Tales From the Hollow Tree Giveaway Hop!

There’s a fine line between enchantment and desolation.

Woohoo! My turn on the Tales From the Hollow Tree Giveaway Hop. It seems like a long time coming to me, but the first collection of Hollow Tree Tales is now available on Kindle, Nook, and special edition .pdf. This collection has eight stories previously published on the site, and two (one from both Isabelle and I) that are exclusive to this collection.

Here’s a sneak peek at my exclusive story:

When I saw the ship, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. A large, wooden vessel with a savagely beautiful mermaid carved into the bow, and a glimmer of gold, making the very wood gleam. The sails wafted lazily in the breeze, and a dozen boys’ voices broke off as they spotted me.

Any guesses what it’s about?

And I’m going to give away a copy of our .pdf right here! All you have to do is leave a comment and let me know what your favorite mythical creature is. It can be anything from a sprite to a manticore.

And! We’re having a special giveaway on Friday, if you go to all the posts in the hop and collect keywords from each giveaway post.

My keyword is:

MAYA

Head back to the Hollow Tree blog on Friday to enter in that word for a chance to win some special Hollow Tree swag!

And in the meanwhile, add us on Goodreads! You never know, it might get you an extra entry.

Tomorrow’s post will be over at Isabelle’s blog!

Halloween Scarefest Blog Hop: “Bullet”

I’m a day late on this, but thought I’d participate anyhow! The prompt is a 400-or-less word scene with a theme of “Fear.” I interpreted this a little differently, but you’ll see what I mean. I’m cross-posting this on Tales From the Hollow Tree.

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“Bullet”

I seem to hear the crack of the bullet before I feel it. And then I’m pushed back, slammed like I’ve been hit by a fist or a train—not a piece of metal smaller than my pinky toe.

It takes another heartbeat for the pain to hit, searing and screaming its way through me, my whole body on red alert, my blood racing to see what’s wrong, what’s wrong. Only to slip and drain out of me.

I can’t remember where I am or how I got here. Can’t remember the enemy who has shot me, even. Can’t fathom who could hate me so much. All I know now is that I am dying and alone—that there is a hole torn through me and that the poets are right.

My heart pounds harder than I can remember ever having heard it, as if it knows the blood running to leave my system isn’t enough and wants to help—stupid heart! I want to tell it to slow down, but my whole mind is in a panic.

I’m dying.

And that’s when the fear hits me. I’m not afraid to die—so much of my life has been spent on the run, it’s a relief to finally stop—but in that split second, I seem to see all the things that I’ll never do, never have a chance to do, and that scares me. All the time I’ve wasted, all the opportunities that I skipped out on, thinking someday…

All my somedays are lost now, and my foolishness in wasting them is what scares me now.

Maybe I’ll have to answer for it.

Someone screams, and I know I’ve been found. A woman hovers over me, uncertain, saying words I can’t understand in soothing tones. I want to shake her, scream at her. Tell her I’m already gone, not to waste her life. Tell her to go. LIVE. Tell her there’s no time not to.

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