A Cursed Halloween Story

All Hallows Eve is nearing!  I'm so excited!

You know what this means—another installment in the ongoing spook tale, 

The Tarishe Curse.  

If you have yet to experience the plight of the Queen of Werefolk—caused by a witch’s curse—now is the time to curl up in the corner of your sofa and greedily feast on the beginning chapters of a gripping Halloween tale.  Following are quotes from the reading to wet your appetite:

"Vengeance, retaliation, retribution, revenge are deceitful brothers; vile, beguiling demons promising justifiable compensation to a pained soul for his losses. Yet in truth they craftily fester away all else of worth remaining."

“I squinted at the western sky behind Thaddeus, a blood-red smear melting into blackness. Twisting my neck, I glanced the opposite direction. My teeth clenched at a magnified, round moon nearly as scarlet as the portending sunset, its luminous face half masked by hazy cloud cover. Hatred, vengeance, anger… such emotions coursed through my veins in a poisonous concoction that muddied my mind, impelling me to grip my sword tighter and fight with every ounce of strength I possessed against those who threatened my family - my kind. Currently, Thaddeus was behaving as such a threat, using his powers of persuasion to condone human sacrifice for some outrageously perceived good. He wanted an offering for the monsters; a desperate, futile offering of human flesh that would in no way protect the other villagers from being mauled as he promised.”

“Misery is a river of tears that whispers my name in a constant hiss.” 

He gestured at me. “Do you like the blanket?”

I nodded. “It’s warm.”

“I made it. Well, actually, I didn’t skin the animal, but I did kill it… after the others pinned it down. It’s werewolf skin.”

My heart faltered; I gripped at a wad of black fur.

“I slayed the beast for you, Catherine. I used your sword. It was your grandmother’s idea actually, a wedding present. You mentioned how chilly you get.”

“You didn’t slay a werewolf,” I breathed before repeating the words louder. “You did not slay a werewolf, Thaddeus.”

“Oh, but I did. I took a band of huntsman with me and we tracked one down. A smaller one, mind you, not far from the front gate…”

“You did not!” I contended more strongly. Why would one wolf have separated from the pack? Why outside our walls?

“Yes, Catherine, I did,” he insisted.

I shook my head disbelieving. “You’re not capable—”

“I am so.”

I wanted to cry. I wanted to protest, but to do so meant giving away my knowledge of the truth. Without knowing what else to do or say I changed the subject.

“The fire’s gone out.”

Thaddeus turned his head to check. “You’re right. I’ll see to it.”

He fed the barrel stove until a healthy blaze was roaring. Finding me no longer a decent conversationalist, Thaddeus left with a promise to return soon with food and water. Unobserved, I gathered up the fur hide of a lost soul and curled into a ball, hugging it close to my chest.

I cried silent tears and mourned for this unknown werewolf for days.





“Enemies may unite to eliminate a common threat, but never without a wary eye fixed on their ally.”

“Vengeance would have us assault an enemy's pride to beat him down. But vengeance hides a dangerous truth, for a humbled foe gains patience, courage, strength, and greater determination.” 

The nonsense of his claim made me stammer over the rest of my question.  “But…no, no, why did you… I mean, why didn’t you kill me?  Why let me live?  I’m your sworn enemy wielding the power to destroy you, so why am I not dead?”

His face fell forlorn as if he had insight into the ending of my story, one that could only be labeled a tragedy.  I was certain such was the case; I would most likely die here at the hands of the same monsters who’d taken my offspring.  But I would not go to the grave without first understanding this mystery.  When moisture appeared to glisten in his eyes, the sight was excruciating to me, so I dropped my gaze to stare at his legs—waiting.”

“Enemies may unite to eliminate a common threat, but never without a wary eye fixed on their ally.” 

I made a heart-sworn oath at that very moment, vowing on my son’s grave to hunt down the black queen of the devil and strike her dead with my silver sword.  And I would do the same to her companion, that foul umber wolf. 

“Grandma, it hurts,” I cried, lifting my face to seek compassion in her gaze.  “I want that wolf to pay for what she’s done!”

Her cold hand rested on my cheek and wiped at a spill of tears. 

“Oh, the wretched creature shall pay, Catherine,” Grandmother assured me.  A fiery glimmer flashed in her eyes, and I knew my pain was understood.  “She shall pay dearly.”

“Vengeance is a monster of appetite, forever bloodthirsty and never filled.” 

Copyright 2012 Richelle E. Goodrich

Books, Blogs, & Bits Interviews Me

The following is an interview of yours truly arranged by Books, Blogs, and Bits: A site to share and highlight books, authors, and other interesting stuff. I enjoyed this interview a great deal and have posted it here for your reading pleasure.

____________________________

Books, Blogs, and Bits

is proud to present:

Richelle E. Goodrich

Richelle E. Goodrich lives in Washington with her husband and three boys somewhere in a compromise between country and city living. She has two BA degrees and possesses a wide range of interests in the creative arts. Her love for writing emerged later in life, first manifesting itself through children’s books geared at entertaining her boys. Eena, The Dawn and Rescue and Eena, The Return of a Queen (the beginning adventures in the Harrowbethian Saga) are Richelle’s first novel-length achievements. This author will tell you that the greatest thrill of writing is to hear what readers have to say about the characters living within her enchanted pages.

~ ~

BB & B: I love this quote of yours, 

“Courage to me is doing something daring, no matter how afraid, insecure, intimidated, alone, unworthy, incapable, ridiculed or whatever other paralyzing emotion you might feel. Courage is taking action… no matter what. So you’re afraid? Be afraid. Be scared silly to the point you’re trembling and nauseous, but do it anyway!” -Smile Anyway

Can you tell us about this quote and what brought out these words of encouragement?

Richelle: Yes, I certainly can. For the most part, my quotes have been inspired by personal experiences and some unpleasant trials. At times, however, they’ve resulted from a keen fascination for observing and evaluating human behavior. I like to ‘people watch’, perhaps because I never cease to be amazed by the actions of others.

The quote you mention regarding courage came to me when I was facing a difficult challenge that resulted in taking a stand for what I heartily wanted despite strenuous opposition. I’m no super hero, I’ll admit. I cringe at the mere mention of anxiety, fear, and confrontation. But I’ve learned that courage isn’t reserved for the brave and daring only. Courage means taking action, period. And even a timid personality can do that—albeit trembling the entire time.

 
BB & B: I love fantasy and magic in my books and you definitely capture these elements so beautifully in your stories. What inspires you when in the creation of your characters and the world they live in?

Richelle: I’m a daydreamer to the very core. There are a thousand stories swirling in my head constantly, sort of like an inner library where I slip a book off the shelf almost daily for the purpose of entertaining an untiring brain. If only I could write—had the time to write—all the adventures and fantasies that play on my mental viewscreen. I have my favorites memorized, and I tweak their stories often, hoping someday to jot them down on paper. I’ve always been this way, passing the time in another world, pretending to be some extraordinary character. I have to laugh because I actually wrote a quote inspired by this truth:

“I live in two unique worlds, traveling between both with just the opening or closing of my eyes.”
~Richelle E. Goodrich

That’s me. What inspires these stories—the characters and the worlds they come from? Well... what doesn’t inspire them? In other words, just about anything can act as inspiration for me, depending upon what I’m thinking about at the moment. A mangled tree once inspired an entire book, including the type of life that dominated a fantasy world. A touching scene from a movie was what sparked the idea for my book, Dandelions.
Art seems to be a strong stimulation when it comes to sparking stories in my imagination. I believe that’s because art is so highly interpretive, which means I must draw on my own creativity to evaluate it. And once the creativity starts to flow, quite frankly there’s no stopping what develops from it.




BB & B: To what extent do your characters remind you of yourself or someone you know?

Richelle: I’m smiling at this question. I am a firm believer that there is absolutely a portion of the personality of a writer in the main character(s) he/she creates. My characters are not exactly as I am, but they most certainly do possess solid elements of ‘me-ness’ in them. They must, because it’s me imagining how they would react and respond and reply to presented stimuli. And all I have to go on is what exists within my experience; experience that has made me, me.

BB & B: If you had to pick just one story or one character of yours. Which or who would it be and why?

Richelle: Hmmmm. Pick one for what purpose? Do you want the character that entertains me the most? Or the one I most relate to? Or the one that I enjoyed creating most? Okay, let’s see…
The character that entertains me most is probably Kira the Mishmorat from my stories in the Harrowbethian Saga or "Eena" books. Kira’s personality is nervy, edgy, and spirited—traits I normally repress. She speaks at will, behaves boldly, is a striking beauty and an alluring nymph. I love how she is.

The character that I most relate to would be Annabelle Fancher in Dandelions. Not because I have ever experienced the abusive life she unfortunately endures, but because she and I both are dreamers and avid people watchers. Despite Annabelle’s youth, she makes very astute observations about her peers and many adults.

The character I most enjoyed creating would be Eena, hands down. That’s because she is me. I am her. At least that’s the way I always imagined it when I use to daydream about Eena and her other-world adventures as a high school student bored to death in class.




BB & B: Here’s another quote from Smile Anyway

, “A daily dose of daydreaming heals the heart, soothes the soul, and strengthens the imagination.” 

I just love your quotes. They’re inspiring and full of wisdom. I can see that you are about positivity and living up to your true calling and not giving up. Can you share with us your tips for staying positive and keeping on course? I think this can be especially challenging for those of us in the creative field.

Richelle: There are three things that help fuel my drive to succeed. The first is an easy and simple habit; I do at least one thing daily to get me nearer to my goal. On a busy day, that might mean writing just one sentence in a developing manuscript. On a lazy day I might read for research purposes or scribble out an entry on my author blog. The point is that I not allow myself to become stagnant. Doing nothing achieves nothing, therefore I take at least one step toward my goal every day, despite how tiny the step.

Next, I’ve come to realize that where dreams are concerned I have only two choices—give up or keep going. If I were to give up, that would translate into sheer failure, and I do NOT want to fail. Therefore, I’ve no other choice but to keep going, to keep striving towards those dreams.

The last habit I rely upon most heavily. I pray. I explain to my Heavenly Father what I wish to achieve, and I ask Him for inspiration, guidance, and His hand in making it possible. And I believe assuredly that He can and will help me.

BB & B: Do you have any works in progress? What can fans expect from you in the near future?

Richelle: Yes, as a matter of fact; I’m excited about this one! I’ve begun a new YA book staring a genius boy-gifted girl duo. They’re coerced by an old Mayan priest into opposing phantom villains who must be stopped at all costs or else… (Wait a minute. I probably shouldn’t give the entire story away.) Anyhow, I hope to have this work completed by the end of the year.

BB & B: Do you have any closing words you’d like to share?

Richelle: Sure, how about a quote to inspire? This one is from my recently released book, Smile Anyway:

“Never give up.
It’s like breathing—once you quit, your flame dies letting total darkness extinguish every last gasp of hope. You can’t do that. You must continue taking in even the shallowest of breaths, continue putting forth even the smallest of efforts to sustain your dreams. Don’t ever, ever, ever give up.”
― Richelle E. Goodrich

Thank you Richelle for your time! Beautiful words indeed!
To get to know more about Richelle and her great works, please visit the links below:

Richelle’s Websites:
The Writing’s of Richelle E. Goodrich
American Author & Novelist, Richelle E. Goodrich
Facebook
Twitter

Author Spotlight: Raani York

Raani York has been a high-volume writer for years. She has published articles, letters, short stories, poems, and continuation stories. She also writes novels, some of which can be found on her website. Her book, Dragonbride, first in the Dragon Chronicles, was recently released.

Raani was educated in Switzerland and in the U.S. She holds a Bachelor's Degree in Business Administration. She also obtained diplomas in Graphic Design, Color Studies, and won a prize as a Logo Designer. She speaks four languages and several dialects.

Raani York works and lives in Switzerland and the U.S. and travels often.

Next to her writing and her cats, Raani likes reading, blogging, Martial Arts, skiing, horseback riding, sky diving and enjoys playing the classical piano.




Dragonbride
(The Dragon Chronicles, Book #1)

Shalima, “Daughter of the Light”, was born under special circumstances. She was raised by her aunts instead of her mother because she needed to be prepared to fulfill the prophecies of the Old Scriptures, which told that she was the only Magician on Earth.

Her aunts carefully prepared her for her obligations and her sacred duty. She will have to get married to the Holy Golden Dragon, the King of the Dragons, a huge Earth Dragon with magical talents. She cannot believe that she is the “Chosen One”, who has to protect the Dragon Species, all of Nature and finally the Earth. But when she turned into a teenager it seemed that the Old Scriptures were right.



Buy the Book:
Purchase on Smashwords as an Ebook for following formats:
epub, mobi, pd,f rtf, lrf ,pdb, txt, html

Purchase the kindle or paperback version on Amazon.com.

Teaser:

    The mountains possessed a dark but seductive beauty, and they lay in wait for the ones who came through the Fire Hell. The powdered white peaks of the sparkling black mountain-world watched for them with longing.

    The Diamond Mountains gave the illusion of being much closer than they really were, and many a pilgrim had been lured to his death by the promise of riches hidden on their slopes. These mountains were so named because of the rough gems strewn about the black volcanic soil. When the sun shone overhead the gems made the mountains sparkle and shimmer brightly, and at night they made the moonlit mountains glow with a soft silver light.

   People, blinded by both their greed and the tantalizing glittering of the sunlit earth, imagined that there was immeasurable wealth lying there on the ground, just waiting to be picked. However, the mountains never betrayed the secrets they held. None who had ever walked those slopes could find the diamonds hidden within the black soil, for the mountains protected themselves.

    Although healthy forest still grew in the foothills, the undergrowth became sparser just a few hundred feet up, and then the treeline ended. Where stunted trees would normally grow the forest just stopped, as if some unseen hand had cut it short. All that remained were dangerously sharp, dry rocks. Just below the snowline, the rocks disappeared, and the glittering black soil took their place.

    Moreover, at the summit it seemed as if the Creator of All Things had dusted the peaks of the fissured mountain range with powdered sugar, for they were covered with a deceptively soft-looking, yet extremely sharp-edged eternal snow.

    The mountains never betrayed their secrets...

   And if a wanderer were to climb those peaks, going up to the Fire Hell and searching to quench his thirst at a splashing mountain spring, he would find no cool, refreshing water. Instead, these living mountains would seek to frighten him by shrouding the ground with a mysterious fog that made it impossible to see where he was putting his feet. Pilgrims sometimes drowned in the sulfurous pools of water hidden within the hellish rocks when the fog appeared, and if they left the main trails, they would know true fear, for they would be led down treacherous sidepaths that seemed to take them somewhere, yet actually led them nowhere but to their doom.

   The mountains never betrayed their secrets...

   Though many thought they would find the cool relief of the shadows by early evening, the ascent would continue for another three torturous days. During those three days, their throats would scream for water, and their eyes would tear up in the swirling sand. Blown up by the hot desert winds, the sand burned as it fell upon a traveler's face and skin. Eventually their limbs would become heavy, and they would barely be able to move; thus, the wanderers would be forced to crawl on, farther and farther, until sheer luck eventually brought them to civilization... to people.

   In a canyon between two hills below the mountain range there was a village. It had no official name, but the people living there called it Alpcateçu, which meant Oasis of the Mountains. Anyone who wanted to climb the mountains had to pass through the village. A few taverns and inns surrounded the village fountain, where a market was sometimes held.

   Some houses and huts had been built in the wide hills and even at the edge of the forest... and in one such place, hidden within the woods, almost four hundred feet past the deepest thicket and connected to the village only by a sidepath lay the place in which I had been born.

Contact:

Website: http://www.raaniyork.com

Blog: http://www.raaniyork.wordpress.com

Email: raaniyorkca@aol.com

Google: https://plus.google.com/115854197563561201228/posts

FB: https://www.facebook.com/raaniyork

FB Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/DragonScriptures

Twitter: https://twitter.com/RaaniYork

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/pub/raani-york/5/922/b37

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/12628426-raani-york

Prepare for Hallows Eve with a Werewolf Tale

It's mid October.

The air has taken on an icy chill.  The trees have turned colors—from calm green to blazing red and ginger. Maple leaves rain down on me as I realize All Hallows Eve is merely days away.  I am excited because this means another installment in my ongoing Halloween Tale.

The Tarishe Curse

If you've not heard how the ritual of my annual spook tale got started, three years back I wrote a short story for a friend who could easily be crowned Queen of Halloween (she is that obsessed with the holiday.)  Her thrill over the story and a question as to what happens next started a writing tradition that continues today.  Every Halloween, I add to an ongoing adventure starring the queen of werefolk—including a powerful and vengeful witch, devious vampires, and other frightful creatures of the night.  It is a spooky delight!

So prepare yourselves!  

Read the beginning chapters of The Tarishe Curse and either enjoy it for the first time or refresh your memory of Duvalla and Kresh.  And on this next Halloween… get ready for more!

Follow Richelle's board Encourage and Enlighten Me on Pinterest.

This is Life

Learning to love through loss. Seeking warm pockets in the bitter cold. Finding the worth of a smile on a cloudy day. Carrying the weight of the world on weary shoulders—mistakes, sins, injustices—added upon daily. Enduring burdens that spur greater strength.

This is life.
Sorting through layers of expressions staring you straight in the eye. A battle to be right when wrong, to be good when bad, to be content when in need, and to laugh when tearing up.

This is life.
Valuing things of no worth. Reevaluating dreams. Laboring ceaselessly against the current. Seeing less, wanting more, having enough.

This is life.
Chasing the moon when the sun would extend its warmth. Slapping the hand that would offer a gentle caress. Cowering at personal, monstrous shadows. Giving and taking in unbalanced weights. Diminishing the majesty of mountains in order to form our own lowly hills. Hoping for more than we deserve.

This is life.
Hurting. Despairing. Losing. Weeping. Suffering. Laboring. Sinking. Mourning. Appreciating with greater capacity and sincerity a learned knowledge that these adversities do have their opposites.

This is life.
A taste. A revelation. A banishment. A mercy. A test. An experience. A turbulent sea-voyage that shall assuredly reach the unseen shore, making seasoned sailors of us all.

This is life.

"You were born and with you endless possibilities, very few ever to be realized. It's okay. Life was never about what you could do, but what you would do. "

— Richelle E. Goodrich

"Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."

— George Bernard Shaw

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."

— Oscar Wilde

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

— Albert Einstein

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on."

— Robert Frost

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."

— Dr. Seuss

"So, this is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be."

— Stephen Chbosky

"You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough."

— Mae West

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

— Allen Saunders

“Life is a test. It was designed to be so. It is where we taste the bitter and the sweet; where we feel pain and pleasure; where we learn right from wrong; where we pass through both darkness and light. It is a time to make choices. And through this process we form our characters—some grand and glorious, some barely decent, and others just plain monstrous.”

― Richelle E. Goodrich

About the Sun

     I love when the sun plays hide-n-seek for a few days because its invisibility often goes unnoticed. The world seems content that its presence behind the clouds is enough.
     But as soon as that brilliant sun jumps into the open sky once again―shining in full splendor―our closed eyes automatically turn toward it, and we bask beneath a warm and tender touch, grateful all the more that our glorious sun exists.

"Laughter is sunshine, it chases winter from the human face."

— Victor Hugo

"Those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves."

— J.M. Barrie

"Some people are so much sunshine to the square inch."

— Walt Whitman

"I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house."

— Nathaniel Hawthorne

"It is amazing what one ray of sunshine can do for a man!"

— Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine."

— Anthony J. D'Angelo

"Ô, Sunlight! The most precious gold to be found on Earth."

— Roman Payne

"He was sunshine most always-I mean he made it seem like good weather."

— Mark Twain

"To wish for the happiest days is to wish for a season of sorrow; for it is only after prolonged, wintry darkness that the summer sun appears to shine at its brightest."

— Richelle E. Goodrich

Visit Moccobatra

For those who have tried to envision the world of Moccobatra, I give you a visual representation of this beautiful planet.  It is home to a mix of alien species who long ago claimed their own portion of soil.  You can see Harrowbeth surrounded by the twisted trees of Lacsar Forest and the majestic Blue Mountains northward.  This is the proud land Queen Eena rules.

What? You've not read of Queen Eena and her daring return to Harrowbeth? You’ve not searched the homelands at her side, drawn to the seven ancient star points needed to restore Pallador's platform?  

Oh my.

Thank heavens it's not too late to begin experiencing Eena's adventures in the Harrowbethian Saga. And just in time too... because the next book is to be released in a few short weeks!  

So happy reading!  And enjoy the maps of Moccobatra below—including descriptions of those races inhabiting this wondrous world.

BOARATTAS

(A race of nomads similar in appearance and customs to the Mishmorats but lacking cheetah-like spots.  They generally camp in the warmer climates of Moccobatra on the continent shared by Harrowbeth.  They have been known in the past to share temporary dwelling sites with the Mishmorats; although, the Boarattas are careful to keep intimate relations separate, concerned about offspring born with identifying spots.)

BRAETICS

(Known for their expert haggling abilities, this society thrives on commercial trade.  The people tend to be cheerful and gossipy, of stockier build.  They live in warmer to mild climates in the northern hemisphere of Moccobotra next to Middle Mei Jamay.  The land is divided into four commonwealths: Brentilies, Ardweeria, Triche, and Crestlovet.)

DOROJ

(A highly-sociable society thriving on novelties—new trends, new technologies.  The people are talkative but easily distracted, often losing a train of thought and frequently shifting between activities.  They live in the mild, northern continent of Moccobotra above the equator from Semmian lands.)

GROTTS

(Giants living north of the blue mountains of Icromeia.  Their capital city, Addebiosa, is located further north of Gabert Forest.  Their society revolves around the cultural arts; they are a friendly, courteous race. Once a year, during the fall season, they have a harvest parade in which the reigning Sha is traditionally invited to join.)

 HARROWBETHIANS

(A people of the northern hemisphere of Moccobatra living south of the Icromians’ Blue Mountains.  Their land is called Harrowbeth and is largely surrounded by the twisted trees of Lacsar Forest.  Their society holds strong to tradition and propriety, keeping to aged customs.  Social responsibilities are handed down within families.  Children are paired and promised by parental pledge to marry when the girl in the relationship turns eighteen years of age.  Promised couples wear matching pendants as they grow up to signify commitment to one another.  Their families often interact to encourage a strong relationship.  The land is governed by the Shen and Sha of Harrowbeth as well as eight members inheriting positions on the Council of Harrowbethian Dignitaries.)

HOJ Y`MAN

(Identified by their blue skin; the hues range from periwinkle to indigo.  They live in Middle Mei Jamay in the same hemisphere as Harrowbeth on the opposite side of Moccobatra.  They are neighbors with the Doroj on one side and the Braetic on the other, sharing one continent.  Frequently uttered slogan: Car’ un em doy’ Hoj y`man deria, or Faith in the Hoj y`man nation.)

ICROMIANS

(A tall, slender people living in a fortress city called Icromeia in the blue mountains of Moccobatra.  They are born with translucent wings that buzz rapidly; they prefer flight to walking.  The average Icromian considers himself superior to most other races on the planet.  They are governed by a prime director and appointed congress.)

LLESSURS

(A thin, delicate species living in homes carved from existing caves in the southern, mountainous continent below the Red Desert.  They share the mountains with the Monturians, but live higher up than their dwarf neighbors.  These fair-skinned people tend to keep to themselves; they are too elusive to detect if wishing to remain unseen.  They tend to have pastel eye colors, usually violet or blue.  Green is a rare pigment in their bloodline; yellow is even more rare.  Owing to ancient folklore describing an influential queen possessing hypnotic golden eyes that brought good fortune to her people, those born with yellow eyes are automatically given royal status.)

MISHMORATS

(A race of nomads with black hair, bronze skin, and cheetah-like spots running from head to foot with some bare zones including the main facial area.  They are of average height, muscled, and exceedingly strong for their build. They are described as an exotic race, especially the females who paint their eyes and lips.  Eye color ranges from near black to brown to burgundy.  Traveling camps generally keep to the warmer climates of Moccobatra on the continent shared by Harrowbeth.  Their wandering, free-spirited culture as well as their looks closely resembles the Boarattas who only lack spots.)

MONTURIANS

(Undersized and quick on their feet, this race is considered dwarfed in comparison to all other races inhabiting Moccobatra.  They reside in the lower mountains and foot prairies south of the Red Desert, sharing the mountains with the Llessurs who live higher up in caves.)

NALNOMS

(A smaller race of people living in the red desert areas of Moccobatra, at and below the equator.  They have large, dark eyes and a yellowish tone to their skin.  The average Nalnom is highly active, tending to have a rowdier disposition.)

OOREENEE

(Island dwelling people of Moccobatra, tanned and tall with slender limbs and a long, skinny tail used to wrap around items like an extra hand.  Most have dark hair with red highlights.  Their eyes appear to glow red at dusk as if reflecting the sunset.  The main diet of the Ooreenee is seafood and tree fruit like sweet neenee (indigenous to the islands) and ongreas.  They have arranged marriages called ‘coupling’ similar to the Harrowbethian promise.  Parents sign a covenant note which ties children together soon after birth.  In Ooree one is said to be coupled to a future spouse until reaching the age of marriage.)

SEMMIANS

(A race of people with white skin and silver-white hair.  They live near and below the equator in and around the Semmian Rainforest.  The Vang Isles lie off their western coast, a tropic vacationing spot for many Moccobatrans and a substantial source of tourism income.  The Semmians are a militaristic society—though this is more visibly reflected on the main continent than on the Vang Isles.  They are governed by military leaders overseen by a solitary director.  The average male serves ten years in the armed forces and has two or more wives.)

WALCLES

(A race living in the northern mountain area of the southernmost continent on Moccobatra.  They have a brawny build, wide facial features, and are a hairy people; their women take pride in showing off extra-long braids.  Walcles like to work the land and engage in games designed to test physical strength.)

YAREMITES

(A light-skinned, freckled people living in the South Pole regions of Moccobatra.  Their eye color is prominently sea green and turquoise.  Hair color keeps to lighter shades of blonde.  Crusty, multi-layered skin helps this race to withstand extremely cold temperatures.  Yaremites live in cemented stone homes built high and enclosed like castle fortresses.)

Copyright 2014 Richelle E. Goodrich

I Am a Writer

 

“I bleed words.

I dream in narrative.

I live in infinite worlds.

I befriend figmental characters.

I wish on stars in other galaxies.

I harvest stories from a brooding muse.

I bloom under moonlight in hushed seclusion.

I am a writer.”

― Richelle E. Goodrich

Copyright 2014 Richelle E. Goodrich

Giving Away Stories

Would you like to know the most frustrating thing about being a book writer?  You might guess that it's the headache of attempting to compose a concise and gripping query letter meant to convince an agent to please, please, please consider your work.  Or you might think it's the effort of maintaining blogs and tweets and social media when what you really need is to be writing your manuscript.  Or maybe it is sweating over another revision where words and phrases have become déja vu protected by some muse-conjured force field outside your ability to edit.  Or perhaps it's just the futility of trying to find ways to make your book stand out among millions and millions of probably far superior...

Whoa, wait.  Let me rewind here.

Would you like to know ONE of the most frustrating things about being a book writer?  It is holding this completed novel in your hands―a work you've fallen in love with over the months it's taken to research and revise and carefully compose until it is now a wondrous reading experience―that only you have tasted.  You're alone in knowing how grand the story is; you've no one to talk to about this fantastical, life-altering journey you've been on!  More than anything in the world, you want to post it everywhere for the multitudes to read―because they'll surely want to―and share in the remarkable triumphs your clever characters have fought to overcome!

But you can't simply give your hard work away... even though you long to do just that.  I mean, what about your goal to profit off your books?  You've spent years putting them together, hoping someday to live the dream of supporting yourself as a novelist!  All that work... all that time... and you just want to give it away?

Ah heck, why not?

I'll admit that when I complete a writing project, all I really want is for someone to read it. Just read it! Take it in. Experience the story I crafted. That's why I always post beginning book chapters on my author blog. That's why two years ago I started writing online stories available for free. I add new chapters annually to my developing adventures, a tradition I look forward to.

How did this ritual begin? A few Halloweens back I had the idea to write a short story for a friend who happens to be a fanatic when it comes to All Hallows Eve. I wrote the story and titled it The Tarishe Curse. It was posted on Halloween 2012. My friend loved it! *Whew* And as far as I was concerned, the task (and the tale) was over.

But then she asked, "What happens next?"
What do you mean? The story ended. Well, sort of. But a good imagination can take it from there. However...

An idea was planted in my head—an idea I fell in love with. Why not write a story online for everyone to read? A story that develops into something greater every year! Yeah, why not? And so I did.

You can read it for free and anticipate more to come. Perhaps consider adding this to your holiday traditions.

The Tarishe Curse

 

This is a developing online book with new chapters added every Halloween.

Catherine fights every Hallows Eve to protect her village from creatures of the night. She has sworn to avenge the deaths of loved ones, but a witch's curse may prove a stumbling block impossible to overcome.

"A thrilling piece of fantasy fiction from the Queen of Werefolk's point of view. It is challenging enough for Duvalla and Kresh to protect their young family in a world of Hallows Eve creatures, but such a feat proves near impossible when a witch bent on vengeance against the werewolves casts a Tarishe curse that manipulates both heart and mind. The fight is not only with the sword but an internal struggle to love the ones Duvalla has sworn under a spell to hate, and hate the one who through evil enchantment manipulates her heart."

And please share! Leave your reaction; write a review; talk to others about it. Talk to ME about it! I write to entertain―myself first and then others.

Copyright 2014 Richelle E. Goodrich

Poetry as Therapy

Life hands us lovely days and awful ones; angry thunderstorms roll in that eventually fade to reveal cheery skies.  The sun rises to light our way, always setting to give darkness due time.  Every individual faces trials, feeling the weight of fear and sorrow as well as the immense relief that comes at their passing.

"No one is without troubles, without personal hardships and genuine challenges. That fact may not be obvious because most people don't advertise their woes and heartaches. But nobody, not even the purest heart, escapes life without suffering battle scars."
— Richelle E. Goodrich, Smile Anyway: Quotes, Verse, & Grumblings for Every Day of the Year

Coping with one's feelings during hardships, finding a healthy way to manage, can often be as challenging as surviving the trial itself. For some of us, it may be the most trying part. To think you can escape or anesthetize or ignore your scarred emotions, believing they will somehow no longer exist is like turning your back on the sun day after day believing this will negate its effects. The sun was meant to shine and to warm the world, as emotions were meant to give experience and meaning to our lives. Yes, even awful emotions have a place. Various tools exist to promote healing during tribulations; all of them require the courage to feel.

Poetry is one such tool—my frequent therapy of choice. When I sit down to pen out a poem, it is with the intent of expressing the emotions and experiences consuming me at the moment. It is a healing exercise to struggle with mixing words and my own feelings, pairing them up until I find myself mumbling creative lines that match exactly the sentiments gripping my heart. Perhaps I do this to better understand myself, knowing if I can communicate well enough, others in similar circumstances will feel and empathize and understand. I have written poems in the happiest of moods and in the depths of despair. It may be that when you write, you choose to share your verse with others or with no one. Either way, growth, cleansing, relief all come from the process.

I Danced with Gods

Last night I danced.

My body rose from its slump for the first time since the beginning of sorrows—my fingers beckoning to the stars at arm's length, back arching as tingles bubbled up my spine, hips caught in a silent tempo while on tiptoe I twirled in endless euphoric circles. It didn't matter that you loved me or that you didn't. For I was wanted by the gods last night; their seraphs and muses descending on moonbeams into my midst, caressing my face and gliding their spirited arms about my waist, lifting my toes from the soil that I might feel what it is to fly without heaviness of heart. I danced with them under the glow of a loyal moon. For one brief, visceral dance I joyed as Heaven joys—in endless bliss.

And the universe cherished me.

— Richelle E. Goodrich

 

Abandoned

The word alone sends shudders down a sensitive spine, troubling the thoughts of pained souls as their hurt swells in ripples. It is a sentence of undesired solitude often pronounced on the innocent, the trusting—administered without warning or satisfactory cause.

One day the moon is yours, or so you believe. The next, his countenance transforms from Jekyll to Hyde with no intention of ever turning back, and you are left trampled upon in a deserted street, concealed by dirty fog that squelches all illumination or any hope for future rays of light.

It is the worst of mysteries why a beast considered noble would forsake his duty, exhibiting a heart of stone. And all who once looked on him, now turn down their eyes and suffer, beguiled.

Some poisons have no antidote, but are slow, silent, torturous ends that curl up the broken body swept into a cold, dark corner. There she is left to drown in her tears—a dying heart.

Abandoned.
— Richelle E. Goodrich

All That I Have

My spirit mirrors the radiance of a clear, blue sky. With closed eyes I lift my face and smile, warmed from the core and from above. All hopes and dreams compete with this endless expanse of heaven, desiring the clock of eternity. I reach with my hands―frenziedly achieving―attempting to learn and do all. Yet I understand the humble truth; a drop of rain shall amount to my contribution among all the droplets in the vast ocean of human history. It is a pure and precious tear that seeps from my efforts....my existence. Taste how sweet! It is all I have, given willingly.

— Richelle E. Goodrich

Do I Love You


I stand in the night and stare up at a lone star, wondering what love means. You whisper your desire—do I love you? I dare say yes. But my eyes drift back to that solitary star; my mind is plagued with intimate uncertainty.

What art thou, Love? Tell me.

I contemplate what I know—the qualities love doth not possess. Love lifts no cruel or unkind hand, for it seeketh no harm. It shirks from constraints and demands, for tyranny is not love. A boisterous voice never crosses love's lips, for to speak with thunder chases its very presence from the heart. Love inflicts no pain, no fear, no misery, but conquers all such foes. It is said love is not selfish, yet it does not guilt those who are. On a heart unwillingly given it stakes no claim. Love is nothing from Pandora's box; it is no evil, sin, or sorrow unleashed on this world.

My eyes glimmer as the star I gaze upon twinkles with brightness I do not possess. I recognize my smallness—my ignorance of the One whose hands placed that star in the heavens for me.

He is love. By His own mouth He proclaimed it.

Again the whispered question hits my ear—do I love you? I dare say yes. But my eyes squint tight, wishing on a lonely star, wondering what love means.
— Richelle E. Goodrich




Copyright 2012 Richelle E. Goodrich