Ride the Moon anthology is now available! I am so proud to be included in an anthology with such high calibre authors. Much squeefulness indeed. (See list of contributors here).
Werewolves and Vampires aren’t the only frightening creatures birthed by the Moon…
For thousands of years, the Moon has inspired stories and legends about heroic animals, violent deities, and criminal humans. In modern times, those tales have been overshadowed by vampires and werewolves. It’s time for the Moon and her denizens to take back the night.
Follow us down a twisting path of fantasy and science fiction and rediscover the magic of the Moon. From Mermaids that collect souls to lunar colonies on the brink of disaster, inside these pages you will find out which lunar gods still walk among us and what new breed of monster you should be fearful of.
Ride the Moon contains 19 speculative fiction tales that showcase the breadth of writing styles from around the globe.
My story, Cherry Blossoms, is one that had been percolating in the back of my mind for quite some time. I got the basics of the idea a couple of years ago when I did Holly Lisle’s How To Think Sideways course – images of cherry blossoms atop a bundle of letters on a doorstep, a man who’d gone beyond death, and the woman who tried to follow him. But for years, that’s all I had – until I got the chance to submit to this anthology and the moon theme gave me the missing ingredient I needed 😀 You’ll have to buy the anthology if you want to see how the story came together 😉 But here’s how it all begins…
Ambrose sits alone in utter darkness, no one but fear for company as he prepares for the culmination of his ambitions. It’s been years since he felt fear; it’s been years since he felt anything. That was one of the demands of the quest: let nothing distract him from his single-mindedness, not love, not hatred, not regret, not fear. So in a way, it’s nice to feel again, even if it does set his teeth on edge and send his pulse racing.
There’s no reason for the fear, of course. He knows the potion will work. Years of research and millions of dollars have ensured that. But the moisture that should coat his tongue and throat still slicks his palms and forehead instead. Ambrose scrubs his hands on his bare thighs; his grip must be firm, sure. The timing of this experiment is so crucial to its success; the merest half-millisecond hesitation caused by a slip of the knife would be disastrous – and he doesn’t want to die.
Which is entirely the point. He sits here, naked and alone in the dark of night in a house nobody wanted on a rug nobody loved because he is about to reach the pinnacle of his ambitions, and finally, at last, escape the clutches of death forever. Shame he has to die to do it.