Uh...can't say...Di reads this blog. ;)
I get to stay with the fam until Tuesday afternoon. I then go back to work on Wednesday and Thursday...but Friday the 31st is off for the New Year Holiday...and I hop on a plane to Orlando, FL that Friday (my friend paid for the flight cause he's amazing!) and I get to hang out in Orlando for the New Year....at DISNEY! I'm loving this, btw...LOVING it! Here's to hoping we get warm weather down there!!!!!! I promise to have LOTS of embarrassing pics of me taken while I'm there and post the ones that aren't too bad here for you to all see. :) Especially if I can locate Winnie the Pooh!
Anyhoo...if you're traveling this holiday season...do the following things please:
#1. Be organized at security and get your coat, shoes, jewelry, etc off quickly and efficiently.
#2. Decide if you want a good "feel up" or a "naked pic" before you get there so you're ready to commit to one or the other so as to not hold up the line cause all those people behind you want to get that part OVER just like you do.
#3. Be nice to the TSA employee...they've been told to do this as part of their job (even though it sucks).
#4. If a TSA employee gets out of line when touching you...CALMLY talk to a supervisor on if their "touch" was warranted. By making a scene you hold up everyone behind you AND you risk missing your flight that you PAID for.
Just sayin'...
Have a safe and happy holiday and know one important last thing...
I choose the body scan. Have a pic of me, TSA! Knock yourself out! Can I bend over for you while I'm at it? ;)
Peace all!
Tamsin :)
P.S. I need to share a funny pic with you...since my blog today was primarily my rant on TSA. We must end on a fun note. This pic was stolen from my Twitter pal Ana in Wales...enjoy!
An Exciting Announcement!
As you all know, I did a photo-shoot for Moon Over Manhattan (see pic above) and it went REALLY well. And...I had said this was my "test run". Meaning, if it went well I'd do photos for the primary series I've been writing called Living Dead Girl. This cast is MUCH larger than Moon Over Manhattan. In fact...probably double the cast size if not TRIPPLE! Yowza!
Anyhoo....here's the announcement...
WE WILL BE DOING A PHOTO-SHOOT FOR LIVING DEAD GIRL IN MAY, 2011
I will be making a list of characters I will need for the shoot and posting their decscriptions on here AND on Craigslist, NYC. As soon as I open the floodgates for pics to come in...I will let you all know where to send them for consideration.
We'll probably do a daytime shoot and a nighttime shoot (if we can) as I have MANY vampire characters in that story. We may do pics inside as well as outside...but not sure yet. As decisions are made you'll be the first to know. Personally, I've very excited to get to do this! In fact...I've already found my "Alex".
This is him.
His name is David Mavricos. He's perfect for Alex.As I find the rest of the characters I'll post photos so you can get more and more excited as we approach the photo-shoot!
Also...other big news...the website will have the best pictures from the Moon Over Manhattan photo-shoot VERY SOON! And...it hopefully will have VIDEO as of the new year of behind the scenes stuff as well as a quick interview with me taken after the shoot was over.
So...many cool things coming up...so keep your eye on the blog!
xo
Tamsin :)
Thursday, December 16, 2010
LOMBARDI on Broadway - A Review
CAST
Vincent Lombardi - Dan Lauria
Michael McCormick - Keith Nobbs
Marie Lombardi - Judith Light
Dave Robinson - Robert Christopher Riley
Paul Hornung - Bill Dawes
Jim Taylor - Chris Sullivan
Have I ever mentioned my strange love of football movies? No? Oh, well...I have a strange love for football movies...here are some of my faves...
Remember the Titans
Invincible
Rudy
Friday Night Lights
We Are Marshall
Blind Side
I could go on and on but I won't bore you...you get my point. :)
You're asking yourself now, "Is she a big football fan?" Nope. I enjoy watching college football with my friends or my dad (and yes, he and I scream at the TV together) and pro football when I have to with my guy pals...but I don't tend to watch on my own. But football movies? SUCKER FOR THEM!
Hell, I love sports movies a lot too...and I suck at most sports so...maybe it comes down to the fact that I wish that I'd been good at just one sport! Okay, I kick ass at badminton but really...should I really admit to that? Oh wait...I just did...
Anyhoo...on to the point of my post...
Last night my pal Seth returned a favor. I took him with me to Shakespeare in the Park this year for Winters Tale and he got free tickets to Lombardi, put on by Circle In The Square, and POOF! I got to go! This play hadn't even been on my radar to see but I'm SO happy I got to go!
As many of you know, Vincent Lombardi is one of the most celebrated football coaches of all time who unfortunately died at the early age of 57 from colon cancer. The play, LOMBARDI, is based on a book written by David Maraniss called "When Pride Still Mattered; A Life of Vince Lombardi". The play primarily spans a week in November, 1965 in Green Bay, WI. It is the week that Michael McCormick arrives in Wisconsin to stay with Mr. Lombardi so as to do an article for "LOOK" magazine (which, btw, never printed his article, feeling it was too artsy an article with not enough football).
There are flashbacks throughout the play to 1958, 1959 and 1964 as well as we learn how Vince almost became a banker instead of a football coach, how he took over the Green Bay Packers, and what made him tick...what made them win. We also get a really wonderful inside view of his relationship with his wife (played magestically by Judith Light). Judith and Dan make an amazing team on stage. With timing that can't be taught---you either have it or you don't. They do.
Dan Lauria's portrayal of Vince is so incredibly believable, solid and powerful you would swear he'd met the man! Keith Nobbs who plays the reporter is your narrator throughout the piece as well as performing inside the story itself which takes great timing, total commitment to dialogue and movement, and the ability to switch gears as fast as you can turn on a light switch. He does this with ease and satin smoothness so you never feel jerked around inside the story. That is also a big props to the writing as well...by the way.
The cast is only six people---though, to be honest, it felt like more. The other three characters are the three football players who are the keyhole we get to peak through to learn a little about who Lombardi really is...how he loves his players...how he loves the game...and so on. All three of these men were fantastic but I won't lie, Robert Christopher Riley (who plays Dave Robinson) truly stands out of the three as exceptional! He's not only a joy to watch but captivates your attention anytime he speaks with a full commitment between body and dialogue. Not that the other two didn't carry their weight but Robert, to me, stuck out in a good way.
Before I forget, I want to give props to the designers of this show. The lights and multi-media especially with a definite nod to set design. The stage is a blank rounded-off-at-the-corners rectangle that stays bare except for when you're in Vince's home or office or the bar the players hang out in. All set pieces come up from the floor and then slink back down and disappear when not needed. The living room piece for Vince's home spins so that when they do sit down to do a scene it can move around so the audience (which is on all sides as the play is produced in the round) all get a chance to watch it from each angle. It's brilliant! But then again, I love a minimalistic set as much as I love an intricate set...if it transports you to where you need to be to be enveloped by the show, then its fantastic...and this one was just that.
The lights...and bajesus they have a lot of them...including ones that look like football stadium lights on all four corners...are brilliant (pun intended). Here's a shot of the ceiling above the performance space...the tech geek in me was like, "Weeee!" :
What you can't see here is that there were long, rectangular screens that came down on the two longer sides of the set over the audience that showed video AND they also did that on the large floor. They actually had footage of the games mentioned in the story and you got to watch them clear as day...on the floor of the set. Just a brilliant way to still show the game for stage. I wouldn't be suprised to see this become a made-for-TV movie at somepoint...it's all prepped and ready for it if you ask me.
But, I feel lucky to have seen it live. It was a beautiful story that holds your attention (without an intermission mind you) for the duration and you never stop basking in the fantastic writing, the amazing performances, and the awe inspiring set/lights. For awhile you get transported to Green Bay, WI...to hang out with one of the greatest men in football. Not a bad way to spend a night if you ask me.
If it wasn't on your radar either...put it there! Get out and see this show before its gone.
Stay warm New Yorkers...stay warm!
Tamsin :)
P.S. If you click on the title of the blog you will find the official Broadway page for the play. If you click on the LOMBARDI link highlighted in a purplish color above it will take you to some clips from the play that were filmed. ENJOY!
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I was punched in the face by a drunk guy...no really, it's true!
So here's what happened...
Last night my pal Matt from Boston (I've mentioned him before) was in town for a concert that was canceled...he'd already bought his bus ticket and a hotel room for the night so he figured, what the hell, I'll go to NYC for the night anyways and see some friends.
So he and six of his friends (counting me) met up at SPICE (a really great Thai place in Union Square over on 13th St. and 5th Ave.) and we waited an eternity (even with reservations) but we finally got a seat and enjoyed some great conversation and food. I totally give this restaurant five stars! Great food and portions at a small price! I had a perfectly sized appetizer of spring rolls, a glass of wine and some Pad Thai for only $25 (counting tax and tip). A steal if I do say so!
Anyway, I digress---we finished up around 10-ish, hit the bathroom (I must mention the bathroom because the dance music was so loud in there it was like a club all in itself...we thought it was hilarious!), and headed outside into the FREEZING weather (I think it was like...18 degrees or something last night). This is when I noticed a stocky guy in his late 30's with short dark hair in a long black coat, a cigarette in his hand and a long red line down the side of his face standing in the corner of the wind barrier doorway for the bar next door. I remember him because I thought, "Wow! That's dedication! It's too cold out here to smoke!".
Now, two of Matt's friends had to jet so the five of us were huddled in a circle talking and saying goodnight when the guy I'd noticed came out, suddenly was trying to push his way into our group. This would've been fine except he grabbed ahold of the back part of my left arm tightly, pinching the skin and muscle there roughly. We couldn't understand him. He cigarette was still unlit but he wasn't asking for a light, his tone was mean---that's all I could tell. I tried to pull away from him and he gripped me harder. I asked him to let go of me and he didn't. I raised my voice so others would know what was going on and said, "Let go of me now!"
Next thing I knew his left hook caught me in the teeth. I automatically moved my head when I saw something in my face so the punch didn't land fully or where he probably meant to hit me (the nose is my guess). It took me a moment to realize what he'd done. It wasn't till my tooth started screaming in pain that I realized "that f*cker punched me!"
Well...since he'd come up between Matt and I, Matt was the first to see this and he saved me from decking the guy myself by restraining him from hitting me again. The man fought back (cause drunk men are stupid) and by the time I turned around Matt was fightin this guy off. I ran inside the restaurant and told them to call 911 (Like I what? Don't have a cell phone of my own? Obviously not...thinking...clearly.)---that a drunk guy was hitting people. Maybe I said "hit someone"? No idea.
Anyhoo...by the time I got outside the man was down, Matt had him pinned to the ground, the bouncer from the club next door FINALLY came out and Matt is telling the guy to apologize to me. Well, NOW my anger kicks in...my tooth is throbbing...its freezing cold...I'm appropriately pissed off now. He apologized and of course my reaction is...you guessed it...non-accepting. I pretty much told him he could be sorry all he wanted but it didn't change the fact that he punched a woman for no reason.
The bouncer then tells us he hit another woman just earlier that evening! SAY WHAT?!!!
The guy goes to get up and it honestly takes everything I have not to kick him in the face with the heel of my combat boot. Instead I yelled at him to stay down---as did Matt and the bouncer. I'm sure I said something like, "Go ahead and get up, give me a reason!"...again...not proud but this is me being honest and truthful so as to get this whole thing outta my head, off my chest, etc. Needless to say he stayed down...I never laid a hand (or boot) on him.
In fact, he didn't get up until the calvary arrived. And I do mean the calvary. Fire Dept, Ambulance and NYPD. All for little ol' me? Uh, no. Seems when they called the cops they told them a car hit a pedestrian. LOL! So we had all of NY's finest there for one simple dumbass drunk. Oh well.
Anyways...to finish my tale of "WTF?" I ended up in the ambulance to put an ice pack on my lip while they took my info, my statement, and so on. At least the inside of the ambulance was warm! They asked if I wanted to press charges. My initial response in my head was, "No. I'm not broken or bleeding and he's just drunk." BUT...then I remembered he'd hit another woman not an hour ago (Probably where that long red line on his face came from. SHE probably scratched him...which is more than I did but oh well.) and who knew who he was going home to and if I didn't press charges he'd be left where he was (as he wasn't beligerantly drunk...just mad drunk). So I said yes, I'd be pressing charges and they took him off to jail.
I have no idea if he had to stay the night or if they just booked him or whatever. I was told the DA would call me today.
To be honest, I feel bad that I decided to press charges. I'm not that type of person. I believe in forgivness but I just didn't want him to hurt someone else. He could've hurt them worse. Hell, he coulda hurt me worse but luckily my friend was there to save me and thankfully the man didn't have a gun or something. So...I plan to stick by my decision and press charges...show up in court...the whole nine yards. If he's hitting multiple women he needs help and unless someone wakes him up to that fact with something like say, pressing charges, he could end up hurting someone else...probably worse...and I can't live with that more than I can't live with the idea that I should've just forgiven him.
I got home and took three Motrin, put my bite splint in to steady my slightly loose front tooth and went to bed (my screaming headache making that almost impossible). I'm wearing said splint today too...as tooth is still sore to the touch and a bit wiggly. If it doesn't solidify up by tomorrow night I'll go see the denist. Bah...the dentist. Ick.
SO that is my tale of woe...and here's what I want you to learn from it...
He could've had a gun in his pocket. Me being snitty and demanding he let go of me, even though he was hurting me, probably wasn't the smartest move. I could've asked nicer I suppose (even though the first asking was nicer and did nothing) or really pulled away hard. But I panicked. He was grabbing me and hurting me and I panicked. If this happens to you...don't. Ask nicely and pull away hard. If he'd had a gun I'd be dead right now so...lesson learned.
What's sad is this morning on the way to work I found myself slightly scared by large men who got to close to me. They all were complete gentlemen (moved out of my way, offered me the door, etc.) but I flinched when they got near (arm movement near me). I hope that goes away fast. I think men are amazing people...so full of honor and so protective and wonderful providers. Just look at my hero Matt! It hurts my heart to think for awhile I'll be jumpy around men who move too fast near my body/face.
So ladies...please be carefull out there. Remember...not everyone cares what they do to you.
Much love, Tamsin xo
Last night my pal Matt from Boston (I've mentioned him before) was in town for a concert that was canceled...he'd already bought his bus ticket and a hotel room for the night so he figured, what the hell, I'll go to NYC for the night anyways and see some friends.
So he and six of his friends (counting me) met up at SPICE (a really great Thai place in Union Square over on 13th St. and 5th Ave.) and we waited an eternity (even with reservations) but we finally got a seat and enjoyed some great conversation and food. I totally give this restaurant five stars! Great food and portions at a small price! I had a perfectly sized appetizer of spring rolls, a glass of wine and some Pad Thai for only $25 (counting tax and tip). A steal if I do say so!
Anyway, I digress---we finished up around 10-ish, hit the bathroom (I must mention the bathroom because the dance music was so loud in there it was like a club all in itself...we thought it was hilarious!), and headed outside into the FREEZING weather (I think it was like...18 degrees or something last night). This is when I noticed a stocky guy in his late 30's with short dark hair in a long black coat, a cigarette in his hand and a long red line down the side of his face standing in the corner of the wind barrier doorway for the bar next door. I remember him because I thought, "Wow! That's dedication! It's too cold out here to smoke!".
Now, two of Matt's friends had to jet so the five of us were huddled in a circle talking and saying goodnight when the guy I'd noticed came out, suddenly was trying to push his way into our group. This would've been fine except he grabbed ahold of the back part of my left arm tightly, pinching the skin and muscle there roughly. We couldn't understand him. He cigarette was still unlit but he wasn't asking for a light, his tone was mean---that's all I could tell. I tried to pull away from him and he gripped me harder. I asked him to let go of me and he didn't. I raised my voice so others would know what was going on and said, "Let go of me now!"
Next thing I knew his left hook caught me in the teeth. I automatically moved my head when I saw something in my face so the punch didn't land fully or where he probably meant to hit me (the nose is my guess). It took me a moment to realize what he'd done. It wasn't till my tooth started screaming in pain that I realized "that f*cker punched me!"
Well...since he'd come up between Matt and I, Matt was the first to see this and he saved me from decking the guy myself by restraining him from hitting me again. The man fought back (cause drunk men are stupid) and by the time I turned around Matt was fightin this guy off. I ran inside the restaurant and told them to call 911 (Like I what? Don't have a cell phone of my own? Obviously not...thinking...clearly.)---that a drunk guy was hitting people. Maybe I said "hit someone"? No idea.
Anyhoo...by the time I got outside the man was down, Matt had him pinned to the ground, the bouncer from the club next door FINALLY came out and Matt is telling the guy to apologize to me. Well, NOW my anger kicks in...my tooth is throbbing...its freezing cold...I'm appropriately pissed off now. He apologized and of course my reaction is...you guessed it...non-accepting. I pretty much told him he could be sorry all he wanted but it didn't change the fact that he punched a woman for no reason.
The bouncer then tells us he hit another woman just earlier that evening! SAY WHAT?!!!
The guy goes to get up and it honestly takes everything I have not to kick him in the face with the heel of my combat boot. Instead I yelled at him to stay down---as did Matt and the bouncer. I'm sure I said something like, "Go ahead and get up, give me a reason!"...again...not proud but this is me being honest and truthful so as to get this whole thing outta my head, off my chest, etc. Needless to say he stayed down...I never laid a hand (or boot) on him.
In fact, he didn't get up until the calvary arrived. And I do mean the calvary. Fire Dept, Ambulance and NYPD. All for little ol' me? Uh, no. Seems when they called the cops they told them a car hit a pedestrian. LOL! So we had all of NY's finest there for one simple dumbass drunk. Oh well.
Anyways...to finish my tale of "WTF?" I ended up in the ambulance to put an ice pack on my lip while they took my info, my statement, and so on. At least the inside of the ambulance was warm! They asked if I wanted to press charges. My initial response in my head was, "No. I'm not broken or bleeding and he's just drunk." BUT...then I remembered he'd hit another woman not an hour ago (Probably where that long red line on his face came from. SHE probably scratched him...which is more than I did but oh well.) and who knew who he was going home to and if I didn't press charges he'd be left where he was (as he wasn't beligerantly drunk...just mad drunk). So I said yes, I'd be pressing charges and they took him off to jail.
I have no idea if he had to stay the night or if they just booked him or whatever. I was told the DA would call me today.
To be honest, I feel bad that I decided to press charges. I'm not that type of person. I believe in forgivness but I just didn't want him to hurt someone else. He could've hurt them worse. Hell, he coulda hurt me worse but luckily my friend was there to save me and thankfully the man didn't have a gun or something. So...I plan to stick by my decision and press charges...show up in court...the whole nine yards. If he's hitting multiple women he needs help and unless someone wakes him up to that fact with something like say, pressing charges, he could end up hurting someone else...probably worse...and I can't live with that more than I can't live with the idea that I should've just forgiven him.
I got home and took three Motrin, put my bite splint in to steady my slightly loose front tooth and went to bed (my screaming headache making that almost impossible). I'm wearing said splint today too...as tooth is still sore to the touch and a bit wiggly. If it doesn't solidify up by tomorrow night I'll go see the denist. Bah...the dentist. Ick.
SO that is my tale of woe...and here's what I want you to learn from it...
He could've had a gun in his pocket. Me being snitty and demanding he let go of me, even though he was hurting me, probably wasn't the smartest move. I could've asked nicer I suppose (even though the first asking was nicer and did nothing) or really pulled away hard. But I panicked. He was grabbing me and hurting me and I panicked. If this happens to you...don't. Ask nicely and pull away hard. If he'd had a gun I'd be dead right now so...lesson learned.
What's sad is this morning on the way to work I found myself slightly scared by large men who got to close to me. They all were complete gentlemen (moved out of my way, offered me the door, etc.) but I flinched when they got near (arm movement near me). I hope that goes away fast. I think men are amazing people...so full of honor and so protective and wonderful providers. Just look at my hero Matt! It hurts my heart to think for awhile I'll be jumpy around men who move too fast near my body/face.
So ladies...please be carefull out there. Remember...not everyone cares what they do to you.
Much love, Tamsin xo
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