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Jingle Sharks—In Honor of #SharkWeek

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Posted by Melika Dannese Hick in Fun Stuff, Missives, News, Updates

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Hi Everyone,

Sunday marks the 30th anniversary of Discovery Channel’s Shark Week. I’ve been watching this annual epic of jawesomeness since the beginning, and, given that Christmas In July is also being celebrated here in the States at the moment, I thought it was past time to dust off a little something I composed ten years ago and share it with all of you.

Here it is…Jingle Sharks—so named because Shark Week is the most wonderful time of the year.

Best,

~Melika

Jingle Sharks

 (As performed by Irv, a Great White Shark from Sydney, Australia, and all around fantastic lad,

with select interjections by the Australian Shark Chorus)

Swimming through the sea, with bloodshed on my mind,

I spy a little seal, then bite off his behind!

But he is just a snack, I need a bigger munch,

So when I spot a surfer dude, I shout, “Yippee! There’s lunch!”

 

Ohhh! Jingle Sharks, Jingle Sharks, chumming’s not for us!

Sharkin’s been looked down on since Old Quint, he bit the dust!

(And we’ve got Bruce to thank for that!)

Ohhh! Jingle Sharks, Jingle Sharks, we like our bait live!

Why don’t all you people on the beach come take a dive?!

(We won’t bite, we promise! Sharks’ honor!)

*brief tom-tom interlude: Da da da da da DA, dum dum!*

The surf is choppy now, and swimmers cannot see,

That lurking right offshore, is little three ton me!

I play it nice and cool, I bide my time so good,

And when nobody’s looking, I latch on to someone’s foot!

 

Ohh-ohhh-ohhhhhh! Jingle Sharks, Jingle Sharks, Shark Week is sublime!

We’ve ruled cable TV for three decades in prime time! Ohhh-oh-ohhhhhh!

Jingle Sharks, Jingle Sharks, everybody’s hooked!

Thanks to conservation, now, our goose ain’t gonna be cooked!

*raucous shouts of “Sharkland, forever!” erupt from the Australian Shark Chorus*

 

End Song

Copyright © 2008, 2018 by Melika Dannese Lux

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SPFBO Author Interview for The Thousand Scar Blog

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Posted by Melika Dannese Hick in Author Spotlight, Deadmarsh Fey, Fun Stuff, Missives, News, Updates

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#AmWriting, 18, 1888, 1894, 19th century, 2002, 2014, 2018, 700, a book addict's bookshelves, a fragment of life, a wizard should know better, ache, Agatha Christie, all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us, Amazon, amazon.co.uk, Amazon.com, anne rice, antestheria, aragorn, arthur, arthur machen, Augustin Boroi, author, Authors, autonomy, autumn, awestruck, bear, best friend, betrayal, birthday, black cats, black winged beast, blog, blogger, bloggers, blogs, blood, blood wood, book, book addict, book feature, books, Books In My Belfry, British, brothers, brothers and sisters, business, calling, carte blanche, Carver, cats, celts, characters, charpentier, children, children of light, children of vampires, chocolate, chocolate chip, christened, City of Lights, City of Lights by melika lux, city of lights: the trials and triumphs of ilyse charpentier, classic, Coffyn, Constantinos, coquette, corcitura, Corcitura feature, count, Count Rakmanovich, Count Sergei Rakmanovich, Cover, creative fiction, crime and punishment, curse, cut, cutwater, cutwater island, dance hall, dance of romance, dannese, dark, dark fantasy, dark wreaker, darkness, dashing, deadliest, Deadmarsh, Deadmarsh Fey, deal, death, demons, demons of the deep, desire to weave stories, devil, dialogue, die, diva of the paris stage, dogs, Dostoevsky, double blinds, Dracula, draculaesque, dragons, dream, dreams, driving force, druids, dwellers, dwellers of darkness, dwellers of darkness children of light, earth, Eastern Europe, Eiffel Tower, email, emotional, England, englishman, enraptured, epic, Eric Bradburry, Europe, Excerpt, Facebook, faeries, fall, fallen kingdom, family, fantasy, fantasy is escapist, fascinated, fate, Fated, fated to die, father, fathomless, female author, female vampires, female werewolves, female writers, fey, fiction, Film, Fin de siècle, finding home, first novel, Folies Bergère, France, free, free reign, freebie, freedom, French, french flag, French wine, friends, Friendship, frodo, frodo baggins, full circle, Fuseli, Gandalf, gandalf the grey, Germany, giveaway, glories, glory, good and evil, good vs evil, Goodreads, gothic, gothic novel, Grand Tour, great god pan, Greece, grey beard, grey wolves, guides, guillermo del toro, Guinness, h p lovecraft, hammer, havelock, hazard, henry fuseli, here there be dragons, hermit, hermitlife, high school, hinterland, historical fiction, historical romance, home, hope, hopes, hopes and dreams, horror, Humor, hybrid, hybrid vampires, Ian McCarthy, ian mckellen, iconic, ilyse, Ilyse Charpentier, in which a dashing Englishman woos mademoiselle Charpentier, in-depth, incendiu, Indie, inspiration, instill, Interview, iron reveals, isobel, isobel vickers, J. R. R. Tolkien, Jack the Ripper, jagged ones, jess watkins, john william waterhouse, joy, Jurassic Park, Kindle, kindle giveaway, Kip, Kipling, Knightley, La Perle de Paris, la petite coquette, languages, laptop, legend, legends, Leonora, Leonora Bianchetti, lies, life, light, Links, lips, Lockie, loggerheads, logistical, London, longing for home, longings, lord of the rings, LOTR, Louvre, Love, love of reading, Luc, lux, lynn's books, machen, maddie, Madelaine Bradburry, malevolence, Manon Larue, marine biologist, mark lawrence, marked, Maurice Charpentier, meanings, meant to be, melika, Melika Dannese Lux, Melika Lux, michael baker, modern times, mother, Music, my calling, my dream, myth, names, nebulous, new, new release, news, night, nightmare, norse, norway, Nosferatu, novel, novelist, novels, now face-to-fey, oblivion, of darkness, opera, orange, original, orlok, pale, palming the ace, panic, Paperback, Paranormal, parc monceau, parents, Paris, Parisian, pianist, pict, plausible deniability, play, plots, pointy hat, post, pre-raphaelites, professor fertig, promotion, prophecy, publication, publicity, publishing, puckie, pumpkin, pun, pure magic, questions, quick-fire, quites, quote, rapture, reading, revenge, Review, rex, roger, Roger Knightley, romance novels set in historic France, Romania, Romanian, rural, rural england, Russia, russian, sacrifice, Sangue di Vita, scary, scary vampires, schadenfreude, seasonal, seized, self-published fantasy blog off, Sergei, Sergei Rakmanovich, series, seven hundred years, sham, Shark Week, Sharks, siblings, silver-tongued devil, singer, singing, sir frank dicksee, snippet, soprano, Sorina Boroi, souls, spfbo, Spooky, steal of a deal, Stefan, Stefan Belododia, Stefan Ratliff, story arcs, storytelling, storyweaving, stratosphere, summer, supernatural, supernatural thriller, Suspense, swathing, T-Rex, talking animals, tall tales, terror, the darkness within, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Lord of the Rings, the white people and other weird stories, these vampires don't sparkle, thousand scar, Thriller, Tolkien, Tollers and Jack, Toulouse Lautrec, Tour Eiffel, tragedy, trahaearn, train, travel, tricksy, triumph, triumphant, true love, truth, TV, Twilight, Twitter, Tyrian purple, UK, undead, updates, USA, vampire fiction, Vampire Hunter, vampire mythology, vampire mythos, vampires, vampiresses, vampiric, vampiric equality, vampiric transformation, vampirism, vamps, varney, varney the vampyre, Vasily Markolovick, vickers, violinist, Vladec, Vladec Salei, vocation, Vrykolakas, Wales, warnings and visitations, website, welsh, Werewolf, werewolf transformation, Whitechapel, wine, winter, wizard, Wood, wreaker, writer, writer's block, Writers, writing, Young Adult, young author, young female author, young love, Young Protagonists, young writer, Zigmund, Zigmund Fertig

Hi Everyone!

It is with great excitement that I share with you today the interview I did for the Thousand Scar blog. Many thanks to author and fellow SPFBO entrant, Michael Baker, for giving me the opportunity to answer these great questions. And also to author Mark Lawrence, for creating this fantastic contest in the first place!

And now for the interview! I hope you enjoy it.

  1. First of all, tell me about yourself! What do you write?

I have been an author since the age of fourteen and write novels that incorporate a variety of different genres, including historical fiction, suspense, thrillers with a supernatural twist, and dark fantasy. With my most recent release (and SPFBO 4 entrant), Deadmarsh Fey, I have transitioned into storyweaving fantasy full-time, but before this book, I had written an historical romance/family saga, City of Lights: The Trials and Triumphs of Ilyse Charpentier, and an historical Gothic suspense/thriller, Corcitura. The vampires in that one are definitely in the Classical tradition and would feel right at home sharing a pint or two of Sangue de Vita with Dracula or Varney or Count Orlok. In other words, they’d sooner rip out your throat than be caught undead sparkling.

  1. How do you develop your plots and characters?

Plots have always seemed to come into being after I already have a character, or set of characters, in mind. Certain paintings and other forms of art have inspired character (and story) ideas in the past, as well, specifically the works of the Pre-Raphaelites—Sir Frank Dicksee and John William Waterhouse being my favorite artists in the Brotherhood. Additionally, I have always found the work of Henry Fuseli morbidly entrancing, so much so that one version of his Nightmare ended up playing a pivotal role in Corcitura during an early scene set in the Louvre. The painting, and its ominous presence in that scene, still chill my blood to this day.

The meanings and stories behind names have always fascinated me, too. One chief reason characters tend to appear first in my imagination before plots do is because I research names and their origins ahead of anything else. Then, if inspiration starts tugging and insisting and refusing to leave me in peace unless I do something with what I’ve gathered, I give in and start storyweaving from there. This is what happened with the name Deadmarsh. I’d heard it in passing in 2002, and immediately thought, “Wow! What a creepy and portentous name to build a legend around!” I never expected it would take twelve years to finally invent a story to go with this name, but waiting for the right tale to make itself known was worth it.

There are many characters in Deadmarsh Fey who have Welsh names, and that was by design. If you dig a little deeper into what these names mean, you will see that I instilled traits into the characters that hearken back to what they were christened. With some of them, you would have also probably been able to hazard a fair guess as to their true identities and motivations…if I hadn’t made use of double blinds and false clues to throw readers off the scent. Being tricksy like this in my writing is one of my favorite things to do, because to have names be the sole source of a character’s reason for being, what makes him or her tick, would be to destroy the character’s autonomy—and would also be very lazy writing. Not to mention an unrewarding experience for the reader, and also myself, as the author. I have to stay engaged and be kept on my toes when crafting a novel, which is why I don’t outline, but prefer to figure things out along with my characters. It keeps things fresh and exciting, as does palming the ace as often as I can.

  1. Tell us about your current project.

My current project is the sequel to Deadmarsh Fey—set seven years later—and the second novel in Dwellers of Darkness, Children of Light. Several times in Deadmarsh Fey, I mentioned the Vickers family, particularly Isobel, the youngest daughter, who is Roger’s contemporary and good friend. Near the end of the novel, Isobel’s and her family’s link to the Deadmarshes, and the beings hunting them, is hinted at, and, to a certain extent, revealed to Roger in a shocking way. What he discovers leads directly into book two, Isobel’s story, which takes place on a desolate rock called Cutwater Island. Here there be sharks, and demons of the deep. And a creature whose memory is as fathomless as its desire for revenge.

  1. Who would you say is the main character of your novels? And tell me a little bit about them!

Each novel in Dwellers of Darkness, Children of Light has a different protagonist through whose eyes we see the story. In Deadmarsh Fey, this is Roger Knightley, ten years old and cousin to Havelock (Lockie), the Deadmarsh heir. Roger is a bit of a firecracker, and though he is just a child, he’s a well-read one, which has resulted in his having quite a vivid imagination. Sometimes, this exacerbates situations, yet it also means that Roger is unencumbered by the inability to accept wonder and the inexplicable at face value. Because of this, he’s able to understand and recognize the dangers the creatures rampaging out of the Otherworld and into our own pose to himself and his family sooner than the adults and certain other characters around him. He also has a wry bent to his personality, and a stubborn streak, that help and hinder him in various ways as the book progresses. And he’s obsessed with dragons. You’ll have to read the novel to find out if that’s a fatal character flaw or not.

Story wise, the events in Deadmarsh Fey, though cloaked in the garb of fantasy, are about fighting for the ones you love. That is the main driving force behind Roger’s actions and those of his friends and allies. It’s not just about survival, or stopping the Dark Wreaker—a nebulous entity that has bedeviled the Deadmarshes for seven hundred years—and his servants from  being unleashed upon this earth, but about saving the very souls of those who are most important to you, those you’d sacrifice everything for. And that is something that has always appealed to me, not only in storyweaving, but in life.

  1. What advice would you give new writers on how to delve into creative fiction?

Absolutely do NOT write what you know. That is the worst and most stultifying piece of advice I have ever been given. If I’d followed it, Deadmarsh Fey would not exist. Don’t write what you know. Write what you dream, and make sure to instill your entire being into what your heart and soul are calling you to breathe into life.

  1. What real-life inspirations did you draw from for the worldbuilding within your book?

The setting of Deadmarsh Fey is rural England in the late 19th century. Both of my previous novels have taken place in this time period, so I was already very familiar with the mores and history and other elements of this era. For the crafting of Everl’aria (the Otherworld that is seeking to join itself to our own throughout the novel), I wasn’t inspired so much by real-life examples as I was by the mythology of Norway and Wales, which I tapped into to create my own legendarium for Deadmarsh Fey and the successive novels in Dwellers of Darkness, Children of Light.

I was also incredibly inspired by the works of Arthur Machen, an author I’d first encountered in 2007 after reading his disturbing yet fascinating short novel The Great God Pan. Once read, it is impossible to forget, but I never delved into any more of Arthur’s stories till many years later, quite accidentally, but at exactly the time I needed to most. As I discovered, he seemed to view the fey (faeries) as dangerous and lethal beings you should never trust or turn your back upon if you wanted to live. That was how I’d always imagined they truly were, so I felt I’d found a kindred spirit in Arthur, and validation for my own theories about the fey, when I read The White People and Other Weird Stories in the spring of 2013. I see this moment as the catalyst for my ideas about Deadmarsh Fey starting to coalesce—and my excitement level for the book shooting up into the stratosphere. It would be less than a year after reading this collection that I began writing the novel.

Incidentally, as an homage to Arthur, I named Havelock (Lockie) after a minor character in A Fragment of Life.

  1. What inspires you to write?

The desire to weave stories and lose myself in other worlds. J. R. R. Tolkien, who has been a defining force and inspiration not only on my writing, but also in my life, once said that fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. I never took this to mean that writing fantasy was a way of denying reality, or hiding yourself in invented worlds because you couldn’t face daily life in our fallen one. Quite the reverse. The concept of crafting myths and legends around very human characters who inhabited worlds that reflected the glories and evils of our own, that mirrored them in some unique yet hauntingly familiar way, fired my imagination like nothing else ever had. This is the reason I don’t write contemporary fiction. Not because I can’t, but because swathing a story in the trappings of fantasy makes the experience so much richer for me as a writer, and also, hopefully, for the reader, than it would a tale stripped of its glory set in modern times. And just because something is classified as “fantasy,” doesn’t mean it can’t be realistic. If anything, it should be more so. I have always endeavored to create characters that are human, with all our foibles and weaknesses, hopes and dreams—and longings for “home.” By home, I don’t mean a building, but a deep ache within the heart to find the place where we belong. And home, for me, at least when it comes to writing, has always been in these other worlds, where I can best use the time that has been given to me to shine a blinding light onto the darkness.

  1. What was the hardest part of writing this book?

From a logistical standpoint, the hardest part was realizing that Deadmarsh Fey had to come first in the series. Until that realization finally sank in during the spring of 2014, I’d spent the previous year working on what would become the fourth book in Dwellers of Darkness, Children of Light. Writing this book first meant that I was trying to tell the end of the saga without knowing its beginning, which made for an incredibly frustrating experience. And yet I do not regret it, because what I wrote in that novel laid the foundation for all the legends and myths and conflict in this one. So, looking back, I see that it was necessary to go through this, since without that fourth book, Deadmarsh Fey could never have been written.

On an emotional level, the ending of Deadmarsh Fey was extremely hard for me to write. Over a three year period, I’d spent every day with Roger and company, and had grown incredibly attached to all of them…but not so attached that I would force them to act out of character just to please me. In the back of my mind, I’d always known how Deadmarsh Fey had to end, but the way it unfolded was not at all what I had been expecting and made everything that came before it so much deeper and more meaningful. This change of direction was due to a character showing me that his way was the only way things could be. And he was right.

  1. What was your favorite chapter (or part) to write and why?

There are four chapters that stand out in my memory as favorites. Now Face-to-Fey, Warnings and Visitations, Iron Reveals, and one I cannot mention the name of because it will spoil a story arc for not only Deadmarsh Fey, but book three in the series as well.

Now Face-to-Fey put my plotting to the test because it offered definitive proof that things were truly rotten at Deadmarsh. Up until this moment, deniability was still plausible for some characters (one in particular), but several plot points that had been simmering away for many chapters finally exploded in this one—and could no longer be discounted.

Warnings and Visitations sets up the conflict for book two, the story of Isobel Vickers and her family that I mentioned above. It was a complete joy to write this chapter, since I had been looking forward to doing so for over a year by the time I finally got to it.

Iron Reveals has a HUGE, well, reveal about the creatures bedeviling Roger and his family. In my imagination, this chapter had a different tone and feel entirely, but once I let the characters take over and do with it what they wanted, it turned out even more cohesive and startling than I could have hoped for. I also indulged in some serious schadenfreude  while writing this, since it was truly the first instance in the novel of the shoe being on the other foot, meaning that certain unsavory characters finally got a taste of what it felt like to be on the defensive.

And then there is the chapter that must remain nameless for now. This final favorite will always be special to me because everything in it came together in a seamless and unsettling way. And quickly, too, which is always a plus! That it takes place in a library, and is bookcentric, was yet another reason I enjoyed writing it as much as I did.

  1. Did you learn anything from writing this book and what was it?

Deadmarsh Fey truly taught me how to let go and give the characters free reign. This probably sounds a little odd, but I’ve found that if you get the ball rolling for them, they tend to take over and make your job a lot easier. Not a cakewalk, mind you, because I still had to juggle several story arcs that needed to be resolved to make everything not only in Deadmarsh Fey, but the other novels in the series, come full circle. Yet it was exciting to get to work each day because I knew the direction the book had taken was the one that was meant to be.

The book definitely made me grow as a writer, as well, and showed me that it was important not to get too attached to scenes or any other pieces of writing (dialogue especially) to the detriment of the story. What didn’t work was cut, and the novel ended up being much better because I had gotten out of my own way and hadn’t tried to force things.

  1. It’s sometimes difficult to get into understanding the characters we write. How do you go about it?

I try to place myself in my characters’ shoes as much as is conceivably possible, attempting to see the world of the story through their eyes, and understand why they’d react the way they would in any given situation. Of course, you can’t remove yourself entirely from the equation, but I strive not to influence their actions too much. Carver, Kip, and Incendiu, just to name a few, all went their own way, and while I do have a strong attachment to them, the greatest tie I felt when writing the book was to Roger. This was because of the range of emotions I experienced with him. As I said earlier, the entire book is told from his viewpoint (third person), and because of that, I felt like I became Roger in this story. I experienced things along with him, which meant that everything he endured, everything he felt—pain, fear, excitement, terror, disillusionment, panic, elation—I felt  deeply, too. It was simultaneously exhausting and rewarding. And made it very difficult to put him through the ordeals I had him undergo. Very difficult, yet not impossible, and I felt wretched afterward, but it was what the story called for.

  1. What are your future project(s)?

After I finish the sequel to Deadmarsh Fey, I will be working on the next two novels in Dwellers of Darkness, Children of Light. All the books already have titles, but these are rather sensitive, so I’m holding them in reserve till I announce the publication of each novel.

  1. If you couldn’t be an author, what ideal job would you like to do?

I used to want to be a marine biologist, and would have pursued this path, if a certain wizard with a long grey beard and big pointy hat had kept his words of wisdom to himself. I blame my decision to become a writer on Gandalf the Grey (as portrayed by Ian McKellen in The Fellowship of the Ring), who got to me as an impressionable sixteen year old in the winter of 2001 as I sat, awestruck and enraptured, in a darkened theater and heard him speak this iconic line to Frodo:

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

Right at that moment, I made my decision, and have never looked back.

  1. What is your preferred method to have readers get in touch with or follow you (i.e., website, personal blog, Facebook page, here on Goodreads, etc.) and link(s)?

Readers can contact me through my Web Site. And also Twitter and Goodreads

Additionally, Deadmarsh Fey is available across all Amazon sites in paperback and Kindle editions.

Amazon.com

Amazon.co.uk

Best wishes,

~Melika

 

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The Darkness Within–Excerpt

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Taken from Deadmarsh Fey, Chapter 2

 

“What happened?” Lockie whispered, as shakily as if he didn’t trust his own voice.

“You tell me,” said Roger. He kept his arms wrapped around himself, afraid he’d fall apart if he broke his hold.

“What did I say?”

It wasn’t so much what you said as what you did, Roger thought, but didn’t have the courage to speak this aloud to Lockie. “I haven’t the foggiest,” he said instead. Let’s get that ironed out first, and then we can talk about the other person inside of you. “It was gibberish. Something about hearts and bone and someone called Blood Wood. Where’d you get all that, Lockie? What have you been filling your head with?”

“Must have been a nightmare.”

“When you’re awake?”

“It’s happened before.”

That was troubling. And it made Roger’s mind up for him. This was life and death now. He knew what had to be done, and he didn’t give a fig if Coffyn had an aneurism when he found out. “That’s it. I don’t care what your parents say, or anyone else, for that matter. That place is poison, and I’m getting you out of it. You’re being ruined in more ways than one, and if those nightmares began back there…”

“This didn’t start at Nethermarrow.”

Roger’s arms uncrossed and fell to his sides. “Then where did it start? Not…here?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand. You’re too in love with this place to see its flaws.”

“Flaws? Deadmarsh? Rubbish.”

“Not flaws,” Lockie said, his brows furrowing so dramatically that they almost formed a solid, pale line across his forehead. “That’s the wrong word.” He was silent for a moment, eyes narrowing to slits. “Malevolence.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to trot out the old ‘this house was built on an ancient burial ground’ sham again, are you? Which evil is it this time? Celts? Druids? Take your Pict.” Roger’s lips ticked up slightly at the edges. He’d used that dreadful pun before, but it was folly to expect his cousin to laugh at it now.

Lockie turned on him a look that froze Roger’s blood. “I’ve seen its other side. I know what lives here, what’s been slumbering for so long.”

A hollow pit opened up where Roger’s heart was supposed to be. “How would you know that?”

“I woke it up.”

cover

 

 

(C) 2017, 2018 Melika Dannese Lux

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Deadmarsh Fey is Free This Weekend!

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Hi Everyone,

Yes, you read that right! The Kindle edition of my newly released dark fantasy novel, Deadmarsh Fey, is free from now until Sunday night at 11:59 PDT.  During this promotion, you can download the novel across all Amazon sites by clicking on the following links:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

cover

Flesh and bone and hearts unknown, lead to the rath and your fate will be shown…

Deadmarsh. The name struck terror into the hearts of all who heard it. But to Roger Knightley, neither Deadmarsh the house, nor Deadmarsh the family, had ever been anything to fear. Nearly each summer of his young life had been spent in that manor on the moors, having wild adventures with his cousin, Lockie, the Deadmarsh heir. This year should have been no different, but when Roger arrives, he finds everything, and everyone, changed. The grounds are unkempt, the servants long gone. Kip, the family cat, has inexplicably grown and glares at Roger as if he is trying to read the boy’s mind. Roger’s eldest cousin, Travers, always treated as a servant, now dresses like a duchess and wears round her neck a strange moonstone given to her by someone known as Master Coffyn, who has taken over the teaching of Lockie at a school in Wales called Nethermarrow.

And soon after he crosses the threshold of Deadmarsh, Roger discovers that Coffyn has overtaken Lockie. The boy is deceitful, riddled with fear, and has returned bearing tales of creatures called Jagged Ones that claim to be of the Fey and can somehow conceal themselves while standing in the full light of the moon. What they want with Lockie, Roger cannot fathom, until the horror within his cousin lashes out, and it becomes savagely clear that these Jagged Ones and the Dark Wreaker they serve are not only after Lockie and Travers, but Roger, too.

Joining forces with an ally whose true nature remains hidden, Roger seeks to unravel the tapestry of lies woven round his family’s connection to the death-haunted world of Everl’aria—and the Dark Wreaker who calls it home. The deeper Roger delves into the past, the more he begins to suspect that the tales of dark deeds done in the forest behind Deadmarsh, deeds in which village children made sacrifice to an otherworldly beast and were never seen or heard from again, are true. And if there is truth in these outlandish stories, what of the rumor that it was not an earthquake which rocked the moors surrounding Deadmarsh sixteen years ago, but a winged nightmare attempting to break free of its underground prison? Enlisting the aid of a monster equipped with enough inborn firepower to blast his enemies into oblivion might be as suicidal as Roger’s friends insist, yet the boy knows he needs all the help he can get if there is to be any hope of defeating not only the Dark Wreaker and his servants, but an unholy trinity known as the Bear, the Wolf, and the Curse That Walks The Earth.

And then there is the foe named Blood Wood, who might be the deadliest of them all.

Racing against time, Roger must find a way to end the battle being waged across worlds before the night of Lockie’s eleventh birthday—two days hence. If he fails, blood will drown the earth. And Roger and his entire family will fulfill the prophecy of fey’s older, more lethal meaning…

Fated to die.

Best wishes,

~Melika

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New Author Interview for A Book Addict’s Bookshelves!

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Hi Everyone!

I was recently interviewed for author Jess Watkins’s blog, A Book Addict’s Bookshelves, and am very excited to share this with you today! The questions were in-depth and a joy to answer. And so, without further ado, here it is:

When did you start writing?

My love for writing grew out of an early love for reading.  I think what led me to this point was that my mother started reading to me when I was in the womb, and my father told me wild, not-exactly-verifiable tall tales while I was still in the cradle. I can remember writing little stories and vignettes when I was a very young child and even staging my first play when I was eight years old. The budget for this theatrical extravaganza was nonexistent, which was why my family got coerced into playing about six parts each. I also remember being a bit of a tyrannical director, and shouting CUT quite a lot, but that was definitely the moment the writing bug first bit me.

When I was around eleven or twelve, I wrote an incredibly short story inspired by Jurassic Park. The plot consisted of a brother and sister being chased to the edge of a cliff by a T-Rex. The kids gave the Rex the old “one-two-JUMP!” fake out, and the poor dinosaur fell for this ruse and went tumbling over the cliff. End of story—happily ever after for everyone except the Rex. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, this story was fun! I’d actually finished something I’d set out to write! I thought it was epic, even though it was only six pages long! You have to start somewhere, right?

At the age of fourteen, I started writing my first novel, but abandoned it for school and other projects. I did revisit this book a few years ago and wrote a prologue and two further chapters, plus a bit of an outline, but I’m still not ready to dip back into it yet. One day, I most definitely shall, but, to quote Aragorn, “It is not this day!”

Even though I loved writing, and had dabbled in it for practically my entire life by this point, I’d never considered turning it into a career until I read Crime and Punishment as a senior in high school. There was something masterful about that book and the way Dostoevsky was able to paint deep psychological portraits of his characters with just a few well-chosen and brilliant words that inspired me and made me seriously think about becoming a storyweaver.

But I lay the blame for my decision to become a writer squarely on the shoulders of Gandalf the Grey (as portrayed by Ian McKellen in The Fellowship of the Ring), who got to me as an impressionable sixteen year old in the winter of 2001 as I sat, awestruck and enraptured, in a darkened theater and heard him speak this iconic line to Frodo:

“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

Well, I decided, right at that moment, and I’ve never looked back.
What makes you want to write?

The desire to weave stories and lose myself in other worlds. J. R. R. Tolkien, who has been a defining force and inspiration not only on my writing, but also in my life, once said that fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. I never took this to mean that writing fantasy was a way of denying reality, or hiding yourself in invented worlds because you couldn’t face daily life in our fallen one. Quite the reverse. The concept of crafting myths and legends around very human characters who inhabited worlds that reflected the glories and evils of our own, that mirrored them in some unique yet hauntingly familiar way, fired my imagination like nothing else ever had. This is the reason I don’t write contemporary fiction. Not because I can’t, but because swathing a story in the trappings of fantasy makes the experience so much richer for me as a writer, and also, hopefully, for the reader, than it would a tale stripped of its glory set in modern times. And just because something is classified as “fantasy,” doesn’t mean it can’t be realistic. If anything, it should be more so. I have always endeavored to create characters that are human, with all our foibles and weaknesses, hopes and dreams—and longings for “home.” By home, I don’t mean a building, but a deep ache within the heart to find the place where we belong.  And home, for me, at least when it comes to writing, has always been in these other worlds, where I can best use the time that has been given to me to shine a blinding light onto the darkness.


Do you ever get writer’s block and what do you do to get over it?

It’s strange, but my worst case of writer’s block didn’t stop me from writing. It honestly felt more like writer’s “monumental confusion,” because before I began writing Deadmarsh Fey back in 2014, I had spent a year working on what would become the fourth book in Dwellers of Darkness, Children of Light. The problem was, I was forcing that book to come first, which was why it felt so out of place and so wrong. I do have to say that even though this experience was very frustrating, writing that book laid a lot of groundwork for the backstory of the Bear, the Wolf, and the Curse that Walks the Earth—three beings featured in Deadmarsh Fey—and also for the world of Everl’aria, the land in which that fourth book is set. Incidentally, I included a teaser for this fourth book toward the end of Deadmarsh Fey and had an absolute blast doing so. It made this long and trying process feel as though it had finally come full circle.


Do you have a special way of going about writing?

Until Deadmarsh Fey, I used to write my novels out of sequence. If I thought up a plot twist for chapter 10, I’d write that whole chapter, then piece the book together. This process probably made writing harder, yet that was how I’d always done it. But with Deadmarsh Fey…that book seized me and never let go, to the point where I had no choice but to begin at the beginning (what a novel concept!) and write straight through till the end.

In regards to how I craft my stories or come up with plots, I usually start off with ideas for characters, then build a tale around them. I’m fascinated by the meanings of names, and sometimes have a bit too much fun instilling character traits that fulfill them. I don’t always do this, but there are usually aspects of a character’s personality that hearken back to what he or she has been christened. This is especially true of Trahaearn Coffyn. And that’s all I’ll say about him!

Do you have any works in progress?

Yes, I do! The book does have a title, but I’m keeping that secret and safe for now. What I can tell you is that it is the second novel in Dwellers of Darkness, Children of Light—and a sequel to Deadmarsh Fey, set seven years after the events in that story. Throughout Deadmarsh Fey, I made mention of a little girl named Isobel Vickers, and also her family, who are great friends of Roger’s. Toward the end of the novel, Isobel’s and her family’s connection to the Deadmarshes, and the creatures hunting them, is revealed in a rather dramatic way to Roger. And this turn of events leads directly into book two, which is set on a desolate rock called Cutwater Island. Here there be sharks. That I’ve included them in this story isn’t surprising, given that I once wanted to be a marine biologist, and would have done, if that darn wizard with the long grey beard and big pointy hat had just kept his wisdom to himself.

What are your hobbies?

When I’m not writing, I enjoy spending time with my loved ones, reading, and watching films. I am also a classically trained soprano/violinist/pianist, although I do not perform as much as I used to when I was younger. Still, it’s nice to be able to lose myself in music whenever the need takes hold.
Who is your favourite character in Deadmarsh Fey? 

It’s a tie between Roger and Kip. This might sound a little odd, but I felt like I became Roger when I wrote Deadmarsh Fey, since the story is told through his eyes, and experienced everything along with him. It was a very surreal and rewarding and exhausting experience. But I still feel quite close to that little dynamo, especially because I put him through many terrible ordeals and nearly gave him (and myself) heart failure on several occasions.

And then there is Kip, who is not only one of my very favorite characters in Deadmarsh Fey, but most likely my favorite character of all time that I’ve ever written. I feel as if Kip just presented himself, with all his history and gravitas and personality, and dictated his role in the story to me, mind to mind. I was always excited to craft scenes in which he featured, because I knew he’d take over. It seems uncanny, I know, but with Kip, all I had to do was give him the floor, because he essentially wrote himself.

I also have a soft spot for Incendiu, but I can’t say much about him without spoiling his role in the story. His presence, however, hangs over the novel almost from the beginning, and getting inside his mind to discover what made him tick—and why he and a certain other character had been at loggerheads for more years than I care to mention—was one of my favorite story arcs to develop when crafting the book.

What was your favourite part of writing Deadmarsh Fey?

Discovering things along with Roger. And finally being able to put scenes down on the page that had been racketing around in my brain for years. This novel is a prequel to a fantasy trilogy (started out as a duology) I began writing in 2003. That set of books takes place 40 odd years later, and features several characters from Deadmarsh Fey, along with a heavy dose of intrigue and peril as a result of what happened in these prequel books…which I hadn’t even written yet! Wanting to know exactly why things had turned out the way they had, what had led the characters to this point and made them who they were, was too insistent of an idea to ignore, and Deadmarsh Fey is the result of this curiosity finally being satisfied.

There are also a few chapters in Deadmarsh Fey that I might have taken a bit too much (fiendish) glee in plotting and writing (Now Face-to-Fey and Warnings and Visitations spring to mind), but overall, the entire book was an experience for me. It made me grow as a writer, and also taught me to not get too attached to scenes or any other snatches of writing (dialogue in particular) to the detriment of the story. In other words, what didn’t work was scrapped, and the novel ended up being much better because I had gotten out of my own way and hadn’t tried to force things.

As with Kip, after a certain point, the book also began to write itself. Don’t take this to mean that I’d walk into my office to find Carver or Incendiu or Roger or any other character, sitting at my desk, cackling in delight as they pounded away at the keys of my laptop, churning out the story. But once all the elements and legends and backstory had been woven together, everything clicked, and the novel took off. That didn’t mean all was sunshine and roses from that point forward. I was juggling several story arcs that needed to be resolved to make the ending (and successive novels in the series) viable, but I was excited to get to work on it each day because I knew the direction the book had taken was the right one—the one that was meant to be.

Quick-fire questions:

Chocolate or ice cream?

CHOCOLATE! I think the all-caps enthusiasm of that answer speaks for itself!


Paperback or ebook?

I publish in both formats, and do own a Kindle, but I prefer the feel of a book in my hands when reading. So, paperback!


Dogs or cats?

I had a wonderful little dog named Puckie for 17 years, but I also love cats, which is the reason for Kip being in Deadmarsh Fey. I’m partial to both.


Go out or stay in?

Stay in. #HermitLife


Summer or winter?

Where I live, summers are unbearable! I definitely prefer winter, although my favorite season is Fall. I love the crispness in the air, the glorious burnt orange and golden hued leaves, the carte blanche I feel I have to read all the Classic horror books I want and pass them off as “seasonal reading” without making everyone wonder if I’ve been bitten by a vampire and developed rather bloodthirsty tastes in literature. Plus, Fall also means it’s time, once again, to bake these delicious chocolate chip pumpkin spice cookies that have become a tradition with me over the last eleven years.

Wishing you the best,

~Melika

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Deadmarsh Fey Cover Reveal

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Posted by Melika Dannese Hick in Book Spotlight, Missives, News, Updates

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Hi Everyone!

I’m thrilled to finally get to share the details about my new novel with you. Here it is…Deadmarsh Fey!

fey_promo

Flesh and bone and hearts unknown, lead to the rath and your fate will be shown…

Deadmarsh. The name struck terror into the hearts of all who heard it. But to Roger Knightley, neither Deadmarsh the house, nor Deadmarsh the family, had ever been anything to fear. Nearly each summer of his young life had been spent in that manor on the moors, having wild adventures with his cousin, Lockie, the Deadmarsh heir. This year should have been no different, but when Roger arrives, he finds everything, and everyone, changed. The grounds are unkempt, the servants long gone. Kip, the family cat, has inexplicably grown and glares at Roger as if he is trying to read the boy’s mind. Roger’s eldest cousin, Travers, always treated as a servant, now dresses like a duchess and wears round her neck a strange moonstone given to her by someone known as Master Coffyn, who has taken over the teaching of Lockie at a school in Wales called Nethermarrow.

And soon after he crosses the threshold of Deadmarsh, Roger discovers that Coffyn has overtaken Lockie. The boy is deceitful, riddled with fear, and has returned bearing tales of creatures called Jagged Ones that claim to be of the Fey and can somehow conceal themselves while standing in the full light of the moon. What they want with Lockie, Roger cannot fathom, until the horror within his cousin lashes out, and it becomes savagely clear that these Jagged Ones and the Dark Wreaker they serve are not only after Lockie and Travers, but Roger, too.

Joining forces with an ally whose true nature remains hidden, Roger seeks to unravel the tapestry of lies woven round his family’s connection to the death-haunted world of Everl’aria—and the Dark Wreaker who calls it home. The deeper Roger delves into the past, the more he begins to suspect that the tales of dark deeds done in the forest behind Deadmarsh, deeds in which village children made sacrifice to an otherworldly beast and were never seen or heard from again, are true. And if there is truth in these outlandish stories, what of the rumor that it was not an earthquake which rocked the moors surrounding Deadmarsh sixteen years ago, but a winged nightmare attempting to break free of its underground prison? Enlisting the aid of a monster equipped with enough inborn firepower to blast his enemies into oblivion might be as suicidal as Roger’s friends insist, yet the boy knows he needs all the help he can get if there is to be any hope of defeating not only the Dark Wreaker and his servants, but an unholy trinity known as the Bear, the Wolf, and the Curse That Walks The Earth.

And then there is the foe named Blood Wood, who might be the deadliest of them all.

Racing against time, Roger must find a way to end the battle being waged across worlds before the night of Lockie’s eleventh birthday—two days hence. If he fails, blood will drown the earth. And Roger and his entire family will fulfill the prophecy of fey’s older, more lethal meaning…

Fated to die.

To preorder the novel in Kindle format (the paperback edition will be available on the day of the book’s release, May 2nd, 2018), click here.

Below is a short piece I wrote, giving more detail about the creation of the book’s menacing cover art!

The Anatomy of A Book Cover

by Melika Dannese Lux

The title was there from the beginning. The idea for the cover, as well—a vision of the fog-haunted nightmare Roger Knightley unwittingly walks into the moment he sets foot in Deadmarsh, the manor on the moors which shares its name with his kin.

Four years and nearly 700 pages later, I finally had the book. You’d think that would have marked the end of the heavy-lifting. All the hard work of writing was over; now it was time for the fun to begin. Time to jacket the pages in dazzling attire and send the novel out into the world…

But you’d be wrong. It’s one thing to have a vision in your head for what you want the cover to look like; it’s quite another to find an artist who gets that vision and is able to magic it into life. Several designers told me my concept was much too technical and complex to ever be featured on the cover of a book. Images that matched my vision just did not exist, and Carver, that charming little blue fellow (So adorable, isn’t he? *shudders*) lurking behind Roger Knightley (I’d like to see what kind of look you’d have on your face were you in Roger’s position!), would be impossible to portray, not to mention the writing on the mirror from a source that might be ally…or enemy. Actually, forget the writing. Even the mirror itself was in doubt!

I’m a tenacious person. All right, fine, let’s be honest and stop sugarcoating. I’m as intractable as a shark that’s latched onto a seal it has singled out for its lunch. I refused to believe no one could do this! It seemed, to quote that wise sage, Vizzini, “Inconceivable!” And it was! Because very soon after I had cut ties with yet another designer, I was fortunate enough to meet Ravven.

*insert wild clapping for this amazingly talented artist*

A handful of cover iterations were all it took. Ravven was able to reach into my imagination and extract every element that had been racketing around in there for years. From the beautiful woman hovering outside the window, to the blue fog she brought with her from whence she came, to the cat, the mirror, and its writing…and, most of all, to those two combatants in the foreground, the boy and his otherworldly tormentor with talons black as obsidian and sharper than carving knives—it was uncanny how in synch with my vision Ravven was. Her work astounded me, and I am still in awe of it.

Those you see on the cover of Deadmarsh Fey, friend and foe alike, you shall meet within the pages of the book.

Dare you be led to the rath for your fate to be shown?

If yes, then dive in.

And remember …beware what’s hiding in the moonlight.

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Corcitura on sale for $2.99!

24 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by Melika Dannese Hick in Fun Stuff, News

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Hi Everyone,

It’s Black Friday! Tis the season for sales, right? Well, from today through Cyber Monday night, you can bring home the Kindle edition of Corcitura for $2.99! Where else could you get a deal like that without standing in line for hours in the freezing cold, being jostled by crabby people? You don’t even have to leave your house to buy the book. In fact, you don’t even have to change out of your pajamas! ;D

Purchase Corcitura from Amazon by clicking here.

Corcitura

Corcitura.  Some call it hybrid, others half-blood, mongrel, beast.  They are all names for the same thing:  vampire—the created progeny of the half-wolf, half-vampire, barb-tongued Grecian Vrykolakas, and the suave but equally vicious Russian Upyr.  Corcitura:  this is what happens when a man is attacked by two vampires of differing species.  He becomes an entirely new breed—ruthless, deadly, unstoppable…almost.

London, 1888:  Eric Bradburry and Stefan Ratliff, best friends since childhood, have finally succeeded in convincing their parents to send them on a Grand Tour of the Continent.  It will be the adventure of a lifetime for the two eighteen-year-old Englishmen, but almost from the moment they set foot on French soil, Eric senses a change in Stefan, a change that is intensified when they cross paths with the enigmatic Vladec Salei and his traveling companions:  Leonora Bianchetti, a woman who fascinates Eric for reasons he does not understand, and the bewitching Augustin and Sorina Boroi—siblings, opera impresarios, and wielders of an alarming power that nearly drives Eric mad.

Unable to resist the pull of their new friends, Eric and Stefan walk into a trap that has been waiting to be sprung for more than five hundred years—and Stefan is the catalyst.  Terrified by the transformation his friend is undergoing, Eric knows he must get Stefan away from Vladec Salei and Constantinos, the rabid, blood-crazed Vrykolakas, before Stefan is changed beyond recognition.  But after witnessing a horrific scene in a shadowed courtyard in Eastern Europe, Eric’s worst fears are confirmed.

Six years removed from the terror he experienced at the hands of Salei and Constantinos, Eric finally believes he has escaped his past.  But once marked, forever marked, as he painfully begins to understand.  He has kept company with vampires, and now they have returned to claim him for their own.

Thanks so much, guys! Hope you have a great weekend!

All the best,

~Melika

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Fourteen years ago today…

01 Monday May 2017

Posted by Melika Dannese Hick in Book Spotlight, Fun Stuff, Missives, News, Updates

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10th Anniversary, 2003, 2013, 2017, achievement, Anglais, Anniversary, aperitif, Belle Epoque, Bon appétit, Boulevard de Courcelles, boulevards, breathtaking, brushed, burgeoning love, bygones, Cabarets, captured her heart, Channel, chapter two, cheek, chicken, City of Lights, corcitura, Count Rakmanovich, Cuisses de grenouilles, dance hall, dazzling, denizens, devil, Eiffel Tower, eight months, element of surprise, empty, enchantment, excerpts, fair maiden, Falling Even More In Love With You, fate, fear, Film, Fin de siècle, Folies Bergère, Franc, France, Francs, french flag, frogs’ legs, Hanging by a moment, happiness, heart, historical fiction, Ian McCarthy, Ilyse Charpentier, in which a dashing Englishman woos mademoiselle Charpentier, inspiration, La Perle, La Perle de Paris, La Vue Doree, late, lattice ironwork, Lifehouse, lips, mademoiselle, Maurice Charpentier, May 1st, medieval gallantry, melika, Melika Dannese Lux, midnight, mon dieu, monsieur, Moulin Rouge, mouthfuls, movie, Music, news, overjoyed, Paris, Parisian, Pheasant, quick, rose, rouge, rouge-encrusted, Sergei Rakmanovich, sneaky, soaked, soaked seat, sopping wet mess, soulmate, soulmates, soundtrack, stunning, surprise, Tenth Anniversary, The Trials and Triumphs of Ilyse Charpentier, third party, today, Tour Eiffel, tovarich, towel, tricolor, true love, truth, turkey, unwelcome, Video, waiter, walking stick, water, white rose, working, writing, young love, YouTube, zakuski

…I began working on what would become City of Lights: The Trials and Triumphs of Ilyse Charpentier. I can still see myself sitting on the floor in my spare room, rough-drafting the outline of the novel while listening to Lifehouse’s Hanging by A Moment:

*sniffles nostalgically* This song ended up becoming Ilyse and Ian’s anthem to me, and was a tremendous source of inspiration over the eight months I spent writing their story. It is still a huge inspiration to me so many years later, and is probably the most-played song on my iPod till this day.  🙂

Oh, and if City of Lights ever becomes a movie, I am so getting the Lifehouse guys’ permission to use that song on the soundtrack.  😉

Best wishes,

~Melika

 

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Ten years ago today…

01 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by Melika Dannese Hick in Excerpts, Fun Stuff, News

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10th Anniversary, 2003, 2013, achievement, Anglais, aperitif, Belle Epoque, Bon appétit, Boulevard de Courcelles, boulevards, breathtaking, brushed, burgeoning love, bygones, Cabarets, captured her heart, Channel, chapter two, cheek, chicken, City of Lights, Count Rakmanovich, Cuisses de grenouilles, dance hall, dazzling, denizens, devil, Eiffel Tower, eight months, element of surprise, empty, enchantment, excerpts, fair maiden, Falling Even More In Love With You, fate, fear, Fin de siècle, Folies Bergère, Francs, french flag, frogs’ legs, Hanging by a moment, happiness, heart, historical fiction, Ian McCarthy, Ilyse Charpentier, in which a dashing Englishman woos mademoiselle Charpentier, inspiration, La Perle, La Perle de Paris, La Vue Doree, late, lattice ironwork, Lifehouse, lips, mademoiselle, Maurice Charpentier, May 1st, medieval gallantry, Melika Dannese Lux, midnight, mon dieu, monsieur, Moulin Rouge, mouthfuls, Music, overjoyed, Paris, Parisian, Pheasant, quick, rose, rouge, rouge-encrusted, Sergei Rakmanovich, sneaky, soaked, soaked seat, sopping wet mess, soulmate, soulmates, stunning, surprise, Tenth Anniversary, The Trials and Triumphs of Ilyse Charpentier, third party, today, Tour Eiffel, tovarich, towel, tricolor, true love, turkey, unwelcome, Video, waiter, walking stick, water, white rose, working, writing, young love, YouTube, zakuski, zenith

…I began working on what would become City of Lights: The Trials and Triumphs of Ilyse Charpentier. I can still see myself sitting on the floor in my spare room, rough-drafting the outline of the novel while listening to Lifehouse’s Hanging by A Moment:

This song ended up becoming Ilyse and Ian’s anthem to me and was a tremendous source of inspiration over the eight months I spent writing their story. It is still a huge inspiration to me a decade later. 🙂

As part of the 10th anniversary celebration, I decided to post a special excerpt from Chapter 2: In Which a Dashing Englishman Woos Mademoiselle Charpentier. Come along with Ilyse, Ian—and a most unwelcome third party—and share in an evening of burgeoning love and Parisian enchantment at La Tour Eiffel.

Enjoy! 😀

Best wishes,

Melika

       The dance hall was empty, save for Ian anxiously looking around so as not to miss his date. This is my chance to catch him unawares, Ilyse laughed to herself. The element of surprise was something La Petite Coquette had always thrived upon executing to the best of her sneaky abilities. She slinked across the hall, cast a glance into the bar’s mirror to make certain she looked absolutely dazzling, and tapped Ian on the shoulder.
       “Looking for someone, monsieur?”
       Ian turned and was visibly taken aback. “Il…Ilyse,” he stammered, “You look stunning!”
       “Thank you,” she responded, looking down to hide her blushing face.
       “Oh, I almost forgot.” Ian reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the most beautiful white rose Ilyse had ever beheld.
       “Oh, Ian,” she gasped, “It’s breathtaking!”
       “Yes…breathtaking.”
       Ilyse looked up into his eyes and knew he wasn’t speaking of the rose. “So,” she continued, once again blushing to her ears, “what adventure are you taking me on this evening, Monsieur McCarthy?”
       “Well, my fair maiden,” he said, assuming an air of medieval gallantry, “the chariot awaits, ready to take us to La Tour Eiffel where, I promise, you will enjoy an evening of romance with a very charming Englishman.”
       All doubts that this was mere infatuation had vanished and everything now became so very clear to Ilyse—Ian had won her heart completely. She found it impossible to believe, but it seemed as though she was falling even more in love with Ian than she had thought humanly possible, and the idea that the two of them might actually have a future together made her heart nearly burst with joy.
       “Well, then,” said Ilyse, accepting Ian’s outstretched arm, “we mustn’t keep our chariot waiting any longer. On to La Tour!”
       “To La Tour!” he chimed in. The exuberant pair bolted out of the club and dashed heedlessly down the Boulevard de Courcelles to where their carriage awaited. Casting a last glance at La Perle’s palatial exterior, the besotted couple scurried in and set off, oblivious to everything, especially the fact that a shadowed form had taken possession of the carriage parked directly behind theirs.

***

The boulevards of lamp-lit Paris were alive with the bustling of street vendors, ladies of the night, and pleasure seekers all rushing toward their respective destinations. As the carriage wound its way down the crowded streets, Ilyse found herself realizing for the first time how wondrously grand and beautiful the city seemed once daylight had been extinguished. She laughed at the peddlers trying to sell over-priced wares to unwitting tourists, and thumbed her nose at the saucy behavior of the rouge-encrusted harlots. Paris was buzzing with excitement, but all thoughts of the denizens of the City of Lights vanished when Ilyse beheld the majesty of the Tower—the lattice intertwining of its ironwork, the awesomeness of its form against the star dotted sky, and the French flag flapping in all its tricolor glory at the tower’s zenith.
       “Oh, Ian,” Ilyse gasped, taken aback by the grandeur of the tower. “It’s magnificent!”
       “Wait a minute,” he said, staring at her with a puzzled expression. “Do you mean to tell me that you live in Paris and you’ve never been to La Tour?”
       “Guilty.”
       “Well, who’d have thought you’d have to wait for an Anglais to travel all the way across the Channel to take you?”
       Ilyse couldn’t help laughing at the absurd truth of this statement and saw that her mirth amused Ian. The infatuated Englishman clasped Ilyse’s hand and the two excited lovers rushed into La Tour, ready for an evening of romance and enchantment.

***

A rickety carriage pulled to a halt at the foot of the Tower. Seconds later, its door was forced open and a tall, Slavic-looking man dressed in black from head to foot stepped out. The stranger was just about to run for the hydraulic lifts when he was detained by his enraged driver.
       “Just a minute, you!” the driver shouted as he stepped in front of the foreigner to block his path. “That’ll be fifteen francs.”
       The stranger drew himself up haughtily and glared at the driver in disgust. “I will not pay that exorbitant sum. If you value your life, you will let me pass.”
       But the driver would not be dissuaded.
       “Don’t you threaten me. I’ll call the police, you lousy cheat!”
       The stranger tried to remain calm but was finding it impossible to control his mounting rage. “Do you have any idea whom you are talking to?” he sneered.
       “You could be the devil himself for all I care, now give me my francs!”
       A smile flickered across the stranger’s lips. “Your assumption is not inaccurate, tovarich. I suggest you take your leave before the situation becomes unpleasant.”
       “The devil, I will!”
       And with that, the driver lunged at the stranger and immediately found himself flattened upon the pavement. “Come at me again,” the stranger barked, brandishing his walking stick in the terrified driver’s face, “and you’ll be meeting him sooner than you’d like!” Without saying another word, the stranger straightened his top hat, spat at the disoriented driver’s feet, and made for the lifts.

***

The interior of “La Vue Dorée,” the Tower’s most affluent restaurant, was bathed in gold. Gilded bas-relief angels adorned its walls and every chair in the opulent dining salon boasted plush, honey-colored cushions.
       Ilyse and Ian were sitting in an intimate corner of the restaurant and had been admiring the Palais du Trocadéro through the Tower’s panoramic windows. They had placed their orders some time ago, but try as they might, every time they succeeded in sparking a conversation, the innumerable officious waiters came poking in and extinguished the fire. Garçons are supposed to be attentive, of course, but how many times does one need to be asked if the baguette has been baked to satisfaction? It was infuriating! It seemed as though the waiters were deliberately trying to ruin the young couple’s chances. The evening was threatening to become a complete romantic waste, and Ilyse realized she had better speak up before the nosy waiters intruded once more.
       “Ian,” Ilyse began, “thank you so much for bringing me here. I’ve been wanting to come for the past five years, but have never been able to, and now I know the reason why.”
       “And why’s that?” he inquired.
       “Promise you won’t laugh?”
       “I promise,” he said sweetly.
       “I believe it was Fate. I wasn’t meant to come with just anyone. I was meant to come with you.”
       Ian remained silent.
       “Oh, listen to me rambling on,” Ilyse chuckled, trying to dispel the awkward silence that had fallen upon them. “Fate and all, really.” But no matter how much Ilyse tried to resign her feelings to superstition, the more she thought it over, the more convinced she became, and it was obvious that Ian had started to believe it too—their meeting had been no mere coincidence.
       Ian suddenly clasped Ilyse’s hand and leaned in to kiss her, but their intimate moment was broken by the thrust of a plate between their faces.
       “Steak au poivre for you, Madame,” the waiter merrily chimed, “and the house specialty for you, Monsieur. Bon appétit!”
       “Well, then,” Ian muttered, annoyed at the waiter’s untimely entrance, “shall we?”
       “Bon appétit!” Ilyse mimicked. The pair chimed their champagne glasses and began to take part in their highly delectable yet ill-timed meal.

***

“Your aperitif and one plate of zakuski, Count Rakmanovich.” The waiter placed the refreshments upon the stranger’s table and gazed expectantly at his customer.
       “Do not call me by that name in their presence,” the stranger growled. He trained his glare upon Ilyse and Ian and sipped his aperitif, although he had no interest in the drink. “Why are you still standing here? Can’t you see that they’ve started talking again? Get over there at once!”
       The waiter shifted nervously and fiddled with his apron. “With all due respect, sir, I’m afraid I cannot intrude anymore.”
       “And why is that?” the stranger demanded, his face enflamed.
       “Because I have already interrupted them fifteen times and if I do it again, I’m afraid the monsieur won’t think too kindly of me when the check arrives.”
       The stranger reached for his walking stick and would have brought it crashing down upon the waiter’s head, but he suddenly thought of the spectacle such a violent display would cause, and relaxed his grip upon the object. “Do not fear what the monsieur will think,” he said menacingly. “Fear me.”
       The waiter was terrified by the stranger’s threatening manner and fearsome expression. “Very good, sir,” he quavered, and set out to once again intrude upon Ilyse and Ian’s evening.

***

“You know,” Ian said between mouthfuls, “I’ve never liked French cooking, but this isn’t that bad. I wonder what it is?”
       Ilyse took a sip of champagne and forced herself to swallow the piece of steak she had nearly choked upon. Try as she might, she could not smother the giggling fit that had come upon her and placed her hand over her mouth in an attempt to decorously stifle her laughter.
       “And what exactly is so amusing, Mademoiselle Charpentier?” Ian demanded playfully, looking up from his unknown feast.
       “Do you mean to tell me you ordered that without knowing what it was?”
       “Of course,” he said confidently. “I wanted to be adventurous and try something I had absolutely no clue about. So I opened the menu, closed my eyes, and chose the first thing my finger fell upon. I showed my selection to the waiter and ordered the dish without even reading what it was. I still can’t for the life of me figure out why that idiotic garçon went off laughing like a hyena.”
       “Well, all right, then,” Ilyse snickered and returned to her meal.
       After a few minutes of blissful munching, Ian’s curiosity finally got the best of him. “So what exactly is the house specialty anyway?” he asked, still thoroughly enjoying his mystery meal. “Pheasant, turkey, chicken…”
       “Cuisses de grenouilles, commonly known as Frogs’ Legs.”
       Before Ilyse could blink, Ian had spat the delicacy onto his plate and now had his hand wrapped around his throat. “Waiter!” he gasped. “Water! Quick!”
       The waiter who had been conversing with the menacing stranger seized a glass carafe, dashed to Ilyse and Ian’s table, and was so rattled to see the young man apparently choking to death that he poured the entire decanter of water down upon Ian’s head.
       Ian shot up from his seat, a dripping wet mess, and glared at the mortified waiter.
       “Oh, monsieur,” the waiter shrieked. “I…I’m so terribly sorry! Please…I was so… You seemed to be… I can’t believe… Oh, mon Dieu! I’ll never forgive myself!”
       “No, no,” Ian said, finding it difficult not to chuckle at the waiter’s overly dramatic ranting. “Just bring me something to dry myself off with, all right?
       The waiter apologized profusely and bustled off to find a towel.
       “So you let me order frog’s legs,” Ian said to Ilyse as he sat down upon his soaked seat.
       “Well,” she said with mock pomposity, “I thought that a mature traveler such as yourself, who’s had such wonderful experiences in France, you know, meeting men without trousers and things of the like, would certainly know better than to take liberties with unfamiliar cuisine. I had no idea you were conducting a dinner experiment! I mean, if I were in a foreign country, and I…”
       “All right, Coquette,” he interrupted, pretending to be annoyed, “I know when I’ve been outdone.”
       The waiter returned with the towel and check and helped Ian out of his soppy dinner jacket. Ian pulled a wad of francs from his pocket, smoothed some bills, and handed them to the waiter. “I’m in a merry mood, ol’ duck. Keep the change and let’s let bygones be bygones,” he said, winking at the befogged garcon, and throwing the towel about his drenched shoulders. The young lovers bid adieu to the astonished, overjoyed, and well-compensated waiter and looked fondly back upon their intimate little corner of the world as they made for the lifts.

***

The wind was whistling violently through the lattice ironwork of the Tower and the air was filled with the scent of lilacs. Midnight was drawing near, and as the lift began to rise, Ian suddenly turned to Ilyse and took her arm. “Let’s not rush off just yet. I know the perfect way to dry off.”
       “And what might that be?” she questioned, gazing lovingly into his eyes.
       “A trip to the top.”
       Ilyse was horrified. I get dizzy just standing on the second story balcony of Manon’s apartment and now he wants me to go to the top of La Tour? she thought to herself. I’d never make it through alive!
        “No, Ian,” Ilyse protested, “I can’t go up there. Besides, it’s getting late and I…” “Please, Lyse,” he whispered, pressing her hand to his heart. “Don’t be afraid. Just trust me. I’d never let anything happen to you.”
       Ilyse stared at him for a moment, unsure of whether or not to give in. But upon seeing the love and sincerity in his eyes, all her doubts and fears were destroyed. “Take me up.” Ian clasped her in his arms, ushered her into the lift, and watched the diminishing sights of Paris as they shot to the top.

***

“Isn’t it beautiful, Ilyse?” Ian gushed as he stepped out onto the platform. But Ilyse couldn’t budge. She was frozen with fear and stayed inside, clinging to the lift’s rail, silently refusing to take another step.
Suddenly, a light dawned in Ian’s mind. He reentered the lift, and clasped Ilyse by the hands. “Come on, I have an idea.” He led the frightened girl out onto the platform, and, placing his hands over her eyes, slowly guided her to the edge. “All right,” he coaxed, “now grab onto this here.” Ilyse did as instructed and grasped the iron bar, still not having the slightest idea where he had led her.
       “Now, look!”
       He let his hands fall and Ilyse grabbed her heart in amazement. There, from what felt like the top of the world, the sheltered young woman beheld the most magnificent view of Paris imaginable. Everywhere she gazed, her eyes caught sight of winding gas-lit boulevards and magnificent monuments bathed in moonlight. Exhilarated, she leaned over the railing and waved down to the people onboard the boats steaming across the Seine, not caring that they would never be able to see her from such a great height. Overjoyed, she turned to Ian and threw her arms around his neck.
       “Thank you so much,” she whispered into his ear.
       “For what?”
       “For showing me how to live again.”
       She released herself from their embrace but was immediately drawn back by Ian. His lips brushed against her cheek as he took her face in his hands. Ilyse wanted to share his kiss more than anything, but the thought of what consequences such a relationship might entail suddenly burst upon her mind and she pulled away. “I can’t.”
       “Why not?”
       “This is all happening so fast and there’s something I must tell you.”
       He stared at her worried face and drew her back into his arms. “No matter what you say, nothing in this world will ever change the way I feel for you.”
       Ilyse caressed his cheek and reluctantly pulled away from him. She walked over to the edge of the platform, and, looking out into the beautiful star-glittered sky, began to reveal her tortured past to the man who had captured her heart.

©2005, 2013 Melika Dannese Lux and Books In My Belfry, LLC. Unauthorized use or reproduction of this excerpt without the author’s permission is strictly prohibited.

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