Supernatural Fairy Tales

Fairy tale inspired short story: Silverweed Muffins

2012-04-19T10:47:00.003-05:00

I’m not sure of the exact date, but I wrote Silverweed Muffins more than 5 years ago. It was inspired by Little Red Riding Hood and then it inspired my YA novel: Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale. I am posting it today because I am giving away the eBook Friday and Saturday (April 20-21) as part of my Spring Free eBook Fridays. (More info about that on my website – www.dorlanavann.me & BTW – Silverweed is also available in paperback (only $6.99 Amazon)

Silverweed Muffins
by
Dorlana Vann

Swiss drove like mad in his little red car, down into the valley, down the narrow winding roads, and away from the gravesite. He would never be able to travel fast enough to escape his guilty thoughts. He should have never shooed those birds away. He should have heeded his mothers other countless warnings of bad luck, dark omens and words of wisdom that he had only seen as silly superstition. But now she was dead, and he was alone in the world, except for his ailing grandmother.

He sped into his driveway and made an abrupt stop, hitting the steering wheel as he finally allowed his required tears to fall. He was eighteen years old and thought he was too old to cry, at least in front of people. No one could see him now.

After awhile, he began to think about the last conversation he had with his mother. A conversation he put to the back of his mind, as he didn't want to believe she was going to die. His mother loved her legends and fairytales, and at the time, Swiss figured she was just getting some of her stories confused with reality. Still, her last words fought to be remembered. "Protect your grandmother. Don't ever talk to strangers. You must carry on the tradition by making her muffins and taking them to her everyday... everyday - by noon, without fail. They must always be the silverweed muffins. "

His mother had delivered a basket of silverweed muffins to his grandmother every day, for as long as he could remember. When Swiss was ten years old, he asked his mother why she didn't just make a whole bunch and leave them there. His mother had said, "This reminds me to visit her. If I didn't go one day, perhaps I would fail to remember the next, and soon I would completely forget. Now, we can’t go and forget to take care of grandmother, can we?"

As he opened the front door to his house, he was still thinking about his mothers last dying words, which was her last dying wish, the realization that he had inherited this daunting job depressed him even more. His grandmother had outlasted his mother, and could possibly outlast him, so this task would be his, forever. Make and feed her muffins every day... every day.

He wasn't as sure about what his mother had meant when she told him to protect his grandmother. She lived far into the remote woods away from civilization. She didn't even have a telephone. No one was going to call her and scam her out of her money, if she even had any. Perhaps his mother meant, take care of, instead of protect. Just get her the muffins, he thought, that was all he was capable of doing that day anyway. Maybe later he could ask his grandmother about what his mother had intended.

Swiss stood in the kitchen and mixed the ingredients to the recipe he had known by heart since he was six years old:

2 c flour

1 tbsp baking powder

3 tbsp sugar

1 egg

1 c milk

¼ c silverweed leaves

After he had baked the muffins, he put them in the lined red basket and covered them with a white linen napkin. This first muffin delivery venture wasn't going to come close to the noon deadline his mother requested. Oh well, he thought, as long as she receives her muffins today, all will be well.

He didn't drive to his grandmother’s house as fast as he had driven away from his mother's funeral. He actually turned on the music, hummed along, and had lovelier thoughts of happier times. He began to remember the trips he and his mother used to make to his grandmother's when he was a child. It wasn't just the visit that had been pleasant, but also the car ride. They would play games, their favorite being, I Spy.

Swiss's thoughts turned gloomy when he remembered the last time they had played. He spied something red and his mother guessed, a car, a leaf on a tree, a bird, and so on, until finally she gave up. And then he told her, "I saw a little red man, right there beside the road. Didn't you see him? He had horns like a goat and a long tail." Curiously he didn’t remember her saying anything to the contrary like, "You saw no such thing,” or “You must have been mistaken." No, she had said, "I didn’t see him." And that was the last time they ever played the game, because neither one of them ever suggested it again. He had forgotten all about it, until that very moment. He shrugged off the strange mood it gave him; silly little boy’s imagination, that was all. His mother had filled his own head with her foolishness.

There had been a furious thunderstorm the night before and it left water standing in the ditches beside the road. Swiss's grandmother lived in the dense woods. The road was barely a road much less paved, and he knew it would be a long drive of large puddles and fallen limbs. He didn't want to tear up his little red car. So he parked it, put on his jacket and grabbed the basket of muffins. Dusk had already arrived and he did think twice about leaving the shelter of his car behind; the walk back would be a dark one.

Once he left the initial clearing in the woods, the night seemed to grow by a couple of hours. The chilled wind blew its breath on the back of Swiss's neck, making him wish he had worn his jacket with the hood. Not only would it have made him warmer, but also it may have offered him a touch of security. There were exotic noises in the woods that the city boy had never heard before.

When he began to wonder if he had become lost on the straight stretch of road, he stopped and turned several times. That's when he thought he saw someone in the woods, right off the road. He figured it was merely shadows and the suggestive surroundings but decided he would walk faster at any rate. When he dared to investigate again, he was positive he saw someone, this time behind a slender tree. Glancing behind every couple of feet, Swiss walked as fast as he could trying not to let on that he knew he had a tail. But when it seemed this person wasn't going to give up, he stopped and waited until he heard a rustling that was most likely his follower. He didn’t enjoy being scared, so if this person was going to attack him anyway, he would rather it was not an ambush.

"Hello?" Swiss turned around after a few seconds. "Excuse me, why are you following me?"

At this, a man stepped out of the bush, and Swiss wished he would have just run to his grandmother's instead of challenging a stranger. The man wore a cowboy hat and dirty boots. He looked big, rough, and hairy. In his left hand he carried a massive rusty ax.

Swiss took a giant step back and cleared his throat as he looked around for a weapon. He knew his basket of muffins wouldn't do him much good, even if he did cook them a little longer than usual. Swiss stood as tall as possible. His voice didn’t hold much authority on its own, so he gave it a beat of deepness when he said, "You are trespassing. Please leave this land immediately."

"Trespassing?" the man said with the volume of a jackhammer. "I'm just doing my job, son."

"And what job would that be?" Swiss was thinking, murderer, assassin, bear hunter...

"I'm a woodsman." He squinted his already hard to see eyes under the massive entanglement of hair on his face. "I cut down trees."

"Why would a woodsman be following me?"

The man laughed a vigorous belly laugh. "Following you? Believe me, I am not interested in your whereabouts."

Immediately, Swiss felt a bit foolish. His total day had been eerie, which must have left him jumpy and paranoid. Swiss thought that perhaps there were more of these woodsmen about.

"Right," Swiss said. "I'll be on my way."

"Need some help? You lost?"

"No, this is my grandmother's property. She lives down the way just a tad more I suspect."

"I see. What's there in that basket?" the man asked and took a step toward Swiss.

"Just some muffins for my grandmother."

"Wouldn't happen to be able to spare one, would you?"

Swiss didn't doubt that the grubby man actually lived in the woods, as well as worked, and most likely starving. Besides, he had accused him of being a stalker. "I'm sure my grandmother can spare one."

After the man was handed the muffin, he took an enormous bite and then picked it up to examine it. "Kind of odd tasting. What's in here?"

"Family secret," Swiss said and smiled. "Well, I must be getting on my way. My grandmother is waiting."

Swiss walked on, checking behind him periodically to make sure the man wasn’t following him. He saw no signs and was satisfied after awhile that the man was who he said he was.

Finally, he made it to the clearing that started the yard. It was much brighter there, the full moon blared like a spotlight on his grandmother's house. Trimmed hedges and flower gardens decorated the skillfully manicured grounds. Swiss thought about how his grandmother, being practically bed ridden, employed people to work in her yard. She also owned most of the woods for many miles and therefore must have hired the woodsman to cut down some trees on the path to her house.

He dreaded walking into the house that he once looked forward to visiting. It felt different now. Today it would be especially painful. She would ask about the funeral, be sorry she wasn't able to make it, and make him relive the entire event. Not only that, he knew that this was only the beginning of many countless trips he would be taking to see her. Every day he would have to bring her the muffins.

He opened the door. "Grandmother," he called, "it's me, Swiss." He snapped on the lamp in the living room and saw the familiar cozy furnishings draped with homemade quilts and afghans. The smell of cinnamon tea filled his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen and set the muffins down on the counter. He took a muffin out of the basket and set it on a small saucer.

"Grandmother," he said again, wondering now if he had come too late and she had gone to bed.

He hesitated at her bedroom door, not wanting to disturb an old lady and her sleep. Except his mother's words came to mind: every day... every day. He tapped lightly on the door and then opened it.

The room was dark, but he could hear his grandmother's grunts and snores from the back of the room. Aware of the light next to her bed, he made his way, muffin in hand, toward the lamp. He snapped it on.

At first the brightness blinded him. "I'm sorry I'm so late. It’s just that it’s been an aw—" He stopped with his mouth open, stared, and then heard the crash of the plate as it hit the floor. For there in his grandmother's bed was a huge, hairy wolf. And the wolf was awake now, looking at Swiss.

The wolf had big eyes, a big nose, and what big teeth it had. It growled, saliva gathering at the corners of its mouth like a mad dog. Swiss stood petrified, but only for a second, because the wolf then leaped out from underneath the cozy blankets. Swiss found his feet and scrambled backwards, but he couldn't take his eyes off the wolf because it actually wore one of his grandmothers long pink nightgowns.

"Grandmother," Swiss yelled, and then quickly scanned the room for any sign of her. Perhaps she hid under the bed or maybe in the closet. He didn’t want to even think of the obvious, but he didn't have time to have a good look, because in the next instant, the wolf had lunged and pinned him to the hardwood floor.

Swiss shielded his face with his arms as the wolf tore at him with its claws, ripping Swiss's clothing open like a candy wrapper. The sharp nails dug deep into his flesh causing Swiss to cry out in pain. His mind desperately analyzed the situation. He had two choices: keep fighting and prolong the agony or die a just as painful but perhaps quicker death. At the very moment Swiss had decided to move his arms and let the wolf finish him off, the heaviness of the animal lifted, and he heard it howl out in pain. He didn't dare move. His entire body felt like it was on the spin cycle as hard adrenaline pumped through his heart. Finally, with large breaths, he sat up.

The wolf lay on the floor with an ax in its side. Swiss stood up, but not wanting to take any chances that the wolf would attack him again, he kept his distance.

Swiss flinched, ready to run, when the woodsman he had talked to earlier stepped out of the shadows and retrieved his ax. The red blood of the wolf poured out onto the floorboards.

"My grandmother," Swiss managed to get out of his dry mouth. "Have you seen my grandmother?"

The woodsman frowned at him and then subtly motioned with his eyes for Swiss to look at the wolf.

When Swiss looked, his head did a spin and a swoon. There on the floor in the place of the wolf lay his grandmother.

"I've been tracking her for years," the woodsman said.

Panic wrapped itself around Swiss’s reason. His whole world swirled around in his head. "I thought I saw... There was a wolf. My mind, in the darkness, my eyes... I've been so upset today." He looked up at the woodsman who still held the bloody ax. "Why would you kill my grandmother?" He could feel anger and guilt rising to his face. Protect your grandmother. He had not been able to protect her for a single day. Don't ever talk to strangers. What had he done?

"That was not your grandmother, son," the woodsman said. He turned from Swiss and yelled, "She's over here."

Three men in army uniforms entered his grandmother’s room. Two of them carried stretcher. They put it down beside his grandmother. The other man had on plastic gloves, and he touched her neck. "She's dead," he said, like he had solved a great mystery, and then placed a white sheet over her body. The first two men picked her up.

"Wait," Swiss said. "What do you think you're doing? Stop... stop!"

They paid no mind to him but continued their job and placed her on the stretcher. They picked up the stretcher just as Swiss ran in front of them, blocking them from going any further.

"Did you hear me? Put her down."

The woodsman nodded to the men who had looked to him for answers. "It's all right," he said.

"Just give us a few moments."

The men placed the stretcher back on the floor, and then walked out of the bedroom.

Swiss said, "I don't know what's going on. But I do know that you just chopped my grandmother with an ax. I'm calling the police." But as he said the words, he did understand that all was not normal.

"She is the property of the United States Government. Thirty years ago, she traded her citizenship for compensation and help. She’s werewolf, the real deal, and she needed help to stop killing people. After she signed her life over to us, the scientists found that silverweed kept the symptoms of the disease in check. Only, as soon as she was better she reneged on her deal and fled with outside help. I have been tracking her ever since. It seems I found her just in time."

Swiss sat on the edge of his grandmother's bed. None of it made sense, but yet, things began to make more sense than ever. The muffins. "Still,” Swiss whispered, feeling the sting of his slashes shouting something else at the same time. “She wouldn’t have hurt me."

"She had no control once she changed. But I don’t think she has changed much over the years, though,” the woodsman said thoughtfully. "I always check out the stories where there’s been an animal mauling. Until a year ago, there wasn’t any that had signs of werewolf. But that's how I ended up here. She must have missed a dose of silverweed. I’ve been watching her place for over six months now.”

Changed, Swiss thought. His grandmother changed into a wolf and then tried to eat him.

“I’m really glad you spied me in the woods today,” the woodsman continued, “If not, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to try those muffins. The taste of parsnips confirmed my suspicions, and since there was a full moon, I feared for your safety. I really hoped I’d be able to take her in alive.” The woodsman shook his head. “I'm really sorry about your grandma. You do realize that more than just your life was in jeopardy tonight. She was half wild animal, and there would have been no way to tame her, no matter how much silverweed she ate." With that, the woodsman stuck his head out the door and told the men to come back in.

This time Swiss didn’t say anything; he just let them take her away.

"Here's my number." The woodsman handed Swiss a card. “You can have her in a couple of days so you can give her a proper burial."

Alone in his grandmothers room, Swiss put his face in his hands and cried for the second time that day. He ached all over, especially on his right side. He reached down and held it. "Ouch," he said, as lifted up his shirt to look. He saw his blood pooling at surface of a wicked bite. Swiss knew too well what it meant. His mother had told him countless stories of vampires and werewolves.

This meant he would share in his grandmother’s fate.

He thought that perhaps he should stop the man to tell him, and show him and ask what he should do. No, he already knew what to do.

Silverweed muffins... every day... every day.

The End

Free Supernatural Fairy Tales eBook

2012-04-05T12:28:00.000-05:00

Hi Friends,

On my new website/blog www.dorlanavann.me every Friday this spring (March – May) I am posting about a Free Kindle eBook. This week I am giving away Supernatural Fairy Tales – my collection of short stories, most of which originated on this blog. When I first started this blog, about 5 years ago, I would challenge myself at the beginning of the month by picking a classic fairy tale and a supernatural natural element, combining the two to write a short story, and then post it by the end of the month.

This resulted in 23 short stories. (Four of which I lengthened into novel rough drafts, and two of those I finished and are now available on Amazon: Silverweed and The Princes of Tangleforest.) After a lot of reading (and edits) I chose 9 favorite short stories for my collection.

I attempted to pick my fav out of the 9 but could only select the one that was the most fun to write: The Vampire’s New Suit. <---- click to read!

If you get a chance, go grab your free copy of Supernatural Fairy Tales at Amazon, and I would love to hear which one is your favorite.

Love and Laughter,

Dorlana

Why Do I Dislike Beauty & the Beast?

2012-01-21T14:05:00.000-06:00

I was watching TV with my son, Dean, and a commercial for the new revised 3D Beauty & the Beast, along with the announcement of the new short from Tangled, came on. Dean was like, let’s go see it and watch the Tangled show and then leave. I was like, yeah, I don’t like Beauty and the Beast, either.

So that got me wondering, why. Why do I dislike Beauty and the Beast? I’ve been using fairy tales as story inspirations for a long time – sometimes I go on what I know about the fairy tale from childhood, or Disney, and from other adaptations, and sometimes I read the classic tale.

I do have a short story based on Beauty and the Beast, which I will post in a couple of days, but this was one I just went from my memory of the story line. I had never read the original – so it was kind of unfair to say that I didn’t like that particular fairy tale if I had never really read it. I had to change that.

First, I had to find out who wrote the original and go from there. I found the English translation of Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont which appears to have first appeared in 1757. An interesting fact is that Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve, actually wrote the original Beauty and the Beast but Le Prince de Beaumont rewrote and shortened it into the story we know today – so she is usually said to be the author.

I then searched Amazon for a copy and was very happy to find a Kindle copy for .99 cents – Yay!. Here is the link for that: http://www.amazon.com/Beauty-Illustrated-Unique-Classics-ebook/dp/B006P407VM/

So after reading Beauty and the Beast by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont, I realized it is really difficult to review a classic fairy tale. You know, it is what it is: “fairy tale” narrative style, moralistic, jealous sisters, good vs. evil, beauty is more than skin deep, love conquers all, and to me, a picture just waiting to be colored in… A fairy tale. And I adore fairy tales! And this one was no different.

My conclusion: I don’t like Disney’s version of Beauty and the Beast. All I can figure it’s the talking teapots and candlesticks, or the color of Beauty’s dress, or the bow in Beast’s hair. I really don’t know for sure. Was there a lot of singing in the movie? It actually has been a long time since I watched the movie – Maybe I should go see it…

A Fun Dragon Tale (flash fiction)

2012-01-11T07:59:00.000-06:00

The Guard

Dorlana Vann

It felt as if the castle walls were closing in on me. With each passing moment, my eyes grew heavier, as did my head, as I struggled to keep watch. But my thoughts must be enough to keep me awake till dawn, for the dragon had escaped its chains and until its capture, I am the princess’s night keeper.

The fair maiden, with her golden hair sprawled upon the pillow, was only beautiful while she slept. Otherwise a creature, one may dare say, more horrifying than the one I stand guard against. However, this minor detail makes no matter, I must protect all the same.

Her, under the deep velvet blankets, snug against the wintry wind which steals in through the cracks. And I, standing with my hands so frozen that they barely hold the weapon I am meant to defend with. However, I can’t let the bitter cold distract me either. I am to be strong and heat myself with my inner strength. But my legs had forsaken me hours ago and had fallen asleep. The relentless tickle of tiny thorns haunted my numb feet. But I mustn't move an inch which may disrupt the princess’s sleep.

Suddenly, the clamor of a thousand drummers with the rumble of a thunderstorm arose in the darkness. I knew my time had come. Adrenalin swept through every inch of my body as I rushed the window and came face to face with the notorious dragon. With one mighty thrust, I lunged my heavy sword into the beast. The heat from his breath knocked me clear and only after I regained my wind, could I look up to see my enemy.

The princess was sitting up, her screams muffled by the dragon's wail. With only one eye visible through the window, the dragon searched until he spotted his prey. In a frantic state, I ran toward her bedside. However, before I could reach her, the dragon's claws came through the window and grabbed the princess with a swift swoosh. I watched in horror as the dragon brought her up to his mouth and swallowed with one significant gulp. He then flew away, his appetite cured for the night.

I fell to the cold stone floor, pounding my fist, hard at first… and then more gently as I gazed up at the warm soft covers. I crawled on my belly, like a failure should, and slowly lifted my weary self upon the bed, near tears, and then sank into the sound sleep of a princess.

The End

Free - Supernatural Fairy Tales eBook

2012-01-08T09:44:00.000-06:00

Hi Friends,

Just a quick note to let you know that the Kindle edtion of my fairy tale inspired, paranormal anothology, Supernatural Fairy Tales, is FREE over on Amazon (worldwide) until Jan, 10, 2012.

There are 9 short stories, which were inspired by classic fairy tales - Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Emperor’s New Clothes, Rumpelstilzchen, The Little Mermaid and more. These short stories are not retellings of the original tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, etc., in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending

Amazon US.
Amazon.UK
Amazon.de
Amazon Fr
Amazon it
Amazon es

A Thank You and Happy New Year!

2011-12-30T08:49:00.002-06:00

A big THANK YOU to the following people who kindly mentioned the Free eBook or reviewed “The Princes of Tanlgeforest” on their blog, facebook, and/or Tweeter.

JFay of Studio 3B: The Wick'd Woman of Potions - Gothic, vampire, horror, victorian, steampunk themed perfumes and jewelry.

Website: http://www.studio3bonline.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/wickdjfay

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/wickdjfay

Author Loretta Wheeler: Find her short stories on B&N and Amazon under Loretta Wheeler or L Reveaux.

Website: http://www.lorettawheeler.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/LorettaWheeler

Facebook - http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=1718481917

Viki Sloboda

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/Jovial_1

The Green Fairy

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/GreenFairyLV

Blog: http://www.greenfairylv.blogspot.com/

Tahlia Merrill: Fairy Godmother in Training - of Diamonds & Toads

Blog: http://www.diamondsandtoads.com/

Enchanted Converstaion - Fairy Tale Magazine http://www.fairytalemagazine.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/diamondsandtoad

Author Alexandra Lanc

Website: http://alexandralanc.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/AuthorLanc
Blog: http://wordsoftheworlds.blogspot.com/

Carly of Fiction Fasination

Blog: http://fictionfascination.blogspot.com/

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/F_Fascination

And my wonderful daughters, Doria and Darah

In other, but related news: Green Fairy won the Twitter RT drawing of Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale. Thanks for the RTs 

Happy New Year to everyone!

Love and Laughter,

Dorlana

Fairy Tale (The Frog Prince & Merlin) Inspired Short Story

2011-12-27T09:03:00.000-06:00

Weeping Lake

Dorlana Vann

Vivian stood on the side of the lake. Her bright hair waved like the water as the wind graciously blew in from the south. She inhaled and then looked down at her newly acquired engagement ring. She had said yes, but she knew that wasn’t what she had meant. Everyone had been there, watching them, watching her with anticipated excitement. And since she did love and respect Scott, she didn’t want to humiliate him by saying no.

But it was just too soon. She didn’t expect to marry the first guy she had fallen in love with. She wanted to love many men. She wanted to experience life and joy and … freedom. She hated — for him — that she wasn’t ready.

She easily slipped the ring off of her finger and let the sunlight sparkle off of the massive diamond. A diamond that must have put Scott back a months salary. A diamond that said, “You belong to me.” She only wanted to belong to herself.

It seemed to happen all at once: softly she heard her name, a gust of wind, the tiny splash of water, and then…

“Oh no!” she cried. Her ring had vanished from her hand. She knelt down to the ground and frantically searched. It had to be there. It had to be right under her. She dug into the dirt and pulled out grass, turning in circles, tears wetting her face and plopping on her hands and knees. She didn’t stop until she had searched every piece of earth it could have possibly landed on.

She crawled toward the lake. If she had just dropped it in there, it would be gone forever. How could she tell Scott she wasn’t going to marry him and that she had lost the ring? She placed her filthy hands on her face and cried for herself. Soon her wails could be heard for miles, and her tears had washed her hands clean.

“I can get your ring back.”

Vivian gasped and scrambled up to her feet, heavy breaths from flew from her mouth. But no one was there; nothing but a weeping willow swaying in the wind by the lake, green and lush with early summer. She wanted to run, her thoughtful time by the lake had turned strange, but she could not leave without the ring.

She heard the masculine voice again. “All I ask in return is but one small favor.”

“I’ve lost my mind,” she whispered as she frantically turned this way and that looking again for the speaker.

“I am but a lonesome tree, weeping in the mist of time.”

“Who’s behind there?” She didn’t wait for someone to jump out and scare her, she ran around the tree, ducking inside its leaves, searching in the shade and up into the branches. When she made it back to where she had started she said, “This isn’t funny.” She began to think that she should just go and get Scott; they could come back to look for the ring later. Maybe marriage wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

“All I ask is for your hand in marriage.” At this, one of the trees branches stretched and would have touched her shoulder if it had not jumped back.

She stared up at the tree: breathtakingly beautiful, alive, and sad.

“Just say the word, and your ring will be returned to your finger.”

Vivian was positive that her distraught over losing the ring had caused her to hallucinate. So, what would it hurt to say OK? And if some extraordinary paranormal event had just happened to her — maybe she had never been aware that trees could talk because they had never had anything to say to her before — what would be the harm in saying OK. It was a tree for goodness sakes, and trees were rooted in the ground.

Her confusion and desperation collected as she cried new tears. “If you get my ring back, I’ll do whatever you want.” When she felt a slight tingle, Vivian immediately looked to her hand, and there her ring sat as if it had never been lost. Without another thought about the tree or her promise, she ran home.

***

Scott didn’t take the breakup very well. He had actually cried and told her he forgave her but would never forget her, nor would he stop pursuing her. He swore that she would eventually grow to love him as much as he loved her. But she had moved on.

Vivian sat at a coffee shop sipping her espresso and writing an e-mail to her mother who lived faraway. She felt a presence and glanced over her laptop and across the table. The most handsome guy in the world stared at her. His eyes blazed amazing green, and his facial features were symmetrically perfect. “Is this seat taken?” he asked.

Vivian could only shake her head, trying not to smile too widely. She was already imaging the wild times they would have together.

“You are not an easy one to find, my dear Vivian.”

“Do I know you?” she said and closed her laptop.

“You no longer wear the ring.”

“No, it didn’t work… are you a friend of Scott’s?”

“I am friends with you.”

“No. I would know if you were my friend.”

“We met months ago… by the lake.”

“Is this some kind of joke?” She knew she had told no one about what had happened. She had tried to forget it herself. “I don’t understand.”

“You made me a promise that day. You said you would marry me if I retrieved your ring.”

She laughed. “I made you that promise?” She put her hand on her face and gently scratched her cheek.

“I am the tree, cursed by the lake many centuries ago.”

“Hmmm,” Vivian said. But how could she doubt what he had said. She had been there. She had made the promise, and the tree had given her the ring back. And now, the tree sat across from her at the table. And he was gorgeous. So gorgeous, that if he would have said he used to be a frog it wouldn’t have mattered.

From that day on, they were inseparable. She spent her mornings listening to him tell of times before her own and spent the evenings in his arms. She grew to love him from her fingertips to her toes, from the depths of her soul, from there until eternity.

She decided to keep her promise.

The ceremony was small, just the two of them, and at the place where they had met. She never took her eyes off of him, nor he from her’s. As soon as he placed a ring of twine and twigs on her finger, his curse of loneliness vanished. Two blissful willows swayed in the wind by the lake, green and lush with early summer.

The End

Free Kindle eBook: The Princes of Tanlgeforest

2011-12-21T14:21:00.000-06:00

Hi Friends,

The Kindle Edition of my young adult fairy tale inspired contemporary fantasy, The Princes of Tanlgeforest, will be FREE December 23, 2011 - December 27, 2011.

Follow this link: Free Kindle U.S. Copy of The Princes of Tangleforest or any of the links below for your free copy.

Free Amazon.UK copy
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United States only: Tweet the following DEC 23, 24, 25, 26, or 27th to be entered into a drawing to win a signed paperback copy of Silverweed: a supernatural fairytale:

Get your FREE Kindle Edition of The Princes of Tangleforest by @SNFairyTales Dec 23-27 http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0058V0HPY

Merry Christmas everyone :)

Dorlana

The Ghost of Christmas Past inspired short story

2011-12-12T07:52:00.000-06:00

The Gift

Dorlana Vann

Paris, TX 1873

At first Cynthia was afraid to look out the window. She was afraid she would see the ghostly figure out by the horses again, stirring them up, making them run and complain. But she was expecting someone; she had to look.

The speck of hope that the person riding up the path was her husband immediately died away. The man hunched over and rode at a steady pace, like he had all the time in the world. The sudden ominous sorrow she felt was overwhelming.

Cynthia moved away from the window and began removing the supper dishes from the table. As soon as she had set them down, a loud knocking erupted. She smoothed her dress and touched her hair, wishing she had put it up instead of the bowls, and opened the door.

The stranger’s head was down, showing the top of his brown hat. He was tall and broad shouldered and dirty. Pistols hung on both sides of his hips. When he raised his head, the smell of whiskey came with each noisy breath. He squinted into the light. “Ma’am, I’m looking for Tommy Two Shot.”

“Thomas isn’t here.”

The man frowned and then spit out the side of his mouth, saliva hitting the porch. “Is that so? Well then, when ya expecting him?”

The only reason she didn’t reconsider her decision to ask for his help was because she was more afraid of the ghost than she was of the stranger. Besides, no one, who knew Tommy, would dare harm his wife. “Mr. Stockton? I’m Mrs. Thomas Garrison. I’m the one who sent for you. Please, come in.”

He wiped his feet, removed his hat and walked into the house but didn’t stop very far past the door. He cautiously examined the room, looking to the fireplace, table, and chairs.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Mary and Annie ran into the room but stopped when they saw the stranger.

A flush of embarrassment raced up Cynthia’s face. “No girls. It’s a friend of your Father’s.”

Mr. Stockton asked, “Where is ol’ Tommy Two—”

“We don’t use that name in our home,” Cynthia said quickly.

He glanced at the girls and nodded. “My mistake ma’am. I mean, where is Mr. Garrison?”

“Girls… go on back to bed now. Annie, help your sister.”

The girls did as they were told and soon Cynthia was alone with the stranger. “Please have a seat.”

When the man sat down, his guns clanked against the chair.

“I’m going to get straight to the point, Mr. Stockton.” She placed a kettle into the fire, moving a stocking that hung from the mantle out of her way. “I have a problem. You see, after my husband left on a business trip…”

“Uh huh.”

“… I’ve had a visitor that I need to get rid of.”

“Killin’ ain’t my specialty.”

“I know.” She turned around and peered at the filthy man who sat across from her. She considered her words carefully, but at the last minute decided it wasn’t the time to beat around the bush. “I don’t need a killer. My husband told me what you do. I need someone who can get rid of a ghost.”

“He told you about that, huh?”

“He told me you had a special ability of some kind.”

“Are you sure it’s a ghost and not some coyote or raccoon? That’s happened before.”

“I’ve seen it out by the horses. It ain’t no coyote. It’s shaped like a man, but I can see right through it. It rattles the horses, scares them silly, and just as it turns its head to look at me… I turn away and hide. I’m afraid if it sees me it’ll come inside. I don’t want it coming inside, Mr. Stockton.” The kettle whistled, and she jumped.

“I’m not sure what your husband told you, ma’am, but I can’t get rid of the devil if that’s what you got. I’ve had a lot of folks wanting me to get rid of the devil.” He laughed and shook his head. “You see, I’m kind of what you call an interpreter. All’s I can do is listen.”

She poured him a cup of coffee and carried it to him, the coffee spilling a little from her shaky hands.

“You have a mighty fine home, Mrs. Garrison.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Real clean.”

The compliment made her feel uncomfortable. The way they lived, always on the move, they didn’t have things like other people, so there was nothing to make things untidy. Sometimes they lived in hotels in town, but it was worse when they had to stay with “friends.” She was grateful that this time they had found an old abandoned house out on the prairie—at least that was what her husband had told her. She didn’t question why it had furniture and a nice fence.

He looked around, nodding. He pointed to the fireplace with his hat. “February is a little late to still have your Christmas up.”

“Shhh. I’m waiting on Thomas so that we can have Christmas as a family,” she whispered. “The girls don’t know Christmas is over. They shouldn’t have to wait much longer. Thomas will be back any minute now.” After the stranger nodded, his eyebrow up, and clicked his tongue, Cynthia stared down at the floor—She knew he didn’t believe her, and she didn’t really have a choice but be straight with him. “I really don’t know when he’ll be back… I don’t have any money. I swear as soon as he does return…”

“A hot meal would do fine.”

Cynthia cooked. Even though she had to use the remainder of the breakfast food, she wasn’t too worried. Thomas had played it close before but always returned right before all the supplies were depleted. She smiled and thought maybe this was a sign that he would be home soon.

After Cynthia put a plate on the table in front of Mr. Stockton, he dug in like he hadn’t had a meal in a while. She turned away when he started sopping up the eggs with the biscuits, the yellow dripping down his chin as he talked. “I was given this machine by a feller down in San Francisco. Sorta payment for a debt he owed me. I’ve had it for twenty-some-odd years. It’s never failed me. It brings ‘em out all right, and I can hear ‘em. I can’t talk to ’em, but I can hear ‘em through that machine. Don’t ask me how the dang thing works, cause I don’t know…”

Cynthia wanted to believe that he would be able to help. But what he was saying seemed impossible. Perhaps it had been a mistake. Perhaps Mr. Stockton was crazier than a mad dog and what Thomas had told her about him that night had been a joke, maybe just drunk talk. She shook her head for being such a hypocrite… most folks would probably think she was crazy, too, for seeing a ghost.

After Mr. Stockton finished his meal and after Cynthia checked on the girls, they walked outside and stood on the front porch.

Mr. Stockton walked from his horse, which was hitched to the porch, to the steps carrying a strange apparatus in his hands. It was round and made of a shiny metal. It reminded Cynthia of a compass. He pulled at a thin stick that came out of the top of it, and it seemed to grow. A strange noise resounded from the thing: a mix of frogs and unknown insects after a heavy rain.

He held it in the palm of his hand and put his arm way up high in the air, walking out into the sandy yard. “If there’s a ghost out here, this will detect it.”

She eased her way down the steps and followed him toward the fenced-in horses.

“Over here, right?” Mr. Stockton asked. “You saw it over here?”

The little machine lit up. Cynthia put her hand over her mouth and looked at Mr. Stockton.

Mr. Stockton nodded, acknowledging her unspoken question.

Like a flash of lightning on a black night, a sudden bright light shook Cynthia to the core. The figure of a man she had watched night after night through her window stood directly in front of her, but this time it was close enough that if she were to reach out, she could have touch him… and close enough that she couldn’t deny what she saw. Cynthia whimpered and her head swooned.

It was Thomas, her husband. He hadn’t come home for Christmas because he wasn’t coming home at all. He was dead.

Thomas didn’t seem to notice them. He walked by and through the gate, as if it didn’t exist. The horses began to move about. He looked over at the house and sighed. The little needle on the machine started twitching and then madly rotated around and around. His faint voice came out of the machine. “I hope this will be the last time I gotta leave y’all.” In the next instant, the ghost of Thomas (Tommy Two Shot) Garrison disappeared.

Cynthia’s body shook, her worst fear realized in that second. How many times had she worried he wouldn’t come back home? How many times had she worried he would be killed? However, mourning would have to wait. She was now the only one responsible for her family. She wiped hard at her tears, and stood tall. She pressed her lips together before clearing her throat, and through a restrained sob said, “Good bye, Thomas.”

“Are y’all going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine.” Cynthia gave a confident nod, even though she knew living without a husband would be more difficult than living on the run with an outlaw. “Thank you, Mr. Stockton.”

Mr. Stockton climbed on his horse and tipped his hat. “Ma’am.” He rode away toward the moon, his saddlebags carrying the same as when he arrived and a trail of dust the only thing he left behind.

Cynthia knew she wouldn’t be afraid if she saw her husband’s ghost again. However, she had a feeling he had left for good, that he’d only come home long enough to give her a Christmas gift: she could stop waiting for him to return. Even though it was one a.m., she went to the room and gently shook Annie and Mary. “Wake up,” she whispered. “It’s Christmas.”

The End

The Gift is one of the stories from my paranormal anthology, Supernatural Fairy Tales. It was inspired by The Ghost of Christmas Past from "A Christmas Carol." I wrote the entire story backwards - line by line - It was my daughter's idea to write it that way because I was stuck. I also like it because it is my first and only western - and it has a touch of steampunk and ghosts.

Three Fairy Tale Inspired Book Giveaways in December

2011-12-09T09:30:00.002-06:00

Hi Friends,

There are three different giveaways going on this month for my fairy tale inspired books. The Princes of Tangleforest, Supernatural Fairy Tales anthology, and Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale.

The first one I want to tell you about is for The Princes of Tangleforest. This YA novel has had a tough time getting out in the world. So I decided to enroll it in Amazon’s newest opportunity for indie writers. It is now available to Amazon’s Prime Members to borrow for free in the Kindle Owners' Lending Library . Here is more info on that. But, more importantly, I get to offer the eBook for free to anyone for five days. So even if you are not a Prime Member but have a Kindle or read Kindle books on your computer, you can download the book for free Dec 23 -27.

The Princes of Tangleforest was inspired by Rapunzel and mixed with the element, mind-control. As with most of my stories, I had planned on it being supernatural but, as with most of my stories, it had other plans. So it is actually more contemporary fantasy. It is one of my favorites and actually my first full length fairy tale inspired novel. I would love for it to have some readers, so if you get a chance on the dates above, please stop by and grab your free copy.

The Second Giveaway I want to mention is for, Supernatural Fairy Tales. Nathalie of Book Eternity has reviewed my anthology (4 stars – yay!) and is now hosting a giveaway. Two eBooks will be given away and all you have to do is follow her blog. She also has other opportunities for more entries. While you’re there, check out her other reviews and giveaways. Click here for all the details.

The third giveaway is for my paperback, Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale – As I mentioned in a previous post, I joined the website http://www.freado.com/ and not only am I on there as a writer but also a reader. I love playing the games and getting points to bid on free books. I actually made my own fairy tale hangman game, too.

As a writer on there, I have added Silverweed to the books to be “given away.” On this site though, you have to earn points by playing games and then bid on a book. Below is the link to the Silverweed.

Happy Reading & Merry Christmas everyone!

Dorlana

What? No supernatural? No Fairy Tales?

2011-12-04T11:17:00.001-06:00

pirate ship by Dean Vann

My main writing focus/genre has been the supernatural for a long time. It’s easy for me to remember when it all began because I started writing Jaclyn’s Ghost right after my son, Dean, was born, and he’ll be eight-years-old soon. I actually wrote my first fairy tale inspired short story about 19 years ago but didn’t start my blog and/or using them as my main inspiration until around 5 years ago.

I have not worked outside the home since Dean was born and all he’s ever known me to do is to write. When Jaclyn’s Ghost was published in 2008 (it was first published by Tease Publishing LLC as part of their Dark Tarot series titled Death for the death card) and I received my first shipment of paperbacks, I think he was more excited then I was. The first book I ever signed was to him.

I bring all this up because about a month ago he asked me to write a book for him. At first I took it all kind of lightly and thought I would jot down a little short story. But it has turned into something else that I’m both excited and nervous about. Even though I have a couple of YA novels, they are still both supernatural and fairy tale themed. Not what my 7-year-old little boy is interested in.

Here was his list of wants:

I want a long story.

I want it funny and with jokes.

I want ninja. (He informed me that more than one ninja was still ninja.)

I want pirates.

After I wrote the first chapter, he wanted to read it. Something else that makes me apprehensive because I usually don’t let anyone read anything until it has gone through several rewrites. But it was awesome hearing him laugh out loud and ask me, “Where’s the next chapter?”

I also had a want of my own: for him to draw the pictures. He was so excited about that and we have since bought him a drawing pad and a pencil set. He has about 40 pictures so far, one of which is the pirate ship up top.

So as you can see, this is completely out of my writing comfort zone – (but I’m actually trying to sneak in some steampunk, something I’ve wanted to do but too unsure to try.) I’m not sure of the future of this book – but it doesn’t matter. I love the fact that this is encouraging him to read and to use his creativity. And also, it is really cool having a project that we can work on together. Coming soon: Pirates vs Ninja - written by Dorlana Vann, illistrated by Dean Vann.

Love and Laughter,

Dorlana

Fairy tale inspired short story, Blueberry Eyes by Dorlana Vann

2011-11-20T09:16:00.004-06:00

Blueberry Eyes
by Dorlana Vann

Her long auburn hair kept slipping from its desired position of behind her to in her face and into her cooking pot. When she finally had enough of pushing it back, she left her concoction to go pull it up.

She frowned at the vague remembrance of herself as a little girl in ginger-red pigtails as she stared in the mirror. But soon she couldn’t recall what she had been thinking about and went back to her kitchen.

Bubbles and smoke billowed from the large black pot as the robust spiced aroma filled the air. She scurried to its side and stirred it with her enormous wooden spoon. She gave a snorting giggle as she thought about how delicious the end result of her recipe would be.

She checked her recipe to make sure she had included everything, from eye-of-newt to the cinnamon sticks. Confused as to how she had come about the recipe, she picked it up. She found it difficult to examine the paper with her long black nails, which for a moment distracted her as well.

The spewing noise of the pot boiling over made her snap out of her trance and continue what she had been doing. Then began the task of dipping candy and fruit into what would become a delectable coating. When she was nearly finished, a knock came at the door.

Half put off by having to stop her duties and half hoping she had already drawn a child to her playhouse, she wiped her hands on her dress and went to answer the door.

In her doorway stood an average-sized man in his late twenties. He seemed familiar in an odd sort of way. It was his smile at first; thin yet reassuring. And then, disturbingly, his blueberry eyes were precise mirrors of the eyes she had looked at in the mirror only moments ago.

“Hey sis,” he said. “How you doing?”

She shook her head. Of course, she thought, I must have inhaled too much of my brew. “What are you doing here?”

“In the neighborhood. Can I come in?”

“I’m in the middle of something. Maybe next week.”

“This can’t wait,” he said; giving a fierce, I’m not going anywhere, stare.

“Fine,” she said.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he said as he stepped inside. “Planning on starting a daycare? He went and sat down on her teddy bear covered couch. “Look,” he said, suddenly serious. “Your friends—”

“I don’t have any friends,” she corrected.

“Well then, your former friends are concerned about you. That, and your landlord has called me countless times to tell me that you haven’t answered any of his calls about the smells and noises coming from your apartment at all hours of the night.”

“If that is all, I have things to do.”

“No. That’s not all. We need to go for a drive.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’ll never bother you again, if that is what you want, but you must come with me—this second.”

She stared out the window as they drove out of the city and into the countryside. She had no idea where he could be taking her. However, the further they drove, the more recognizable he became, but not enough for her to want to strike up a conversation.

Finally, they slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. “We’re here,” he sang.

“Where?” she asked, looking at the dense woods that were on both sides of them. Her mind was trying to predict the outcome of her getting out of the car when he said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Like you could,” she said and stepped out of the car.

She followed him into the woods, having to pull her long black dress from sticky bushes and climbing over thick vines and fallen limbs, until finally they stood in a clearing.

“Do you remember any of this?”

“The forest?” She was becoming increasingly annoyed but glanced around anyway. The marshmallow clouds glided away from the sun, letting it filter through the trees. A chill of nauseating recollection embraced her. For there, iced in the sunlight, white stone stairs lead down the side of an embankment. She could just make out the wooden bridge at the end of them that was almost hidden in the chocolate shadows of the trees.

“You know what?” she said. “I want you to take me home.”

“You remember. Don’t you?”

She shook her head. She didn’t... not really.

“I didn’t want to bring you back here. I didn’t have a choice. I was hoping you would break out of it. Now I see. It’s more than that. We have to go down the stairs. I’ll hold your hand.”

She wasn’t about to let him hold her hand, but she allowed his hand on her arm, just for support, of course. When they made it to the last step, she stopped. Images of childhood began to emerge.

Running... being chased by... him, her brother.

Father’s smiling face.

Mother... kill them.

She closed her eyes.

“You remember,” he whispered.

She did: they had held hands as they walked down the stairs, leaving breadcrumbs behind.

She felt the tears of the memories run down her cheeks.

“Do you want to go further?” he asked.

She shook her head. There was no way she was going to be able to cross the bridge to that house. That house made of sweets... made of horror.

“I had to bring you here, Gretel. You were turning into her. She must have cast a spell.”

It was true, she was preparing to poison and then eat the boys, but the girls... she wanted them to be like her. She knew the incantation.

She looked at Hansel, who she now remembered from beginning to end. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll end the cycle.” She took a couple of steps onto the bridge. Knowing very well she would forget who she was as soon as they left—she jumped.

The End

"Blueberry Eyes" is one of the short stories from Dorlana's fairy tale inspired parananormal anthology, Supernatural Fairy Tales. The eBook is available for only .99 cents at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

Supernatural Fairy Tales: Fairy tale inspired paranormal short stories.

These 9 Supernatural Fairy Tales are not retellings of the original fairy tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.

Blueberry Spell Perfume

Candle Artitist JFay of Studio3b used, "Blueberry Eyes", as inspiration for one of her fairy tale potions, BLUEBERRY SPELL. This magical

perfume is an enchanting blend of luscious Blueberries and Vanilla, with a hint of Blackberries and Amber.

Two Cool Sites for Readers, Writers, and Bloggers

2011-11-18T08:42:00.016-06:00

Hi Friends,

I wanted to share a couple of sites I have joined lately.

Bloggerdise: www.bloggerdise.com

Bloggerdise is a great site for authors to promote their books for free and a great place for bloggers to find free products (including books) for their blogs.

Authors: Even though the front page is a little business-stiff and their tag line is “Where business and blogs take flight, this is a great place to get free book cover exposure and possible contacts for book reviews. Click on the tab “Bloggers” which will take you to the ad page. The process is easy, just sign up (tell them Dorlana Vann sent ya) and then create an ad with your book cover and what you’re willing to offer a blogger (review copy, contest copies, etc.). Here is my book ad for Supernatural Fairy Tales anthology. BTW – I have been contacted twice requesting review copies.

Bloggers: I haven’t contacted any of the businesses yet, so I’m not sure about the process. However, there are tones of businesses who want to give away merchandise to your visitors. And who doesn’t like free stuff.

Bookbuzr & fReado: www.freado.com

I actually just found this site yesterday and signed up immediately. As a writer and a reader, I’m really excited about it!

Authors: We know that you have to get your book cover in front of people’s faces as much as possible. fReado.com does this in a fun way: Games! Readers play games like match the book cover and hangman to win points. Then they take these points and buy prizes. How cool is that! It is free for readers but there is a cost for authors. They have two plans. I signed up for Bookbuzzr author pro which cost 9.00 a month – with a one month free trail. So far—well I did just sign up yesterday—I have one book available as a prize, Silverweed. I plan on adding them all.

Here is my book page: http://www.freado.com/book/11563/silverweed-a-supernatural-fairy-tale

Readers: Play for free and win books and other prizes like Amazon gift cards.

If you click the link below and then sign up, you will get 1000 free points. When I signed up on my own, I received 200 points – so you’ll get a bit more, and I’ll get points, too!

http://www.freado.com/book/reference.php?274c14f8c673c2c1130054b957be7c3b=MTE1NjM=&babe019faab83b1e8f00798a51af46a0=MzA0MjI=

Supernatural Fairy Tales Anthology is now available :)

2011-10-02T10:50:00.001-05:00

Hi Friends,

I’m very excited to announce that my paranormal anthology, Supernatural Fairy Tales, is now available. There are 9 short stories, which were inspired by classic fairy tales - Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, The Emperor’s New Clothes, Rumpelstilzchen, The Little Mermaid and more. These short stories are not retellings of the original tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, etc., in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending.

Most of the stories were written for this blog: I challenged myself at the beginning of the month by having to pick a classic fairy tale and a supernatural element, and I had until the end of the month to write a short story and then post it. My basic formula: fairy tale + paranormal element = supernatural fairy tale.

Barnes and Noble (Nook)

Amazon (Kindle)

My .99 cent werewolf eBook pick and a Jaclyn's Ghost Giveaway

2011-09-28T12:30:00.000-05:00

So after going through the werewolf eBook samples from last week , I decided on How to Date a Werewolf (Rylie Cruz Series) - by Rose Pressey .99 cents Not your traditional scary werewolf novel, I know. But, actually none of them were. And even though it’s in 1st person (which I usually don’t like) it pulled me in because of its light, humorous tone. I’ve only read the sample so far and I’ve laughed out-loud a couple of times, so that’s good. And, if I’m reading it right (ha ha –see how it works both ways there), there’s a promising mystery afoot. (or apaw… sorry)

Also, Lisa of http://www.bookisabookworm.blogspot.com/ is giving away a few eBooks for her birthday, one of which is my supernatural mystery, Jaclyn’s Ghost. The Giveaway ends on Friday - September 30.
Here’s the direct link: http://lisaisabookworm.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-birthday-celebration.html
While you’re there, make sure you check out her reviews and other giveaways!

Love and Laughter,

Dorlana :)

Four .99 cent werewolf eBooks

2011-09-22T08:54:00.002-05:00

I have a confession: I have read only one werewolf novel, Soulless by Gail Carriger, and I guess it isn’t really a “werewolf” novel, but it has werewolves in it. :) It’s a really good book with all kinds of supernatural creatures, an interesting female MC, and steampunk. What’s really funny is the only zombie book I’ve ever read has the same name, Soulless by Christopher Golden. I really like that book, too - even though it had its fair share of wet noises. eww.

But anyway, I stayed away from werewolf novels while I was writing Silverweed (btw - is a 99 cent werewolf novel, too. *grin* ) and before that, they weren’t as popular as they are now. But I’ve always liked the idea of werewolves and enjoyed movies about them, my favorite being, Wolf (1994) with Jack Nicholson and Michelle Pfeiffer. Loved it! But I know, that’s not a book.

I decided to fix my lack of werewolf-words by downloading some samples of werewolf novels to my Kindle. Boy, they’re popular now! I actually found four interesting-looking eBooks all for .99 cents each. Yay! I will let you know later if I liked any of the samples enough to buy the book. Here they are:

How to Date a Werewolf (Rylie Cruz Series) - by Rose Pressey .99 cents

Prince of Wolves (The Grey Wolves Series) by Quinn Loftis .99 cents

Moon Spell (The Tale of Lunarmorte #1) by Samantha Young .99 cents

Destiny Binds (Timber Wolves) by Tammy Blackwell .99 cents

Excerpt from upcoming short story anthology: Supernatural Fairy Tales

2011-09-16T10:01:00.000-05:00

I’ve been putting the final touches on my short story anthology, Supernatural Fairy Tales. (Release date: Oct 1, 2011) and realized one of the stories hasn't been posted to the blog. His Soul Inspiration was written for Enchanted Conversation for their The Little Mermaid issue. After that, it was featured on Amberkatze Book Blog. So I figured it was about time to give the story its Supernatural Fairy Tales Blog debut.

This was my last fairy tale inspired short story (to date). When I was researching for the story, I came across The Little Mermaid Statue and actually used its interesting history, just as much as the fairy tale (Andersen, Hans Christian: The Little Mermaid from Fairy Tales Told for Children -The third booklet: 1837 Denmark) for inspiration.

His Soul Inspiration

by Dorlana Vann

“Have you read this?” My husband, Philip, held the book of fairy tales I had bought from a used bookstore for my niece’s ninth birthday.

“Well, not that one, but I’ve read fairy tales before,” I said as I shut the door and stepped out of my heels.

He shook the hardback of nearly 500 pages. “Not like these.”

“Yeah, sure I have. ‘The Ugly duckling,’ ‘The Emperor’s New Suit,’ ‘The Little Mermaid’…”

“Right-right-right. These are them, but not like the ones I’m sure you’re thinking of. They’re not all fairy princesses and happy endings. They’re darker, full of hardship and pain and broken hearts.”

“All right,” I said. His excitement confused me because it didn’t match what I thought he was saying. “Do you think I should take it back and get Emily something else?”

“No. I mean, yes, you should get Emily something else. But no, don’t take this back.”

I scratched my head. “Are you okay?”

“I’m more than okay—I’m terrific!” He set the book down on the couch, wrapped his arms around me, and twirled us around. As he put me down, an amused smirk transformed into a wide smile and huge eyes. “The Little Mermaid!” he exclaimed.

Philip had been having a rough year, trying to find his inspiration to paint. This sudden strangeness made me queasy, and I was a little surprised that he had cracked before I had. Not that I didn’t respect his work, goals, and dreams, it’s just that I had some of my own. And working two jobs to support a starving artist had never been my plan.

He had picked up the book again and was flipping through it when I decided to go run a bubble bath.

“Syrena, here it is. I want to read this to you right fast.”

“I’m really tired. I just want to go soak in the tub.”

“Please…. This is it. This is what I need to get me out of this slump. Please, just listen and see.”

I sighed as softly as I could manage and took my place beside him on the couch. He began to read: “The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Anderson… Far out in the ocean, where the water is as blue as the prettiest cornflower, and as clear as crystal, it is very, very deep…”

***

“Well, it’s definitely different than the Disney version,” I said after he had finished reading the tale. “I didn’t realize it was so sad.”

“Anything else?” He asked slowly.

I shook my head and shrugged.

“Her skin was as clear and delicate as a rose-leaf, and her eyes as blue as the deepest sea,” he quoted. “And she wrapped herself in her long, thick hair.”

“I’m sorry, Philip. I’m tired. I’m not getting what you’re getting at. Just tell me.”

“It’s you! You have to be my model.” His eyes sparkled, and he looked so happy, happier than I had seen him in a long time. I even felt a tinge of exhilaration myself. It had been awhile since he had asked me to model for him.

“Okay.” I smiled. “Mermaids are topless, right?”

He danced his eyebrows up and down. “You betcha.”

“It sounds like fun. Saturday morning, I’m all yours.”

“No, no, no. Now.” He stood up and held his hand out to me.

“Now?” I whined.

“I can’t take the chance of losing this, this feeling.”

After a few seconds of staring into his imploring but loving eyes, I agreed by taking his hand and letting him lead me to the studio/guest room/home office. A few of his paintings hung on the walls: abstracts from his college years, pencil drawings sketched when we were on vacation at the beach, and one of me when we first met. The evening really made me think of that time, when he was so vigorous and full of dreams. When his passion oozed from his fingertips, and he saw the world differently than anybody I had ever met before; he noticed colors before shapes and talked in hues and aura, like others talked current events.

It didn’t take him long to put me in position: on the floor leaning on my elbow, legs out beside me, and my hair down and draped over the front of me like a mermaid’s. I knew he was in his zone, no longer seeing me, but seeing through me and to my spirit.

“Beautiful.” He took his place behind the easel and white canvas.

Unable to see his face, only his arm as it gently followed the hand holding the paint brush, I knew not to talk, not to disturb him as he created the new, improved me. However, after what felt like hours, my mouth began to dry. I needed water. Surely he would understand that I needed a little break—I opened my mouth to tell him, but my tongue was completely limp, and I couldn’t even swallow. The silly words from the story came to mind: “Then she cut off the mermaid’s tongue, so that she became dumb, and would never again speak or sing.”

Trying to laugh at the thought, I felt a strange pinch in the middle of my stomach. An involuntary grunt finally came from my throat, and when I realized I could make this sound, I tried to get Philip’s attention, but he didn’t hear me—too focused in his work.

I squeezed my eyes open and shut, trying to clear the buzzing that had begun in my head. And then I saw it…. waves of color beamed from me to Philip’s swooping arm. At first I thought it was the result of the light bulbs and my blinking, but it didn’t go away. It was dark outside, so there was no sun playing with the window’s glass. These streams of gold and red and blue were coming from me.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain run up my arm, and it couldn’t hold me up any longer. I collapsed. “…and it seemed as if a two-edged sword went through her delicate body: she fell into a swoon, and lay like one dead…” I thought Philip would soon look at me and tell me to sit up—but minutes passed, and he never glanced away from the canvas. The pain moved down to my legs and so did the beams of colorful light. “…she felt as if treading upon the points of needles or sharp knives.”

As I grew weaker, my confusion faded. It became clear that if I didn’t get Philip’s attention, I would die, which promptly turned into: if I don’t stop Philip, I will die. “Haste, then; he or you must die before sunrise.”

I pushed my torso up with wobbly arms, every muscle burning. I couldn’t feel my legs at all. “She has given us a knife: here it is, see it is very sharp. Before the sun rises you must plunge it into the heart of the prince; when the warm blood falls upon your feet… return to us to live.” I remembered the scissors on my desk behind me. I loudly grunted as I reached and grabbed them, dropping immediately back down. I lay there, time passing until I was able to pull myself by plunging the scissors into the carpet and using them as a means to move across the floor.

With each breath, my lungs tightened as if the air itself was poison. I coughed and gagged, but still Philip did not stir. Finally, I lay beside him at his easel, taking a moment to gather some strength. The hand that held the scissors ached and so did my heart at the thought of what I had to do to survive. I used the rest of my might to pull myself up, leaning on my left hand, and brought the weapon behind my head with my right.

When I shifted my view, the painting came into focus. It was complete, save for the sun. Philip dipped his brush into the yellow and orange mixture, and I examined The Little Mermaid, letting the scissors fall behind me as I marveled at her beauty. She was alive. This painting was Philip’s dream, his life’s work… his masterpiece.

Easing the brush away from the bright sun, Philip whispered, “Finished,” as I fell into soft darkness…

“…and then mounted with the other children of the air to a rosy cloud that floated through the aether.”

The End

My Fairy Tale Inspired Ebook Pick

2011-09-14T12:19:00.000-05:00

Out of the four fairy tale inspired eBook samples I downloaded from Amazon to my Kindle on Monday, I only bought one. (A Clockwork Fairytale by Helen Scott Taylor ) I’m not an “If I start reading a book, I finish it” type of reader. Now that I think about it, I’m guess I’m actually a pretty picky reader:

• Rarely do I like first person. (Especially in YA)

• I’m a sensitive reader. (I will not read it if it looks like a child might get hurt.)

• I usually don’t like straight forensic/crime investigations. (Not a CSI etc. fan at all)

• It has to have some kind of action, man. Please give me a plot other than getting the main characters “together.”

• I’m frugal. (Under 3 bucks for an eBook, please)

• And, like most people these days, I don’t have a lot of time to read. So the time I do have I want to spend on something that gobbles me up from the beginning – if the sample doesn’t grab me in those couple of chapters, I’m not going to buy it, even if it is cheap.

After reading the sample of A Clockwork Fairytale by Helen Scott Taylor , I couldn’t wait to read more. I bought the eBook for the good price of $2.99. I’m only a couple of chapters in, but so far I’m really enjoying it. Also, I love the title and the cover. Here’s the blurb from Amazon:

Plucky, seventeen-year-old Melba was raised like a boy to pick pockets and run messages in the poor outer circles of Royal Malverne Isle, but she longs to move up the criminal hierarchy and become a spy. When nineteen-year-old Turk, a spymaster and local folk hero, accepts her pledge to join his gang, she thinks the Great Earth Jinn has heard her prayer. With his exotic, dark southern looks and wealthy lifestyle in the inner circle, Turk fascinates her. Yet he is not what he seems--he is really a monk working undercover for the Shining Brotherhood. The Brotherhood has secret plans for Melba, plans that make her a target of the evil Royal Victualler's foul magic, plans that challenge Melba and Turk's beliefs about life and duty, plans that tear them apart, just as they discover what it means to fall in love.

Suitable for adults and teenagers.

So how does my list of “book must haves,” or not haves for that matter, compare to yours?

4 Fairy tale inspired kindle ebooks under 3 bucks

2011-09-12T10:33:00.001-05:00

One of the things I love about my Kindle is being able to download free samples and then read them when I get a chance. Today I downloaded 4 fairy tale inspired samples. They are all very different but look really interesting and are all under $3 - yay! Later in the week, I’ll let you know if I decided to buy any.

Fairy Tale Fail by Mina V. Esguerra

.99 cent Kindle

The Cinderella Curse by J.L. Penn

.99 cent Kindle

A Clockwork Fairytale (Clockwork Fairytales) by Helen Scott Taylor

$2.99 Kindle

Virtue - A Fairy Tale by Amanda Hocking

$2.99 Kindle

Free Supernatural eBook

2011-09-06T10:14:00.001-05:00

Hi friends,

I just wanted to let you know that my Paranormal Egyptian Mystery, Passage to Mesentia, is free to download (or read online) all month long. No contest, no drawing, just go get your free copy at Goodreads

before October.

The inspirations behind Passage to Mesentia are my obsession with ancient Egypt, my love for good old-fashioned treasure hunt stories, and, of course, because I’m a huge paranormal fan. This supernatural mystery includes, adventure, a five-thousand-year-old curse, murder, and romance. Will Lilly and Wade be able to bury the past, or will a history of love, hate, and blood repeat itself?

Here is the first chapter:

Thursday April 14, 2005

“That was so freaking boring,” Wade Roberts said as he lowered the passenger side window. “Please, don’t ever make me sit through one of those again.” He fought with his tie until he won and then threw it in the backseat.

“Really?” Lilly said. “I found it fascinating. Would you mind? With the window... we still have dinner.”

Wade pressed the button, and the window made its way back up. “That’s because they’re your parents: the greatest archaeology team in the whole universe.” Even though he knew Lilly would freeze in her little sundress, he turned on the air conditioner. She had been the one who had insisted he wear the hot, miserable suit in the first place. He knew the reason he’d been the only one Sunday-schooled up at the lecture was because she wanted to impress her parents. That’s what had annoyed him the most about the entire evening.

“That’s not it,” she said. “I mean, I am proud of them. My goodness, they discovered the tomb of an Egyptian queen who no one even knew existed.”

“It doesn’t even make sense. This cat Unas...”

“The last pharaoh of the fifth dynasty.”

“Yeah, yeah. Why wouldn’t he want anyone to know he had this third wife? It’s not like they had to worry about bigamy. Everyone already knew he had two wives. What’s one more?”

“Oh, so you were paying attention.”

He exhaled, causing his lips to putter, and shrugged his shoulders.

Lilly tucked her long, dark hair behind her ear and her face lit up as she said, “But that’s what makes it so incredible. Don’t you think it’s weird how they found Queen Mesentia’s mummy buried off on its own and not with the other wives? No pyramid or any other indication that there was a tomb, just an underground tunnel.”

“Uh huh. Hey Baby, stop over there at that fillin’ station so I can grab me a pack of cigs.”

“Wade, we’ll be late.”

“Well, call and tell them we’ll be a little late. Unless you want me to pace and be nervous all night.”

She huffed but pulled off the highway and then into a Texaco station.

Wade got out of the car and took his time walking inside. No way was he going to hurry. He could see Lilly through the window with the phone up to her ear. Probably saying, “Mommy, I’m so sorry Wade’s such an ass.” Actually, he mused, she would never use the word ass, it would be more like, “He’s such a meanie-wienie,” or some other silly word she had picked up from her 3rd graders.

Wade climbed back into the car a couple of minutes later, hitting his cigarettes upside down on the palm of his hand, packing the tobacco.

“I tried them three times,” Lilly said as she drove onto the access road. “I don’t understand why no one answered. Even if they’re upstairs, Constance should answer in the kitchen. ”

When Wade noticed she had turned the air off, he started rolling the window back down.

“You’re not going to smoke that now are you?”

“Uh... yes,” he said with the unlit cigarette already in his lips and his thumb on the lighter.

“Come on… I don’t want to stink.”

“What the hell did you think I was going to do with the things? Eat ‘em?”

The tires squealed as she turned into the next driveway and made an abrupt stop.

“Get out,” she said.

“What?” His mouth dropped open, and the cigarette fell to the floorboard.

“I’ll wait while you take a couple of puffs. All right? And please, take off your jacket.”

Wade gladly rid himself of the jacket. With the door ajar, he lit the cigarette, inhaling a long satisfying drag.

“Why aren’t they answering the phone?” Lilly asked, holding the phone up to her ear.

“We saw them like five seconds ago,” he said, wishing he had a cold beer to go with the nicotine.

“You know how they hate it when I’m late, and we’re already thirty minutes behind.”

“Will you stop? It won’t hurt them to wait a couple of minutes.” He squished the fire of the cigarette out with his fingers and put it back inside the pack. He sighed as he sat back down in the passenger seat, hoping she would catch his annoyance so he wouldn’t have to tell her what he really thought of the situation. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Perfection. He didn’t understand why Lilly wasted so much energy on people who would rather be half way across the world digging up bones than near their only daughter. He did hate that they were home, but it would be hard on Lilly to see them go back to Cairo in a month to count, or catalog, or whatever people did with mummies, when she hadn’t seen them in over a year.

As Lilly sat there, all tight mouthed and mad at him, he remembered what he used to call her when they’d first met: Princess Lilly. How someone as classy as Lillian Steward had fallen for a blue-collar cowboy like him, he would never know. Her parents still didn’t approve of him and probably hoped Lilly would grow out of her rebellious behavior and get back together with Mr. Sophisticated. They especially didn’t like them living together without a piece of paper but didn’t want them to get married either. He couldn’t wait for their reactions when she finally did say yes. He had proposed to Lilly twice, and even though she had shot him down both times, he knew one day she would be his wife.

As Lilly turned the wheel and pulled into the circular drive that led up to the four-columned two-story, she said, “Answer my father when he talks to you, don’t be bored, and please don’t fall asleep after we eat.”

“Yes, Miss Steward. I will raise my hand if I have to go to the bathroom.”

“I wonder why the lights are out.” She turned the ignition off letting the night sounds in.

“Maybe they got tired of waiting and went on to bed.”

“They wouldn’t do that,” Lilly said as she stepped out of the car.

“Sure they wouldn’t,” he responded, right after she had shut the door.

Wade gathered all the mental strength he could find to face Lilly’s parents before forcing himself out of the car.

Lilly stood on the front porch and slowly turned towards Wade as he walked up stairs. “Something’s... off,” she said.

Wade absorbed the same weird vibe. Other than the streetlights filtering in through the huge oak trees, darkness surrounded the house. After a moment of neither one of them moving, he said, “Maybe we were supposed to meet them at a restaurant.”

“No, Mom said here.” She put her hand on the door knob. The door hadn’t been shut all the way; it silently glided open. After a pause, she looked at Wade with an expression of worry hardening her delicate face.

“Stay here,” he said.

Lilly shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

He tried giving her a firm looking at, but still she shook her head.

“Fine,” he said through his teeth. He walked through the dark entrance with Lilly right behind him, holding onto his shirt. He waited a second for his eyes to focus, and then jumped when the light overhead snapped on. He turned to Lilly, and she shrugged her shoulders, her hand on the switch.

When Wade got a whiff of dinner, the silence and the darkness of the house didn’t add up. And then Lilly glanced past him. Her brown eyes narrowed but then quickly widened. Wade followed her stare to the destroyed living room area.

“Mom... Dad?” Lilly ran past him, stopping for a second to examine the living room.

“Wait! Lilly, don’t!” Wade yelled.

But Lilly didn’t stop. She ran up the stairs calling her parents’ names, each time her voice a little more panicked. Wade chased after her, but as soon as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard Lilly scream.

Download epub for free: Goodreads

eBook is always available for .99 cents at these online stores

Barnes and Noble (Nook)

Amazon (Kindle)

Amazon.co.uk(Kindle)

Short Story: Muse by Dorlana Vann

2011-08-30T08:31:00.000-05:00

This is one of my short stories from my upcoming anthology, Supernatural Fairy Tales. It was inspired by Prince Ariel from "The Fairy Tales of Madame D'Aulnoy."

Muse
by

Dorlana Vann

Since Jackson couldn’t channel his frustration onto the blank page, he used his fist to pound it into the desk. “Ahhh,” he cried, swooshing his fountain pen and several loose pieces of writing-paper to the floor.

His caged birds squawked with excitement from the sudden movement in the quiet room. Feathers flew. Jackson stood up, his breaths labored and lonely. “I’m sorry ladies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He draped a stack of dark sheets over his arm. “Are you ready for your beauty sleep, my Echo?” He covered her and moved on to Valley, giving her several sweet kisses. Continuing his ritual, he covered all twenty birds leaving Isis, his two-foot Scarlet Macaw, as his last goodnight. She blinked her yellow eyes at him.

“Sleep well, Love,” he said and then ran his fingers through his slick hair, noticing how dark and stale the room had become.

He opened the window, lit a lantern, and picked up the paper and his pen, setting them back on his desk. He thought about writing another letter but knew they were only stall tactics. “I’m a novel writer,” he reassured himself. “Now write something novel!”

He felt anxious. There was nothing left for him to do. He had moved to one of the most crime-ridden areas of London to conduct his research. When observations had stopped inspiring his writing, he had taken it to the next level. The first hand accounts had given him dozens of pages: a feel for the weapon in his hands; the reaction on the faces of the women when they knew they were going to die; and the color and temperature of the blood. After each attack, he had sped home and written feverishly, until the words stopped, died on the page—

He conducted more studies, pushing himself to the limits of his own capacities. “Why am I still blank?” he said in a sob. “Why?”

Isis began to squawk in her cage, beneath her cover.

“Shush,” he said off-handedly. “I’m having a difficult enough time as it is.”

“Let me out.”

Jackson turned his head slowly toward the covered cage. He listened. Sure she could talk, “Pretty lady.” “I love you.” But never… “Let me out.”

She said it again.

Jackson scooted his chair back and stood abruptly. “Was that you, Isis? Did you learn something new?”

“Open the cage, Jackson. Let me out.”

Jackson shook his head, trying to clear the confusion. Obviously, because he was exhausted and tense, he was now hearing things. That’s all. However, he eased toward the cage. One step—stop. One step—stop… Swiftly, without thinking, he uncovered Isis.

She sat on her perch, head down, asleep.

“Isis?” he whispered. “Was that you?” He looked around the room when he heard rustling coming from the other cages. All the sheets were moving. Jackson heart thumped.

But then he remembered he had opened the window. After taking the six steps to the window and ignoring the lack of breeze, he closed it. He turned around, backed against the window, hands stretched out—palms wide, like he was keeping the walls from closing in on him, because all the cages were uncovered.

It seemed like morning: birds bounced, stretched out their wings, walked, and whistled, however, much more so. The cages were actually open, and the birds began to explore. Isis, eyes open now and sitting on her perch in her home, stared at Jackson.

Jackson peeled himself away from the window and cautiously moved toward her. “Love?”

“Come closer, Jackson.”

He felt terrifyingly wonderful. Sweat gathered on his brow and above his lips. “Isis? Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

Jackson tried to steady his blinking; he shut his eyes hard and then reopened them. “Why now? Why not before? I have told you my most intimate secrets and feelings and you never spoke an intelligent word.”

“The time was not right. I am here when you need me most. Let me be your inspiration.”

“Oh, Isis! How I do so need someone to talk to. I have so many troubles. Thank you for sharing your wisdom with me now.” He put his arm in her cage, enduring the sharp claws he usually protectively wrapped his arm against. He stroked her red feathers. “My beautiful, Isis, what words do you have for me? Do you know what I must do to finish my story?”

“I do.”

“Tell me.”

“You have watched, but you have never felt. In order to achieve realism and depth, you will need to experience the pain for yourself.”

“Yes, yes… I see. I see what you mean. But how? How can I achieve this insight?”

“I will be near whilst you sink the edge of your knife into your skin. Not too deep my dear, just enough to feel a twinge.”

“Marvel upon marvel, you are my muse!” He set Isis on the back of his chair and ran to his bedside table and pulled out his knife. Its long thick blade still stained from his latest research project. “Where? Where shall I feel it?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“The same as you wrote. The same as you gave.”

The coldness of the blade against his neck caused his heart to quicken with excitement. He stared at Isis as she moved her head to and fro with tiny jerks. “Just this fills my head with ideas, with words…” He sucked in his breath and pressed a little harder, the sting bringing quiet tears to his eyes. “How absolutely stimulating.”

He heard them before he saw them, but only by a second. All of his beauties came towards him, Isis in the mix, their feathers, and beaks, and claws causing his hand to yank deeply inward and then slide to the side. Falling backward, Jackson still imagined how his ghastly and perfect pain would translate onto paper.

As the feathers settled and the squawks calmed to a low murmur, Jackson’s last breath was accompanied by his last vision: five faint ghostly figures dancing above him. He heard the words, “Jack the Ripper, our story ends in revenge,” as his eyes closed.

The End

Supernatural Fairy Tales Anthology

2011-08-25T08:41:00.003-05:00

The Cover:

I’m very excited about the cover and wanted to give a big THANK YOU to the creative team of Liz Shipe & Perry Heideman of Reconstructing Grimm for the image. Art director, Liz Shipe, and photographer, Perry Heideman, along with many volunteers, recreate fairy tale scenes in urban settings. They do amazing work and have produced scenes from Snow White, Peter Pan, Little Red Riding Hood, Wizard of Oz, and more. The photos from their latest project, Beauty and the Beast, have been posted to their blog, and you can also check out their work in an upcoming issue of Faerie Magazine.

The Anthology:

When I first started this blog, about 5 years ago, I used it as a means of inspiration. I challenged myself at the beginning of the month having to pick a classic fairy tale and a supernatural element, and I had until the end of the month to write a short story (sometimes a poem) and then post it to the blog. (Except for His Soul Inspiration which was written for and published in Enchanted Conversation.) For the last couple of years, I’ve changed directions and have been more focused on novels, so I pulled these short stories from the blog and organized them. I realized that over the years I had written 23 short stories. I’m happy with most of them, but then there were a few that went into the “outdated” or “yikes” pile. What was left easily fell into two categories: light and dark (some being darkish – lol.) And from those two groups, I realized most of my favorites were in the darker pile.

I ended up with 9 favorite stories that will be included in my anthology, Supernatural Fairy Tales. These short stories are not retellings of the original tales but were inspired by them. They are paranormal themed stories about vampires, ghosts, mermaids, witches, and more, in genres ranging from romance to thriller. And fair warning: they don’t always have a happy ending - bwahaha…

The anthology should be available in Ebook by Oct 1, 2011 for only .99 cents. If you would like a review copy, just email and we can talk about the details.

An Excerpt:

Next week, I will post one of the short stories from the anthology. I’m just not sure which one. Below are all the titles with the story inspirations. Which one sounds interesting to you?

If You Feed a Wolf – Inspired by Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. This is one of favorites because it was experimental. I just let myself free to write without a real plan. As far as what I took from the original story: it reminded me of how I feel in dreams - so some of the things that happen in this story are taken from my actual dreams (I keep a dream journal).

The Vampire’s New Suit – Inspired by The Emperor’s New Suit. I just like this one because it's fun -I bet you can't guess the two elements here - lol.

Blueberry Eyes – I'm not going to say which fairy tale this one was inspired by because it kind of gives away the ending.

The Gift – Inspired by The Ghost of Christmas Past from "A Christmas Carol." This one was one of my favorites because I wrote the entire story backwards - line by line - It was my daughter's idea because I was stuck. I also like it because it is my first and only western - and it has a touch of steampunk and ghosts.

If it weren’t for Bad Luck – Inspired by Rumpelstiltskin. You see, I have this theory about luck...

Muse – (Also published in The Inferno under the title What You Know.) Inspired by Prince Ariel from "The Fairy Tales of Madame D'Aulnoy." I had to do a lot of research on birds for this one. One of my darker pieces.

His Soul Inspiration – (Originally published in Enchanted Conversation ) Inspired by The Little Mermaid, this is my last supernatural fairy tale short... to date.

Quiet on the Nightingale – (Also published in AllRomance eBooks Newsletter) Inspired by Jorinda and Joringel. A little sexy but mostly fun.

Forbidden Beach – (Also published in Silverthorn Press) Inspired by Thumbelina, this short story is probably the truest to the fantasy genre of my stories and also the creepiest.

The Princes of Tangleforest and Silverweed Giveaways

2011-08-19T08:27:00.002-05:00

There are a couple of giveaways going on for my fairy tale inspired novels.

The Elliot Review Giveaway: The Princes of Tangleforest

Jessi of The Elliot Review Blog is a teacher, librarian and fangirl. Her blog features book reviews, author interviews, and lots of fun, easy to enter, giveaways! For the next couple of weeks, until Aug. 27th, you can comment and/or tweet for a chance to win one of two copies of The Princes of Tangleforest. I also talk a little about the inspiration behind this fairy tale inspired YA contemporary novel. While you are there, be sure to check out and enter her other giveaways!

Goodreads Giveaway: Silverweed

I am giving away 5 paperback copies of Silverweed: a supernatural fairy tale. Entries accepted at Goodreads until Sept. 15, 2011. While you are there, be sure to add me to your friends.

Love and Laughter,

Dorlana

Neil Gaiman's "Snow, Glass, Apples" adapted by Lisa Stock

2011-08-10T11:13:00.000-05:00

If you live in Atlanta, GA be sure to check out Neil Gaiman's "Snow, Glass, Apples" - adapted and directed by Lisa Stock.

To benefit the East Atlanta Community Association

New York Times Best Selling Author, Neil Gaiman’s “Snow, Glass, Apples” retells the tale of Snow White from the vantage point of the stepmother. As the queen’s suspicions of her vampire-like stepdaughter begin to grow, her attempts to protect all that is dear to her unravel when she fails to trust her own instincts. A shocking tale of survival in which nothing is as it seems.

Showing August 24-28, 2011 at East Atlanta Village Farmer’s Market, W-Sat 8:30pm, Sun 6:00 & 8:30pmAug. 24-28th, 2011, Director Lisa Stock invites spectators to enter a dreamlike Spring Fair to witness a dark tale of blood, hunger, and mistrusting your instincts. Neil Gaiman’s "Snow, Glass, Apples" turns the story of Snow White upside down allowing the wicked stepmother to tell her side of the tale. Audiences will literally walk into the fairy tale and stand side by side with the characters. Staged inside the East Atlanta Village Farmer’s Market, this is no Renaissance Festival, but a door to a wicked carnival of innocence gone wrong. Dancers create the forest, which the audience has to pass through before entering the market; Snow White’s heart dangles above – beating in haunting memory; and other surreal images bring to life this tale of trusting ones own instincts at the darkest of times. All performances will benefit the East Atlanta Community Association. Director Lisa Stock will conduct a Q&A with the audience after the performance on August 25th. Due to adult themes and simulated violence, parents strongly cautioned. However, the Sunday 6:00pm performance on the 28th will be "family friendly".

visit http://www.inbytheeye.com/ for more information.

Fairy Tale Inspired Young Adult Contemporary Fantasy

2011-08-08T09:12:00.000-05:00

The Princes of Tangleforest

Dorlana Vann

Inspired by the classic fairy tale Rapunzel and sprinkled with the question: What if the school’s misfits discovered a way to use mind control in order to become the popular group?

The Princes of Tangleforest was my first NaNoWrioMo (National Novel Writing Month) project back in 2007. And it was my first novel length supernatural fairy tale I had worked on. Before that, I had written more than 20 short stories for this blog. (Later this year I will be publishing a short story collection of my favorite stories.)

My supernatural fairy tale formula is: fairy tale + paranormal element. For this story I had picked Rapunzel + mind control. The Princes of Tangleforest was inspired by The Brother’s Grimms version of, "Rapunzel." However, it is not a retelling. Instead, I’ve taken certain aspects of the fairy tale and mixed them with contemporary characters and setting. There are some obvious connections to the original story but also a few "Easter eggs" to discover.

Here is a little about it:

Skater and reformed geek, Tanner Dobbs, soon learns that his new school, Tangleforest High, is ruled by the Princes. This group of brains used the techniques of Neuro Linguistic Programming to “persuade” the student body that intellectuals are cool, with an added bonus suggestion: “The Princes are the smartest and therefore the most popular.”

Julia Webster used to be part of the Princes’ crowd until they became obsessed and increasingly dangerous to themselves. Now she finds herself an outcast from her former “nerd” friends as well as the students who had ostracized her since elementary school. She’s worried when new kid, Tanner, is invited to join the Princes. She figures Tanner hides his smarts in order to fit in and worries that the popular status the Princes offer, even though geeky, might entice him.

When Tanner catches a glimpse of his golden-haired neighbor, Poppi, he thinks perhaps the Tangleforest community isn’t so terribly bad. But after climbing up to her window, he discovers she is locked in her bedroom by her wicked witch of a grandmother. Unfortunately, his only chance of saving the princess may be to become a nerd prince.

And an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Although the girly-girl-filled lunch table buzzed with excitement over the cute new guy with the mess of blond waves, Julia Webster tried to ignore him. Even if she hadn’t watched Tanner Dobbs ride up on his skateboard this morning, she would’ve guessed he was a skater—graphic tee, baggy shorts, Vans. Plus, it was easy to conclude, after watching him walk into third period with a confident stride and nonchalant attitude, he believed he was cool. And the one thing she knew for sure: his type never liked her type.

One of the girls at her table said, “He’s coming this way.”

Julia wasn’t surprised that, out of the entire cafeteria, he migrated toward her table. Tanner had been through half of his first day, so he must have noticed the strangeness of Tangleforest Senior High. She figured the colorfulness of the students at her table gave him a sense of adolescent normality when nothing else in the school even came close to the norm.

After a loud group-gasp from the girls at her table, her head automatically jolted up and found the source. The Princes stood between Tanner and the safety of their table. Didn’t take them long, she thought.

No matter how much the Princes had changed the other students, they remained the same. First in command was Zachary Davis: Julia’s ex and the son of Dr. Davis, Tangleforest’s own celebrity psychiatrist. Zachary was wealthy, tall, slender, and his nerd roots ran deep: smart, sci-fi loving, black glasses, and a goofiness that couldn’t be suppressed, no matter how popular he became. And the only reason he no longer sported a cowlick was because before they had broken up, Julia had convinced him to let her cut his hair super short.

Next to Zachary sat Julia’s former best friend, Darla. Darla wore her hair in pigtails, which bugged Julia to no end. Pigtails! She was shorter than Julia, skinny-skinny, and was now the most pursued girl in school. However, Darla only had pitiful eyes for Zachary.

And then there were the Pittman twins: Scrawny Johnny—red straggly hair, and Big Sean—brown flat top. Up to that year, they had spent their school career being shoved into lockers and underwearless, just in case of a wedgy attack.

Julia watched as Zachary tried to touch the new guy’s arm, but he jerked away, giving Zachary a, “What the hell?” glare. Probably either sensing something off, or more likely, he had a predetermined opinion of nerds and didn’t want to be associated with them on his first day.

Julia took a bite of her salad and felt Tanner’s arm brush against hers as he sat down right beside her. The entire table went on immediate ignore; a rule they had all accepted in order to keep from being too disappointed. They knew, sooner or later, the Princes would have their “little talk” with Tanner, and he would then look down his nose at them, like they were at the bottom of the food chain. As Julia imagined the outcome, Tanner didn’t turn out like one of the nerd Princes at all. Instead, as she thought about him walking into the lunchroom in slow motion, he actually looked pretty hot, dressed in a black suit with his hair slicked back, dark shades and a cool swagger.

“Why do you have that goofy look on your face?” Julia’s new “best friend” Ashley asked. Ashley, the girl whose face had the word “bitch” printed across it in all of Julia’s yearbooks.

“Oh,” she said. “Nothing. Just thinking about my next hair design.”

“Hair, hair… hair. I’ve never seen anybody so obsessed with hair. I mean... I am, but that’s different. I’m obsessed because mine is so fabulous. You actually want to touch other people’s gross, nasty hair.”

“Um… Ashley, you’re in cosmetology classes, too.”

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “But I’m not actually going to get a J.O.B. cutting hair.”

“I’ll bite. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to college.”

“All right. And major in…?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be getting my M.R.S., and then my attorney husband can do all the working, and I’ll do all the shopping.”

“Maybe I should send you over to the Princes’ table.”

Ashley flipped her hair. “I don’t see why my career goals have to be like everyone else’s.”

Julia never considered being a wife as a career, but she knew she wouldn’t want Ashley doing her taxes or her therapy. “Touché.” Julia sighed.

“Too what?” Ashley asked.

“Never mind.” Julia shook her head. “All right. The only problem I see with your plan is that you have to make the grades to get into college and then law school. Right now, you might qualify for community college.”

“Whatever,” Ashley said, “because right now I would settle for any place where those so-called Princes won’t be. Once I get out of Nerdville, I’ll be popular again.” She smiled and gleamed up at the ceiling. “The girls will resume their places as my shadows, and all the boys will want to date me again because I’m me and not because…” She glanced at the new guy and then back to Julia. “Well… you know why. I still can’t believe any of this has happened. You don’t understand. You’re used to not getting any attention. It’s so bizarre-o not having boys…” She turned her attention fully on the guy sitting next to Julia. “Hi.” She smiled showing her orthodontist’s daughter’s teeth. “What’s your name? Where did you move from?”

“Ashley!”

“What, Julia? Sorry, but come on… he’s dreamy.”

“Tanner Dobbs,” he answered. “I’m from Dallas.”

“City boy… I like that.”

The fact that Ashley had broken the table silence rule didn’t surprise or really bother Julia because the idea of being able to talk to someone about something other than clothes and boy bands was appealing. However, what did bother her was the fact that Tanner had probably already come to the false conclusion that she was cool. And even if, by some miracle, the Princes decided to leave him alone, she knew Tanner would soon discover that her make-up and black clothes hid more nerd than ninety percent of the school population, and that would be the end of that. Besides, she didn’t need the aggravation or another rejection. Therefore, the best thing for her to do was to not even try.

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