Pneumonia and Writing? May 17, 2024
Dear Reader,
I contracted pneumonia last weekend. Writing a serious post for this weekend simply hasn't been possible. Have you ever tried writing underwater? That's kind of what it feels like.
Allow me to share a few links to some of the creative things I pulled off while wheezing and coughing like a maniac.
Video Quotes
I created three new video quotes. I always post on YouTube, but I may consider posting these little snippet videos to other places and see what happens. These were fun to create when I could sit up for a bit. Why these? No one knows, but I enjoyed it and am toying with making a few more. Watch and let me know what you think.
Book Promotion
Druid Ancestry launched wide May 9, 2024. If you like your urban fantasy with steamy paranormal romance dark, this tale is the beginning of a new spinoff, dark and twisted miniseries in the Draoithe Saga. Now for sale everywhere quality stories are sold.
Shattered Souls, the last volume in the Mystic Dark Prequel Trilogy, launches May 22, 2024. If you love powerful magic wielding ghosts and sexy cursed damsels in distress, this trilogy has it all. Preorder now and read the stunning conclusion as soon as the book drops!
Sneak Peek at Devil's Sin - The Current Editing Project
Warning:
This is a work in progress and
is subject to change at any time.
Read at Your Own Risk!
Copyright 2024
All Rights Reserved.
His Truth or His Fantasy
Daniel
He walked into the cave, avoiding the areas humans seemed to prefer. It had been a long trek to make it back after he broke free of the box Rothstein left him in. He was so tired and weak.
The sun made the voices of chaos vile. He wasn’t sure how much time passed. He had food and clothes. There was water deep inside to bathe. He’d brought containers to fill for drinking. He’d hide for a while if he could.
Once he found something truly good in a cave inside the dark. That was long ago and far away.
He thought the memory was true. That the woman had a name made it feel true. He had no hope of ever finding anything like Amelia Sainte again if she’d ever truly existed.
He was no good. Leaving her loveliness behind was the only hope he had to avoid ruining her with his affliction.
The cave wasn’t the same as the blackest black of the Dorcha, but it was all he ever got. It was the best he could hope for.
The voices bothered him. They whispered lies, violence, death, and destruction. He was too weak to heed them.
They’d gotten progressively worse all summer. Daniel felt sure he’d done something awful this time. He hadn’t seen it. There were no images in his head, only manic laughter.
He’d signed papers. Daniel forgot what for. He only knew it was the wrong dragon. The wrong dragon for what?
What the hell had he been doing? Daniel didn’t know. Chaos ruled him far more easily in the summer as the centuries passed.
Humans would call his dilemma a psychotic break. He wasn’t human. He was a devil from the Dorcha. His magic afflicted his mind.
He’d stay in the cave forever if he could, but the need for food drove him out of his sanctuary every single time. He’d get a few days of respite, perhaps as much as a few weeks.
Daniel would soak up the silent dark and try to make it back before the chaos took his mind. Sometimes he managed it. Other times, he wasn’t so lucky.
Daniel tried not to remember the blood, the violence, the chaos. The weight of his crimes only became heavier with each day. They trapped him with no way out that he could achieve alone.
He should reach out to Lysander. Chaos refused him every time he tried. Besides, they locked Lysander in the Dorcha. How could he help?
How many times had he tried to return to the Dorcha? He lost count long ago. He couldn’t go home, and his mind remained shattered.
He missed Lysander Chevalier. His partner would have helped him. Lysander would have held his magic, so he didn’t lose his mind to the Chaos.
Meid Breach hadn’t understood. Amelia Sainte had understood if she was real and not a figment of his deranged imagination. It no longer mattered. Had it ever mattered?
The dream had changed. Humans overpopulated the Leaindeail. He avoided them when he could.
It had also stayed the same. The immortals still mostly hid in their enclaves and castles. It was the immortals he targeted.
He was charismatic and an evil liar when the Chaos controlled him. The Renaissance warrior he’d once been no longer existed except as a twisted memory. He hated that. As much as he’d despised the ridiculous snobbishness of the cultural elite that had been the devils of the Dorcha, he also missed his home and the beautiful surroundings he’d once taken for granted.
He’d once been an accomplished illusionist, and Daniel had excellently wielded his magic. His friends had applauded him at parties and galas. In that dark cave, which wasn’t quite dark enough, he knew if he had no magic, he’d be happier.
Daniel still functioned, sort of. He didn’t starve, and he had clothes. In the dark, he still kept up with his arms practice. Or rather, he followed the basic forms.
He lied to himself that he was still as skilled as he’d always been. He wasn’t, or the wizard wouldn’t always best him. Still, no human could take him unawares.
Lysander would have kicked his ass soundly, though. Danny smiled at that thought. His midnight rider warhorse partner would never have accepted his current pitiful situation.
Somehow, losing his oldest friend weighed on him the most. Maybe even more than the loss of the possibly nonexistent beautiful red-haired Amelia. He wouldn’t think of her. She’d been in the grave for a long time.
He couldn’t go home. Lysander was a part of the past he could never get back. Like his brother, Lucifer, Lysander became a part of the past.
He’d become little more than a thief and a con. His honor had long since faded to nothing, allowing the delusions in his mind and the blackouts he suffered to hold sway.
Tainted and unclean, Daniel suffered mental derangement at least half the time he was awake. He longed for the camaraderie he’d once shared with Lysander, knowing with devastating hopelessness that he’d never have that again.
No. He’d never want his old friend to see how low he’d sunk. He didn’t want his older brother to see him as he was, either.
Daniel survived a miserable existence. He sure as hell wasn’t living. He was a long way from the field agent knight he’d once been. There was little hope that he’d ever become more than the foul creature he’d degenerated into.
In the cave’s dark, he rested and tried to recoup his strength while rationing his food reserves. Maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless. Some part of him held out for something…
Days slid by. His past still tortured him. He sifted the images in his mind to tease the genuine memories out of the vile visions of chaos.
Amelia Sainte’s face floated in his mind’s eye. He thought he’d loved her. Maybe she was real.
Daniel never knew how many women he’d lain with, how many he’d raped and murdered. Execution is what he faced, if the images in his mind were even partly true. They came from somewhere. He could only hope Amelia wasn’t the one who suffered at his hands.
Were the visions his truth or his fantasy?
I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into Daniel Leiriu's life. I need to take some more meds and maybe have a nap. Next weekend, I promise to attempt a more cohesive post. Have a wonderful weekend full of stories. As always, when you read, please remember to be kind and leave your reviews. They help more than you know. Until the next post, know you are always welcome to the dream...
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Happy reading,
Ophelia Kee
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