tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67865346879539335992024-03-13T01:32:31.833-07:00Saurimonde<br><br>Welcome to the treacherous and beautiful world of Saurimonde, a dark fantasy series written by Scarlett Amaris and Melissa St. Hilaire.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253294868612791942noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-10322766544916822152016-03-06T14:47:00.000-08:002016-03-08T15:59:15.834-08:00Saurimonde III Goodreads Giveaway!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Goodreads is giving away 4 copies of the latest installment of our Saurimonde series!<br />
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Enter to win 1 of 4 free signed paperback books here:<br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29361516"><img alt="Saurimonde III by Melissa St. Hilaire" src="https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1456702738l/29361516.jpg" title="Saurimonde III by Melissa St. Hilaire" width="100" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29361516">Saurimonde III</a>
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by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5822220.Melissa_St_Hilaire" style="text-decoration: none;">Melissa St. Hilaire</a>
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Giveaway ends May 06, 2016.
<br />
See the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/177054" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
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<a class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink" href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/177054">Enter Giveaway</a>
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<b>Saurimonde III synopsis:</b><br />
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<i>Safety is but an illusion... </i></blockquote>
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In the search for a young woman who may already be dead, the tragically lovely Saurimonde, along with her handsome consort, Sordel, travel deep within the mysterious zone where she comes under the spell of the powerful high priestess, Na Dag'ma, who, after initiating her into their strange faith, sends her on a quest to find a dangerous ancient relic. </blockquote>
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Amid a quagmire of lies, duplicity, and collusion, the veil between worlds becomes threadbare – one existence bleeding into another – as Saurimonde and Sordel wander further into a supernatural web. Upon finding what they seek, will they be able to break free? Or be forced to become the ultimate sacrifice?</blockquote>
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Saurimonde III is available now on: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01BQZ7ZF0">AMAZON</a></h4>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-58124871497465515632015-08-11T16:42:00.000-07:002015-08-11T16:42:07.874-07:00The Conjuring of Saurimonde III<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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What a fabulously strange year it has been so far...</div>
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In the beginning of August, both of us instantly knew it was time to start on the next Saurimonde book. Almost the day after we made this decision, a friend of ours offered us her gorgeous, serene house for a couple of weeks and we jumped on the opportunity. </div>
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For the first time since we began the Saurimonde journey we actually sat down together and embarked upon a treatment while in the same room.<br />
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During the other two books, Scarlett was living halfway across the world in France while Melissa was in California, and we'd tossed ideas back and forth on Skype. </div>
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To be honest we only had the vaguest idea for an outline of the first book. The same for the second, although the writing went much faster on that one. This time we were prepared and now we are gearing up for the most raucous story yet. </div>
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It was amazing how easy it all came together. We spent most of the afternoon lounging in the walled front garden tossing back and forth ideas until we got stuck. Then, we'd take a break or resume the next day.<br />
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There might have been some wine drinking involved and a lot of, "Are we really going to do something that horrible to the characters? Oh yes, we are...” (Insert girlish cackling here.)<br />
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We are astounded the way the Saurimonde world has grown and the ways in which the story is opening up. What started as a vague idea a few years ago in a casual conversation has taken on a life of its own and become its own mythology. </div>
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Like throwing a stone in a pond, we had no idea the way it was going to ripple and take so many weird twists and turns, but it's been an amazing adventure and continues to be so. We cannot wait to get started writing and, if all goes according to plan, we'll have the next book out in the fall.<br />
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Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-34624453074866532162015-04-13T13:46:00.000-07:002015-04-13T15:45:39.633-07:00Brand spanking new!!! SAURIMONDE Etsy store<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVCa645VUE3sukjvxzl25K8Rlr9FNAnNvX9bi-s0_-a58YWvbYCNU7c8DdZ8NXtVsQOyJMQuQEkYz9C27X3W8sRlHqP1Iugh_ngu5cwl6bNWmoSYmqC4XW21KKsU-1LewVJuUgZyO7yw/s1600/saurimonde+necklace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvVCa645VUE3sukjvxzl25K8Rlr9FNAnNvX9bi-s0_-a58YWvbYCNU7c8DdZ8NXtVsQOyJMQuQEkYz9C27X3W8sRlHqP1Iugh_ngu5cwl6bNWmoSYmqC4XW21KKsU-1LewVJuUgZyO7yw/s1600/saurimonde+necklace.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well, well, well....
you asked for it and you got it! By popular demand we are offering
hand crafted necklaces based on the cover of our notorious SAURIMONDE
series. There are only three of these left... so if you are a fan of
the books you might want to get one before they are gone. We might
make another run of them in the future but they won't be quite the
same as these beauties. Blood moons, mythological goddessery, and a
little olde world magic... all components from the stories blended
together in one unique piece of jewelry.
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For more details visit
our on-line store here!</div>
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<a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/Saurimonde?ref=l2-shopheader-name">SAURIMONDE ETSY STORE</a></div>
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xo Melissa & Scarlett</div>
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Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-59224018998865275672014-10-20T11:09:00.000-07:002014-12-28T21:53:04.616-08:00The Conjuring of SAURIMONDE II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">SAURIMONDE II is available now at <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saurimonde-II-2.../dp/1502598507" target="_blank">Amazon</a>.</span><br />
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The Conjuring of SAURIMONDE II</span></h4>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">While I was visiting Los Angeles last November Melissa and I started to bounce some ideas back and forth for the structure of SAURIMONDE II. It was a bit of a tricky beast because we knew certain things which we wanted to happen but there was no way to give Saurimonde the typical ass-kicking, dominant female character arc that most stories call for nowadays. Having become newly human after being demonic, and having built up a body count, Saurimonde wasn't ready to come into her own power yet. So instead for most of the story she is a victim of circumstance - and they are pretty darn mean. It is only when she has lost everything and is deep within the long dark night of the soul that she finally gains her power and becomes proactive. It's a backwards plot structure, and a risky venture, but that's the way the story wanted to be told. What can one do but take a chance? So we decided on the night of the Hunter's Moon to cast a spell to aid us with the creativity and success of SAURIMONDE II using a little good old fashioned sigil magic.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Photo by Marnie Shelton-Klein</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_SXQWDf3Jm2hiMaDOF4aw6JK7NgBc4e5dQtkkpe_C4ZPn9H68Dfoa3dmqTLR5UoymHO0I-ANG2eeRJfLVzjLqLz6LzqVAOMlKwywEptoNqc5VOnMU4c19eLD5njTxscAeD8Uv5GiciY/s1600/4V6A4013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_SXQWDf3Jm2hiMaDOF4aw6JK7NgBc4e5dQtkkpe_C4ZPn9H68Dfoa3dmqTLR5UoymHO0I-ANG2eeRJfLVzjLqLz6LzqVAOMlKwywEptoNqc5VOnMU4c19eLD5njTxscAeD8Uv5GiciY/s1600/4V6A4013.jpg" height="373" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Photo by Marnie Shelton-Klein</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">In the middle of March I was lucky enough to find myself living in a 50 room 500 hundred-year-old chateau in Chalabre in the south of France called the <a href="http://www.yobabalounge.com/the-house/">Yobaba Lounge</a>. Feeling like I had been dropped straight into a Gothic romance I rolled up my writing sleeves and got down to work. I cannot rave enough about how conducive Yobaba Lounge (chateau) was to the creative process. Although I must confess, the house was so completely magical that I felt like I should have spent some of my time wearing gauzy gowns and slowly wandering down the long hallways with a candelabra like one of the women in Jean Rollin's <i>'Requiem for a Vampire</i>'. It was like living in a real life version of <i>'Gormenghast'</i> along with a huge walled garden and a menagerie of exotic cats (I wrote some more about the house in my<a href="http://www.scarlettamaris.com/2014/06/joie-de-vivre-in-chalabres.html"> blog</a> ). In the mornings I would get up and quietly pad down the immense wooden stairwell and over Persian rugs and Romanesque tiled floors to make fresh pressed coffee. Then I would grab my pen and notebook and greet the morning sun out in the garden amongst the wild lavender and sage with the cats while I sketched out the next scene. This is a fairly normal way of working for me and I don't just write on the page, I scribble all over it and make small drawings, adding words here and there in the margins. Once I had all the ideas in place I would either take a walk up to the castle, or to one of my favorite spots in the woods, or I would go and have a sandalwood scented bubble bath in a huge antique claw-footed tub to let these ideas collate. After lunch I would make a pot of Earl Grey tea and get down to business and get as much of the chapter down as possible. I would finish around 8:00 pm and send it off to Melissa who was just getting her day started in Los Angeles. She would then work on the material during her day and add what she wanted or delete what she felt didn't work and send me notes as well. This was a perfect system and we were able to work very quickly this way. By the beginning of May we were more than 3/4th's through the story and the finish line was in sight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But then life went haywire like it does and the best laid plans went quickly South. We won't go into particulars here about what went wrong and only say the human heart can be foolish and the wise ones are right when they say love is blind. But it is what it is and in the middle of that mess and trauma, Melissa and I managed to get the damn thing finished only not in the timely manner we had anticipated. I was more than ready for it to be over with because I was exhausted from holding the Saurimonde universe inside my brain and I know Melissa felt exactly the same way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">But just because you are done, doesn't mean you are really done. There's editing. Then reading aloud. And more editing. Then more reading aloud. You worry and fret and chop some more sentences down, and then rearrange the furniture a bit. It's like running a marathon that feels like it will never end. Then one day suddenly that's it - you're done. You take a deep breath, push the button, and the damn thing is born. Let me tell you that is the scariest moment of all because it's the point of no return. So now our latest venture is out in the world and we will be hitting the promotional trail starting tonight. Here's the info if you would like to join us on Facebook (and we hope that you do!):</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Monday, October 20 at 8:00 pm to 10:00 pm EDT, Melissa and I will be making our first stop on our promotional tour of SAURIMONDE II at a Ragnarok Publications event here:<a class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/event.php?id=577239332405796" href="https://www.facebook.com/events/577239332405796/" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">https://www.facebook.com/events/577239332405796/</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Join us and many other authors for book giveaways and more!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Here's more info on the event:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Join Ragnarok and their authors, including Kenny Soward, Tara Cardinal, Alex Bledsoe. Mercedes Murdock Yardley and more as they celebrate their new books! Giveaways! Virtual food and drinks! GNOMES!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">And here's some info on Ragnarok:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">DARK GENRE FICTION. Dark Fantasy | Urban Fantasy | Speculative Fiction | Supernatural Horror |<a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.ragnarokpub.com%2F&h=6AQE09gh6&enc=AZORRFa4RcyoM4vMVPjBZrPzuyLmtwstK3F2c4LY4-lX5C__LVUIWF_n0AWziBpMaRFz6xvqxPLXH2wHO9zUbS_mNdHRJKt38EhYY_RwwAtqW_lFIZ_KuxOyEQuYMC1NMjsNMZCk1YRZUovtGyKaKY7Y&s=1" rel="nofollow" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">www.ragnarokpub.com</a> | 'RAGNAROK. Books that ROK!'<a href="https://www.facebook.com/RagnarokPublications" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">https://www.facebook.com/RagnarokPublications</a></span></div>
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Come for Dark Genre Fiction, stay for the Gnomes!</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOXp5Gfp_mVGjUFqEnypsJ6eHPLMQBOEplqG3eG-QYIKx0h_dHU4sGyqzHfxq-oVfKOFvGemISs170l8-z4ZRSHXCuCMatZuSovtBASbxorACyEgzRQUWvB0W8CK4z6ctYOnI5cUZxwo/s1600/4V6A4159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOXp5Gfp_mVGjUFqEnypsJ6eHPLMQBOEplqG3eG-QYIKx0h_dHU4sGyqzHfxq-oVfKOFvGemISs170l8-z4ZRSHXCuCMatZuSovtBASbxorACyEgzRQUWvB0W8CK4z6ctYOnI5cUZxwo/s1600/4V6A4159.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Marnie Shelton-Klein</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">And as we come into the turning of the season's Melissa is hard at work on her next book which is a fabulous sci-fi tale entitled, 'XODUS'. For myself, I am just starting on my first attempt at historical fiction which will of course contain old world magic and erotic overtones. I don't have a title yet, but it will come as so many plans and changes are in the wind.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">One last thing. We have a favor to ask you. If you read SAURIMONDE II and enjoy our twisted tale then could you please leave a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads? These reviews make all the difference in the world to independent authors and it doesn't have to be more than a couple of lines. Thanks in advance to those who do so!</span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">May your darkest dreams and wishes come true,</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Scarlett & Melissa</div>
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Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-36460141007732151852014-04-04T06:42:00.000-07:002014-04-05T02:26:14.961-07:00Chapter Two from the upcoming Saurimonde sequel!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SJ8K5_QjDIqKZjb0jncjA-0wRZGe9hsb-XAYEeBSjFGeUhWARj8kcLg7kMk9FMVSNECBrkghljYrbqCN322sdPBE7DoZzJxqhwWmuLdkI6TD7jp47oL7nDmJFii4uzlarv1cI-e2Hfk/s1600/1932364_641665239231987_1125145777_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SJ8K5_QjDIqKZjb0jncjA-0wRZGe9hsb-XAYEeBSjFGeUhWARj8kcLg7kMk9FMVSNECBrkghljYrbqCN322sdPBE7DoZzJxqhwWmuLdkI6TD7jp47oL7nDmJFii4uzlarv1cI-e2Hfk/s1600/1932364_641665239231987_1125145777_n.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
Saurimonde
jerked the cloak back into place after it had slipped over one
shoulder. Her dress was disintegrating before her eyes and Elazki's
frock she had borrowed barely fell below her knees. Ahead of her was
the garden full of hollyhocks and she could hear the thrum of the
bees as the day began to warm. She skirted the edge as she didn't
want to look too closely. This was something else she would have to
sort out and there were so many messes and mistakes, she didn't know
where to begin. She prayed no one would see her arriving back to the
manor house. <i>She must look like a beggar woman and prying eyes and
wagging tongues were the last thing she needed right now.</i><br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There
had been no way to cover her feet so she had to pick her path
carefully. It was slow going, but the stables were within shouting
distance. She knew this place so well. This had been her home. It
still was her home, but it felt unfamiliar, like it was part of a
life lived long ago.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
tiptoed quietly into the stables and listened carefully. All she
heard was the restless shuffling of the horses waiting for their
morning feed. <i>Good</i>, she thought, <i>luck was with her.</i>
The stables were cool and damp and she could barely see in the tack
room as she fumbled slightly, but she knew where Gilles' saddle and
bridle were as they sat in perfect condition. He'd always insisted on
the best and he'd always gotten his way. Well, almost always. She
wasn't sorry she'd killed Gilles, as far as he was concerned she felt
nothing at all, except the overwhelming need to erase all trace of
his existence. It wasn't rational, she knew this, it was reaction to
all the events which had befallen her. All because of Gilles and his
need to destroy everything around him. At least he couldn't hurt
anyone any more.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Still
cursing about her lack of footwear, she saddled up Gilles' black
gelding. The poor beast had been so beaten into submission, he barely
moved a muscle as she tightened the girth. Hopefully his next owner
would be kinder. She led him out the back, tied the reins in a loose
knot and hooked them through one of the buckles in the front of the
saddle so he couldn't get tangled in them. Then she let him go. He
stood still for a moment unsure what to do so she grabbed the nearest
whip and gave him a harsh whack across the hocks. It was all the
motivation he needed as he took off for the trees. She felt a little
bad about it, but desperate measures called for desperate means. If
her luck continued then someone would find the horse sans rider in a
few hours. Then there would be a search party to go look for their
master, thinking he had fallen off. After they didn't find him the
rumors would start about the men in the forest who had been attacking
people for money. Maybe they had been stupid enough to abduct Gilles.
Maybe they'd gotten in a lucky punch or stab wound. Maybe Gilles was
dead... <i>It could all work so perfectly,</i> she thought. She froze
as she heard someone whistling a tune not so far away. <i>Damn, and
double damn</i>, she inwardly swore.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
backtracked a little to give herself some time and to make it look
like she was coming in from a morning stroll. She smoothed down her
hair and put on her most regal air. And then she strode forward to
face the inevitable full of false confidence.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
A boy of about ten with carrot colored hair and a smattering of
freckles across his nose was putting together the meat for the pack
of mastiffs Gilles had bred and raised as his hunting dogs. She
didn't recognize the child and at closer inspection with the red hair
she wondered if he was Gilles' offspring as well. The man had
certainly been busy populating the countryside. Thank the goddess he
had never gotten her pregnant. It wasn't that she didn't love
children, but her skin crawled at the thought of it. Then she noticed
Lucifer, her late husband's pride and joy, lying sulkily in a corner
away from the rest of his pack who were busy making a racket as they
waited impatiently for their breakfast. His sullen, golden eyes
caught hers as if conveying some hidden message. An older man walked
up to the boy and grabbed the haunches of fresh kill from him. His
pinched face was redder than his hair and his hands shook a little.
She knew who he was, one of Gilles' lackeys, and by the look of it,
more than a little hungover. She decided to make the first move to
catch him off guard.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why
is Lucifer separated from the other dogs?” Her voice rang out sharp
as a blade. Even she was taken aback by the harshness of it. </div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
man jumped as if he'd seen a ghost. “Madame...” He stuttered, “No
one told me you were back. How...?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
came back early this morning,” she answered in a haughty manner.
“You haven't answered my question. Why is Lucifer separated from
the others?” She could see him sizing up her unkempt attire so she
stared him straight in the eye, until his gaze hit the ground.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“The
master told me to... I...”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She didn't let him finish. “Put him back.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“But
the master... The dog savaged him – and he...” He stopped.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Gilles
is not here. I saw him this morning as I was arriving.” She
continued to lie smoothly. “He went to fetch his niece. Seems she's
run away and gotten herself into some trouble. I don't have to tell
you that Gilles would want you to keep this quiet.” She arched an
eyebrow.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No
surprise there, madame. A bit of a wildcat she is. You don't have to
worry about us.” He pointed to his son who was busy taunting an
insect with a stick. “We won't say nothing to no one.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i> Yeah,
right,</i> she thought as she gave him a tight smile. “Good. Then
do as I say and put Lucifer back. I'll deal with Gilles.” She gave
a little imperial wave towards the pens as she started up the drive
towards the house.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes,
madame...” he called out after her.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
walked as calmly as possible, but inside she was quaking. <i>What was
wrong with her?</i> She'd never taken that kind of tone with the
servants before. She had spent most of her life here trying to be
invisible. All of the hired help were Gilles bought and sold. But
Gilles was gone and he was never coming back. For a moment she felt
like skipping. She felt like a warm wind after the rain. She felt...
That would never do. First she had to play distraught wife and then,
hopefully, grieving widow. She giggled softly to herself. It was
quite mad, but things were going to be very different.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
made it up the backstairs and to her room unseen by any of the house
staff. She desperately needed a bath, but that would mean asking one
of the servants and she wanted to delay the inevitable a little
longer. Her sanctuary looked untouched as she basked in its heavy
wood and jewel tones, but something was missing. She looked around as
she tried to figure out what. Her carved, oval mirror was missing.
<i>Why that of all things? </i>She wondered. It was not exactly an
easy piece to move. <i>Maybe Gilles smashed it,</i> she thought, as
she poked into one of the upright cabinets finding nothing. Some of
her clothes were gone, but she had expected that.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As
she looked around, she noticed the door on the far side was slightly
ajar. <i>Possibly someone had put her mirror in the other room?</i>
But that room was never used for anything other than the guests
they'd never had. She opened the door cautiously and sucked in her
breath - every shade of pink imaginable was vomited all over. It was
a sickly monstrosity mixed with the definite odor of dog shit. She
felt faintly nauseous as she took it in. <i>This must have been
Mariel's room</i>, she thought as somewhere at the back of her mind
the briefest flash of a salmon colored dress appeared. <i>Why had
Gilles let her do such a thing? </i>Tentatively, she walked across
the carpet spotting her mirror propped up by the bed. <i>Had Gilles
given it to his niece? s</i>he wondered<i>. </i> It certainly didn't
fit in this confectioner's nightmare. Then she noticed the piles of
frilly expensive lingerie sitting on the bed. <i>Had Gilles given her
those as well? It seemed so tacky. The girl could not have been
barely more than a child. </i>Spying a slip of paper that was
sticking out of the wall, she walked across to take a closer look.
She tugged at it and noticed the perfect round peep hole. Her late
husband had been a man of many devious appetites and peeping was high
on the list of them. She shouldn't be surprised, but Mariel was his
niece – a close blood relative. She peered at the slip of paper.
It was a receipt for the lingerie and the amount paid was staggering.
Gilles had indeed signed for it. <i>Pervert,</i> she thought as she
threw it down in disgust.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
stared at the mirror, hands on hips. It would be heavy to move, but
she had to take it back. Lifting it up, she grimaced as she heard
what was left of her frayed dress rip down the side. That was
definitely the end of it. The mirror was heavier than she had guessed
as she awkwardly rolled it across the carpet and maneuvered it
through the door. It was louder too. <i>Great.</i> <i>No doubt one of
the servants would be up soon to investigate</i>, she thought. Her
dress ripped further with every effort until there was much left
covering her. Breathing heavily, she managed to lift and edge the
mirror back into place just over the low-seated vanity. She stared at
her reflection. She was a mess. <i>How long had it been since she sat
there examining the bruises Gilles had left around her throat? s</i>he
asked herself. The memory had faded like all bad memories did with
her and she wanted to hold onto that one. She wanted to remember that
day clearly, and exactly how beaten down and afraid she had felt.
Picking up the golden comb she struggled with the tangled mess of her
hair until it shone like the sun and fell smoothly down her back in
waves. She was still covered with grit, but it was a start. She
smiled at her reflection. One step at a time and things would get
better. She would deal with the servants. Then, she would deal with
Sordel. And after that she couldn't plan any further. But first, she
sat on the edge of her bed and peeled off the remnants of her frock.
She was going to close her eyes for a few minutes to gather back her
strength. She grabbed the pillow nearest to her, pulling it close and
hugging it like as person as she snuggled into the blankets. Then,
blessed nothingness.</div>
</div>
Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-42132121153588962962014-04-03T12:45:00.000-07:002014-04-04T05:31:29.065-07:00Third chapter of the upcoming Saurimonde sequel! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVQi6ml07Fr7ee5vn_-KeOvAgv10LopCs08k7JEqJDDFleemcU_Gtcm8rElswBYsPXXQm-FkDQhcBH1zk0gxRTmjsyFc1CStdAhnGU4P5S78XkoJ5gHyXLiqJRQDNOge_lYtIymBVQ3w/s1600/1932364_641665239231987_1125145777_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVQi6ml07Fr7ee5vn_-KeOvAgv10LopCs08k7JEqJDDFleemcU_Gtcm8rElswBYsPXXQm-FkDQhcBH1zk0gxRTmjsyFc1CStdAhnGU4P5S78XkoJ5gHyXLiqJRQDNOge_lYtIymBVQ3w/s1600/1932364_641665239231987_1125145777_n.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
Saurimonde's
heart pounded as she turned another corner. The forest was like a
maze and crashing sounds were coming closer. She sprinted towards
what looked to be a clearing. As she entered, a human-sized raven
unfolded its enormous wings. “Not this way,” it croaked at her.
She backed away, stumbled, and then took off again. The branches
whipped at her face and hair. All around she could hear voices
chanting; the words were indistinct, but grew to a fever pitch. Out
of the corner of her eye she caught glimpses of fires, and figures
which moved around them. What could she do? The forest was tightening
its grip on her and there was nowhere left to go. The crashing was
coming closer. He was coming closer. The sound of her heart beat so
loud now it throbbed in her ears.
<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Bang.
Bang. Bang.</i> She opened her eyes, caught in the void between
waking and sleep. <i>Bang, bang, bang</i>. Her heart still pounded
and she was slightly sweaty, but that noise was not a dream. Groggily
she looked towards the door.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Madame...
Madame... Are you in there?”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wait a minute.” she answered more to herself than anyone else.
Slowly she lifted herself out of the bed. Her muscles ached in
protest and her feet complained the minute she touched the floor.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Madame...?”
The voice was more insistent.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Coming.”
She wrapped a sheet haphazardly around herself, still too dazed to
dress. As she walked over the bare floor it felt like she was walking
over a bed of nails. She opened the door a crack as a moon-faced
woman stared at her anxiously.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I'm
so sorry to bother you. I know you just arrived home from nursing
your sick relative and must be very tired, but there's a lady waiting
for you downstairs. She says she must see you right away.”
Saurimonde tried to process this as she stared at the woman's rounded
face. <i>Sick relative</i>? <i>Where had that come from?</i> She
wondered. Sweet goddess, the word got around fast that she was back.
She couldn't have been asleep for very long. She certainly didn't
feel rested. In fact she felt more tired than she had thought
possible. “Did she give you her name?” she asked as she wondered
if it could be Elazki. <i>But that wasn't possible - was it?</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's
Loreley, madame. The master's sister. She's come to see her
daughter.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Oh
this was bad,</i> Saurimonde thought. She despised Gilles' sister on
the best of days and her timing couldn't have been worse.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Tell
her I'll be right down.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
woman gave a clumsy sort of curtsy and said, “Yes, madame.” Then
she turned and fled back down the corridor.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Saurimonde
shut the door and then rubbed her eyes, yawning loudly. She stretched
letting the sheet fall to the floor. Gingerly she walked over to the
standing bureau and grabbed a dress. Any one would do just as long as
it covered her. She slipped it on, luxuriating for a moment in the
soft feel of the fabric and the way it hugged her skin. It was a good
choice.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There
was no time for a bath, or to splash her face, so she did what she
could in front of the mirror. Most of the dirt had wiped easily away
and the low cut moss colored dress set off her tawny skin. She still
looked haggard around the eyes. Gathering up her long hair, she
fastened it haphazardly with a couple of combs, pulling out wisps
here and there. It wasn't glamorous, but it was good enough. In her
mind she rehearsed various different scenarios and her responses to
them as she put on the last minute touches. The problem was she
didn't know Loreley very well as she and Gilles had a complicated
relationship and they rarely could stand to be in the same room
together. She was haughty and ostentatious from what Saurimonde
remembered, and beautiful in a coldly remote sort of way, but that
was many years ago and time could be unkind. She'd never even met her
niece. Well, not in this form anyway. Feeling a sudden pang of
regret, she quickly pushed it aside. She didn't want to remember. Not
now at least.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sighing
heavily, she stared at her feet. There was no way she could get away
with going barefoot. There had to be slippers somewhere. She found a
pair hiding under the bed. The color wasn't right, but she didn't
care as she couldn't keep Lorelei waiting much longer without some
sort of scene happening. <i>Deep breaths, deep breaths,</i> she told
herself If she could just keep her thoughts focused it would be
okay.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Loreley looked around the cold, masculine room with its heavy tapestries and
hunting trophies on the wall. Even though the curtains were drawn,
hardly any light penetrated its depths. Her companion was busy
running his hands over a suit of armor that stood in the corner.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“This
looks real.” He said, a look of awe in his dark almond eyes..</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Yes,
dear. It's real. It's been in the family for hundreds of years and
technically it should be mine.” She didn't bother adding it was
because she was the eldest sibling. He didn't need to know that. She
ran a hand across her perfect, ginger-colored chignon. It was her trademark hairstyle, only now it had a few streaks of gray in the front. <i>Poor Guihelm,</i> she
thought, as she stared at him. <i>Not the brightest spark, but he was
handsome to look at. If only he didn't fancy himself a poet. Not that
there was anything wrong with poetry, but his was just so insipid and
mechanical. The flowery nothings he espoused with an irritating air
of faked romanticism. How the simpletons must have swooned at his
feet wherever it was he came from. Some remote backwater in the
mountains if she remembered correctly.</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i> </i> “What
do you think could be taking them so long?” he asked.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“How
can I know? It's the middle of the day,” she answered as if it were
obvious. “My brother is a very busy man with a lot of important
duties.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Saurimonde
stood silently in the doorway. “Indeed, your brother is a very busy
man and I'm so sorry that he isn't here right now.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
They
turned in unison at the sound of her voice. “I'm sorry to have kept
you waiting,” she continued, “but I was very tired from a long
journey last night... and well.” She gave them a little smile,
tilting her head like a coquette. “I confess, I over slept.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Loreley glanced at her companion as his eyes roamed up and down the
voluptuous body of her sister-in-law. The older woman plastered on a
smile. “Saurimonde, my dear. How lovely to see you.” She almost
kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek. Then she stood back, glancing
a critical eye over her. “As lovely as always. Just like one of
your paintings. But yes, you do look a little worse for the wear. It
must have been a very difficult road.” The was a subtle emphasis on
the last three words. “And this is my traveling companion, Guihelm.
He's a poet. You do know how I love to patronize the arts.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i> Is
there anything you don't patronize? </i>Saurimonde
thought to herself. Loreley's ingenue was indeed handsome. He was
tall with dark, shoulder length hair, matching eyes, and high flat
cheekbones and he had a foreign look which lent him an air of
exoticism.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“My
dame,” he dropped to one knee as he kissed her hand with great
ceremony. Never once did he take his eyes off of her.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Loreley smiled harder to keep from rolling her eyes. She'd seen this same act
everywhere they went. She didn't know why she didn't dump this
dancing monkey at the circus where he belonged. There was no future
with him. It was just that with Mariel here and her husband gone,
she'd gotten a little lonely and Guilhelm provided a needed
distraction. He wasn't smart enough to realize she was out of money,
though. No one knew except her little girl and she'd come to see if
Mariel was keeping up her end of the bargain in securing their
future.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So
where is my beloved brother? And not to mention my daughter,” asked
Loreley expectantly as she tilted her head mimicking Saurimonde's
earlier expression.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Please
have a seat.” Saurimonde motioned graciously at a couple of
over-stuffed leather chairs. “That's what I wanted to talk to you
about.” Saurimonde sat down opposite to Lorelei. She leaned
forward, placed both hands on her chin and said, “Mariel has gotten
herself into a little trouble and Gilles had to go and fetch her.”
Her eyes dropped and her lashes fluttered. “Well, actually he has
to find her first.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Trouble?
Find her?” Loreley's voice raised a couple of octaves. “What kind
of trouble?” she demanded. “Is she all right?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She's
fine.” Saurimonde reassured her. “It's just, you know how girls
at her age are. I don't know how to tell you this... but she's run
away with a boy.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“What?!”the
older woman screeched. “Well, I never...” She glanced over at her
companion who raised his eyebrows, not knowing how to react.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
know. Gilles will handle it. Don't worry,” Saurimonde responded.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Two bright spots appeared on Loreley's cheeks as her eyes quickly
darted back and forth. <i>Damn that girl</i>,
she thought, <i>I will hide her black and blue. But at least
Gilles was going to save her. It would give him the chance to play
hero and he would like that. And Mariel would be forced to behave.
</i>“I'm certain he will.” She
said stiffly. “Well, we'll just have to wait for them then, won't
we? I'm sure this wouldn't be a problem.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Saurimonde
cursed inwardly, but her expression never wavered. “Of course,”
she heard herself say as if from far away, “it would be no problem
at all.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Madame,”
said the moon-faced servant nervously as she hovered at the door.
“You have another visitor. I tried to tell him you were busy”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Old
Thome didn't wait for an introduction as he ducked his burly frame
beneath the doorway. His face was tanned from the sun and he smelled
of fresh earth and his long, graying beard made his look like a giant billy goat. “Saurimonde, so good to see you back. I'm...” He
stopped as he noticed the others. His blue eyes widened as he took in
the older woman. “Loreley?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
shifted in her seat and patted her hair before she answered, “Hello,
Thome.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
His
weathered face grew softer as he gazed at her. “It's been almost
20 years.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It
hasn't been that long. Besides, I was just a child the last time I
saw you.” She laughed nervously. “A mere child.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
were?” Old Thome questioned, his confusion evident in his voice.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Of
course I was.” Loreley twittered again. She reached over and
possessively stroked Guilhelm's hand and said to him. “Thome was
like an older brother to me when I grew up here.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Older
brother. But we were...”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
cut him off. “How is your dear family?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
His
expression darkened. “Bad. Very bad. My oldest boy has gone missing
for a few days now and there hasn't been any sign of him. Gilles said
he might have run off with a sweetheart.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Loreley gasped, clasping one hand theatrically to her throat as she started
to quickly fan herself with the other. Then she leaned her head on
Guilhelm's shoulder as if she needed corporeal support to hold
herself up.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Exhausted
as she was, Saurimonde saw the opportunity and she took it. “Oh
Thome,” she said, “Loreley's daughter has gone missing too, and
Gilles said the exact same thing. He's gone looking for her. Do you
suppose...?” She let the question hang.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Old
Thome shook his big head while frowning. “I saw Master Gilles the
other night. He was the one who told me my boy had found a girl, but
he didn't say anything about his niece.” His bearish brows knitted
together and he asked, “When did she arrive?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Outside
there was the clatter of hooves on the cobblestones and a man's voice
could be heard shouting. Loreley got up quickly. “Hopefully that's
Gilles, and we'll get this mess straightened out.” Guilhelm
followed her. Old Thome and Saurimonde stood behind them as they
peered out the window into the courtyard below. Gilles' normally
docile gelding was making a fuss as Sordel, stripped to the waist,
tried to quiet him down. He held the reins with both hands and stood
his ground as the horse kicked out over and over again, scrambling on
the uneven footing. Sordel was sweating and his lithe muscles
gleamed in the sunlight.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i> No,
no, no,</i> thought Saurimonde, <i>this
is a mess</i>. But there was no way
she could explain the truth. <i>How could she tell them she'd
killed their children?</i> That she
hadn't meant to because it hadn't really been her and she had been a
monster. Something unnatural and they could still be in terrible
danger. There was a chance they wouldn't believe her. They might
think her insane. She'd be branded a murderess even if there was no
proof. Her thoughts raced as she began to panic. It was time to end
this charade before it went any further. She didn't know why she had
thought she could pull it off. It was survival instinct and, really,
she hadn't known what else to do.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Noticing
her distress, Old Thome gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don't
worry. It's just Sordel. Maybe he'll have some news.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
flinched under his touch. “I know, but...” She swallowed her
confession. She couldn't tell them. “That's Gilles' horse and I
don't see any sign of him.” The hollow words echoed in her ears as
she hung her head in shame. “I don't deserve this.” She looked up
at them with tears in her eyes.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Loreley stood glaring at her. “What is the matter with you? This is no time
for tears. You don't see us crying do you? We must go and see what
has happened right now!” With an authoritative flounce, she grabbed
Guilhelm and elbowed her way past Thome and Saurimonde. She stopped
at the door and turned. “Well, are you coming? Let's go.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Saurimonde
took a half step forward as Thome hovered protectively beside her.
She felt sick and ashamed and she wasn't sure she could handle any
more.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Don't
worry about Loreley,” Thome said quietly.”Her bark is much worse
than her bite. And a very sweet bite she has. Believe me, I know.”
Then he gave her a knowing wink and she felt herself smiling back at
him. <i>That she hadn't expected at all.</i></div>
</div>
Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-11841418488547508842014-03-26T12:27:00.000-07:002014-03-26T12:27:29.095-07:00Saurmimonde II - the first chapter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
Saurimonde II - The First Chapter</h4>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Saurimonde placed the
journal down as the words swam in front of her eyes, while she tried
to wrap herself around the shock of what she read. She already felt
intrusive enough reading someone else's diary. She reached forward
touching the hem of her damp powder blue dress hanging over the edge
of the fire. There wasn't much left of it, only wisps of cotton and
lace still tacked together. It wouldn't last through another wearing.
Shivering, she wrapped the blanket a little tighter around herself
against the bite of the morning air. She wasn't exactly cold, but the
night's events had chilled her to the bone. She was sore from head to
toe and her muscles protested every little move she made. She was
most definitely back in her body again, but she didn't feel quite
whole. It was like dancing a waltz and always being a couple of beats
behind the rhythm as memories and emotions collided awkwardly with
each other. The light was starting to spill cold blue from the
windows. The panes of glass were smudged with soot and threw shadows
across the floor. She could almost discern a pattern. It looked like
beetles crawling, coming ever closer. A tiny insect army ready to
attack and take her down.</div>
<div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Elazki's cottage had a
certain charm in daylight. Bundles of drying herbs hung from the
ceiling mixed with talismans and other things she didn't want to look
at too closely. A stuffed fox on top of a sort of shrine bristled
from the center of the room. It was obviously well loved to have such
a place of importance. She glanced at it a couple times out of the
corner of her eye, half-convinced it was watching her. It was hard to
believe she'd never been inside this place before, although she
really had never given it's owner, Elazki, the time of day, and now
she owed her life to the woman. Now she knew more about the wise
woman's life than she'd have ever thought possible. In her mind's eye
she saw the raven-haired woman staring at her as ferociously as a
blood moon. The events of last night seemed like a million years ago.
She'd been trying to put the pieces together, but every time she got
the sequence wrong. There were too many gaps in her memory.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Her husband Gilles
and Elazki had been together many years ago and he'd used and abused
her affections. But soon after there had been a child which was not
named in the diary, but if she did the math then... Stop it</i>,
Saurimonde thought as she pursed her lips and furrowed her brow,
trying in vain to organize her thoughts and quell the rising panic
inside of her. <i>It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be!</i> <i>And
how could she tell Sordel? She needed time to figure out whether it
could be possible or not. She</i>... She never finished that thought
as the sound of a man clearing his throat from the shadowy recesses
of the bedroom doorway startled her.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sorry. Didn't mean
to scare you.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The timbre of his
voice sent a shiver down her spine. It was rough and smooth at the
same time, like a fine piece of driftwood, inviting you to run your
hand over its surface. Greenish gold jungle eyes stared out of the
gloom and she could see the vague outlines of a very lithe, well
muscled chest. Feeling her breath catch in her throat, she didn't
dare let her eyes drop any lower.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No... I...” her
voice tailed off. How could she explain?
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Did you get any
sleep?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i>Had she slept? She
wasn't sure.</i> “I think so,” she answered tentatively</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sordel moved across
the room, stoked the fire with a few quick jabs and put the kettle
on. He settled himself into the chair across from her. They stared at
each other for a minute as she reflexively tightened the old blanket
around her.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I don't know how I
can ever thank you.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It's not
necessary.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There was another
uncomfortable pause, longer this time. His eyes flickered to the
journal lying on the table. There were a thousand questions he wanted
to ask, but wasn't certain he was ready to hear the answers. The
water started to boil and Sordel got up moving the kettle to the
counter. He added a handful of herbs, stirring them slowly as the
smell of mint and Valerian filled the cottage. He sneaked a quick
peek at Saurimonde. She was more fragile looking in the daylight. Her
large dark eyes had a wounded quality and the bluish circles
underneath them only added to the effect. The morning light turned
her hair into molten gold as it tumbled riotously down her shoulders
and back. She was still lovely, though. Maybe even more so than
before. He stifled the urge to gather her in his arms and tell her
everything was going to be all right. That would be a lie. Everything
was definitely not going to be all right. <i>Elazki...</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i></i> Sordel
dropped the metal stirrer with a clatter. Grumbling under his breath
he pushed it out of the way and grabbed a couple of mugs.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As
if reading his mind she quietly asked, “What are we going to do?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Dark
waves of hair fell across his handsome face. Irritatedly he pulled it
back and tied it in a knot at the nape of his neck. He glanced at the
steaming mugs remembering when he bought them for his aunt. He must
have been about twelve and was so excited by the look of genuine
surprise on her face.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
have to find her. No matter what it takes,” he answered.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
don't know what you're against.” Her eyes widen and a world of
confusion seemed to swim within them.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It
broke his heart to see, but not his resolve. “No. But that won't
stop me. She's my aunt. My only family, and the person nearest and
dearest to me.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Saurimonde
smiled at him sadly. “You're a hero. It's commendable. But even a
hero may not save the day in this situation.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He
shook his head. “I'm not a hero.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“You
are. At least to me, but we have to be rational here. If you go
storming off to the river there's a chance you won't find her. And
even if you do, there's no telling what she might do to you. She's
not the woman you know any more.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“That's
bullshit. She would never hurt me.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Listen
to me. She would and it wouldn't be her fault. I know better than
anyone. You wouldn't believe the things I've done...” A tear
slipped down her cheek. She moved to brush it away and then stopped,
her hand frozen in mid-air. She had promised herself she would never
cry again. She wasn't the same victim as before and, if there was one
thing the experience of being possessed had taught her, it was she
was going to have to be a whole lot tougher to survive it. Tensing
her muscles and taking a deep breath, she wiped the tear away,
pushing all her emotions down deep inside farther than she could
follow. Her face frozen and mask-like as she managed to do so. It was
the only way to keep her sanity.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“There's
nothing else to say. I have to save her.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
stared at him. “Yes, I know. But to have any kind of chance to do
so we're going to have to put the pieces together and that could take
some time.” She sighed, “you can run to her rescue and there's
nothing I would do to stop you. Nor would I blame you for doing so,
but I wish you would listen to what I'm saying first.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He
took a deep breath as her words settled over him. She might be right,
but it went against his nature to do nothing. None of it made sense.
He'd watched in slow motion as Elazki stabbed Saurimonde clean
through with his sword. She should have been dead. And when she
started breathing again apparently unharmed, he'd forgotten
everything else around him. Then he'd heard Elazki humming to herself
a distance away. She had the strangest look on her face as she stared
at him and then, crazily enough, she dove into the river. He'd
scanned the water again and again, but she never surfaced. He should
have dove in after her, but something inside of him warned him to get
Saurimonde and himself out of there as quickly as possible. He wanted
to protect her from the sight of Gilles' mutilated body lying by the
shore. There was no way he was miraculously coming back to life
again. He felt a chill as he remembered Saurimonde's black eyes
flashing as she demoniacally gorged the flesh from her husband's
body. Sordel closed his eyes not wanting to remember more. He rubbed
his temples against the dull thud of a coming headache while saying,
“There's a lot we have to talk about, but this isn't the time or
the place.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
answered him softly, “I know, it's all too fresh. I wouldn't even
know where to begin.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He
handed her a steaming mug and she took it gratefully, setting it down
on the small wooden table in front of her. She bit her lip trying to
decide whether or not it was wise to tell him what she'd discovered.
Sordel settled back into the chair and she did her best not to stare
open-mouthed at his chest.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
steam from the tea chased away the last vestiges of sleep as he
calmly asked, “What are you going to do?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Go
back,” she answered a little more harshly than she would have
wished.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Go
back where?” He frowned, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“To
the manor house.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Why?
You can stay here with me.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
last thing she wants to do is make him angry, but she has to be
practical, otherwise she will be doomed. She may have already been
doomed for all she knew, but she would survive this. “I know,”
she said, “but I have to make an appearance and make things look as
normal as possible. Besides, sooner or later someone would know I was
here and there would be more trouble. And I'm going to have to
explain why Gilles and that girl are suddenly missing.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Her
name was Mariel. She was your niece. Gilles said she ran off.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She...”
Her lip began to quiver, but she knew this was one of the things she
must face.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“She's
gone wherever Gilles has gone.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“So
she's dead.” He nodded grimly at this. “And Elazki?”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“I
think I know where she's gone, but it isn't somewhere we can go. At
least not now.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Then
she's not dead.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“No,
I would know if she were dead. But soon she'll wish she was.”
Saurimonde's voice faltered. “There's something else I need to tell
you about your aunt.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sordel's
stomach dropped. Intuitively he knew this was going to be ugly.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
She
took a sip of the hot tea. It scalded her mouth, but it gave her the
courage to say what needed to be said. “I read part of her diary
after you gave it to me last night. I know you promised her never to
read it, but...” She paused, then the words came in a rush. “She
had an affair with someone who treated her very badly a long time
ago. There was a child.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Elazki
never had a child.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“It
says in her diary she did. She had a son about 24 years ago.”</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Sordel's
face started to pale at this revelation. He was 24-years-old and he
had very little memory of his mother, Elazki's sister. She had died
when he was two. Elazki had never said anything to him before about
having a child.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Saurimonde
continued on knowing if she stopped now, she'd never be able to tell
him. “It sounds like she had a very bad experience so she sent the
child away and...” He stared at her in disbelief while she said,
“Gilles' name is mentioned.”
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The
words hung in the air. There was no way to take them back now. It was
too horrible a notion to comprehend. Sordel's mind glitched, and then
it hit him. <i>Holy fuck,</i> <i>Gilles might have been his father.
</i>He clutched the table feeling faint for a moment, knocking over
the tea. Saurimonde jumped out of the chair, backing away. He stared
right through her as a rush of connections in his mind suddenly made
a sort of sick sense. His stomach lurched.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Sordel...”
Saurimonde said as gently as possible.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
He
finally focused in on her, but his eyes were wild and a vein throbbed
on his forehead. Without a word he turned and strode out the door,
slamming it so hard the windows rattled.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Wait!
I could be wrong...” she called after him. But it was too late. He
was gone.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
“Damn
it all to hell!” she shouted in exasperation, throwing down the
blanket. The mouldering fox in the middle of the room stared at her
and she could have sworn she saw it smile. Suddenly feeling naked,
she grabbed her damp dress and covered herself as best as possible.
<i>Could it really get any worse...?</i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
If you haven't read the first book yet check out the <a href="http://www.saurimonde.com/p/where-to-buy.html" target="_blank">where to buy section</a> on this site! </div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
</div>
</div>
Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-3961463506235249792014-01-27T15:01:00.000-08:002014-03-18T14:16:23.601-07:00An Interview with the Authors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Authors Scarlett Amaris and Melissa St. Hilaire share dark secrets on the writing of Saurimonde.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Special thanks to all our incredible friends who lent us their time and talents to help us make this video a reality: Yvette Lera, Jeremy Graham, Marnie Shelton Klein, Manzin, & Ashley Dayour.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09253294868612791942noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-11535517305243499932013-12-05T13:16:00.003-08:002013-12-05T13:16:52.356-08:00Last day to win one of our last signed copies!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div id="goodreadsGiveawayWidget73497">
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<h2 style="color: #555555; font-size: 20px; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px; margin: 0 0 10px !important; padding: 0 !important; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
</h2>
<div style="float: left;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244"><img alt="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" src="https://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1368323800l/17907244.jpg" title="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" width="100" /></a>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0 0 0 110px !important; padding: 0 0 0 0 !important;">
<h3 style="font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px; margin: 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244">Saurimonde</a>
</h3>
<h4 style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0 0 10px; padding: 0;">
by <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5822220.Melissa_St_Hilaire" style="text-decoration: none;">Melissa St. Hilaire</a>
</h4>
<div class="giveaway_details">
Giveaway ends December 06, 2013.
<br />
See the <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/73497" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
</div>
</div>
<div style="clear: both;">
</div>
<a class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink" href="https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/73497">Enter to win</a>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-81217540392540457432013-08-27T08:10:00.001-07:002013-08-27T12:33:42.440-07:00Another chance to win on Goodreads- it's giveaway time!!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>To celebrate these last dog days of summer we thought we'd go ahead and giveaway another paperback copy of Saurimonde on Goodreads. Follow the link below for your chance to win!</b></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
</h2>
<div style="float: left;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244"><img alt="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" src="http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1368323800l/17907244.jpg" title="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" width="100" /></a>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0 0 0 110px !important; padding: 0 0 0 0 !important;">
<h3 style="font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px; margin: 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244">Saurimonde</a>
</h3>
<h4 style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0 0 10px; padding: 0;">
by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5822220.Melissa_St_Hilaire" style="text-decoration: none;">Melissa St. Hilaire</a>
</h4>
<div class="giveaway_details">
Giveaway ends September 04, 2013.
<br />
See the <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/63446" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
</div>
</div>
<div style="clear: both;">
</div>
<a class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink" href="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/63446">Enter to win</a>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>
Want to know more about Saurimonde? Then take a peek at our teaser trailer:</b></span></div>
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/DCvFnEa6zec" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Or check out the synopsis below:</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.078125px;">Like a bird in a gilded cage, Saurimonde is trapped between a brutally abusive husband, Gilles, who treats her like a possession, and a lover whose name she doesn't even know. The only thing she longs for is an escape. But to where? She should have been more careful in what she wished for because the day Gilles spies her and her lover together is her last mortal one. With the aid of the local wise woman, Elazki, Gilles gets his hands on a dangerous ancient potion. He figures out the perfect way to serve it to her – cooked into her lover's heart. One bite has dire consequences.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.078125px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 22.078125px;">Left for dead by her husband at the river's edge, Saurimonde awakens to a whole new existence. Now she has become a part of the river itself. Days are spent in erotic encounters with unwary passers-by. Nights are spent in predatory pleasure, feasting on those she has seduced. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.078125px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 22.078125px;">As the body count begins to rise in the village, Gilles starts to suspect his wife is still alive. He enlists the help of Elazki, who has secrets of her own, and her darkly handsome nephew, Sordel. Newly returned after being banished by his magus master in the black lands, Sordel unknowingly holds the key to all their fates. One will die, one will wish they were dead, and the other will fulfill their destiny.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.078125px;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 22.078125px;">Danger awaits them at every turn as they enter a realm where nothing is as it seems. Each will be forced to make terrible sacrifices. Will they be able to break the spell and stop the beautiful demonic creature Saurimonde has become? Can they possibly save her? Or will they too find a brutal death beneath the deep dark waters...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.078125px;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWLDQqJJoQd-ED4NdM6iS13V00FLJD7TJF22e2miSoYqvPGfcMdktjB1PvXJVpgpH5HEPl9cd1wvsX7zutpngmgdAPaOgiSHB_Xo1S3ZbK-qMBo6hGNpXOPreU7VyZZJCb74uCNWkO8s/s1600/chapter-flourish-merged.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUWLDQqJJoQd-ED4NdM6iS13V00FLJD7TJF22e2miSoYqvPGfcMdktjB1PvXJVpgpH5HEPl9cd1wvsX7zutpngmgdAPaOgiSHB_Xo1S3ZbK-qMBo6hGNpXOPreU7VyZZJCb74uCNWkO8s/s1600/chapter-flourish-merged.png" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 22.390625px;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.390625px;">Think this roller coaster of a novel might be right up your alley? Then head on over to Goodreads and enter! </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.390625px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.390625px;">The contest runs until September 4th.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.390625px;"><br /></span>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.390625px;"><b>We wish you all the very best of luck! xxx</b></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-69778782501201006402013-08-24T09:17:00.002-07:002013-08-24T10:11:28.652-07:00Latest review is pretty damn amazing!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">"With Saurimonde being my first taste of the dark fantasy/horror/paranormal romance genre—I couldn’t resist the taunting dare in the blurb—I cannot compare it to similar works. So this review is not that of an “expert” but of a casual passerby, lured by other common causes with one of the authors, Scarlett Amaris, and an abiding curiosity about books that fall, however loosely, into the wide spectrum of literature that might be classified as “visionary fiction.” The stylized Playboy cover with its promise of titillation, I admit, also helped me, an older male with otherwise less flamboyant reading habits, open the door and walk into the authors’ foreboding den of dreamy fairytale, explicit sexuality, and shudder-inducing evil perpetrated not only by Gilles, an over-the-top caricature of the domineering and lecherous husband, but also by the beautiful and sensual Saurimonde, of whom we’d least expect such.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">First observation: it’s a page turner. While I often struggle through the last hour of the day allotted to reading, evenings with Saurimonde always shot right past my bedtime. Perhaps it was a combination of the story’s surface simplicity, the breezy language (the use of modern slang in a medieval setting did take some adjustment), and lavish imagination that propelled me into that magical zone beyond the ticking clock. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">But beyond the entertainment and stimulation provided by the strong dose of sex and mayhem, there was a subtle sense of something a lot deeper. However, unlike some books in which the intended message is made annoyingly explicit—You, dear reader, are likely too dumb to get it right, so I’m going to spell it out for you—Saurimonde just left me wondering. My imagination was awakened to fantastic possibilities on several levels, not unlike the effect of the timeless classical fairy tale, the prototype for all visionary fiction. Now that’s pretty high magic for any book to achieve. Highly recommended—if you dare." - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/review/R7P3T75WWTAEG/ref=cm_cr_pr_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=1484132300&linkCode=&nodeID=&tag=" target="_blank">Victor Smith</a>.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Thank you so much Vic for the thoughtful and thorough review! </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Check out the <a href="http://www.saurimonde.com/p/where-to-buy.html" target="_blank">Where to Buy</a> section of this blog to order your copy of Saurimonde now!</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">Have you seen the new video yet? Take a look below and let us know what you think...</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #181818; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"><br /></span><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/DCvFnEa6zec" width="560"></iframe></span></div>
Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-39607175217534183782013-08-10T13:26:00.000-07:002013-08-10T13:26:55.588-07:00Saurimonde teaser videoPsst... Have you seen this yet? You really should give it a look because it's kind of fabulous. It's the new teaser trailer for Saurimonde which gives a little taste of what the book it all about. You say you haven't read it yet? Then watch the trailer and decide whether or not we can entice you to enter this realm and give it a read. You might be shocked and possibly titillated, but we guarantee you won't be bored... Promise...<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/DCvFnEa6zec" width="560"></iframe>Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-41392551567860092612013-07-27T11:20:00.002-07:002013-07-27T11:20:27.697-07:00Goodreads Book Giveaway<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
5 more days to enter to win a paperback copy of Saurimonde on Goodreads!<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/" target="_new">Goodreads</a> Book Giveaway
</h2>
<div style="float: left;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244"><img alt="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" src="http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1368323800l/17907244.jpg" title="Saurimonde by Melissa St. Hilaire" width="100" /></a>
</div>
<div style="margin: 0 0 0 110px !important; padding: 0 0 0 0 !important;">
<h3 style="font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 20px; margin: 0; padding: 0;">
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17907244">Saurimonde</a>
</h3>
<h4 style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0 0 10px; padding: 0;">
by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5822220.Melissa_St_Hilaire" style="text-decoration: none;">Melissa St. Hilaire</a>
</h4>
<div class="giveaway_details">
Giveaway ends August 01, 2013.
<br />
See the <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/60143" style="text-decoration: none;">giveaway details</a>
at Goodreads.
</div>
</div>
<div style="clear: both;">
</div>
<a class="goodreadsGiveawayWidgetEnterLink" href="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/enter_choose_address/60143">Enter to win</a>
</div>
</div>
<script charset="utf-8" src="http://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/widget/60143" type="text/javascript"></script>
Don't worry if you don't win, we have more contests brewing in the cauldron...<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
Melissa<br />
L. A.</div>
Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-48371291676502886662013-05-10T16:07:00.000-07:002013-05-13T17:41:23.433-07:00From Where the Worlds Touch - the writing of Saurimonde part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJMwjIazLtfhDZKXRYi09LtA9bE1eAWN_kbSXX1bwCbvPmLLR5pZtvpcAvu-qOcNMpXg19F30ZwbUqoTmWTpsXjMWutoH5WYkgb5mJToBXwkcTvc1bhVerewbQ_IBgADzmmVM0eYf5ZQ/s1600/793711_10200341458838228_2023381704_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJMwjIazLtfhDZKXRYi09LtA9bE1eAWN_kbSXX1bwCbvPmLLR5pZtvpcAvu-qOcNMpXg19F30ZwbUqoTmWTpsXjMWutoH5WYkgb5mJToBXwkcTvc1bhVerewbQ_IBgADzmmVM0eYf5ZQ/s640/793711_10200341458838228_2023381704_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Telling my strange tale to the camera for the documentary, <i>'The Otherworld</i>', in the ancient settlements at the chateau du Montsegur.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Coming
off of filming the documentary '</span><i style="font-family: inherit;">The Otherworld</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">' (which is a feature
length documentary directed by Richard Stanley, co-written by me, filmed by Karim Hussain, and produced by Metaluna Productions, about the myths,
legends and high weirdness associated with the Aude and Ariege
regions in the south of France. It features some of our research and
couple of my more fantastical anecdotes) I knew I wanted to write a
erotic fantasy book. After writing so many horror scripts and doing
tons of translating and in-depth esoteric research, I really wanted
the chance to let my imagination run wild and hear my own voice,
writing wise, a little louder. To spread my literary wings so to
speak.</span><br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRn6qOTzPueilFb5qSsVSkO6LJAo2UOrikDy-tXuAQ7f9bZKmd3A2Hs3utAvkU_cXojrt1swCloagg2j_pHXlyI9nQRW5N7f5Kfjs7syGCKBEGCEc2ak5ldzN3PV6IZqYRw6PSDB_xk3Y/s1600/sept01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRn6qOTzPueilFb5qSsVSkO6LJAo2UOrikDy-tXuAQ7f9bZKmd3A2Hs3utAvkU_cXojrt1swCloagg2j_pHXlyI9nQRW5N7f5Kfjs7syGCKBEGCEc2ak5ldzN3PV6IZqYRw6PSDB_xk3Y/s640/sept01.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In sunshine and shadow... Montsegur, the castle of dreams.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">The
first place I encountered Saurimonde was in Maurice Magre's, <i>'Return
of the Magi</i>' (1931), on my first visit to the French Pyrenees many
years ago, <i>"the solitary Saurimonde, the inspired prophetess of
the Mazamet district, who went naked as in the days when the world
was born, because her soul was as bright as the sun she invoked.</i>” I
mean, who wouldn't love a woman like that? The Pyrenean mountains are
chock full of secrets and legends. It's a place somewhere out of time
where the past and the present walk hand in hand. Magic still lives,
breaths and resounds within its ancient peaks and valleys. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">So
Saurimonde had been spinning around in my head for a couple of years
more in an abstract manner than anything else, but there's a
resonance to her name that always stuck with me. And sometime late
last winter I have the vaguest memory of sitting by the fire and
sketching out the first details for the opening of the story (which
was very different back then). I believe I was working on a very
dense piece at the time about decoding some of the symbols at the
Cathedral de Notre Dame in Paris according to Fulcanelli's book, '<i>The
Mystery of the Cathedral's</i>' (1922), and was writing ideas for the
story of Saurimonde as a mental break from hardcore alchemical
overload. I kept these musings in a notebook along with the thousands
of other mental notes I've written over the last few years.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">One
warm night last summer I took out the notebook and started in earnest
to put together an outline and the story just sort of blossomed from
there. But I knew this was something I wasn't ready to do alone so I
invited my friend Melissa St. Hilaire onto the project with me and to
my relief she accepted. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1dmmabxhojkEBQtIRr3xtocAhZZjyvNl28_rVZQ6rwueFyhuWlnyH94vB7dGCesKrRx0xmonzMVs_xtd4MU5guOg9H7utOKisiLk_5VHEBuB14sqn_4I5aTWuQH_I_535tg7GeeO12U/s1600/322387_2199466714307_5581491_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1dmmabxhojkEBQtIRr3xtocAhZZjyvNl28_rVZQ6rwueFyhuWlnyH94vB7dGCesKrRx0xmonzMVs_xtd4MU5guOg9H7utOKisiLk_5VHEBuB14sqn_4I5aTWuQH_I_535tg7GeeO12U/s640/322387_2199466714307_5581491_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Myself and Melissa the last time we went to Malibu. These things happen...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">Melissa and I have worked together many times
before building websites, making images, and roughing out script
ideas. I knew we had very similar tastes in fantasy literature, and I
knew she had the writing chops for the job and that she'd remain
upbeat throughout the process, but also would interject if things
were taking a left turn to nowhere. I like having someone to write
with and bounce ideas of off. Writing is a solitary business and all
of us get a little crazy if we're locked inside our thoughts for
extended periods of time. Having people that you trust to be a fresh
pair of eyes and ears is crucial for any kind of creative endeavour.
For me personally, and I know this sounds childish, but I need
deadlines and just knowing there is someone out there waiting on you
to get those pages in is motivation enough for me to get my ass in
gear and get down to business. This is especially true of a first
book as I really had no idea of the ride I was in for.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">Summer
was really easy as it was the beginning of the narrative tree where
stories can go anywhere. The sun was shining and I'd take the
notebook out to the high meadows and write and sunbath and then come
back later and transcribe. I took long walks up the Lasset (which is
the river which snakes down from the Lake of the Devil, through the
Reboule and onwards through Montsegur) and sit on the river banks,
staring at the water to get a feel for my characters. I rode on
horseback through the forests pretending I was Sordel. Butterflies
would land on my pen and not leave. Often I would lose track of time
and become pink all over with sunburn. There were many little
anecdotes that went into the story. I stayed with it day after day
until the characters started to take shape and I could hear them
beginning to talk to me (and no, I'm not schizophrenic, I prefer to
think of this ability as 'a gift', rather than a particular form of
madness). </span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuP8muW-Ov14LjmtOJLgMNXbd4wJkVvpUPq9AbTDhtSHjISMId8O1w-nfTXQPqZuF9b3pMzUIzrk0hR1vTWMV2DsRsgaJWkQphP1qucVird6eIFcweRZ9QmNWnYETHY7yDsluj45dZ824/s1600/28602_1445984677727_6592980_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuP8muW-Ov14LjmtOJLgMNXbd4wJkVvpUPq9AbTDhtSHjISMId8O1w-nfTXQPqZuF9b3pMzUIzrk0hR1vTWMV2DsRsgaJWkQphP1qucVird6eIFcweRZ9QmNWnYETHY7yDsluj45dZ824/s640/28602_1445984677727_6592980_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Not all those who wander are lost..." J.R.R. Tolkien (photo by Richard Stanley).</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">But it was not the easiest of summers either. There was a
lot of personal tension and strife in my life and I poured that
emotion out onto the page. It was a relief to have somewhere to put
it. Anger is an energy, sadness is an energy, regret is an energy,
redemption is an energy and love is an energy. Like any personal
work, the story is dotted with my own personal pathology in places. I
know what it's like to feel conflicted and to feel love and hate
about a person or situation at the same time. I think the essence of
this would be best described as 'bitter sweet'. But this is what a
lot of emotions and memories are made of and it's this ability to
feel a vast array of things that makes us human. I don't personally
enjoy conflict although I won't run from it either, but I like it in
my characters. I like them to be a mix of things both good and bad
and to be confronted with choices that are neither morally right or
wrong, but that go against their personal creed, and opens up some
facet within them that makes them view the world in a different way.
Take Gilles for example, he was a fairly easy character to write
because he was so obviously the bad guy, and like most villains even
though he's a complete bastard I liked his quirks. I didn't approve
of the way he did things or how vicious he was, but I can't say I 100
percent hated him either and in writing his scenes, I was always
curious to see where he'd go because there were no limits on his
badness – not even necrophilia! Even though reprehensible he's
still entertaining. I don't know why it's so much easier for me to
write bad guys rather than heroes and I'm certain a psychoanalyst
will have a field day with me someday.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciTICsnzgNw_wKZmbC9c_KOOT24unXeaDFoz5YVOleXx21If6_eCaa969tWFLY0_ZoMAOYGVg8UmK9lqbhhBRNhALb1JPHzdRRt-ZwDa5-0xJaZlfPaqj62Vq6nXGgYzZqXLQ-1g5yx8/s1600/14634_1256653184558_7847612_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgciTICsnzgNw_wKZmbC9c_KOOT24unXeaDFoz5YVOleXx21If6_eCaa969tWFLY0_ZoMAOYGVg8UmK9lqbhhBRNhALb1JPHzdRRt-ZwDa5-0xJaZlfPaqj62Vq6nXGgYzZqXLQ-1g5yx8/s640/14634_1256653184558_7847612_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mists of the Mount de la Frau and the view from my window.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">As
the shadows grew longer, the writing became harder. I had scripts to
doctor and a film to keep a vague eye on and throw my two cents in
while it was being edited. There were small patches of days when I
got a chance to work on nothing but the book, but it was rare. I would try and get whatever I could down in the morning
before scriptwriting duties, but I was usually pretty foggy and it
takes me some time to get into the flow of things. Like Saurimonde, I
don't like staring at a blank canvas and will balk for a while, not
knowing where to start. There was also the fact that I'd never
written a full novel before and there were times I'd deviate off the
structure and then have to rethink the whole thing. But little by
little it started to fall together, although not in prolific amounts, it was enough to keep me going.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">The
winter snows came into the valley shutting out the rest of the world
and I spent a good part of it locked up in my one warm room in this
16</span><sup><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">
century icebox. When the spring festival came to Montsegur I saw some
of the other villagers for the first time all winter and they asked me how my vacation was. No one had seen me so they all assumed
I'd headed for warmer climates. I told them I'd been here all winter
writing and working and they smiled politely and looked at me in a
slightly confused manner. But this is pretty normal as they aren't
quite sure what it is I do besides help make movies and string words
together. And to be honest, my conversational French is remedial at the best of times.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">Then
suddenly one day a few weeks ago. It was finished. Well, almost
finished. There was that pesky little thing called editing but we
won't talk about that as my head still hurts just thinking about it.
I almost failed copy-editing in Journalism school and to say I suck
at it royally is being polite. Of course there's been no time to
celebrate as I'm hip deep in writing another horror script and this
one is based on the kaballah. Although fun, like all original scripts
it's a lot of work, but, hey, there are much worse ways to make a
living.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2VH2HICAoYi09204Be6vPiIlP1Ivx8rUXNJLUXLRz3kByixawaWZeTqGlPaf-l60w8_M2aL38Z-WHywBNVqOF0xe7EeoJZIMW3tuSYK09aI6R8wDAJLWfE5rCPTVOYBFZbWc7db8f7k/s1600/323672_2399957126442_270770990_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix2VH2HICAoYi09204Be6vPiIlP1Ivx8rUXNJLUXLRz3kByixawaWZeTqGlPaf-l60w8_M2aL38Z-WHywBNVqOF0xe7EeoJZIMW3tuSYK09aI6R8wDAJLWfE5rCPTVOYBFZbWc7db8f7k/s640/323672_2399957126442_270770990_o.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the battlement where I would sit and write until the sun went down.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">I'll
end this here before I go on another digression. Linear thinking was
never my forte, but I live off the grid and outside the box and I
prefer it that way. I think I'll put together a list of some of the
stuff that inspired the story as the weather is bad (as in snow in
April bad - can you believe that! Thank you Mother Nature!). I've
already put a dossier together of the legends, but there were other
books and authors who were along for the journey and lots and lots of
music. And art, I shouldn't forget art as used this to get myself
motivated on certain days when I was lagging. I'd look around for
images to inspire me (and firmly tell myself I was not trolling the internet
– I was working!) because it all helps at the end of the day. Maybe
I'll gather together a few pics of the places I was writing from.
Montsegur is known as the 'grail castle' or the 'castle of dreams'
because of its history, but its story is bitter sweet as well and full of
beauty and tragedy. I completely forgot until now I spent a few
nights writing up in the castle, watching the sun set and only
stopping when the light completely faded. The last time I did so last
summer there was a meteorite shower and I was the only person on the
mountain in the ruins of the castle to witness it. Watching the reign
of shooting stars from those heights made it feel like they were
falling directly into the soul of the mountain and like if I reached
up high enough I could easily catch one in my hand. It was one of the
most visually ecstatic experiences of my whole life and, hell yeah, I made
a lot of wishes that night. </span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOE4Uu2W0HNszbl8WMQvKLs8UK_E8oNagFSrX0LSW1CMKt9o99OADAZveSPOVwvcLiTMjpPYrOwy76Hv2tPkm2J1-cE76zzn-yiHkXsmBtMc45WLSWgYRx3LKsrowiijh-r-sTGBMZQQ/s1600/539143_4460101348760_407557789_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOE4Uu2W0HNszbl8WMQvKLs8UK_E8oNagFSrX0LSW1CMKt9o99OADAZveSPOVwvcLiTMjpPYrOwy76Hv2tPkm2J1-cE76zzn-yiHkXsmBtMc45WLSWgYRx3LKsrowiijh-r-sTGBMZQQ/s400/539143_4460101348760_407557789_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The morning after...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">The next morning was the most intense and
blazing sunrise I have ever witnessed. Just watching it was like
being reborn in fire and if you know anything of the history of this
place then you'll understand the relevance of this phrase.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">Okay,
I really mean it this time, I'm stopping here.</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">Much
love from where the worlds touch,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">S. - xx</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">Scarlett
Amaris.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">Montsegur,
April 5</span><sup><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;">,
2013</span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-Lp0FTJ0w6ansWySQoKbjvuSoCbozeL6nDIDL4ZD3Twd4Y503dvI1HjqT2QBbNdc8YYPW8k-MkeNCKDCCpl0JEhpRRn7gCJdq3HLZ-0Uj3H9Su1sW0wcsc2LfCmohTF-flNlf1nzsMw/s1600/_MG_5944cr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7-Lp0FTJ0w6ansWySQoKbjvuSoCbozeL6nDIDL4ZD3Twd4Y503dvI1HjqT2QBbNdc8YYPW8k-MkeNCKDCCpl0JEhpRRn7gCJdq3HLZ-0Uj3H9Su1sW0wcsc2LfCmohTF-flNlf1nzsMw/s320/_MG_5944cr.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(photo by Jan Pierre Texier)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT, serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-9854733215365509112013-05-10T16:06:00.000-07:002013-05-10T16:06:48.887-07:00From the City of Angels - the writing of Saurimonde part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It’s funny how sometimes the collective unconscious can seemingly conspire to collide two like minds in an effort to create something new to share with all humankind.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DdniSNK2FVU/UWcSW1paNSI/AAAAAAACGyw/FgOsLDEnWeE/s1600/c7f111d08a0f11e2957722000a1f9a39_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DdniSNK2FVU/UWcSW1paNSI/AAAAAAACGyw/FgOsLDEnWeE/s1600/c7f111d08a0f11e2957722000a1f9a39_7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Pacific Ocean from El Matador State Beach, Malibu, CA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Last summer my book group (that I haven’t been to in ages and feel terrible about but I’ve been neck deep in writing, editing, and doing research which leaves zero time to read other stuff) read that 50 Shades of Grey book by E.L. James. In fact, I think that’s the last book I read, or tried to read, with the group. See, I got about, oh, maybe a quarter of the way through but I couldn’t force myself to finish it. Not because of the explicit sex. Rather because that whole corporate environment was a huge turnoff to me. Suits do nothing for me. I was completely repelled by the whole mise en scen. So, I put it aside and picked up A Game of Thrones instead, which suited me so much more...<br />
<br />
However, as I was reading I began to recall something a friend had mentioned a few months, perhaps even a year, earlier. Scarlett and I were lounging by the pool outside my apartment under the harsh Southern California sun, swaying palm trees, and lush fuchsia bougainvillea spilling over the fence during a much needed break from either designing her website or outlining my Castaneda script when she mentioned that she had an idea to write something of which she felt there wasn't enough: goth erotica. I was immediately intrigued.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RgHPhNwDCBQ/UWcUjaCD31I/AAAAAAACGy8/UfUDa3k_6R8/s1600/428d819253b211e29b6422000a1c00c6_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RgHPhNwDCBQ/UWcUjaCD31I/AAAAAAACGy8/UfUDa3k_6R8/s1600/428d819253b211e29b6422000a1c00c6_7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Searching the seemingly infinite horizon for inspiration...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I’d read a smattering of what, I suppose, could be considered erotica over the years like Anne Rice’s Exit to Eden and the Sookie Stackhouse series (which, I know, isn’t exactly erotica but it gets pretty steamy at points), but few romance type novels ever appealed to me. However, I’m a sucker for anything goth or dark, occult or supernatural, fantasy or horror. Her idea had all those elements.<br />
<br />
So, fast forward about a year to me just having put down 50 Shades of Grey and diving into Game of Thrones, when a light bulb went off in my mind and I sent Scarlett an email saying, “Maybe it's time for your goth erotica?” and she wrote back, “Maybe it is time to dust off the Saurimonde stories - wanna help me write them????”<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QvKc4B8L9_A/UWcVdc4KgzI/AAAAAAACGzA/7bfW1TQynyk/s1600/1bec4102810011e18cf91231380fd29b_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QvKc4B8L9_A/UWcVdc4KgzI/AAAAAAACGzA/7bfW1TQynyk/s1600/1bec4102810011e18cf91231380fd29b_7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exploring the California desert</td></tr>
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Of course I said yes despite the fact that I was knee deep in a rewrite for the Castaneda script, but I had hit a wall there because I needed to do more research and desperately desired a fun distraction to cleanse my palate. What could possibly be more fun than a bodice-ripping, gore-filled, supernatural erotic fiction series? So, I set aside the script and dove head first into the world of Saurimonde. A world of real heartbreak and betrayal, flirtation and lust, demons and witches, heroes and villains, love and death. I traversed these intensely emotional scapes alongside Scarlett exploring the nature of human sexuality while delving into deeply personal experiences and twisted fantasies.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SOdKETkY9rw/UWcVvkPp6nI/AAAAAAACGzI/B7rUavTkwck/s1600/0c0a4db083a211e28d7d22000a1f981a_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SOdKETkY9rw/UWcVvkPp6nI/AAAAAAACGzI/B7rUavTkwck/s1600/0c0a4db083a211e28d7d22000a1f981a_7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hiking the trails of Griffith Park</td></tr>
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Sometimes, however, nothing came. No words. The muse slept. So, I scoured the internet seeking inspiration while listening to my Saurimonde playlist on Spotify. Or drove to Malibu to stare at the seemingly endless horizon of the great Pacific Ocean, silently calling to the universe for ideas. Or I’d head east to the desert to watch the stars, always hoping to catch a shooting star or, better yet, a spaceship. Other times I’d disappear into the Los Angeles forest or Griffith Park to listen to the trees whisper in the breeze waiting for the words to come like pictures in my mind. Mini-movies only I can see and hear. Always building off Scarlett’s detailed outline and carefully crafted character descriptions until those characters became me and I them and they crept into my dreams at night.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tbfg9ZHkgJM/UWcWDAB-SFI/AAAAAAACGzQ/fa_vzY1Anyg/s1600/ac494ea4e4c211e1974722000a1cf70e_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Tbfg9ZHkgJM/UWcWDAB-SFI/AAAAAAACGzQ/fa_vzY1Anyg/s1600/ac494ea4e4c211e1974722000a1cf70e_7.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When the forest is my office...</td></tr>
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And now it is finished. Well, almost, I’m still halfway through the final edit as I type this, but it’s so close and by the time this blog is posted it shall be done to be released to the wild, to the world for all to experience, for you.<br />
<br />
Welcome to Saurimonde: Do you dare to go there?<br />
<br />
Cheers,<br />
<br />
Melissa S.<br />
City of Angels, April 6th, 2013<br />
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-12997896681740285362013-05-04T09:51:00.001-07:002013-05-04T09:51:43.216-07:00Introducing Saurimonde... the Painting by Michele Bigler<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8mv8LuY0ik/UYIgqVx2mAI/AAAAAAACKZY/5kmR09C5j5Q/s1600/saurimonde-original-by-mb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Z8mv8LuY0ik/UYIgqVx2mAI/AAAAAAACKZY/5kmR09C5j5Q/s400/saurimonde-original-by-mb.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Saurimonde by Michele Bigler, 2013</i></td></tr>
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As I write this, the Sunshine soundtrack plays in my ears mixed with the sounds of chirping birds, leafblowers, and planes far overhead. The sun shines brightly warming my skin while I sit on my porch contemplating Saurimonde's cover that I just sent to Scarlett for review. We're so close. Just a few more tweaks. But something is still off...<br />
<br />
I lift my face to the sky and a wild humming bird suddenly appears as if out of nowhere hovering over my recently blossomed basil plant (an omen?) and it feels like only yesterday that we began discussing a cover yet at the same time it feels like a lifetime ago. Time is funny that way...<br />
<br />
When we first started talking book covers, there was one thing we knew for certain, we wanted it to have an organic feel to it more like a painting rather than straight graphic design and we both wanted original artwork. Scarlett mentioned that a friend of hers, Michele, was a painter and that I should check out her stuff on Facebook. So I clicked on Michele’s album and immediately agreed she was the one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SSW0OCE8psQ/UYIalRQvRWI/AAAAAAACKYs/o8CZ5txjSIc/s1600/IMG_20130324_194450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SSW0OCE8psQ/UYIalRQvRWI/AAAAAAACKYs/o8CZ5txjSIc/s400/IMG_20130324_194450.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sketch of Saurimonde</i></td></tr>
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Michele sent us a handful of sketches, we chose our favorite, then we got our first scan of Saurimonde and she was perfect. Or so we thought until we realized there may be some censorship issues... So we toyed with a few ideas but ultimately decided the best thing would be for Michele to paint in some jewelry to cover up the "offending" nipple (and hopefully that will be the end of that and this cover will pass - as of right now we don’t know yet). I thought the repaint was expertly done and the necklace exquisite (I kinda want one like it in real life).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EM_O2xbeNC8/UYIhCyaicrI/AAAAAAACKZg/KhG1RkL_ScM/s1600/saurimonde-necklace-by-mb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="283" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EM_O2xbeNC8/UYIhCyaicrI/AAAAAAACKZg/KhG1RkL_ScM/s400/saurimonde-necklace-by-mb.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Saurimonde with Necklace</i></td></tr>
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Now if only we could have left the cover as is, but we had to add text and make it fit certain guidelines... Thankfully, Scarlett and I have experience with book cover design. Independently, I’ve been doing graphic design for over a decade, then I met Scarlett in 2008 and since we’ve designed multiple websites, posters, and book covers together. Scarlett is excellent at envisioning striking visuals and I use the tools at my disposal to help turn those visions into reality as best I can. It’s not always easy - what you see in your head doesn’t always work on paper or screen, but patience and taking risks are key.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/119/6/a/in_the_now_by_katonicmiss-d4y0uwv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2012/119/6/a/in_the_now_by_katonicmiss-d4y0uwv.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>In The Now by Melissa St. Hilaire;<br />I needed a book cover but was struggling with ideas,<br />Scarlett mentioned a scene in the book saying it might make for a good visual,<br />that gave me direction for the rest of the cover as above.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://d35ign5bym3li55a.businesscatalyst.com/images/doc-road2perd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://d35ign5bym3li55a.businesscatalyst.com/images/doc-road2perd.jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>L'Autre Monde un film de Richard Stanley;<br />Of all the designs I've worked on, the above poster is one of my favorites.<br />Richard, Scarlett, & I worked tirelessly on it.</i></td></tr>
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To make the actual cover, we had to lay in text, which means choosing the right font(s) and color(s), as well as creating a back cover with space for a summary and barcode. Additionally, all the elements should flow and have balance.<br />
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Scarlett scoured the internet for possible fonts while I read countless articles and blogs on choosing fonts for book covers. We perused various novel covers, choosing ones with elements we liked, as well as a multitude of imagery from myriad sources. We finally settled on a rich golden design for the back that wraps around the spine and front cover framing Michele’s painting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xOHhNKJcP3Q/UYQj0ESbuYI/AAAAAAACKaA/tGjEVEKMO5A/s1600/Saurimonde_BookCover_back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xOHhNKJcP3Q/UYQj0ESbuYI/AAAAAAACKaA/tGjEVEKMO5A/s400/Saurimonde_BookCover_back.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Back Cover & Spine with Blurb in Garamond</i></td></tr>
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After a few trials and errors, we agreed on a combination of Trajan and Allura for the fonts.* Trajan is a fairly common book cover font and it’s easy to see why - it’s simple yet elegant and is easy to read as a thumbnail without getting too blocky full size, while Allura’s more free flowing style nicely compliments the more formal Trajan. (*With the back cover blurb in Garamond for easy readability.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lJpIorFhH-I/UYQkB3ac5uI/AAAAAAACKaI/zt19-v8u1FQ/s1600/Saurimonde_BookCover_front.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lJpIorFhH-I/UYQkB3ac5uI/AAAAAAACKaI/zt19-v8u1FQ/s400/Saurimonde_BookCover_front.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Front Cover & Spine with Trajan & Allura fonts</i></td></tr>
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Lastly we needed a color palette. We decided upon using Botticelli's The Birth of Venus, as we had already chosen a couple coinciding colors and, seriously, what better inspiration for a romance cover than the birth of the goddess of love and beauty?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7MBMdjhnEUc/UYIbn2Q6HqI/AAAAAAACKY8/t4NCFbt2K_0/s1600/1-botticelli_venus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7MBMdjhnEUc/UYIbn2Q6HqI/AAAAAAACKY8/t4NCFbt2K_0/s400/1-botticelli_venus.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Birth of Venus (Italian: Nascita di Venere) by Sandro Botticelli, 1486</i></td></tr>
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<br />
Melissa S.<br />
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Los Angeles, May 1st, 2013</div>
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Melissa St. Hilairehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01714891443433505121noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6786534687953933599.post-17341882539917252292013-05-04T09:02:00.000-07:002013-05-04T09:28:51.199-07:00Introducing Saurimonde... the Painting by Michele - part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I asked my old friend,
and former room mate, Michele Bigler, if she'd be interested in
coming up with the cover artwork for <i>'Saurimonde</i>'. I've always been a
fan of her drawing and her ladies are the best. It's hard to draw
sexy ladies and Michele always nails it. When we were in art school
together I was pea green with envy over her ability to draw anything
straight out of her head and it was always amazing: Monsters, vamps,
dancing tea kettles, our other friends etc. I don't possess such
abilities, although I can paint decently if pushed. Michele and I
have a long history which spans back more years than I'll admit to.
We used to buy comic books together and ohh and ahh over the artwork
of Frank Frazetta, Vallejo, Bruce Pennington, Esteban Maroto and
Druillet. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyav40vW_UMkdN1AwNKr6VhAROOam58j-VzhGQ1FHTKehg-9aPuM2cg-QXuCfxG8Wd3g3ueAyCeOyANvjYHPXIIq4Z1WYOjFJ6wOQTgAk-PBsk_dbyyk9KHfzb4HNOCGCb4C0xjAHvbS4/s1600/frazetta283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyav40vW_UMkdN1AwNKr6VhAROOam58j-VzhGQ1FHTKehg-9aPuM2cg-QXuCfxG8Wd3g3ueAyCeOyANvjYHPXIIq4Z1WYOjFJ6wOQTgAk-PBsk_dbyyk9KHfzb4HNOCGCb4C0xjAHvbS4/s320/frazetta283.jpg" width="243" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ16RYJJYWdHZn0AWCfXkCorP8yqOlcc8w1Du21FwFWqXTOszk8mFeG9FEC0fP64Vtj-seM3Hbbo-vYL6xASJv1br2fj4wa8Vl1bhmOABp-H_jWjeemW3q66iNxUHQZ1eRMvBBfhtOJmY/s1600/bpenn02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ16RYJJYWdHZn0AWCfXkCorP8yqOlcc8w1Du21FwFWqXTOszk8mFeG9FEC0fP64Vtj-seM3Hbbo-vYL6xASJv1br2fj4wa8Vl1bhmOABp-H_jWjeemW3q66iNxUHQZ1eRMvBBfhtOJmY/s320/bpenn02.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frazetta, Pennington and Druillet.</td></tr>
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Michele introduced me to bands which I still listen to
today. We drank too much and caused mayhem wherever we went while
growing up in Chicago and Hollywood. Yes, indeed, we were bad girls
and we enjoyed being so to the fullest. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEu8ijrwaDlSE1D1994w9AaxBgk-b_3XCm0nL2VYm5nVe5oEDH7ZYlpQ8Mm_NpCmO9LfdTycnWeOdkL2GMnZMnSO5XcPLJZwXI4V_-8m7LLQ_F-65wlfAG9Amwa0balYQJ1wq5m5dpUck/s1600/458143_3252413639734_552992778_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEu8ijrwaDlSE1D1994w9AaxBgk-b_3XCm0nL2VYm5nVe5oEDH7ZYlpQ8Mm_NpCmO9LfdTycnWeOdkL2GMnZMnSO5XcPLJZwXI4V_-8m7LLQ_F-65wlfAG9Amwa0balYQJ1wq5m5dpUck/s320/458143_3252413639734_552992778_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scarlett & Michele - the baby goth years...</td></tr>
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I knew Michele could realize the
vague concept I had in my head. So I told her I wanted something like
a young, golden Claudia Cardinale from 'Once Upon a Time in the
West', but give her a slightly more fairyish aspect and make her more
like one of the ladies from the 'Slaine' comic book that we adored so
much as teenagers. I knew she would get me, and she did, perfectly. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU89j43tSJ0f9uHNWUrI1Hv9gCiunyj_D5GH9wP2WR88x0_yl_tB3atf-u8lFvkDafQ6nQocIbwaTO9zoflBCgWn_KzPvUqlTLIUxiFFep0dnCdUBZOKf-E5_m9r6IXBx0gHm3Smec3RA/s1600/IMG_20130401_183246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU89j43tSJ0f9uHNWUrI1Hv9gCiunyj_D5GH9wP2WR88x0_yl_tB3atf-u8lFvkDafQ6nQocIbwaTO9zoflBCgWn_KzPvUqlTLIUxiFFep0dnCdUBZOKf-E5_m9r6IXBx0gHm3Smec3RA/s400/IMG_20130401_183246.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Close up of 'Saurimonde' - uncensored and in the flesh...</td></tr>
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Melissa and I both agreed this was the image and then Melissa sent me
a mail reminding me of the nudity policy on Amazon. This was not
something which I'd considered before as I'd always pictured a naked
woman on the cover. So I gritted my teeth and asked Michele if she
could 'fix it' to hide the 'offensive' nipple, although I have to
admit this frustrates me as I don't believe the female form is ugly
in any sort of way, and I refuse to cooperate in a shame based
culture, but sometimes you have to play by the rules even if you
don't want to. Being naked is fun, but I'll write more about this
subject at a later date. Still, I'm over the moon with the results
and Melissa has done a heck of a job designing the website and the
cover with Michele's art work. I'm really lucky to have such talented
people around me. I love creating things. I love making stories and
movies, just as I love bringing people together to realize these
creative endeavors. It's a collective breath that brings these
visions to life, and for me that's one of the most exciting parts of
the process.<span id="goog_138149492"></span></div>
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Kudo's ladies to a job
brilliantly done!<br />
<br />
Much love from the misty mountains,<br />
<br />
S. - xx<br />
<br />
Scarlett Amaris- Montsegur, May 4, 2013</div>
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Scarlett Amarishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13553117259133724353noreply@blogger.com0