R. M. Brandon
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Born the third of five children in an artistically inclined
family, writing came naturally to R. M. Brandon from an early
age. Previously hidden from the world, her talent for dark
fantasy is showcased in her debut novel, Witan Vid.
She graduated from Kaskaskia College with a degree in the
medical field and currently resides in Illinois with her
family. An avid nature lover, self-proclaimed adrenaline
junkie, and a dedicated human rights advocate, she spends her
free time exploring every aspect of life aspiring to experience
everything the world has to offer.
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Her summer of dreams would soon become a season of
nightmares. What begins as a farewell trip for a group of
eight lifelong suburban friends becomes far more permanent
than they had planned. When a four-wheeler accident in an
ancient forest awakens a centuries-old curse, new friends
are made and old friends die .Wrapped in a world unlike
anything she ever imagined, Rein is forced to confront the
demons of her family's past. As she denies the love she
feels for her best friend's twin brother, Conley, they fight
an array of magical beasts whose sole intention is to kill
anything human and reclaim the earth for their own.
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Excerpt
Word Count:
58,350
Buy at:
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Price: $ .99
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To order this book in print, please contact Charlotte Holley at cholley@gypsyshadow.com
(ISBN: 978-1-61950-291-8) |
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| Excerpts |
The
Green Man's Curse |
Chapter One
The Great Getaway
The past is never truly buried. It grows silently in the trees
around us. The legacies of humanity live eternally in the
ground, trapped in solemn remembrance of the times man has
chosen to forget. Potential is limited solely by human
perception.
Cotton clouds spread across a cobalt sky. The searing sun
climbed to midday. On the asphalt of a suburban Chicago drive,
eight friends prepared for the journey of a lifetime. “Anything
is possible!” Rein proclaimed. A gentle breeze lifted her
white-blonde hair, exposing her deeply sun-kissed shoulders as
she scanned the area. Seven of her lifelong friends bustled from
one side to the other. All morning, they’d been stuffing every
crevice of two oversized trucks with adventure gear. A plain
white tank top clung to the firm lines of Rein’s lean, athletic
body. She turned from the doorway of her home toward the chaos.
The bounce of her step, like a hummingbird on a honeysuckle
vine, slowed with her approach.
Her full pink lips parted into a diamond smile, showcasing her
opaline teeth. “Senior Summer, baby!” she said.
Michael crossed the driveway near her, his arms loaded with
luggage. From behind the mound of bags, he glanced up when he
heard Rein’s statement, flashing a dimpled smile at her,
“Helllzzz yeah! Last load for this truck is right here.” The
heavy load in his arms almost tumbled to the ground when his
tennis shoe became snagged in the hot pink handle of a forgotten
bag. Cursing, he tossed the load from his arms onto the open
tailgate of the truck. “Come on, already! How much junk do you
people need? This is supposed to be a survival trip!”
He flung his body through the mound of bags into the cargo bed
of the truck. His voice became muffled from the interior of the
shelled bed as his legs dangled out the edge of the tailgate.
Michael’s feet swayed from side to side from the motion of
tossing the bags around. “What the—! All of these bags are pink,
except for like four. Christi, did you leave anything in your
closet? I’m not putting one more bag of girl stuff in this
truck. If it’s not in here already, it’s not going!”
Christi half-stomped over to the hot pink city bag lying
abandoned on the ground. Thick platinum blonde curls bounced
atop her head. With a privileged snort she erupted, “You have to
get this bag in! I’m not spending the summer without my hair
stuff.” She shot ice daggers at the back of her boyfriend’s
head.
Michael wriggled his body out of the truck and headed toward the
high-pitched whine of Christi’s voice. His strawberry-blonde
hair dangled over his hazel, mischief-filled eyes. The movement
of his broad shoulders and muscular butt threatened to break the
seams of his clothing with each swagger. A snicker rolled out
the upturned corners of his mouth. “Hair stuff? You could fit a
midget in that thing.”
He clutched the bag’s handle, knees bent deep, his back arched
and arms pulled taught in an exaggerated strain. Through
clenched teeth he jeered, “What do you have in here, a mobile
salon? We’re headed to the woods, not Tahiti, princess.” His
eyes glimmered back at her. While he grappled at the zipper with
his thick fingers, he studied Christi’s flushed face.
Michael chuckled to Conley, watching from his place beside the
tailgate. “Hey, can you show me how to open this thing? I think
Christi packed their butler! Poor old man is going to run out of
oxygen.” Michael guffawed loudly while Conley stifled his laugh.
Christi’s eyes narrowed to slits. The sleek contour of her full,
sour candy lips dissolved into a thin line, threatening to turn
bone into stone. She jeered, “It takes a lot to stay this
beautiful! Besides, I might get lucky enough to find a new
boyfriend this summer.” Conley had grown up with a twin sister.
He knew women well enough to know when to stop. He slid over
next to Michael and nudged him in the side.
“Don’t get her riled up before we get on the road. You’ll be
alone in the seat with her for a lot of miles. One of you might
not make it out alive.” Conley grabbed the bag and left Michael
to diffuse the bomb he had lit. Christi glared into her
boyfriend’s hazel eyes; toe-to-toe. As smooth as a hickory wind,
he whisked her off of her feet into his burly embrace. She
squealed as her feet dangled above the pavement like a rag doll.
Her sulky lip dissolved into a glossy cover girl smile. Batting
thick lashes above widened doe brown eyes, Christi purred, “If
you put me down, I might let you kiss me.”
Michael kept her enfolded in his arms; only the tips of her
shoes rested on the ground. “What makes you think I want to?” A
twinkle spread between the corners of his eyes. Beneath his thin
coral mustache, a half smirk widened. With one strong arm
securely around her slim waist, he trailed up the small of her
back and delicately caressed the tips of her spiraled blonde
locks.
“You don’t need to go through all that to look beautiful. If
perfect is what you’re trying for, stay just like you are. Babe,
even when you’re sweaty and your hair is a mess, you could put
the stars to shame.” He pulled her close.
A glimmer of light flashed behind the couple as Rent rode
Christi’s Renegade onto a dove-tailed car trailer attached to
the second truck.
Rent’s six-foot tall linebacker physique loomed above the
obviously feminine four-wheeler. His lanky legs folded up to his
chin made him look like a Gorilla on a mini scooter. He studied
the distance between vehicles while guiding it in next to
Michael’s Outlander. The Renegade’s custom hot pink paint
glistened. Killing the engine, Rent unfolded himself.
Savannah followed Rent up the ramp. The marbled faux stone paint
job of her Raptor complemented her curly auburn hair. Nimbly,
she eased her toy into place.
Rent flashed a wide smile above an outstretched arm. He asked
Savannah, “Do you need me to lift you up?”
She demurely interlaced her hand in his and replied, “Well,
thank you, doll.” The words purred off her tongue in the sweet
southern acquired ascent. Their fingers touched and a friction
shock passed from his hand to hers, causing her to jump. Her
gaze darted away from Rent’s turquoise eyes. Scarlet hinted
across her cheeks at his touch. Her cheeks dimpled with her
smile. A nervous giggle escaped from her mouth when he continued
to hold her hand after she had safely climbed from between the
machines. Her grace wavered. “You know I’m not into guys,
right?”
Rent stammered, “Ugh, Yeah. I—Uhm—didn’t mean anything. Sorry.”
With flushed cheeks, he glanced nervously over the trailer at
his best friend Conley. The expression on his face screamed Hail
Mary.
Conley raised a ginger eyebrow with a knowing look and asked,
“Do you need a hand loading up the rest of the wheels?”
Rent glanced quickly from Savannah to Conley and replied, “Nah,
just mine left on this trailer. Dmitri and Aura are loading the
other trailer. I think we’re okay. I can give you a hand hooking
up the other trailer if you need it.”
With an understanding smile, Conley joked, “Sure. The love birds
over there seem to have their hands full of each other at the
moment. But, if you’re going to let Sav drive your 750 up that
ramp, you might want to stand behind it so you can catch her
when it pulls a wheelie.”
A warm spurt of wind disheveled Conley’s chicory and almond
hair, which he wore cut long like a young Marlon Brando. Dmitri
accelerated up with a growl of the hand throttle positioning his
four-wheeler on the trailer. Rein rose from the back of her
parked 250 and moved to the side of the trailer.
Dmitri kicked his four-wheeler into what he thought was neutral.
His hand slipped onto the throttle and the four-wheeler lunged
backwards, slamming into the front of Rein’s. Rein jumped away
from the side of the trailer and wobbled as she touched down.
Dmitri shifted his wheeler into drive and lightly accelerated it
back into place, the movement shifting the trailer dangerously
close to Rein.
From the seat of her Brute Force nestled at the trailer’s
tongue, Aura leapt with feline grace and took Rein’s arm. The
slight touch moved Rein out of harm’s way. Aura whispered, “Be
careful there, Chick-a, we don’t want to have to make a last
minute ER run.”
With a grateful smile, Rein gibbered, “Oh wow! That was close! I
didn’t even look. I’m just so ready to go I can’t sit still. I
feel like Tigger: all bouncy-pouncy! I guess I had better watch
where I bounce.” |
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