Allured

Friday, November 15, 2013




  
Chapter 1
(First 10 pages)

Jacquelyn was returning from a walk down at the pier when she was heading back to the tavern where she works as a barmaid, two ghostly figures appeared in front of her. Startled, she stopped dead in her tracks. Never seeing anything like this before, she reached out to the glowing bluish-red face. The apparitions moved backward, not allowing any contact. And the two figures circled around her slowly.
Amazed with the unknown presence, Jacquelyn became curious to what this mystic presence could be and extended her hand out again. “What are you?” she asked without fear. “Are you angels?” A red glow flashed where the eye sockets once were. Frightened, Jacquelyn took off running towards the town. She did not look back.
When she was two blocks away from the tavern, she heard voices coming from inside the cemetery. Catching her breath, she walked slowly, not making any sound as she approached.
 “Let’s hurry, and finish digging the grave. The rotting flesh is making me nauseous,” she heard Frank the gravedigger, recognizing his scratchy voice.
Jacquelyn scrambled backward, grabbed hold of the black Iron Gate that outlined the perimeter of the cemetery. Her gloved hands, slid down the length of the bar, resting her knees to the ground.
“What do you think happened, Dr. Morehead?” Jacquelyn heard Constable Montgomery ask, in his thick Scottish accent. She wrapped her dark blue cape around to the front of her chest, concealing her presence.
“I’m not sure... but-,” replied Dr. Morehead. He stood up straight after examining the neck of the boy, allowing Frank the gravedigger to lower the body into the open grave. Dr. Morehead remembered the same markings, that are on the boy's neck from when he traveled to Egypt twenty years ago. The puncture wounds, and torn neck appeared to be the same.
Constable Montgomery handed a shovel to Dr. Morehead, taking one for himself. The three men shoveled dirt into the grave. “What’s wrong, doctor? You’ve clammed up.”
“Nothing is wrong. Nothing at all,” Dr. Morehead replied. The frown on his face worried the others. Dr. Morehead remained silent. He did not want to say too much, or cause alarm.
“Well, if you ask me,” Constable Montgomery started. “We just might have a murderer loose!” His voice deep and convincing.
Jacquelyn could not believe her ears. Had she heard correctly? That there might be a murderer in Port Townsmont. From a distance, she continued to watch the three men shovel dirt into the grave and listen to their conversation.
 When a rat ran across the length of the gate where she sat, Jacquelyn covered her mouth so her fear would not give her being there away.
 “A murderer?” responded Dr. Morehead, quickly. “I don’t know how you’re going to prove that, Constable. Not with all the merchant ships in port. You would need to question the crew, delaying their departure in the morning.”
The possibility of Port Townsmont having a murderer had Constable Montgomery thinking. He took into consideration what Dr. Morehead said. How was he going to prove that a murder took place without any suspects? And if he questioned all the crew from the merchant ships, the captains would be unhappy not leaving out of port on time. 
Jacquelyn remained, hanging on to every word they said. She knew that she had been away from the tavern too long and needed to return. But, she wanted to finish listening to their conversation.
“What I think happened,” Frank said, unexpectedly. “The boy got into a fight with one of the crew members, and got his throat cut. Then they threw his body overboard.”
Dr. Morehead raised his brow, glancing over at Constable Montgomery. “That’s a possibility, Henry.” Dr. Morehead packed down the mound of dirt with the shovel. “You’d have more trouble conducting an investigation. And not allowing the ships to leave port might cause trouble.”
“I’ve been entertaining the idea. I wish I didn’t find the boy's body lying on shore.”
“Neither did we,” Frank added. “After being out here in the cold air, I’m ready for a brandy.”
“Same here. I could use a drink myself,” Dr. Morehead remarked, tossing the shovel down. “Let’s go, we’re done.”
Standing up slowly, Jacquelyn headed away from the cemetery onto the cobbled street until a pebble caught underneath her boot, causing her to fall down. “Ouch,” she cried, noticing a slight tear to the bottom of her dress.
“Who’s there?” Constable Montgomery called out. Lantern in hand, he moved quickly through the cemetery, kicking dirt up behind his enormous boots.
Shrieking from the sound of his rugged tone, Jacquelyn limped back towards the entrance of the cemetery.
 “It’s me, Jacquelyn Cassiel,” she said loudly, limping closer to the entrance.
“Stay where you are!” He ordered, huffing and puffing every step of the way. Reaching the entrance, he caught his breath. Constable Montgomery pushed his eyebrows together. “What are you doing walking the streets at this hour?” His voice stern, and disgruntled.
Jacquelyn resented his approach. She understood it was a policeman’s job to ask a civilian the reason for walking the streets during the night. But, Constable Montgomery knew she used to work as a courtesan for Madame Aimée, and she was afraid he had other ideas.
“I stepped out for a breath of fresh air,” she admitted. “Why? Have I committed a crime?” A sharp twinge traveled down to her ankle. Jacquelyn slid her right hand down her leg, giving her ankle a quick rub.
Grunting like a grizzly bear, Constable Montgomery released his air. “You’re a little far away from the tavern to have stepped out for a breath of fresh air. Hmm,” he replied, indicating something more. Jacquelyn glanced over his shoulder, recognizing Dr. Morehead, and Frank the gravedigger approaching the entrance.
There were many times during the years she worked as a courtesan when both Frank and Constable Montgomery would be in the parlor wanting service. But, she would not have anything to do with either one of them. And, that included her boss, Alfred Struthers, who is the owner of the Black Rose Tavern. There were times that Alfred would come over to the house, drunk, and wanting to be with her when she sat alone on the settee, waiting for a gentleman. She refused him every time. Jacquelyn fancied older men, with a more slender shape. Dark eyes, dark hair much like her own.
Dr. Morehead met her eyes, reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his watch. “It’s after eleven thirty.” Indicating his concern. “You shouldn’t be out walking the streets alone at this hour, Jacquelyn,” he said enthusiastically, scratching the lower part of his beard.
“I haven’t committed any crime, have I?” The three men looked off towards the pier. Starting to feel uncomfortable, Jacquelyn started twitching as if she had a tick. From their expressions, she could only imagine what they were thinking.
Constable Montgomery snorted. “Not that I can prove...”
“Well, if you’d excuse me, I need to return back to the tavern,” she said. Not being happy that they might be thinking she was prostituting, Jacquelyn turned up her nose, and strutted off in the direction of the tavern.
 She was not too thrilled in returning to work. And, when she past the staircase that led upstairs to her loft, she stopped walking for a moment, almost darting up. Animosity overflowed her. She had been outside far too long.  Her boss, Mr. Struthers will be drunk by now. And, being away far longer than the ten minutes allotted her, her pay would be docked one hour. But, Jacquelyn did not care. She was still trying to digest the conversation in the cemetery, and the apparitions that she saw.
After hanging her blue cape on the brass hook on the wall behind the bar counter, Jacquelyn took the broom that was waiting for her in the corner. She turned her head to one side when she heard a soft, pleasant humming.“You sound happy,” Jacquelyn said, facing Gabriella.
“I am,” Gabriella replied. Her smile, larger than the length of a centipede. “I have a date with a sailor in an hour.” Gabriella continued to hum as she spun around behind the bar.
“Why a sailor? You normally like older men as I do. The one’s with money.” Charley, who was standing two feet away, started whistling. Jacquelyn nudged the side of his arm. “Do you mind? We’re trying to talk,” she implied, pushing her way behind Gabriella.
“Damn, women. Always getting caught up in each other’s business,” Charley said, stepping to one side to wash the dirty glasses. Gabriella and Jacquelyn wrinkled up their faces. “Well, you better stop talking and get back to work. Mr. Structures is heading this way.”
 Jacquelyn breathed in deeply, griping the broom handle tight.
Blowing a large puff of smoke into the air, Mr. Struthers tapped the ashes down at Jacquelyn’s feet. “There's a table in the center of the room waiting to be served,” he said with a depth of tone that can sink deeper than a well.
“Yes, sir,” Jacquelyn replied quickly, and without hesitation handed the broom to Gabriella. Once at the table were four merchants were sitting, she glanced over towards the door. Sitting alone underneath a window, she saw an older gentleman.
Clearing his throat twice, the merchant said, “Excuse me, miss, but could we get three ales and one whiskey?” The merchant turned around to see the distraction. “Saw him earlier, down at the pier.”
Jacquelyn pulled her eyes off the stranger, finding it difficult to do so. “Certainly, I’ll bring them right over.”
A peculiar sensation came over Jacquelyn. She placed the drinks onto the table and began her way towards the gentleman that’s sitting near the door. Afraid to go any further when a smoke cloud covered her face, causing her to cough, she turned around and off towards a table that had empty Steins. “Bastard!” she angrily muttered under her breath.
Not understanding his reasons, and perhaps being disgruntled for never giving him the time of day when she was a courtesan. Jacquelyn has tried to understand Mr. Struthers’s attitude towards her. Unless she finds a way to leave Port Townsmont, or if Mr. Struthers’s drops dead from a heart attack, she had no idea how to solve the animosity with her employer.
In the brief silence, Jacquelyn heard low voices of men at the next table where she was cleaning up spilled ale. She bent her ear to listen. “Tomorrow we should go to the pier and see if we can find the ship the boy is from. It's only fair to notify the ship’s captain,” Jacquelyn heard Constable Montgomery say.
“It might be difficult to find exactly what ship the boy is from,” said the grave digger grumpily. “Ship crews come and go. Its cargo, and slaves, they keep an accurate log.”
“Frank is probably right, Constable. I was under the impression you weren't going to conduct an investigation.” Jacquelyn detected hesitation from Dr. Morehead’s voice.
“I’m not. I thought the captain should know what happened to one of his crew.”
Frank glanced over the crowded room, spotting merchants sitting at tables, drinking rum and whiskey. Meeting the constable’s heavy eyes, he said, “Out in the rough waters of the Atlantic, sailing back and forth from port to port.” Frank paused to clear his voice. “Do you really think any ship captain cares or even knows how many men are aboard their ship?”
Constable Montgomery shrugged his square shoulders back. “I guess not, Frank. I had forgotten before you arrived to Port Townsmont that you worked on a merchant ship.”
Gathering the empty steins, Jacquelyn turned around right when Madame Aimée approached the table next to her. “Good evening, Madame Aimée,” said Constable Montgomery. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
Madame Aimée raised her brow. “Gentlemen, what drags all of you together on a chilly night?” Madame Aimée asked, sounding suspicious. “All of you should be home where it is warm. All except for Henry, who should be out walking the streets.”
“Well, since you’re that concerned, how about sending me one of your women?” Frank said, indicating intentions. Madame Aimée ignored his remark, and turned instead to Dr. Morehead as he began a coughing spell.
 When he caught his breath, the doctor replied, “Frankly, I believe we stayed in the cold air too long.” He continued coughing louder with every word.
“Charley,” Jacquelyn heard Madame Aimée yell over the crowded room. “Bring over four whiskeys. Charley reached for the whiskey bottle and four glasses. “That’ll clear your cough right up, Allan.”
“Just when I was going to order a round myself,” said Constable Montgomery. By the expression on his face, Madame Aimée knew very well that he wanted a drink without having to pay.
“Instead of rubbing elbows with these two, don't you think you’d be more useful if you were patrolling outside?” Jacquelyn heard the sternness in Madame Aimée’s voice.
“Clairee, don't be giving Henry a hard time. We’ve been out in the graveyard for...” Dr. Morehead started.
Charley walked to the table with the glasses of whiskey, sat all of them on the table. Madame Aimée reached into her purse, and pulled out a shiny coin. “Thank you, dear,” she said, handing Charley a penny. Charley gave a quick nod, returning to the bar counter. “As you were saying, Allan.”
Mr. Struthers strolled over to the table, right beside Madame Aimée. His stare glowered toward Jacquelyn. Turning to face him, Madame Aimée frowned. “Why the sullen look, Alfred?”
Mr. Struthers grumbled a little, took a long puff on his cigar, blowing smoke in Jacquelyn’s direction. “Don’t you think you’ve spent enough time gathering those steins?” His voice full of hatred. Jacquelyn turned around sharply and headed towards the bar counter.
Jacquelyn despised Alfred Struthers. He thought of himself as a ladies’ man, and she could not figure out why. His body was beefy. His neck buried below his shirt. She did not think he was very attractive either. His gray thinning hair swept to one side. And his dark beady eyes have always been cold as stone. She would giggle at times when he would be drunk, and strut like a tomcat through the tavern.
 “What's going on here?” Mr. Struthers asked, his voice grouchy, and focusing his stare at Constable Montgomery. “Shouldn’t you be out patrolling the streets, Henry?” Madame Aimée coughed, waving the smoke from her face, and muttering profanity under her breath.
“Could’ve used your help two hours ago, big boy,” indicated Constable Montgomery.
“You're not exactly small around the waist yourself,” barked Mr. Struthers. “And what brings you in here tonight, Allan. Another interlude with Clairee?” he said, making a rude insinuation. Dr. Morehead did not say a word. In fact, all three of the men continued to sip their whiskey, as if Mr. Struthers had not spoken.
Dr. Morehead coughed a few more times before being interrupted by Madame Aimée. “You were saying, Allan, why the three of you were in the graveyard...”
 Dr. Morehead met her eyes with a blank stare. “We buried a young boy tonight.”
Madame Aimée’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “Oh, my, anyone we know?”
Dr. Morehead reached into his coat pocket, and took out a dark colored handkerchief. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and said, “No! He’s from one of the merchant ships. Constable Montgomery found his body washed up on shore.

If you're interested in reading more of chapter one, please contact me at www.facebook.com/authorT.M.Waltman



Thursday, May 30, 2013

Anne Rice on writing!

Really great advice from a great writer. Anne Rice shares her wisdom on writing. A must watch. Enjoy.


Sunday, May 19, 2013

ALLURED

YOU'VE WAITED LONG ENOUGH!















Well, it's been a long time coming, but will finally be happening. My long awaited novel, Allured will be launched by summers end. Before anything with Allured can take place, I am going over every inch of my manuscript, making sure all the typos are corrected, the grammar is perfect, and that every sentence is in order. I am sure I will not be able to perfect every single edit, simple fact, I am not an editor, but a writer!

With the way reviewers are on Amazon, I am sure once Allured is available and read, there will be plenty of  people to criticize every aspect of my novel. What I think people need to realize is, all of us are human and we make mistakes. But if I get some bad reviews, and people critique my grammar, and I am sure it's going to happen. I will simply take those comments for what they are worth, and apply them to my other future novels.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Vampires are not Dead!


Vampires are not Dead!
And just when you thought “VAMPIRES” were long dead after ‘Twilight’ hit the big screen, and dominated the paranormal romance world. Apparently, Richelle Mead’s Vampire Academy novel series is going to be turned into a motion picture. Casting for the first movie has begun for this summer’s shoot.  I posted the article below.

By MIKE FLEMING JR. AND NANCY TARTAGLIONE | Friday February 1, 2013 @ 8:04pm ESTTags: Daniel WatersIM GlobalMark WatersRelianceVampire Academy: Blood Sisters

EXCLUSIVE: Hoping to tap a new vein in the young adult vampire genre that made Twilight Saga such a global hit, Reliance Entertainment and IM Global are co-financing the first installment of a new film franchise based on the six-volume Richelle Mead young adult novel series that will come to the screen as Vampire Academy: Blood Sisters. Daniel Waters, who wrote the iconic Sundance black comedy Heathers, has written the script for the first movie. His brother, Mean Girls helmer Mark Waters, will direct the film. Casting is in full swing for a summer shoot.

An international search led the producers to Zoey Deutch (Beautiful Creatures) and Australian newcomer Lucy Fry. They will play lead characters Rose and Lissa alongside Russian star Danila Kozlovski (We Are From The Future,) who will play the role of Dimitri.
The film will be produced by Michael Preger and his Preger Entertainment banner, Angry Films’ Don Murphy and Susan Montford, and Kintop Pictures’ Deepak Nayer. IM Global’s Stuart Ford is executive producer.

All six books have been bestsellers on The New York Times young adult list since the series debuted in 2007. Two of the books have been turned into graphic novels. The books tell the tale of Rose Hathaway, a 17-year-old girl who has a mental and spiritual bond with her vampire best friend Lissa. The two girls attend a special school for Vampires who struggle to retain some humanity while other Vampires become more feral.
“Tonally this so different from all these movies that are so solemn and serious,” IM Global’s Ford said. “This is as much Mean Girls as The Hunger Games. “It is snappy, irreverent, sexy and just a lot of fun. And we got the right director for that kind of movie.”
The Vampire Academy books were corralled as a film property by Miami-based Preger Entertainment. Preger is currently in development with a contemporized version of the sci-fi classic The Day Of The Triffids, with Sam Raimi and financier Good Universe. He brought the project to fellow Triffidsproducers Montford and  Murphy and the trio partnered to bring the books to the screen.
“I was a fan of Richelle’s and have read all of her books,” Preger said. “She writes in way that is riveting no matter what your age. The key was to get people to read the books. Once they read one they want to read them all.”

They turned to Daniel Waters, looking for a tone to which teenagers could relate. His script for Heathers hit that mark so well that it’s often identified as the inspiration for anything teen that aspires to mix humor with angst and edge. Waters took on the project, and drafted his brother, who boarded the project as director.
“It was the best first draft I had ever read, and that includes other screenplays by my brother,” Mark Waters said. “This is a dream project for us, since we have wanted to work together for so long. Richelle’s mythology and the world she creates is so real and her voice so clear. These kids have real life, modern day problems. And they drink blood.” The popularity of the series was evident when they started a Facebook page for the film and got 238,000 signed up, a number much higher than a lot of films that have already been released.
At that point, Nayer, who previously produced Bend It Like Beckham, brought in Reliance and IM Global. “On a creative level we love the story and the creative team,” he said. “We also love the potential to do a series of six strong movies based on this beloved series of novels” he said. There could even be more as Mead has spun off characters from her Vampire Academy books into a second series, Bloodlines, two of which have already been released.
Reliance will finance the film and sister company IM Global’s Ford is handling foreign sales and will broker domestic.



Wednesday, March 13, 2013

On Stephen King










I think most of us who either read or write short stories, and novels would agree that Stephen King is an amazing writer with many of his novels becoming box office smashes, and television miniseries.  

I have often wondered while writing myself, what in the world goes on in Mr. King’s mind when he writes. His imagination is superb, describing every little detail, pulling the reader inside the story as if you were a part of what’s happening  But for now, I think all of us who wonder what goes on in such a mastermind of writing will have to keep guessing.

But with writing 49 novels, and everyone of them becoming bestsellers, with earnings in the high millions, is quite an accomplishment. Mr. King’s success makes me to try and strive to be the best writer I can. As with any writer, all of us strive to set goals for ourselves, to be the best that we can, and to be able to deliver great readable stories for many to enjoy.

Below is a list of twenty tips, quoted by Stephen King for writers to consider when they write. I hope this information is helpful for those that have not read his book, On Writing.


1.      “I’ve written because it fulfilled me. Maybe it paid off the mortgage on the house and got the kids through college, but those things were on the side–I did it for the buzz. I did it for the pure joy of the thing. And if you can do it for joy, you can do it forever.”
2.      “Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well.”
3.      “You can’t please all of the readers all of the time; you can’t please even some of the readers all of the time, but you really ought to try to please at least some of the readers some of the time.”
4.      “You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or even despair–the sense that you can never completely put on the page what’s in your mind and heart. You can come to the act with your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed, ready to kick ass and take down names. You can come to it because you want a girl to marry you or because you want to change the world. Come to it any way but lightly. Let me say it again: you must not come lightly to the blank page.”
5.      “I remember an immense feeling of possibility at the idea, as if I had been ushered into a vast building with closed doors and had been given leave to open any I liked. There were more doors than one person could ever open in a lifetime, I thought (and still think).”
6.      “If you’re just starting out as a writer, you could do worse than strip your television’s electric plug wire, wrap a spike around it, and then stick it back into the wall. See what blows, and how far.”
7.      “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.”
8.      “Put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn’t in the middle of the room. Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around.”
9.      “All the arts depend upon telepathy to some degree, but I believe that writing is the purest distillation.”
10.  “Paragraphs are almost always as important for how they look as for what they say; they are maps of intent.”
11.  “Writing is refined thinking.”
12.  “Write with the door closed, and rewrite with the door open.”
13.  “We need to experience the mediocre and the outright rotten; such experience helps us to recognize those things when they begin to creep into our own work, and to steer clear of them.”
14.  “This isn’t the Ouija board or the spirit-world we’re talking about here, but just another job like laying pipe or driving long-haul trucks.”
15.   We've all heard someone say, ‘Man, it was so great (or so horrible/strange/funny) … I just can’t describe it!’ If you want to be a successful writer, you must be able to describe it, and in a way that will cause your reader to prickle with recognition.”
16.  “Not a week goes by that I don’t receive at least one pissed-off letter (most weeks there are more) accusing me of being foulmouthed, bigoted, homophobic, murderous, frivolous, or downright psychopathic.”
17.  “There are lots of would-be censors out there, and although they may have different agendas, they all want basically the same thing: for you to see the world they see… or to at least shut up about what you do see that’s different. They are the agents of the status quo.”
18.  “Try any goddamn thing you like, no matter how boringly normal or outrageous. If it works, fine. If it doesn't  toss it.”
19.  “You undoubtedly have your own thoughts, interests, and concerns, and they have arisen, as mine have, from your experiences and adventures as a human being. . . . You should use them in your work.”
20.  “While it is impossible to make a competent writer out of a bad writer, and while it is equally impossible to make a great writer out of a good one, it is possible, with lots of hard work, dedication, and timely help, to make a good writer out of a merely competent one.”



Tuesday, March 12, 2013

First Chapter



The first chapter of Death Howls is posted for your reading pleasure. Just click on the tab along the top, and enjoy reading. Don't forget to post a comment, and sign up to follow all post. 

Monday, March 11, 2013

Teresa Waltman: Death Howls

Teresa Waltman: Death Howls: CHAPTER ONE THE DREAM There he stood in the midst of the forest, in front of a raging fire. The flames soared well above his head...

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

A Long Journey


I'm writing today with blood on my lips.

 Well, let's say I have a taste for blood since it's been a long road while writing Allured, and editing underneath her body. The novel started out with 500 spine tingling pages. Now, after putting Allured through the shredder, she clocks in at 444 gripping pages of excitement. 

It really blows me away when I think how much work and time this novel took to get ready to shop out to agents. Three years to be exact. I am sure it will be all worth it in the end. 

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Vampire Craze Rocks Our World








Vampire lure has come a long way since Bram Stoker Gothic horror novel “Dracula.”

We've enjoyed the novels from Anne Rice, “The Vampire Chronicles,” that jumped started the vampire craze during the 1990’s with the movie “Interview with a Vampire.” Since then, it seems that the public all around the world has a craving for vampires and it does not seem to stop. Many new authors are coming out with different twist about vampires, causing many novels being turned into motion pictures as “Underworld” and “Twilight” Others, as “True Blood,” a story based off Charlaine Harris; Sookie Stackhouse novels are a large hit, thanks to HBO’s producer Allan Ball. And let us not forget the TV series Vampire Diaries originally written by L.J. Smith that has young and old viewers begging for more.

But where does it end, or does it? Will the public eventually get sick of vampires or will this craze be an ongoing legacy that will continue at the box office for many more years… 

ALLURED