Selva Oscura - Absolution is Not an Option...

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Hey there friends! Shall we take the sweet with the bitter? I'm rather a fan of the savoury myself...

First up, new, sweet business -- we have a brand spanking new giveaway going on over at Goodreads! We're giving away four print copies of our latest dark fantasy offering, Saurimonde III. All you have to do is follow the link below for your chance to win!

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Saurimonde III

by Melissa St. Hilaire

Giveaway ends May 06, 2016.
See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

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And now onto old, sort of bitter business -- I found this journal entry quite by accident earlier after clicking on the wrong icon. I think it was from the end of summer 2012? When I'd started on the first Saurimonde novel -- a different time and a different place, but it is evocative, and took me quite by surprise.

2012, Montsegur, France - Summer:

Selva Oscura,

There is a character, a succubus, crafting herself out of darkness and chaos, and I have a feeling she's going to reek havoc on my new story. I don't whether I'm birthing her into existence, or whether she is being rebirthed. Sometimes it feels like she's using me as a conduit and has been waiting for the opportune moment to do so. 

Partial character study -- the words are from a fragment of a dream.

"I'll never forgive you and there's a part of me that will always hate you. The feeling is irrational and rears its ugly head at a moment's notice. I have to keep remembering -- this is not my fault -- I did not cause this situation -- you did. Absolution is not an option. It may hurt me more, but I'll never be there in my soul, not even if I mouth the words of your proverbial redemption. Time should heal these things and I no longer dwell on them like I once did -- you no longer haunt my waking thoughts. When reminded of the past it's more like the sudden pain of being touched with the lit end of a cigarette. I lash out at the world -- of course, that's putting it mildly, when what I really want is to rip down the fabric of creation itself. The irrational rises inside like a darkened whirlwind, an abyss without stars, like utter blackness -- and it builds like the pregnant sky before a southern storm. I cannot control this -- there are no reins, no brakes, no known forms of control, as it spills forth. Do you hear my voice howling in the winds? Don't you not recognize what shimmers in the shadows? There is power there. You hang your head, cowering in shame, but if you only stood still, and raised a hand to the west, you would realize this is a gift. Go, dive deeper into the water. Hold your breath longer than you ever thought possible. Far past the murkiness and into the deep, deep, depths. Why do you deny yourself these things? She is always there waiting for you, shining in her cloak of immaculate darkness. No more celebrated now than the distant memory of a dull glint on a rusted blade."

And that's where it stops...

It's scary. It's violent. I'm well aware of where my head was at the time. I know the circumstances -- but it is raw and honest. I love these fragments of dreams, and I love having forgotten them only to stumble across them at a later date. Besides the first Saurimonde novel there's the germ on Sisters of the Wasteland in there as well. I miss the ancient spirits of the olde country and maybe they miss me too. But the time to return is not yet, although it will be soon. I bide my time as I rebuild an empire.

Much love from where the worlds touch,

S - xx