TITLE

Dealing With Time

GENRE

Urban Fantasy

WORD COUNT

80,000

RATING

PG-13

PUBLISHED?

Looking!!!

HOOK

A high school dropout holds the key to balancing The SCALES.

BLURB

After his father is murdered, Levon Kingston, a young African American living in South Jamaica, New York, is forced to care for his dying mother and younger brother. However, dark forces have other plans for young Levon. Cato, the Keeper of the realm of Purgatory, wants his freedom and knows Levon holds the key. After Levon's brother falls ill and Levon loses his job, he is confronted with an insurmountable debt of money and promises. Soon, Levon finds himself on the run from the police, a druglord, and himself and only a mysterious old man, named Earl, with strange powers seems to know why. Levon must confront his past to solve the mystery of his future, and as the pieces of his past become unraveled, Levon will be tested by The SCALES.

EXCERPT

"Why are you in such a rush?" Death whispered. He said it with such suspicion, even the air which usually formed a fog around him, was slight.

Father Time hesitated, then said, "Everything has to be timed precisely." Then, he sighed, taking out something small, black and rectangular from his hoody pocket.

Death said, "Ha!" He pointed to the rectangular thing with the sharp edge of his sickle. "What the hell are you doing with that?"

Father Time shrugged, and then pressed a button on the upper bottom portion of the device. A blue light flashed, followed by the blinking word: Password. He paused for a second, somehow forgetting his password. He noticed that Death had also paused, mimicking his physical movements. Finally, Father Time remembered and entered his code. So simple, how could he forget? Immediately, he saw 4 rectangular boxes, each box with a different word. He clicked on the box that said 'other,' and scrolled down the list of names using his thumb.

The woman they were standing over squirmed, attempting to pull her covers tightly against her body, but she was so weak that the attempt made her breaths heavy, her brows furrow, and her grip on the sheets loosened. She gradually settled on turning on her side in the fetal position.

Death breathed over her chaotically. He bent towards her, his hood an inch away from her face. "She is coming to me," he said, brandishing his sickle, placing it between his legs and pulling his sleeves up. Father Time gagged, but Death had been waiting for this, had wanted this moment, ever since, ever since -- Suddenly, the blade of the sickle shimmered a crimson color, at first faint, but soon the entire room was lit in crimson. "Almost."

Father Time finally found her name deep in his Blackbury. Yes, that was what it was, a Blackbury. The name set off something buried deep inside of him. But whatever had squelched that memory was not allowing it to be freed. Bile rose in his throat. The room seemed to be closing in on him, as if he were being slowly pushed out. He then concentrated on Death, and said: "You're drawing too much power." He reached into his hoody pocket, pulling out nine clear gelatin capsules.

"What are they for?" Death asked. Father Time knew, knew very well what they were for, but another more important question crept up inside of him and pushed the previous question aside. Death beat him to it. "Where did you get those?" Death asked.

"I'm not, not sure," Father Time responded, thinking very hard. Somehow, he just knew they were there. They had always been there. Since, since when? He had been hiding them. From whom? And why?

"They are part of the plan, his plan," Father Time finally said. The plan he had wanted them to enact.

But, Father Time realized that time was running out. His screen was blinking, turned red, and beeped in second intervals. "Now," he said, "now!" And just as he said that, the woman turned position, the middle of her body arched, the small of her back rose, she began to thrash and Death pushed her down.

"Whoa!" Death screamed. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and seemed to be looking right at Death, seeing what the other had never seen, his face. She screamed, and the look of terror was almost too much to bear. Father Time lunged forward and the other seemed to sense this. "Don't fuck with me now!" Death screamed. His voice sounded hysterical. He gripped the woman's bony shoulders and pressed his knee into her midsection. "There is too much DISEASE!" The woman coughed, something black and slimy flew from her mouth, bouncing on the floor and wriggling under the bed.

"What the hell was that?" Father Time asked.

"I don't know, I felt, felt --"

"Me too, I felt it too! Forget it for now!" Father Time screamed. "We must finish this!" Father Time tilted the Blackbury against the opening of a capsule, closing it quickly, cursed as he realized some Time had leaked out. He did the same with another pill and another, until the last bit of the woman's Time trickled out into the last capsule.

The woman screamed again, and it was as if the first scream was just practice and now she had confirmed she could scream higher, louder and longer. Before he could squelch her cries, footsteps sounded heavy and fast outside the door.

TITLE

Rain Over Poughkeepsie

GENRE

Fantasy

WORD COUNT

1,000 (flash fiction)

RATING:

PG

PUBLISHED?

Bards and Sages Quarterly

HOOK

Guess who's coming to dinner?

SUMMARY

Walter, an angel, and Zephyr, a demon, are newlyweds awaiting the first visit of Zephyr's parents to their home, a cloud over Poughkeepsie, New York.

SAMPLE

Two dark shapes ascended from the cumulous cloud floor of the living room and then slowly morphed into humanoid forms. "Mr. and Mrs. Kavril, so nice to meet you," Walter said, forcing bile back down his throat. Though she had described her parents to him, Walter never imagined two grotesque beings could create such a beautiful creature like Zaphyr.

Mr. Kavril growled, revealing two rows of evenly-spaced gray, pointy teeth and a thick forked tongue. Zaphyr's mother eyed Walter up and down with a thick, furrowed unibrow, and when Mr. Kavril's growling seemed not to want to let up, she elbowed him roughly in his potbellied paunch.

"Please excuse Edgar," Mrs. Kavril said, extending a huge, scaly hand. Before Walter could reply, Zaphyr jumped between them, hugged her mother hard, kissed her father on the cheek, and began speaking in a low, guttural language that made Walter think twice about all the times he had told her she had an angelic voice.