FICTION WRITERS- Getting help with a foreign character's DIALOGUE "De nada"

RABBIT FANS remember the Australian character, Rakum Cow Stuart Loudon, from Rabbit Legacy. He runs into Canaan at a Rest Area one night when Canaan needs a "buzz." In the upcoming third installment (Rabbit Redemption, Little Roni Publishers Jan 2018), he has a much larger role. Because of this, I needed help with his dialogue. I'm not Australian so my scope of Aussie dialect and language comes from Hollywood. 

HERE'S MY SOLUTION. The following is a helpful blog on what to do when your character isn't you!

DIALOGUE HELP: So what if your character is Australian and you're not? When I write fiction, my characters come as they are--I don't choose them, they arrive already formed. That means they aren't all White, Female, American, Christian, Southern Belles (touché). Thanks to social media, nearly every writer has friends around the country who they can ask for help to make sure their character sounds real and not "Hollywood."

Recently, I asked my friend and fellow author Stu Loudon for help bringing my Aussie character's dialogue to life. I know all about my character's personality, but not how he might say certain things. I asked Stu to help and he said YES.

IF YOU GET HELP, go through your novel and select portions where you need the friend to help out. Don't send the whole novel, or even the entire chapter--this will greatly slow down the response time. Send only what the friend needs above and beyond the dialogue to add his or her special native touch. Then, you should highlight the dialogue so your friend can go right to it easily. Keep in mind, no matter how much a friend or fan likes your work, he or she is busy 24/7 just like you are! Lastly, offer to pay them enough for a nice dinner. Trust me, there are a dozen good reasons to give a little monetary thank you for this help.

USING THE INTERNET: Sometimes you have to use the internet for this help. I googled "Aussie slang" in case my friend was too busy to help and dozens of sites came up. Of course, I would have bungled the job -- Americans wouldn't notice, but anyone who ever knew a true Australian would know I used the internet to make my character speak!

FINAL NOTE ABOUT GOOGLE TRANSLATE: Sometimes, your character speaks another language, or uses foreign phrases in his daily speech. For example, I have several Latino characters who may exclaim*, "Madre de dios!" or "Meirda!", or my German character may say, "jah," etc. etc. We all use Google Translate to make short sentences for our books. That is my advice--use it only for short items. It is not perfect, and if you know anyone who speaks that language, ask them to check it.

RABBIT TRILOGY

Author Beth Rider writes a vampire novel that angers a race of "real" vampires living under the radar since before Christ. Learn more at www.ellencmaze.com.

Purchase on Amazon:http://www.ellencmaze.com/re-released-for-2017.php 

Like Australian Author Stu Loudon on Facebook: click

*Use proper punctuation, too. This blog doesn't support upside-down exclamation points. :)

Can CHRISTIAN THRILLERS have VAMPIRES? Yes. Author shares why...

RABBIT: CHASING BETH RIDER is a bestselling Christian Thriller novel (Book One of Three) by Ellen C. Maze. The story contains violence, peril, horror, and heroism all viewed from a biblical point of view, giving the real-life Christian an opportunity to enjoy fiction and not have to ask, "What would I do if this happened to me?".

HORROR MOVIES -- who doesn't like to be frightened? Most of us do, especially those of us who read vampire and paranormal novels. Still, we want to shout at the screenwriters, "COMMAND THAT DEMON/GHOST/MONSTER TO DEPART!" (Insert a laugh here; they just don't write mainstream horror with Truth involved). In all of the novels by Ellen C. Maze, you will have the same peril, suspense, and yes--even blood and gore--found in quality non-biblical novels, yet the reader can watch Truth triumph in a non-preachy way. You will be able to put yourself in the novel and command those spirits in the way you want to!

TO SUM UP-- We can boss those spirits around... we know it, they know it, we're not taking any lip.

READ EXCERPT, Michele married a modern day Count, but he's possessed by demons, and they love blood and violence... (from the upcoming Christian Paranormal Thriller based upon the Baals from the Old Testament, alive and well in 2017 and ready to bring on the End! From Ellen C Maze, The Indwelling of Tori Blessing, Little Roni Publishers 2018)

...The screeches were much worse than the screams, and tonight, her husband’s voice carried ear-splitting elements of both. Michele covered her ears and shuffled down the hall at a jog. Reaching her bedroom, she double-locked the door and collapsed onto the bed. When another staccato shout filtered through the floor from the basement, Michele curled her legs beneath her and squeezed closed her eyes.

“Please, please, please don’t let him come up here. Please!” Michele prayed the same words a few more times, wondering to whom she was speaking. God? If so, which one? There were so many, how could she know which to turn to?

A loud crash sounded from beneath her room, splintering wood and breaking glass—Cedric was in the laboratory.

Michele opened her eyes and leapt to her window. It was nearly dawn; that fact alone might keep him downstairs. He was Ba-alim and unable to walk in the sun.

“MEEE-SHHH-ELLLL!”

The elongated three-syllable version of her name sent goose-pimples across her flesh. Only Ki’tarit called her that—Mi-sha’el—and of the seven spirits that tormented and possessed her husband, he was the most foul. Michele jerked her gaze to the north horizon fifty miles away where the mountains towered over neighboring Slovakia. Her east-facing windows had been painted over and sealed shut, for what purpose, she never knew. Whatever the reason, it mattered little; Ki’tarit was summoning her, and the sky was still more purple than pink.

“MEEE-SHHHH-ELLLL!”

Michele startled and pressed her hands to her ears. He would have to come and get her; she wasn’t going to him. She had learned the hard way that when one of Cedric’s Indwellers spoke her name, she should run and hide. Each of them longed to destroy her, and only Cedric’s incredible love restrained them from doing so. They did whatever else they could do, including rape, sodomy, and flagellation; in their hellish minds, the more dehumanizing the better.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Michele screamed, her fingers clutching the amulet Cedric had given her to wear. He had promised her that it had protective powers, that the ancient crest on its face would ward off negative attraction. His words gave her little comfort now that Ki’tarit was at the door. Would he be able to open it?

“OPEN UP, YOU SELFISH WHORE!” the voice bellowed, and Michele cringed backward until her buttocks bumped against the wide, protruding windowsill. Fingering the necklace’s design, she scooted onto the sill and looked to the landscaped lawn outside. The shadows had reached the shrubbery, but she was on the first floor, a fifteen-foot drop at the most. She could make it. Michele tensed, preparing to force open the age-locked latch.

“Michele?” the voice asked, softer, with a harsh accent on the first letter, sounding more like Mi’shull. It was Yuli, Cedric’s father, and therefore the most recent Indweller; Michele recognized him by his voice. He was the one who gave up his breath so Cedric could live. He was certainly no angel, but he lashed out at her the least. Michele remained at the window, and called across the room at the bolted door.

“Yuli, get Cedric downstairs,” she said, hoping she sounded braver than she felt; the tremor in her voice was difficult to erase. “The sun is coming.”

“Come sleep with us, Mi’shull. It’s been soooooo long,” the ancient voice crooned.

Michele winced as the Indwelt sent a telepathic image deep into her mind. It wasn’t unpleasant this time, but she held firm to her misgivings. They could not be trusted. Not in the least.

“Mi’shull,” the voice continued, still soft, slightly begging, “Cedric will be back. Open the door. Trust me. We will be soooo gentle with you. Not like last time. That shouldn’t have happened. Open the door.”

Last time. When they last attacked her. It was in the den, not the crypt, and she’d been left unconscious. Michele shivered and faced outside, looking as far east as allowed by the corner of the house. Of course, she’d never consent to Yuli’s request. It was too risky. She’d slept with her husband once in the catacombs below the house and nothing bad happened; the Indwelt were still. But since then, over the past year, she’d seen enough of their violence that she vowed she would never voluntarily place herself in their clutches. Cedric promised that he would never allow them to kill her, but that was little comfort when being violated in his absence.

Knock-knock. A soft rap, he’d changed again.

“Kitten, it is I, your husband.”

Michele faced the door and her hand flew to her throat.

Cedric.

When he was present in that crowd of spirits he called a body, her heart grew warm within her, and she flushed from head-to-toe. It was her husband, and he had come forward to wish her a good day.

“Cedric!” Michele breathed and reached the door in six rapid strides. Then, remembering herself, she paused, palms on the wood. “Cedric, should I open the door?” she asked, putting her faith in the true voice of the one she loved.

“Yes, Kitten, open the door.”

Michele unlocked two deadbolts and removed the iron bar atop them both. With a vigorous tug on the weighty oak, she was in her beloved’s embrace.

“There, now. Shhhh…” Cedric held her gently and kissed the crown of her head. “I wanted to wish you a good day, my sweet.”

Michele held him tightly, her face pressed into the lapel of his cool leather coat. It had been three nights since she’d last seen him. When he left Monday at sunset, he hadn’t returned until last night, and she knew better than approach him then for as she prepared her dinner, the Indwelt overcame him in the bowels of the house and began the tumult to which she’d unfortunately become accustomed.

But he was here—now—for a few minutes.

“Are you all right? I missed you,” she whispered against him.

“If you missed me, you will look at me, no?”

Michele smiled and pulled away well enough to look into his face. As usual, Cedric’s extreme comeliness brought tears to her eyes. She considered herself a mousy girl with dull blonde hair and pale blue eyes too big for her face. She had always attracted men much too old for her, but Cedric was the first one she’d paid any mind. Painfully attractive, his eyes were always at half-mast, hiding centuries of secrets. His mouth was set in a permanent smirk, which only served to convince Michele that he knew everything worth knowing, and that his wisdom would change her world.

And she never knew tenderness until she met the walking god who held her now. She was an orphan; the illegitimate product of two sketchy Americans on expired tourist visas. Her parents sold her to pay for passage back home. Because of her fair coloring and gender, the local flesh traders intended to sell her for top dollar. Fortunately, she was sold to an undercover government operative seeking to eradicate human trafficking in Central Europe. The officer deposited her in the Irme orphanage where the beatings were infrequent, and as soon as she hit puberty, she was released to work in the nearby state-regulated tavern.

The very tavern Cedric found her in a year ago.

“Who put the look of the doe in your eyes, kitten?” Cedric pierced her with his gaze, asking questions he could divine if he chose. Michele answered right away so he wouldn’t have to.

“Ki’tarit threatened me,” she admitted, appreciating the flash of anger she read in her husband’s gaze. “Yuli came next, begging me to join you in the crypt today. Then, you were back.”

Cedric nodded, still thoughtful. “Yuli and I have come to an agreement. He promised to subdue the others for me, but it appears Ki’tarit is too much for him.” Cedric brushed Michele’s hair from her cheek and pushed it behind her ear. “I will deal with Ki’tarit.”

“How did you get Yuli on your side?” Michele asked, truly curious. Cedric explained his way early in their relationship, and as far as she knew, the Indwelt could not be persuaded by anyone at any price.

“I took him on a little trip.” Cedric whispered, his black eyes sparkling with humor.

Michele didn’t ask for more. The Indwelt were bloodthirsty and murderous, so to satiate them Cedric would have been party to horrendous activities. Cedric put a finger to her chin and bent to kiss her mouth, lingering there long enough to stifle her breathing. Straightening up again, he ran both hands into her hair and held her head gently.

“I apologize that we frightened you.”

Michele smiled, and wiped a tear that had slipped out as they kissed. “Yuli said you wanted me to sleep with you today. Is that so?”

Cedric nodded his head, his shoulder-length black hair catching the light from her room in its loose waves. “You will be safe.”

Michele’s pulse increased a few ticks, but she nodded her head in his palms. “Let me change clothes. Do we have time?”

Cedric looked over her shoulder in the direction of her window, although he could sense the sunrise more easily than observe it. “Seventeen-and-half minutes, Kitten. Will that do?”

Michele nodded and backed into the room as he released her. She’d visit the restroom, wash her face, and change back into her nightgown. She normally slept from noon until sunset, but she needn’t worry about insomnia; in Cedric’s crypt, he would put her to sleep hypnotically.

Her husband leaned against the threshold and watched her prepare to bed down. It would take her ten minutes, tops, and then she’d accompany him to the basement where he slept away the long Hungarian days. As she slipped her silk nightdress over her head, she prayed to the unknown God that He would keep the Indwelt at bay.

It was worth a shot.

(Devil Man pic from  https://pixabay.com/en/users/diggersstory-407656/, used by permission)

GLOVES ~ a lusty short (But not in the way you wish) "Pleeeeeeeease, Billy, pleeeeeease...."

Himself grotesquely disfigured in a car wreck, the visitor was easily the most beautiful woman eighteen-year-old Billy had ever seen, and before the story ends, he will get her to touch him, no matter the cost.

TOUCH... We all take it for granted, but this one-night visitor to Billy's aunt's B&B covers her skin to prevent it. Covered from head to ankle in skin-hugging lace, it was difficult to imagine the meaning behind her every strange move and the odd behavior of her male companion. It wasn't long before Billy began his investigation and discovered he wanted her to touch him in the worst possibly way. Even if it turned out, she might not even be human.

“Billy, pleeeease….” she cooed, her eyes sorrowful, her glistening lips begging me to surrender. “It hurts me not to touch. It hurts me.”



GLOVES by Ellen C. Maze, 99 cents on Kindle

EXCERPT:

About the time I got to my own story, Edna’s voice trickled up announcing dinner; I was supposed to help serve. I stood and Roxanne followed suit.

“Wait,” she said and took a step closer. “Wait…” she whispered the second time and lifted leather-wrapped fingers to my eye-level. Oh, I wished those fingers would touch me. “Wait, just a moment, please…” whispering again, and begging, as I’d heard through the wall earlier. My follicles reacted to the sensation of her touch as she moved the curls aside and then stroked, once, twice, three times, without ever touching my scalp. What and why didn’t matter, only that she didn’t stop. Then an insane phrase came out of my mouth.

“You can touch me, Roxanne. It’s okay.” I stood only inches away and when the words left my mouth, a look crossed her face that I’d never before seen. Was it exhilaration? Joy? Perverse fear? I think it was all three.

Roxanne withdrew her fingers and right under my nose, I watched her slowly, no—provocatively—slip the glove from her hand. Oh, yes, she was about to touch me. I made an effort to bend my knees so I wouldn’t pass out.

      “Billy, where should I touch you?”
       Choices? What did it matter where? Just do it! My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I wished I had telepathy.
       Her manicured pale fingers moved toward my hairline and an electric buzz coursed to my head as if attracted by her touch. She moaned the instant her fingers made contact, and I fell in love with her mouth.
      Then I lost consciousness.

READ ON .... (link) Free on Kindle Unlimited, or 99 cents to buy.
http://a.co/br3wYgL

EMMA'S DRAGON ~ If only she'd paid more attention... LOVE BITES, LOVE BURNS

Written in a jolly, tongue-in-cheek style, dark humor horror short story, EMMA'S DRAGON: A FAIRLY HORRIBLE LOVE STORY recounts how Emma Topp saw a dragon, reported it to the police, and fell in lust. If she'd had more time, it might have blossomed into more, but alas, life--as in love-- often takes its own route to fulfillment.

SYNOPSIS: Famous children's book illustrator, Emma Topp, saw a dragon while camping alone at Tom Bailey Lake. Should she tell anyone? Braving to share her sighting with handsome and dashing Deputy Trevor Lucas, Emma might have bitten off more than she can chew.

REVIEWERS: Love it or hate it. The author calls it "a fairly horrible love story" because of the dark twist at the end. If you want fluffy romance, this snarky tale won't satisfy. But if you like your horror with a giggle and a sexy deputy thrown in for good measure, this will make your lunch hour a hoot.

LOCATION: Emma sees her dragon in Birmingham, Alabama.

EXCERPT:

When she reached her favorite spot, her watch read 5:30, still three hours until dusk. Emma worked her pack loose and dropped it to the leafy ground. A flash of movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention and she peered into the thick brush to discern what moved. After five seconds, branches swayed as if something had passed through, and she still hadn’t heard anything. Not yet alarmed, Emma called in the direction of the movement, “Hey there!”

Immediately, an Auburn Tigers baseball cap popped into her vision above the lower branches, followed by a wisp of brown hair, and a pair of luminescent green eyes.

Luminescent? Emma ignored her creative mind and waved at the deputy, not even wondering at his being there.

“Miss Topp,” he laughed, stepping into full view, “come to try your luck again?”

“You come to see if I was yankin’ yer chain?” she replied, putting on a severe southern drawl.

Deputy Lucas chuckled and shook his head. “You caught me.”

Dressed in relaxed jeans, decidedly-worn hiking boots, and a light windbreaker over a plain red T-shirt, the deputy appeared much less official, but no less delicious. Emma winced at her train of thought and he smiled as if he’d read her thoughts.

“So this is the spot, huh?” he asked, dropping his pack near hers and planting his feet to take in the area.

Emma followed his gaze as it circled around. Besides the tops of chest-high brush, in front of full-grown birch and oak trees, a roller coaster-shaped mountain range filled the far horizon. Lovely, quiet, secluded—great place for a dragon to hang...

Check it out on Amazon Kindle ( 99 cents), and leave a review if it moves you! ~ Ellen
Link

RABBIT REDEMPTION Book Three is off to the editors ~ Let's talk gender and ethinicity of characters, Blog Post #2

NOW... The baby you conceived in your spirit landed on paper and is off at school being check by professionals who search forensically for errors you overlooked while locked in the joys of parenthood... Ahh, the novelist's life!

THIS IS A FUN EXERCISE for you to do with your novel. This exercise will enable you to grow closer to each character and gather skills that will pop up later when asked questions about them in interviews. Let's go.

Rabbit Redemption, Book Three of the Rabbit Trilogy is the baby and today I want to share some little things about character gender and race (ethnicity).

Writers know that your book actually writes itself, that the characters are alive and well in another dimension and they break through to enlist your help in making them alive in our world. Non-writers, though, wonder why we cast a woman in that role, or why does the hero have to be white (or black), or who decided the Hispanic man would be the killer? Etc. Etc. While it's true movie makers will often change the race and/or ethnicity of a character for the film version of a book, when the author wrote it, he or she had no choice, the author MUST write the character true, or the book won't work. If the author attempts to force a character into another race or gender, it will rebel so badly, writer's block develops. It's true!

RABBIT REDEMPTION has more male characters than female, but that's because in Books One and Two, the female lead and her female counterparts accomplished their task and do not appear here. For this post, I will stick to the characters for this book. Some of the characters are supernatural, but they have an appearance of being human, and in my novel world, they retain some of their ethnic culture and blend it with their paranormal traits.

For this post: RAKUM (the name of the long-lived race of blood drinkers/vampires)

MAIN CHARACTERS, I will group them in ethnicity and role (two females, F):

Canaan ~ Caucasian male, hero

Javier ~ Caucasian, hero

Kilmeade ~ Caucasian, hero

Chloe ~ Caucasian, supporting character (F)

Marcy ~ Caucasian, supporting character (F)

Stuart ~ Caucasian, minion

Isaac ~ Caucasian, villain

Boris ~ Black, minion 

Kite ~ Black, minion

Polly ~ Black, minion & anti-hero

Guap ~ Hispanic, minion & anti-hero

Rafael ~ Hispanic, anti-hero

Santiago ~ Hispanic, supporting character

Isn't that fun! I literally spent MONTHS on my novel and have read it more than fifty times, and never realized some of the statistics we see here. 

FIRST: I am Caucasian, so when I write I think white. That's a fact. My African-American writer friend and psychologist Dr. Jan Lightfoot and I have discussed this, how you write in your own ethnicity. That's not to say you can't write legitimate and REAL other-raced characters, but your brain starts out in your own familiarity.

SECOND: My Black and Hispanic characters were born into this world with sentience -- I didn't PLAN them. That is the amazing thing: writers know this! I just started typing and Rafael was born. He had Iago in his arms and Santiago came into our world. It's a BREAKING THROUGH that happens when you write.

THIRD: I didn't cause my characters to be good guys or bad guys. Like their race, they were born into this world as they are. Isaac is a devil -- literally -- and he is white. His very favorite minion is Black. Who knows why?

Anyway, go and list your characters and comment back with what you find! Next post will be about POV -- so many fun things we can do while our novels are off at the editors' house!

KEEP WRITING

Ellen C Maze (Sallas)

www.ellencmaze.com

Evil Incarnate...

His favorite minion... Go figure?

Read the Prologue, Vampire Series Re-Release from Little Roni Publishers, Post #1

Sit back, turn on a light, and read the prologue from Rabbit: Chasing Beth Rider, by Ellen C Maze.
PG-13, Violence

Have fun down the rabbit hole! ~ Ellen

Rabbit: Chasing BethRider By Ellen C. Maze ©2017 Excerpt from the KINDLE EDITION

Prologue

The monster had him boxed in, and it wasn’t even close to sunup.

“Rabbit! Give it up! You don’t have a chance!”

Schaffer cringed at the sentiment and tiptoed faster along the corrugated tin wall. Up ahead, he could see the exit, a huge door that emptied into the dark night beyond. The warehouse sat on the river’s edge—how far from the pier was he? Maybe fifty feet once he cleared the threshold. There was a good chance he could jump into the water and swim away. Didn’t these aberrations of nature abhor running water, or had that been an evil joke? He had been in their clutches long enough to question his sanity at every turn. Schaffer didn’t have time to ponder. Taking one deep breath to gather his nerve, he burst forward suddenly, commanding his legs to propel him faster than they ever had before. However, it wasn’t fast enough. Not by a mile. Schaffer slammed into the outstretched arm of his enemy after four short strides.

“Oops,” the monster giggled. “Down you go.”

Schaffer struggled to find his feet, but the creature grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back the way they had come. His boot heels plowed the red clay in the dirt parking lot, making furrows no one would notice.

“Silly wabbit. Come on, we have a big night ahead of us.”

Schaffer wrestled against his attacker’s grip to no avail. The creature that held him fast was not his master, but he was still one of them. One of the Brethren. A Rakum. A devilish miscreant with ancient roots no one remembered, whose strength was outdone only by his cruelty. They would be sure to punish Schaffer for the stunt he pulled against their Elder, Rufus.

Schaffer fought futilely until they reached the monster’s aged Dodge pickup parked in the unlit abandoned lot. He got a glimpse of the Rakum’s face; it was not one he recognized, but that mattered little. Once marked as a Rabbit, they would come from all over.

“In ya go, Rabbit.”

The Rakum grabbed Schaffer’s belt along with his collar and tossed him into the passenger seat in one fluid motion. Schaffer grunted with discomfort as his attacker zip-tied his hands together. He then zip-tied his wrists to the headrest behind, yanking his arms up above his head. Schaffer cried out, but only a few syllables escaped his lips before the monster shoved a greasy rag into his mouth.

“Where’re your matches now, Rabbit?”

Schaffer shivered at the Rakum’s question; he had set Rufus on fire. It had been a glorious sight, but he didn’t get away fast enough. Schaffer blinked back tears, gagged, and watched with round eyes as his attacker settled into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition.

“Might be fun to burn you up, Rabbit. See what that smells like.”

Schaffer moaned. An hour after he set Rufus aflame, he’d been captured and marked by one of the Elders. The creature told him to start running.

Schaffer looked out the window as they sped through a thick forest. If only he’d planned an escape route. Now this monster was taking him to his private killing field. As the morbid thought crossed his mind, an Airstream trailer emerged from the woods ahead.

“Oh, my. All for me.”

The Rakum hit the brakes hard and didn’t bother to come around to extricate his catch. Instead, he jumped down and reached in to yank Schaffer out the driver’s side. The stiff plastic ties raked across his flesh and he yelped through the filthy towel as his skin gave way. His wrist bones fractured as his hands popped free of the bonds. The Rakum chuckled and tossed Schaffer bleeding and crying over his shoulder and headed for the trailer.

Schaffer watched the weeds go by in the moonlight, his bloodied fingers dangling off and on in his line of vision. They no longer stung, but he was too terrified to notice. They entered the trailer, the door closed and was locked, and he was dropped onto a tattered yellow couch. Schaffer grimaced as he hit the sofa hard, but one glance at his wrist and he could see the skin was not ripped as he had thought. Was it the dim light?

“Now you’re in my house, Rabbit. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Do you know what happens to Rabbits around here?”

Schaffer’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head. His tongue pushed at the rag in his mouth, but it wouldn’t budge. He watched his attacker’s face and vainly pleaded with his eyes.

“We eat Rabbits around here. Yep. But we take our time.”

Schaffer cringed as the monster approached and stopped only inches from his sweating face.

“And Rufus wants to be sure you suffer.”

Rufus? In the present tense? Are they fireproof? Schaffer choked back a scream as the monster withdrew a knife from outside his vision and brought it up to his chin.

“We ain’t in no hurry, Rabbit. We can go all night…” The sharp blade pressed into Schaffer’s throat until it broke through the skin with stinging pain. Blood coursed from the wound and spilled out from before him onto the monster’s chest. But as his assailant hovered over him, an evil grin on his dark face, Schaffer felt something else entirely. The fiery pain in his neck subsided and was replaced with a peculiar tightness. The blood that spurted forcefully from his body ebbed and then stopped completely. His knife wound had healed. –As if he was one of them.

The marking procedure did this! Horrified as the gravity of his situation sunk in, Schaffer violently leapt aside. The Rakum backhanded him into place and straddled him on the couch, holding him down with his body weight.

“See, Rabbit? Now you get it.” Schaffer straightened up in his bonds as the monster raised the knife and slashed him again, this time across the chest. The wound was deep and the dark oxygenated blood oozed down his shirtfront. Once again, the pain subsided and the flow eased. Schaffer’s face twisted into a mask of horror.

“Yep. That’s right. We’ll go on all night. And tomorrow night. And the night after that...” 

Schaffer watched as his attacker brought the bloody knife tip to his mouth and cleaned it with his red tongue.

“Oh, shit, that...is...so...” he whispered, closed his eyes and smiled. After a moment, he sought Schaffer’s terrified eye. “And Rabbit,” he said and paused drunkenly. “When I get tired of you…we’ll have my brothers over and let them see what fun you are.”

The knife rose again and plunged into Schaffer’s middle. He grunted, his gag still preventing him from screaming no matter how his lungs fought in his chest to expel his terror. The Rakum’s gory tongue circled his lips, not coming close to clearing the expelled blood from his chin.

“We’ll never get tired of you,” he whispered, obviously intoxicated by the ingestion of Schaffer’s blood. The knife came out and was thrust in again, this time into his side, into his ribs. “And you’ll never die. You’ll never die, Rabbit. Never.”

As Schaffer felt the skin tighten and knit itself together in his middle, he knew the monster was right. His punishment would go on.  Schaffer was in hell. And his hell would last forever.

______________________________________________

Rabbit: Chasing Beth Rider

Book One of the Rabbit Trilogy

Kindle $2.99, Paperback$12.95

(Be sure to purchase the Little Roni Publishers Version—ISBN: 978-0615678306, Kindle and PB, for the Newest Edition with BONUS “Easter Egg” Chapters)

BACK COVER: What if your novel attracts the wrong kind of attention?

Author Beth Rider's vampire novel has hit number one, but her fictitious plot puts her in the crosshairs of an ancient race of vampiric beings known as the Rakum. Spreading evil among mankind for thousands of years, the leadership of this bloodthirsty race now has a singular focus: catch Beth Rider—her very life in mortal jeopardy as she goes on the run, a rabbit desperate to escape the worst of predators.

Facing the most terrifying trial of her life against creatures known only in fables, one simple woman will unintentionally threaten the very existence of a powerful and accursed people. In the climactic mêlée, it is a race to the death—or if Beth has her way, a race to the life—of every Rakum who makes the choice.

Rabbit: Chasing Beth Rider By Ellen C. Maze ©2017

Excerpt from the KINDLE EDITION

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the authors, except as provided by United States of America copyright law. The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, to factual events or to businesses is coincidental and unintentional.

Print Edition ISBN-13: 978-0615678306

Also available LARGE PRINT format

Little Roni Publishers, Byhalia, MS www.littleronipublishers.com

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

This prologue provided to prepare the fans of the Rabbit Trilogy for the release of Book Three, Rabbit Redemption. Blogger/Book Reviewers, Contact the author at ellenmaze@aol.com for a complimentary copy of the books for your reviews.