Archive for Apr, 2015

Pearls on the Road, the Map.

Posted: 18/04/2015 by Alternate Celt in Pearls, writing

I’ve started a map board on pinterest which follows the girls’ little roadtrip. I won’t be posting direct spoilers, but you can get some idea of what’s  in store with this board.
I’ve decided to take a couple of weeks this coming summer to hothouse a final draft of Pearls. Anybody interested in helping with that, particularly  with the language work that needs doing, can contact me via either this page or twitter.
Once I’ve got my final draft, I’m either going to find someone mad enough to publish it for me, or publish it myself. Watch this space, cos I hope something exciting happens either way!

Pearls on the Road –


Posted: 09/04/2015 by Alternate Celt in Experimental
Tags: ,

This is sort of Fan fiction, but quite fun with it. Thought I’d share the start as I’m a ways in and wondered what people might think. Can you guess the fiction of which I am fangirling??

I watch him load the shotgun, hearing the smooth sound of the well-oiled mechanism break the silence that hangs heavy around us. My heart feels like it’s beating too loud in my chest, and I’m worried he’ll hear it, because my brain is swimming with the startling revelation that he’s just  given me a few wild minutes ago. My lips are still burning with the scorching kiss he laid on them after we managed to get out of that building alive.
He looks up now, his green eyes locking with mine and I swear he must have heard the way my heart is thundering after all. I’ve known him for almost my entire life, he was once the Boy Next Door in the days before Armageddon, but now we are family, fighting for survival in a world where the Legions of Hell are running riot. Except he’s just gone and torn that all up and left my world reeling, and the way he’s looking at me now isn’t doing anything to help that.
I’m fully aware of the hard stare both of us are getting from the other side of the room, where my younger brother is sitting by the boarded up window. Feeling his eyes on me annoys me for several reasons, but I only lash out with one of them.
“You’re supposed to be watching out of that window, bro,” I hiss in a constrained whisper.
“Right,” he hisses right back, contempt in his tone.
“Cut it out, both of you,” my Boy Next Door turned Big Brother whispers harshly. I bite my tongue, and hope my baby brother bites his tongue too. He barely remembers a time when we weren’t family, so he knows better than I do that our Big Brother is to be obeyed when we are out on a raid together. My baby brother turns his head and looks out of a crack in the wood that boards up the window.
“Cat, check the top floor,” there’s not a single clue in his voice to what he’s thinking, just the usual focused practicality that helps to keep the three of us alive. All the clues are in his eyes though, and I find I have to nod my head quickly and look away. I head towards the door, finger on the trigger of my handgun, eyes darting between the exits presented to me. Everything looks clear, and there’s not a sound to be heard in the house except my own beating heart and his footsteps behind me as he goes to check out the bottom floor.
The first step creaks when I put my weight on it; I hear his intake of breath, but the next step is solid under my doubly careful tread. I move slowly up the stairs, gun ahead of me, senses wide open and alert.
There was a time when I had five, untrained senses. Then this fucking Holy War erupted, and between necessity and the ‘gift’ that was my consolation prize for surviving Day One when my parents didn’t, I ended up with six sharply honed senses. As I creep up those stairs, my ears are picking up every sound within the four walls of the house and much of the village lane beyond that; my eyes are searching every scrap of shadow for anything that might lurk in it, my nose is drawing in every decaying scent in the decrepit mock Tudor mansionnette, my skin tingling with every stirring breath of air, my tongue tasting the rank dampness of the house’s sodden timbers and my sixth sense, the one that lets me feel the presence of evil nearby, is reaching out before me like a blind man’s cane, carefully feeling ahead for anything dark and dangerous. My little brother shares this skill of mine, but his power goes beyond mine, into portentous dreams and the heads of the things we have to share the world with now. It makes him vulnerable, but we always do everything in our power to protect him, just like our Dad did up until he died.
When I say Dad, I don’t mean my real Dad, the one who didn’t survive Day One. I mean Big Brother’s Dad, the one who taught all three of us how to survive, the one who died only a month ago. Shit, I really don’t want to be thinking about Dad just now, I need a clear head and not one that just might well up with crippling guilt any second now.
Reaching the top step, I find myself in a t-shaped corridor, going straight to the front of the house and branching out to my right. My sixth sense sweeps before me, finding nothing except a few creeping Dire Rats that scuttle away from my touch in fear. Damn right they should fear me, I’m known well enough to the other side, as are my brothers, and as was our Dad. We’re Refuge’s most successful raiders, and because of us, humanity stands a fighting chance of surviving in this world. Carefully, meticulously, I check each of the five rooms on this floor of the building, finding nothing except rotting furniture and the detritus of a way of life that finished nearly twenty years ago. There’s no lurkers here, but also no salvage to be had. The whole building is soaked through by the long rains of the storms that boil constantly in the sky above us, so there’s nothing left worth picking up. I creep back down stairs, unsure if I’m ready to face these brothers of mine again quite so soon.