Excerpt from Fading Dusk


He smiled to himself turning back to the crowd gathered tightly around the neonlit stage. Todd was gyrating his near naked form for the screaming women. Hand lashing out in hopes of yanking a hair or two loose from his platinum streaked mane.

He flung his hair out to them, jerking back just as they mobbed one another to try for a grab.

It had been the rage for the past few shows… who could get a few luxurious hairs form the beautiful dancer to gloat about. Todd pranced in nothing but a very snug thong. Swinging his hips as he made to dive off the edge of the stage, stopping himself mid motion to again fling the silken mass at the grappling girls.

Leon sighed as a fight broke out in the front of the crowd. Two ecstasy infused girls going at it over some of that hair. He nodded to the three burly security guards across the stage front.

One of them pulled the screeching girls apart like hissing cats, ushering them gently to the bar to cool off. It was rare anyone was manhandled in the club… so often full of the delicate humans. Zander made it law to defuse fights as gently as possible until no other option presented itself.

Often the case with the otherkin and vampires. But that was a different situation altogether.

Todd laughed gaily. Wrapping his body around a neon lit dance pole. The bright pink and orange flashing off his sweat slick skin as he swung himself to the top. Clinging to the pole with naked thighs he dropped the rest of his body to reach out towards the crowd, shaking that huge mass of shimmering hair as the women and some men screeched in excitement.

His eyes caught the subtle motion of a girl far back by the bar. He could see she was clutching books with a confused expression on her pretty face. She looked as if the school bus dropped her off at the wrong place. He lowered himself to the floor in slow arching swings around the pole. His eyes still on her as a bouncer harassed her for ID.

Making several wide bows to the delighted crowd he gave them a back arching view of his silk clad crotch, bringing another wave of screams as he dashed from the stage into the back hall of dressing rooms.

He had to see who that girl was… rushing to fling a satin robe of black across his shoulders. Heading for the bar where he last seen her.

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The Sacrifice

Beneath the eternal circle of the white full-moon, a ring of highland menhir stones stood guard around the sacred ground of sacrifice. Clear stars cut through the sky like a swath of iridescent crystals that shone down upon the land with a cold, unearthly light. The chilled air of autumn whistled through the fields of grass. No sound, other than that of the wind and the distant sea, penetrates the circle of stones.

It was there, beside the altar that the sacrifice waited. She had the youth of a maiden: smooth, flawless ivory skin; small breasts, firm yet supple; a perfect figure unmarred by time; and a confidence of immortality only the naivety of youth could bring. Her beauty rivalled the glory of the landscape itself. Her eyes held colour of blooming heather, her hair was a magnificent crown of gilded tresses falling to a pair of shapely thighs, and her heart-shaped face held the beguiling essence of one of the fae.

She was shivering, but not from the bitter night. It was what lay in the darkness beyond the tall stone guardians that sent tremors of terror through her soul. And yet she quietly awaited her destiny…

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Dark Moon Castle

An erotic short story by Sharma Wild.

Sarah rested the broad basket against her hip and adjusted her kirtle. The steep climb had caused the loose, flowing garment to twist around at the neck and fall askew.

“I have to rest”, she said faintly to herself and sank down on the hard, grey brittlerock of the mountain side and set the empty basket down beside her.

It was cold up on the steeps, the air too thin to hold any heat. But the sun was warm, a bare six hours from setting. Its golden light streamed back at her from the eastern horizon, warm on her bare arms, neck and face, warming the broken rock shelf on which she sat.

Sarah gazed out over the wide plains of grass and soft sweeping hills that spread out below her. She could see her village over to the right; tiny, far away, at the foot of the mountain and the edge of the plain.

Knowing she still had a long way to go, Sarah sighed and got up. Her mind wandered back to Merith, her sister; the beautiful, fair-haired Merith that was going to be wed to the son of one of the village’s council men. Merith who had been given sixteen dresses to choose between… Envy panged Sarah’s heart.

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A Moment Before the Storm

Written by Sharma Wild. First published on Thursday 23 September 2010.

An Erotic fantasy short story set in the world of Annwen. Arthos Merddyn, an apprentice Knight of Avalon, meets Prince Emrys, the young Captain of Ithindor, on the eve of battle.

The party was a lavish affair. Fires lit the skies with the brilliance of daylight while lords and ladies, dressed in their finery, fluttered about like butterflies or rested on marble benches, drinking wine and nibbling on delicacies, talking and laughing, playing the games of court with much finesse and elegance.

It was strange to think that on the other side of the high walls that encompassed the royal palace men prepared themselves to ride into to battle, kissed their wives and children and told them that they loved them, looked upon those dear faces for perhaps the last time.

Arthos Myrddin found that thought strangely disturbing and a frown shadowed his smooth forehead. He glanced at his master. The Knight was talking to a noble looking young man dressed in silk and velvet embroidered with goldthread and adorned with pearls and jewels. It was for him this party was being held. Eamon, King of Ithindor, Guardian of Caer Arian, the White Citadel, had announced that his oldest son, Brennain, would be Crown Prince and lead the army into battle.

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The Lost Journal

This is an excerpt from the journal of James Winchester. The story is centered around characters from the Winchester Novel Project.

My name is James.

Those were the first words I remember writing as a child. I guess I wrote them here because I didn’t know how else to begin.

My name is James Winchester. My mother’s name is Elissa Winchester and my father’s name is Luce. Mom died six months ago and I have never known my dad. My little brother’s name is Johnny.

I look up from these pages and look across the small bonfire to see him laying there, wrapped up in a blanket. His face is pale and haggard under that dark mop of hair of his. He’s been plagued by nightmares ever since mom died, hell we both have, and here in this Godforsaken city they have grown worse. It’s like the city itself produces the dreams and the visions that haunts us.

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Creature of Fire

A reply to a Smoke And Mirrors challenge posted on Realm of Fantasy. The character Terrel was created by Alterra.

He watched the man rest. In the flickering candle-light he was a creature of runes and enticing shadows. The chest raising slowly with every breath. At peace now, but only moments ago he had been fighting for his life, and for theirs. In sleep the Patryn looked so young, almost vulnerable. Terrel caught himself wanting to run his fingers through that dark tousled hair. He sighed, it had been so much easier when he had hated the man…

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