Or, how this post also could be called: I won, I won, I won! I talked to you guys before in these posts that I entered the Fantastic Story Competition, a collaboration between Dutch Comic Con, the American Book Centre and the Fantastic Genre Foundation. Last weekend was Dutch Comic Con, which was a blast in and of itself, but it was also where on Saturday I got to read my story to a crowd {eep!} and where on Sunday they announced the winner. And… {drum-roll} I won first place! Which is such an amazing feeling, I can’t even tell you.

I had the idea of a character in my head where the character was immortal, but could die. They were simply brought back to life every time. It was part of a bigger story idea that never saw the light but it got me thinking: what would their relationship with Death be like? Which brought me to this story which I can finally share with you guys and gals! Enjoy, and tell me what you think!

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…I met Death in a small ‘50s-style diner in the middle of a desert.
…He didn’t seem surprised to see me, I mean, why would he. He just pushed the extra slice of lemon pie in front of him over to me and gestured for me to sit down. …“Hello again, old friend.” I greeted him as I slid onto the cracked red leather bench. “It’s been a while.”
…He looked up at that, his weathered face incredulous. “I wouldn’t call two months ‘a while’, Tana,” he admonished with a quirk of his lips.
…I opened my mouth to respond when a waitress appeared at our table.
…“Anything else I can get you guys?” she asked.
…Death sat back and smoothed out the front of his charcoal-and-black business suit. “Two coffees please, Rosie, and she’ll have the Scottish chocolate pancakes, extra side of bacon,” he nodded towards me.
…I raised an eyebrow at him, I wasn’t much of a fan of breakfast foods and he knew it.
…“Trust me,” he told me, and I did. Death knows his food.
…Rosie sauntered back to the bar to place our order and top off our coffees.
…Death waited until she was gone again before he turned to me. “A garotte, kid, really? I thought you knew better by now. Especially after that thing in Rome,” he took a sip of coffee. “So tell me what happened.”
…I shrugged, still feeling the phantom of a wire digging into my throat. “Intrigue, betrayal, death. You know, the usual.” I wasn’t angry, not yet, I knew the rage would come a few days later. And when it did it would burn like an inferno, blazing everything to the ground. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.”
…“I know you’ll make sure it won’t.” He smiled, his dark eyes still worried. “I’ll put Carver on the list, then?”
…I flashed him a quick grin as Rosie put a stack of dark chocolate pancakes in front of me. “Expect him in a few days.”
…“I look forward to it,” he said with a smile that sent shivers down my spine. Death doesn’t like it when you mess with his friends.
…At this thought the tension in me uncoiled a bit.
…“It’ll teach them not to mess with a phoenix.” He mocked.
…I rolled my eyes at that. “You know that’s not what I am.” I told him and took a bite of my pancakes. They had whisky syrup on them. They were delicious, as promised.
…Smug bastard.
…My protest was waved away by a thin hand. “Close enough, and it’s what they call you anyway. Your ‘code name’.” His tone told me exactly what he thought about that one. He took the last bite of my lemon pie, I pretended to be offended even though I always left him the last piece. “So, you were saying,” he invited.
…“Do you remember the evil organization I was chasing after?” I waited for his nod to continue. “Well, after last time, I figured there had to be someone within IBI that worked for them. You know Rhodes?”
…Death got that far off look where he remembers everything about a person. “Michael Avery Rhodes, 58, unhappily married to Bernice, head of the International Bureau of Intelligence. Would that not make him your boss?”
…“Yeah,” I answered, a spark of anger flaring up and dying down again. “turns out it’s him. He burned me, I’m guessing he gave Carver the kill order. We were supposed to be partners in this mission. Fucker killed me in my sleep.” I took another bite of pancake. “I’ll burn them both when I get back.” I grinned. “Now, enough about me. Tell me something.”
…“You know, sometimes I think you only visit me to listen to my stories.” Death joked, but I could see real concern in his eyes.
…“Not for a while.” I promised, and it was true. The loneliness and solitude that came with being truly immortal was less in this era of growth and science and connection. There was too much to see, too many people to meet.
…He must have seen that I meant it, for he only nodded and dropped that conversation.
…“Oh, I know!” I went on. “Tell me what you remember about the King.”
…“Of Wallachia? Are you still obsessed with vampires?”
…I rolled my eyes, slightly embarrassed. “No, I mean the King.” I gestured towards the black and white photo that hung above the bar.

For the rest of the day, Death did exactly that. He spun stories about Elvis and when those ran out, he told me about the Elvis-impersonators he had collected over the years. Their demises running from completely mundane to something that involved a dare, chocolate pudding and a single live chicken.
…Don’t ask, trust me, I’m sorry I did.
…By the time the sun was setting, my stomach was hurting from laughing so much, and I was warm and comfortable in this diner in the middle of nowhere.
…Death turned to me again, face serious. “It’s time.”
…I knew, but I didn’t want to leave this place where everything was easy and I could just be. And I didn’t think Death wanted to either. “I know.” I answered as he laid his hand on the table. I braced myself and placed my hand in his. It was like touching shadow. Shadow that suddenly grew teeth and dug into the innermost part of yourself and ripped out a piece. The pain was indescribable. Through tear filled eyes I watched as the copper and orange light crawled down my arm and into his, where it dispersed into bluish-black light. My payment for another death. He didn’t apologize and I didn’t lie and say it was fine. That I was fine. We’ve learned that much over the years.
…I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. “See you soon, my friend.”
…He squeezed back. “Not for a while, I hope.”
…Then everything went black.

So that’s it! I really tried to capture what my husband called ‘the lazy-sunday-afternoon vibe’ and I think I succeeded, don’t you? This whole process was an amazing experience that will stay with me forever. And it’s not done yet because it also got me an invitation to the ‘Day of the Fantastical Book’ next week, with writers workshops and panels. It’s going to be great. These were the prizes:

Five copies of the book they printed which contained all the stories {does that mean I’m published now?}, gift vouchers for the American Book Centre, a ticket to the Day of the Fantastical Book and a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Holding a book in your hands that has your name {spelled wrong, oops} and story in it is such an unreal experience, but so, so cool. Leaves you wanting more… So onto the next story!

It’s been hectic here on the story front. I’ve been working on the plot of my novel idea and things are picking up steam. I finally have more of a feel of where I want the story to go and the characters are finally coming to life. Good things!

Annnnnd…. I’m a finalist in the Fantastic Story Competition! {gasp!} My story, Death’s Diner, made the shortlist of ten stories. This weekend is Dutch Comic Con, where on Saturday I will read my story to the public {oh dear… public speaking!} and on Sunday the winner will be announced. After this weekend I’ll post the story here, if you can’t wait, you can read it (and the rest of the shortlist) here.

Anyway, on to this weeks story! It’s set in the city where my novel idea is set, and Scotty is actually one of the character the main character will have a lot of interactions with. It’s a story which dives a little bit into the background of the character, which also allows me to get a better feel for her personality. So enjoy!

   I startled awake by the sound of my front door slamming open.
…“Werewolves, Scotty? Seriously?” My sister’s voice called out to me as she made her way towards my bedroom.
…I eased my hand away from the knife hidden under my pillow at the familiar sound of her voice.
…“This is what you’ve been hiding, bloody werewolves?!” She finally burst into my room in a flurry of dark curls and designer clothes.
…“Rosie -” I sighed, so not ready for this discussion at ass-o’clock in the morning.
…“Don’t you ‘Rosie’ me, Philomina Bethany Maria Scott.”
…Uh-oh, full name usage was a very bad sign. “I’m sorry?” I ventured. By the glare I received I could tell that was not the response she was looking for. I winced, rubbing my hands over my face in an attempt to wake myself up a bit more. I glanced at the clock despairingly and said goodbye to any sleep I might have gotten that night. I’d spent most of the night researching Glaistigs, Green women who lure unsuspecting travellers to their deaths – fun times – for the pack and had only gone to sleep an hour ago. When I looked at my sister again her glare seemed a little less frosty.
…She sat down next to me on the bed and patted my leg. She looked at me for a long moment. “I was worried,” she admitted finally. “You were pulling away from me, from us, again and you were showing up with bruises,” she took a shaky breath. “After Trevor-” she trailed off.
…She didn’t have to finish that thought. My still sleeping brain jolted more awake as I realized what this would look like to my family. Trevor had slowly kept me away from my family and friends. And after he hit me the first time, well, I was so ashamed that I pulled away even more. There was a reason I hadn’t spoken to my sister in months before I’d finally had the guts to toss him out.
…I’d tried to keep my family safe by keeping them out of the werewolf thing. Knowing there was a whole other world out there was dangerous. I absently traced the scar on my forearm. “Rosie, I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how it would look to you. That you’d think – wait, how did you find out it was werewolves?” I looked at her sharply.
…She looked back with a mixture of defiance and embarrassment. “I talked to Rowan Hearne.”
…“So you walked up to the alpha of the pack and – what?” I asked.
…“I may have seen you two together in the city,” she confessed. “I may also have gone over there to warn him what would happen if he was the cause of those bruises around your neck.” She gave the neck in question a meaningful look.
…“Wait,” I said, willing my body to wake up as I pulled myself up to sit against my headboard. It’s not like I was going to get any more sleep tonight anyway. “you went to Alpha Hearne and accused him of – what? – abusing me?”
…“I may have.” Rosie sniffed indignantly.
…I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I wish I’d been there to see his face. Did he do the scowly thing, please tell me he did the scowly thing? With the eyebrows?”
…“I was half tempted to warn him his face might stay that way at the stroke of midnight.” My sister grinned at me. “I mean, how do his eyebrows do that?”
…“I think he practices his glaring in a mirror.” We both collapsed into a heap of giggles at the thought of big-and-strong-alpha Rowan standing in the mirror practising intimidation techniques.
…“He told me to keep you away from them, you know?” Rosie told me, still giggling.
…“Are you going to?” I asked, sobering a little.
…“Of course not. If anything that told me how much they need you. And you need them. He cares about you, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t try to keep you safe.”
I felt a warm glow in my chest at the words and was sure my cheeks were red. My sister noticed, raising one eyebrow in question. “Shut up.” I told her, giving her a light shove. She backed off, hands raised in surrender, but I noticed the calculating gleam in her eyes.
…“It does make you wonder what else is out there, doesn’t it?” She asked, changing the subject. “What else have we met?”
…I glanced over to the Monster Manual on my desk, filled with sticky notes. “There’s a lot of them.” I admitted. “I’m working on it.” I gestured towards the stack of books.
She nodded primly. “Well, keep me updated. I am in this now too, you realise?” She gave me a pointed look which looked so much like mom my heart clenched. “No more hiding things.” The from me was left unsaid but I heard it anyway.
…“I promise.” I told her, squeezing her wrist for a moment.
…“And of course we have to tell dad about this.”
…That thought made my heart skip a beat. “No, why would we need to tell dad? I mean, there’s an ocean between us anyway and it’s not like there’s anything he could do from London and -”
…“His daughter is running around with mythological creatures that shouldn’t exist and getting hurt in the process.” Another pointed look towards my poor bruised neck. “Secondly, he’s a member of cabinet in Her Majesty’s Government, of course he needs to know!” My sister admonished me. “Who knows how many werewolves live in London?”
…“Three hundred seventy two as per November last year.” I murmured absently.
…“Scotty!” My sister exclaimed, clearly shocked.
…“Yes, I already figured that out! You know how I get when I discover something that interests me. I need to know everything, this is not news to you.”
…“No, but how could you keep this from father?” She took a deep breath. “Did you ever consider that he might help them, the wolves? If he knows, he could make life easier for them as well.”
…The downside to having sisters is that they know exactly what makes you tick. She just gave the only argument that would work, and from the look on her face, she knew it. I sighed. “I’ll think about it.”
…Rosie nodded, apparently satisfied. “Now, your friend Claire said you learned about werewolves on the night you kicked out that tosser Trevor.” She waited for my embarrassed nod. “Tell me.” She demanded, laying on her side on the bed.
…I scooted down and laid next to her. “You’ll like this story.” I grinned. “I’ve never seen Trevor that terrified.” And for the next hour, I did exactly that. I told her about how I found out and everything that had happened since until we both fell asleep, still side by side, just like when we were little. And even though I didn’t know I had missed this, missed her, I felt a lot lighter, like a weight had been lifted from my heart.

So that’s it for this week! I’m hoping to upload a new story every week. {plans, yay!} For now, tell me what you think!