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R. M. Brandon

R. M. Brandon, Author of Witan Vid 
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.


Congratulations to R. M. for being in the 2012 Preditors and Editors top ten
Thriller Category for The Green Man's Curse.
2013 P&E Readers Poll Top Ten Winner

New Title(s) from R. M. Brandon

WItan Vid: The Gren Man's Curse
Order The Green Man's Curse in PRINT!


Click on the thumbnail(s) above to learn more about the book(s) listed.

Witan Vid: The Green Man's Curse by R. M. Brandon 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.

Word Count: 58,350
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon                
Price: $ .99

The Green Man's Curse by R. M. Brandon To order this book in print, please contact Charlotte Holley at (ISBN: 978-1-61950-291-8)


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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