Finding Light

She didn’t fear the darkness. It was an old familiar friend by now. She embraced it. She rolled in it. And when she came up for air, she realized that it clung to her more than she to it. So she began, one by one, to unwind the writhen tentacles around her arms, her legs, her hands, her neck, her face, her torso, until finally she reached the threads around her heart and her soul. Deep and long she searched until she found their roots. They were neatly woven into the fabric of her being. Gently, so as not to tear the surrounding tissue, she extricated them, inch by dark inch.

Until at last there remained a single, pulsing vein bound to her soul. This she realized, was the place of beginning, the heart of her dichotomy. In the blackness she saw the million dancing threads from across the spectrum of known and unknown light. There were colors for which she had no name. This is where her empathy, love, compassion, joy, guilt, grief, hope, dreams, wishes, secrets—everything that made her up resided. How could she pluck out the core of herself? It thrummed warmly in recognition, unspun part of itself from its hold, as if to say, “If you so wish it, I will go. I will leave, never to return.” There was no malice, no sadness, no regret, only acceptance and understanding. And in that instant, she had a glimpse of her full being. She reached out and coaxed the tendril back into the fabric of herself, turned, and left it to hum through the core of her for as long as life beat in her breast.

She lost nothing in beating back, removing the dark tendrils that once coldly wrapped around the rest of her. Yet they had all come from that single, beautiful thread, from her core. What then could she do? That gentle, thrumming cord hummed deep in her soul and she knew the answer.

“You may not always make the right choices, but you must try. You must not welcome the darkness so if you do not also welcome the light. But above all, seek balance and understand that balance also seeks you. Live and do not regret, if you can, because that only feeds the bad. And every now and then, garden your heart and garden your soul.”

Time

Okay, so my original intent was to post each week, and I'll get back to that soon, but right now, we have some exciting things in the works, so it'll take me a little while to post. However there will be a weekly installment from My Vampire for you to read. I'm going to be updating on Sundays, so please keep your eyes out for it! I just wanted you all to know, dear readers, that I had not forgotten you. See you soon!
~ Evelyn

My Vampire, Prologue

Mid thrust she felt her body succumb to the orgasm. It wasn’t as intense as it could have been, but then she wasn’t one for foreplay any longer. It took another half hour of his grunting and her fake moaning before he finally released. He showed every sign of wanting to stay inside her and cuddle, but she begged the bathroom excuse and said she’d be right back. Once in the bathroom, she relieved herself, then took a warm soapy rag and carefully cleaned what was left of their sex from her body. She tossed the rag in the hamper and grabbed her tooth brush. Loathe to look at herself in the mirror, she stared out the window into the deepening night. Catching her own eyes in the mirrored glass, she focused instead on the sink. When she’d dallied as long as she could, she went back to their room and donned a clean pair of his boxers. He liked it when she did that. “Come here my pumpkin,” he said lovingly. “Coming Andrew,” She stretched her lean frame out next to his muscular one and laid her head on the pillow. He took up residence in the crook of her shoulder, wrapping as much of himself around her as he could and she sighed. He mistook it as one of contentment and snuggled her closer. She was having difficulty breathing, but if she said something, he’d be hurt. So she lay there in his suffocating embrace and passed endearments across his ear as he fell asleep, head nuzzled in her hair. * * * Montgomery turned over in his coffin, an uncommon dream torturing his daytime rest. The demons were chasing him again. The shapeless, silently screaming things that haunted him even when he rose at sunset, were reaching out their insatiable hands for what was left of his tormented, immortal soul, calling him home to the darkness that longed to swallow him. Hell, he thought in his dream, was an eternity of running from what you cannot escape nor be taken by. But today, the dream was different. Montgomery stopped running today. He did this sometimes, just to feel something. After 500 years, to feel anything other than boredom, even pain, was something. So today, he stopped. But instead of the hands catching him and licking his body with sharp agony, they stopped inches from his skin, recoiled and ran. Turning, he knew fear for the first time in centuries. Whatever could scare off those demons was surely something by which to be terrified. His eyes pierced the foggy, shifting mass of his dream and what he saw shocked him. Stretched on the floor of his mind, he discerned a figure slowly taking form. He walked over to it and knelt down. He watched as the image of a woman, lying down, stroked and murmured to something he couldn’t see. He couldn’t see the contours or planes of her face, the lines were very blurry, but her eyes, her eyes were distinct. The haunted loneliness so piercingly obvious in her lovely eyes, so perfectly mirrored his own inner turmoil, that he was terrified and enchanted. He wanted to turn away and wanted to reach out to her too. He wasn’t sure how long he watched her, but as her eyes finally closed in repose, he felt himself being ripped into night. Tonight, unlike on most nights, he went unwillingly. He wanted to stay with the woman with the lonely eyes. So when he rose, so forcefully did he fight, that when he was compelled into his body, as he was at every sunset, it hurt. He lay there as his body burned with hunger and need and a desire he hadn’t had for two centuries: to comfort someone else. He shook off the vague feeling of unease this caused in him and pushed the lid from his coffin. He needed to hunt, to forget that look the dream woman carried. He didn’t want to examine it too closely. He needed to hunt.

Introduction

Hello! My name is Evelyn Goss. I write romance and fantasy novels. Here I will post teasers for my stories, publication information and cover art. I look forward to entertaining you and hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing for you! Have a fantastic, romantic day!