Awesome Friday! I'm out of my depression, so I won't send you into the weekend with a meloncholy blog. So, so, terribly sorry, everyone, for posting my misery for you to read. :-( He gripped her firmly, molding her backside snugly against his frame. He felt large and strong and she stiffened at the unexpected quiver that raced through her. She didn’t like the solid feel of him, and she didn’t like the quiet, dangerous strength that he emitted. There was nothing about this predicament that she did like. Excerpt from The Devil’s Den Copyright © 2007 Gracen Miller
A week or so ago I watched the television show, Paranormal State, which airs on Monday nights on A&E. In this particular episode the girl was possessed by a demonic entity. Whether I believe in demonic possession is not the point of my post today. This entire family came across as victimized and mentally tormented. Needless to say, they were terrified. The demon force had written words on the daughter’s body, tried to drown her while soaking in the bathtub and other various occurrences had happened to her and her parents.
When the psychic medium arrived to give the Paranormal State team his physic take on the situation, he immediately began channeling the demon’s hatred toward the religious artifacts in the home. At one point the psychic cautioned that the demon declared he would “kill the bitch”. Yikes! Those were strong evil words. I’m not saying this was real, but in the dead of the night with the possibility that demonic possession could be real swimming around in my head, it was enough to unsettle me.
So, the investigation gets underway and the demon starts writing again on this poor girl’s body, drawing six diagonal lines down her back. They almost looked like strange claw or scratch marks to me. They call in a holy man who thinks an exorcism should be performed. The family agrees to an exorcism and one begins. During the course of the exorcism, the demonic entity begins to speak through the girl. It says its name is the number 6. Something kept me from spelling that word out like it was a name, as if writing it like a name would give a real demon—if there is one—with that name power somehow. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but just in case…well, anyway, I’ll tarry on with my thinking.
The demon’s name is spoken and my eyes go wide and round. My heart is suddenly racing and my hands are sweaty. Like an echo in my mind is “Holy Freaking Crap!” Why am I thinking this, you’re wondering?
Well, I may have mentioned that my book, The Devil’s Den, started out as a dream. My character’s names are Serena and, you guessed it, Six. For those that have read it, the dance scene where they meet for the first time, that was the actual dream. I spent a lot of time on this one chapter, trying to get the seductive charm of Six just right, while also hoping I could make the reader feel the latent menace, evil, and power at his core. In my dream, this scene was all of that and so much more.
In the dream that spawned the book, Six was a demon. I grew up hardcore Christian, so sometimes I have a hard time adjusting what I was taught to work it into my writing as a non-evil entity. I’m working on this and getting better at it, but for the book I took some creative license and morphed Six into a vampire rather than a demon.
Before she could protest he strategically guided her onto the dance floor without allowing her to even catch a glimpse of his face. Then slowly, his body began to move, taking hers with his. Her buttocks cupped against his groin. The intimacy of it had her face flaming.
He swayed and ground his pelvis against her bottom again. One large hand stroked her left arm, while his other hand had mysteriously found its way underneath her shirt and was flexing possessively against the middle of her waist.
“I hear you’re looking for someone,” he crooned, rocking against her in the timeless suggestion of the act of love as the hand on her waist slipped a notch and his fingers nestled to his knuckles inside the waistband of her jeans.
Nodding her head, she croaked, “Yes.” Her throat closed tight in fear and it was the loudest voice she could make. Fire was spreading through her body and her limbs felt languid from its blaze as the hand rubbing her arm lowered to her hip. His fingers flexed, gripped her hips, and pumped her bottom against him. Serena choked on the breath that lodged in her throat.
Who are you looking for?” His voice was silky and made her feel almost languorous.
The hand that had been rubbing her arm lifted and dove into the hair on the back of her head. He pushed her head forward and pumped against her buttocks again. Serena gasped at the erotic contact. He smiled, but if she could have seen him she would have known that no warmth entered his colorless eyes. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her bare shoulders. Serena tried to stiffen, but her body failed to respond.
That’s not all the chapter, but it’s enough for you to get the idea. When that dream-demon grasped me from behind and did the sexy dance with me—just like he did to Serena in the book—his thick, husky whisper purred into my ear, “I am Six.” It felt like a sweet wicked caress across my entire body. That’s when I woke, aroused and already half in love with him.
I admit I’m a unique—or “normalcy challenged” as a friend of mine would say—individual. Often I use my nightmares to create stories. I do find it strange that instead of waking from that particular dream in a cold sweat with fear clawing at my mind and a paralyzed need to hide beneath the blankets, I was obsessed with the need to put the demonic sexiness of my dream-demon into words. After waking, I knew Six had to be immortalized. Typically the lure of a dream wears off after a couple of hours, but not this one. The memory of Six had me obsessed for weeks, all throughout the writing of the book. And when I was finished writing his life, I was a smidgen sad because our relationship was over.
So, yeah, while watching Paranormal State, I was sitting here thinking, “Holy Freaking Crap!” as they tried to expel this demon with the same name as my character from her body. It had me thinking if demons are real, was that a demon that spawned the dream rather than my imagination? That thought sends shivers all over my body. And it’s not those wickedly pleasurable shivers that my dream inspired.
Holy freaking crap what might I have actually immortalized? A dream? A demon? Was it simply a matter of strange coincidence? Yeah, probably. Even most likely. But what if…
Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for a chance to win a copy of one of Elizabeth Black’s books!
My youngest son is having adenoid surgery today, so I won't be around much this weekend. I hope everyone has an awesome weekend!
He gripped her firmly, molding her backside snugly against his frame. He felt large and strong and she stiffened at the unexpected quiver that raced through her. She didn’t like the solid feel of him, and she didn’t like the quiet, dangerous strength that he emitted. There was nothing about this predicament that she did like.
Excerpt from The Devil’s Den Copyright © 2007 Gracen Miller