Writings

Many, many, many thanks to all who participated in the Canon Fodder Challenge. Thank you to all who helped judge, including Ruby Wednesday, Elise Shaw, Scarlett71177, Justine Lark, Hoosier Mama, and TrainLindz. The winning stories, and all the other excellent entries, can be found at the contest page.

I’m still digging out from exams, which will be finished on Friday, 5/14. After that, expect to hear from me with a little article about the contest itself; why it was fun, what fics were my favorites, and why it’s restored my faith in fandom.

Rookie Category:

First Place: “Souls to Waste” by Kyrene once Blood Roses
Second Place: “The World According to Kate” by bonnysammy
Third Place: “Quiet Earthquake” by justaskalice
“Post Proelia Praemia” by fantasmeqrt
“One Night in Forks” by kittandchips
“Gifted” by la.tua.cantante.83

Veteran Category:

First Place: “Radiant Possibility” by Scarlett71177
Second Place: “We Who Are Left Behind” by Openhome
Third Place: “Rosalie’s Revenge” by javamomma0921

Judges’ Picks:

Rookie Category:
“Two Blushing Pilgrims” by carbrain

Veteran Category:
“Close Your Eyes, Close Your Eyes and Relax” by lts29
“A Life Eternal” by CorinnaTFF
“Madonna and Child” by kimmydonn

Edward looked askance at the tiny pile of shriveling greenery that lay at the side of his knee. He could almost see them wilting, it happened so quickly once their roots were severed from the ground. They were like the bodies of the men he’d killed, one after another, lying in the dirt, slowly withering away to nothing. He ran his hand over the pile absently.

“There were so many,” he whispered.

Oh, Edward. She moved at full speed now, and her arms came around him protectively. He stilled himself, letting her hold him. Her arms were more slender than Carlisle’s, her wrists more delicate where they crossed over his shoulder. In the moonlight, her bare arms shone faintly. She laid her head on his shoulder a moment, and her hair tickled his ear. They sat for several minutes. Edward could hear the thrum of the summer locusts around them, and the gentle whooshing of the stream in the distance.

Esme’s chest expanded and contracted against his own ribcage as she heaved a sigh, and Edward felt a strange emotion from her.

Pride?

His lip curled in disgust. “How can you be proud of me?”

His thoughts of Carlisle vanished at once, however, when his feet made purchase on the soft soil of Eleanor’s expansive lawn. She and her husband were moderately wealthy, although it surprised Edward that they had no household help. A second woman in the house might be of comfort and help to Eleanor while Thomas was away. But instead there was no one, save the man whose scent seemed to surround Edward as he slunk his way around the house.

The indignant anger was instantaneous, a fire licking at his insides as he sprang into position at the windows. He cast his own mind wide, trying to pick up on anything. The man’s scent was everywhere—had he been haunting this woman all afternoon?

Edward moved swiftly, looking in first the kitchen, then the living room, then the back window. Nothing, nothing, and nothing—nothing, that was, except the greasy fingers, the strong scent of eau de cologne and bootlegged whiskey. He gagged, but kept going, following the trail the greasy pervert had left behind. It circled the entire first floor of the house—the voyeur had peered in every window, it seemed. But when he reached the front door, he stopped cold.

The noisome odor was stronger on the other side.

His reply was sharper than he intended, and Carlisle’s face clouded with hurt once again. Edward drew a deep breath and made eye contact. It was just after sundown, and Carlisle’s eyes shone in the waning daylight. They had been blue, Carlisle had once told him, and for a moment Edward busied himself trying to imagine them that way, instead of the saffron or obsidian that he was used to. He tried to imagine his father’s gaze looking on him with eyes looking like heaven itself—because that made sense for Carlisle—and he instantly felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking downward again. “It’s not you. I just—I’m not ready.”

Carlisle stared at him again, his expression softening. You will heal, Edward. I know you will. Give it time. His hand floated unconsciously to his own left shoulder, and Edward winced.  Carlisle didn’t miss his expression.

This healed, too. He patted his shoulder. Quickly, in fact. But the heart takes longer. As does the soul.

The soul. Edward let out a frustrated growl. They weren’t supposed to have them. Vampires were damned creatures, or so the legends said. Not that very much was true about the legends, but Edward clung to this. And even if he hadn’t been damned when he’d set out running from the little house in Barre, wasn’t he undoubtedly damned now? How could one take nearly four hundred lives and still expect eternal forgiveness?

He had no soul.

I’ve added a new feature to my site–the “Get Update Alerts” page. I wanted something very robust, so that everyone could decide exactly how much or how little or on which topics they wanted to hear from me. Thankfully, I found just the solution. All of you who are already members of the site have been added automatically to the alerts, but please feel free to adjust your settings or to unsubscribe completely if you wish. If you click on the link in any update e-mail you receive, you’ll be able to opt-in to notifications by topic. Only want to hear about “Da Capo?” Only want teasers? Just go for those categories.

I hope this enhances your experience of my new site. Thank you for visiting!