Purge...

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Diagnosed with epilepsy at the age of eleven T L Spencer turned to writing as a way to cope with her condition. Her vivid imagination and love of all things paranormal influenced her writing. T L Spencer enjoys all forms of literature and is currently studying at university, hoping to become a teacher.

Monday, 23 September 2013

Awesome

From the TL Spencer school of inspiration...

Remember: you aren't just awesome... you are MADE of awesome.

Friday, 20 September 2013

Demeter Giovanni...

From my novel, Blood Prophecy the Fated Three, Demeter Giovanni is the mother of Selene, the first enchantress. She has suffered heartache  and loneliness throughout her life, and though she holds great power, it has been masked by the pain she feels...

Below is an extract from a short story I am working on (amidst all my other projects!) that involves the powerful angel Raphel and the troubled Deme Giovanni. So read on for an extra insight into the Blood Prophecy verse, not available anywhere else!

"I want you to judge a soul for me. The woman is still alive; this will not be too difficult for you I assume?” Raphael looked at Elijjah with a questioning gaze, but said no more, waiting for the angel’s reply.

“Of course I could do that. Who…?”

Raphael interrupted, “Demeter Giovanni, Selene’s mother.” Elijjah did not respond, merely closed his eyes and searched.

 It did not take him long to find her soul, faded though it was. It burned brightly, a mass of colour and goodness radiated from it. Unfortunately, it was choked by negativity. With regret, he knew instantly that unless something was done immediately to assist this poor soul, she would not be permitted into heaven’s gates. Opening his eyes he slowly met into Raphael’s gaze. Power pulsated from him in waves and though an archangel himself, Elijjah shivered at the very thought of displeasing him, which made his next sentence very difficult to utter.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. “There is no need to fear me, Elijjah. I asked the question and I was prepared for the answer, however disappointing it may be.”
“Thank you, Raphael.” He breathed a sigh of relief, “I will let you continue your quest.”

Raphael said nothing, merely dipped his head in silent respect and walked through the gates, opening his blue gold wings and flew gently and majestically down to Earth.

+++
Deme was miserable. Over the last eight months, she had completely ruined her life. She had done so before, getting removed from her position as lecturer at the local university and abusing her daughter before throwing her out of the house. The abominable actions were unforgivable and she hated herself for them. She had been this way for six years, ever since her beloved husband had disappeared, passed into the realms of the unknown. She sighed as a tear fell down her cheek and looked longingly at the empty bottle on the ground. Why did she do this to herself? She knew it was not healthy, but for some reason she couldn’t stop. The truth was that when her husband left, part of her went with him, destroyed beyond all repair.

Closing her eyes, Demeter placed an impenetrable wall around her heart and listened to the silence. Nothing stirred; trees were frozen in time as the wind died down around her. The bayou’s creatures beyond the walls of the back garden seemed to join her in her mourning, as they always did. The birds fluttered silently to the ground and filled her mind with temporary peace. Until she removed herself from the recliner, she felt no inclination to hunt for yet another bottle of debilitating liquid.

A bell rang in the distance, disturbing the quiet that the silence offered. She ignored it, wanting to wallow in her own self-pity for a few more hours. Again, the bell rang. What is it with people? Demeter thought miserably as she slowly sat up and stood from the chair. Why did people have to interrupt her? Sighing in defeat as she heard the front door bell toll for the third time in just as many minutes, she walked into the house towards the front door. The frosted glass panel gave her only a limited view of the person behind it.
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