Friday, September 12, 2014

About Candy Cane Dancer

This post was originally featured on the Dark Side Downunder blog in March this year. Here, Ellie talks about Candy Cane Dancer, the first in her Downtown Wizards and Weres series. This is what she had to say to the questions asked at the time:



Can you, in less than five words describe your book/story Candy Cane Dancer?

No, but I can do it in six: erotic, explicit, captivity, dubious consent, disturbing

Who is your favourite character in this book? Or Who would you get to play your hero / heroine in a movie?
     
      This is always a hard question to answer. I like my werewolf captain and Rajanigandha, the nagini. I also like the slightly deluded and hopeful Martinette, but I think my favourite character has to be Selene, the margot fairy who was meant to be the central character to this novel. She has the immortality of fairies, but has grown to care for those around her in a way that many fairies don’t—and certainly not the Scottish fey. Overcoming her fear of werewolves to acknowledge her attraction to the werewolf captain heading the hunt for the serial killer stalking the club, is just one example of her ability to adapt. Preparing to face down the killer is an example of her courage. She deserved a romance of her own, but ended up sharing a dark tale of erotica with the enemy she had to hunt, and did so very graciously.
      
      What inspired you to write it?

I think the inspiration came while I was while reading a book on different kinds of fairies (which I cannot find and cannot remember the title of – frustrating, as I want to buy it for my bookshelf). Anyway, there was a section about a German fairy called a margot who loved to dance and adored sweets, and a section about an evil male sea fairy who played beautiful music and then killed his victims, trapping their souls in a bottle. I was, at the time, writing a piece about a werewolf-run gentleman’s club (not based around pole dancing) and decided to have another club in the locality where dancing was the feature, because what else would a margot fairy be doing in modern times (and don’t say Swan Lake, although that is an idea). The sea fairy became a threat to the dance club, and the story kind of grew from there, but not with the margot as the main focus as I had originally planned. This tale ended up a lot darker than I originally intended, metamorphosing into a tale of erotica and suspense, as opposed to the erotic romantic suspense I originally intended to write.

Excerpt (abridged to remove the naughtiest bits)

“Are you a vampire?” Martinette asked, feeling her face rapidly lose its look of lazy post-coital contentment. “You should have told me.”
“Then there’d have been no surprise,” Hubert replied, shifting to wrap an arm around her shoulders, and crushing her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and arched against him.
“Are you going to kill me now?” she asked.
“No, but you live because I want you to dance for me, again,” he murmured, letting his lips brush her ear lobe. He shifted against her. Martinette gasped, but it wasn’t one of protest.
“So, you’ll kill me later?”
“Not necessarily,” he said. “I am growing fond of you.” He slowly laid her on the floor and she pillowed her head on one arm and gazed up at him. Her expression showed confusion and pleasure, and just a little fear, the emotions rushing across her face as he started again, letting her feel how her body reacted to his, seeing the moment when she thrust the fear aside to accept the pleasure he offered. That acceptance was flavored by apprehension when he spoke again. “Don’t make me change my mind.”
He dipped his mouth to the small tear he’d made at the base of her throat and licked it, raising his head, so she could see her blood on his lips.
“You taste good,” he said, watching her eyes widen half in horror, and half in surprise, “and there’s a large part of me that wants to drain you dry, but I like your body. I love the way you move it when you dance, and I love the way you feel.”
He propped himself on his elbows so he could watch the battle of emotions raging across her face. One part of her couldn’t resist the purely physiological reaction her body was having to his, one part of her fascinated that she could be enjoying something with a creature like him, and one part terrified of what he might do next.
“I’m going to let you live just a little while longer,” he said. “How much longer is up to you. I love the way you dance. Say you’ll dance for me, Martinette. Say you want to live.”
He saw the moment she gave in to her desire to survive.
“I’ll dance for you,” she whispered, and as she relaxed beneath him, he gently tilted her head sideways and drank.
She tasted divine, but Hubert knew he had to stop, that the rest of his hunger would have to be sated by the salmon and reef fish he’d had his servants prepare. It was a hard-fought thing. He desperately wanted more, to drain her dry as he had the dancer he’d taken two nights ago, to feel her death throes as he rode her over the edge and desecrated her still-warm corpse.
Martinette was lucky he loved the way she responded to his music. She was lucky she could make him jealous of the pole on his private stage. She was lucky she drew him in a way he could not explain. As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge it, for the first time in a century Martinette, his flame-haired dancer, made him feel something for his intended prey. And it felt good.
Slowly standing, Hubert gave a soft whistle, summoning his servants.
“Care for her,” he ordered. “Give her private quarters and see to her comforts. Feed her like a queen, for she has my heart.”
Even as the words left his mouth, Hubert was surprised to find they were true.
With a small smile of surprised satisfaction, he returned to his chair and retrieved his flute. While he often travelled without it, tonight he wanted it nearby, at least until he went hunting. There were other dancers at the Candy Cane.

Friday, September 5, 2014

Sneak Peek 5: 365 Days of Flash Fiction



Science fiction, fantasy, dark fantasy, speculative fiction and a touch of horror, this collection plays with just about every genre it can lay its hands on. C.M. Simpson explores new worlds, new settings and lets loose some ideas that just needed to be gotten out of her head.

If short stories are your thing—and the shorter the better—you can find tiny tales from a wide variety of genres in 365 Days of Flash Fiction.

Many of my tales feature dragons, but I hope some of these are a little different to other dragons.

A Dragon in the Last Day’s Light


Written for this collection of flash fiction on  the evening of September 8, 2013. Outside my window is a tree full of delicate white blooms, gradually being hidden by leaves. On my mind, the next anthology of dragon fiction, where it will also appear. I guess I can see where my inspiration came from.


I saw the dragon land, soft as thistledown, delicate as glass, dangerous as midnight—not even as long as my thumb. I watched each tiny claw turned a blossom to dust, how jewel-bright it shone in the last day’s light. For it was the last day. I had seen it in; I was bound to see it out. I watched the dragon crawl, methodically touching each flower, deliberately destroying each delicate bloom and our chance of surviving through the long, dry months of winter. I shot it, fast and clean, closing the window before I went to catch the shuttle.


365 Days of Flash Fiction is scheduled for release on October 4, 2014, a and pre-ordering should be available soon.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

Sneak Peek 4: 365 Days of Flash Fiction


Science fiction, fantasy, dark fantasy, speculative fiction and a touch of horror, this collection plays with just about every genre it can lay its hands on. C.M. Simpson explores new worlds, new settings and lets loose some ideas that just needed to be gotten out of her head. 
If short stories are your thing—and the shorter the better—you can find tiny tales from a wide variety of genres in 365 Days of Flash Fiction.

Some of them have been produced in answer to challenges put out by other writers, like the tale of Hasken’s choice:

Hasken’s Choice

This was written in response to Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge set on 30 August 2013. I had no title, no idea what the story would be, but I randomly rolled my setting and was given “a penal colony set up by space-faring elves”. This is what came out. It was posted on my blog on 2 September 2013.

The first guard doubled over at 1800 hours. Dusk. According to one movie, ‘magic hour’. None of the inmates had heard of the movie, let alone seen it. If they had, they would have recognized old history – an entire species wiped out by the ingenuity of man. No wonder the elves had been angry.
The dragons had been a trap – an elven trap, vengeance on the human race, any race who dug so far into the world for nothing more than mineral wealth. In truth, it had probably been a trap meant for the dwarves, the world-eating hives of kesteringus, or the Venusian mole men who murdered creatures of fire and acid whenever they could.
Knives in the gut, Hasken thought, seeing the figure topple as he set another seedling firmly into its pot. Poor bastard.
Hasken had not approved of the idea, and the others had exiled him to the potting sheds. No one liked the sheds; they were death traps for most months of the year, but this month Hasken was lucky. He wasn’t dealing with spike-throwing anthrogens, head-biting kalloskathies, or symbiotically-linked carnivores. This month, he was dealing with sap-covered, thorn-encrusted, stink-oozing floriskanths. Nothing a good pair of protective gloves and a gas mask couldn’t deal with. Piece of cake by comparison.
The second guard fell off her hadrosaur at 1805. The hadrosaur stood, staring out at the horizon, while its rider curled into a ball, groaning at its feet. Hasken caught his glove on the thorns, swore as he carefully disentangled his fingers from the grasping points, ungluing the glove from binding sap. A cuff over the back of his head reminded Hasken cursing was forbidden.
Hasken apologized, crooning gently. Some of the other inmates were deliberately cruel, earning exile from the potting sheds. Most avoided the duty where they could. Hasken was one of the few who relished it. He waited for the guard behind him to move on. The guard did not.
Looking up, Hasken saw the guard staring out through the fence at the hadrosaur. Hasken supposed he should do something about that, but didn’t. He hadn’t agreed with the plan. It was stupid and cruel; it sickened him and he wanted no part in it. Not even the small one being offered. He followed the guard’s gaze, gasping as though just noticing the beast and its fallen rider.
1811.
The guard moved like lightening, slapping a hand on the emergency alarm, and jamming a long-barreled pistol against Hasken’s head.
“Don’t move.”
“The skanth,” Hasken said, locking himself in place, resisting the urge to sweep the pistol away and jam the thorny sap-coated seedling into the guard’s gut. He’d been accused of murder, had indeed committed it, and had never regretted it. The death wasn’t why he’d been imprisoned.
The dead man hadn’t been able to admit sabotaging the air processor, and Hasken was only half-way through repairing it when the ship’s security team caught him. Half fixed, half broken – it all looked the same to the captain, especially when the dead man had been meant to be in the life support area, and Hasken had not.
Why was he there?
A deterioration in air quality and change in the sound from the engines pumping the air, whenever that technician was on shift.
How had he noticed that?
The fact he’d been carrying his own testing equipment had only been held against him. The fact his room shared a wall with the plant equipment, ignored. What had he hoped to gain blackmailing the shipping line?
In the end, Hasken had been jailed for murder and sabotage. He’d been hoping to reach Earth, put some of his theories into practice, regrow something on the wastes, replant… Bad luck to have found an elf-hating saboteur on the cruise line for which he’d gathered a fare. Bad luck to be implicated in one of the most serious of space-lane crimes.
“Finish it, but slowly.”
Once the guard had stepped back, and was dividing his attention between watching the door, watching Hasken and watching the hadrosaur beyond the fence. Hasken set the floriskanth seedling in its pot, tamped down the earth, and disentangled his fingers before setting the pot beside the others. When he was finished, he placed his hands on his thighs and stayed, kneeling on the floor.
At 18:16, the third guard crumbled, releasing his grip on the shock chains keeping his velociraptors in check. Screams rose from the prisoners harvesting tubers two enclosures over. The elf guard swore. At 18:17 he groaned, and dropped to his knees, keeping the pistol aimed at Hasken’s head by sheer force of will.
At 18:18, Hasken watched and made his move as the pistol wavered. He rose, turning as he gained his feet, avoiding the first dart. The guard did not get to fire a second; Hasken kicked the gun from his hand, while reaching behind a row of floriskanth seedlings and potting tools.
“Here’s something I prepared earlier,” he muttered, pulling out the tuber he’d stashed there earlier. It was the only antidote he knew.
The guard had curled in on himself, by the time Hasken reached his side. Pulling the elf into his lap and locking him against his chest with his forearms, Hasken tilted the elf’s head back, relieved when the guard’s mouth opened in a groan. With a grunt of effort, Hasken twisted the tuber so that it broke, crushing the fibers at its core and releasing a mixture of seed-encrusted pulp held together in mucous-like sap.
Any runnier, and he’d have failed but, by the time the raptors had quelled the uprising in the field, and reinforcements had taken back  the buildings where inmates were still struggling with locking mechanisms biometrically attuned elsewhere ,Hasken had guided the oozing mess between his captor’s lips. Not a single prisoner made it past the inner fences, but only one guard survived.
Hasken had sworn he would never again be caught with a dead body on his hands.


365 Days of Flash Fiction is scheduled for release on October 4, 2014, and pre-ordering should be available soon.