Snippet of "Mercy Blood Bank"

Carter was proud of his new position at the blood bank, a fantastic career opportunity. He enjoyed learning the industry and skills of his superiors, how to handle the customers, finances and everything in between. In fact, the only thing he disliked about the job was the humans.

“Filthy, base creatures.” He said as he walked down the isle of cages marked “Adolescent Males (5-10)”. Each of these cages contained a single young human boy. Carter didn’t bother whispering his insult. Barely any of the humans could speak or understand a word, anymore. For the first few generations in the camp all newborns were removed from their mothers at birth so as not to learn any language. it had turned out to be quite brilliant for business: pitiful pleading was extremely annoying, especially when one was trying to feed. Customers far preferred wordless screaming.

He stopped at one of the cages, grimacing as a young boy of around eight scrambled away to one of it’s dingy corners, seeming to be under the illusion that he could hide there, snivelling and shivering, averting his gaze. None of them ever made eye contact. Cowards.

The boy’s day would come, sooner or later.

Some customers liked the taste of the younger humans, mostly the extravagant and wealthy. It cost a pretty penny to have nine or ten for the night, as one simply wouldn’t make a meal, and even more if one of them died under your hand - or teeth. Yes, there were steep financial penalties for that, indeed.

Unless you paid beforehand, of course.

in the beginning...

Oh, The disillusionment begins!

In February of 2009 I started writing my first novel. Now, obviously that wasn't the first time I had attempted this: throughout school I wrote a few short novels/long stories, but for better or worse they always found a way to get away from me, be it a laptop sinking to the not-so-tech-friendly depths of a bathtub or a loss of dedication on my part.(well, if not even I was still interested, it couldn't have been too thrilling a story, eh?)

In February, i didn't have either of these problems(thank the administrative powers that be!).

"A Tainted Freedom" took shape in the space of two and a half months.

After typing the last word i sat, taken aback for a moment by the fact that I'd actually finish it.

As you might expect, I then did an extremely enthusiastic, if slightly(very) odd little jig of joy around the entire flat, screaming my head off and nearly scaring my mother to death.

After all the commotion and a calming cup of tea with mom, I sat back once more and thought quite differently: "Isn't this the part where the(very corporate chic) publishing fairy flies through my window and waves her wand, making my novel appear in exclusive books with a pretty cover? Instantly selling millions?"

Apparently that's not exactly how it works.

I know, it shocked me too!

But, all is not lost! Over the past few months I've met a virtual smorgasbord of people who, though not sparkly or publishing wand endowed, have helped me discover "the next step" in my little adventure.

So, slightly disillusioned but never better off for it, I continue taking notes and cautiously tip-toeing forward.

I hope to share some of the lessons I learned with you, and that you might share yours with me.