http://www.stiryourtea.blogspot.com/2012/02/contest-and-winning-and-free-books.html

You should all enter this. All of you. The writer is amazing. And you can win books.

I love you all.

This is a Sample

Because Hellboy the Destroyer and Gepard wanted to see it >:( You guys are lucky you are awesome, dammit.

Just this one scene. That's all you're getting. NO MORE PEER PRESSURE.

EDIT: Why oh why am I such a pushover. One more scene. One more very, VERY SHORT scene is added at the end now. NOW no more peer pressure!
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Thalia ran through the old corridors of the abandoned building. Thick layers of dust muffled the sound of her desperate footsteps. It didn't matter that it left tracks – they would find her anyway.

A terrible shriek came from behind her. She gulped and hurried on.

A staircase loomed up in front of her. Up, Thalia thought. That was her only option. She took the stairs two at a time, almost tripping over her own feet when she reached the top. She caught herself and stumbled onto the landing. Another haunting scream echoed. Thalia scrambled up the next flight of stairs.

Her muscles ached and her lungs burned, but she wouldn't let herself stop running. The stairs turned from short bursts of straight stairs with landings in between them into one long, continuous spiral staircase. Thalia's vision swam slightly from exhaustion and dizziness. Finally, the stairs ended at a large oak door. Thalia threw her weight against it, not even bothering to try and open it the normal way. The door swung open upon impact, and she staggered most ungracefully after it. A cold wind immediately whipped through her hair and clothes.

The roof. She was standing on the roof. Thalia immediately snapped back to her senses and grinned. She could work with a roof, given enough time.

She didn't waste even a second. The door was slammed shut. There wasn't anything to barricade it with. It would just have to hold by itself. Thalia spun around again and dashed to the side of the roof, peering over. She was at least four or five stories above ground. A drainage pipe lead down to the ground, and it was old and rusting.

But she didn't have time to doubt its strength. It was the only way down that might not result in her being reduced to a bloody puddle.

Something slammed into the door. Thalia winced and glanced over her shoulder, grimacing. She had to work fast. Her belt was whipped off and slipped around the drainage pipe. It looked like it was only bound at the roof and the ground, which was good. There would be no restringing necessary during her escape.

Thalia positioned herself carefully. Her sneakers were balanced on the very edge of the roof, and she wrapped the belt twice around each hand before holding on as tight as she could. She was faced the door, the wind catching her coat and causing it to billow out behind her. Adrenaline put her heart on overdrive.

The door broke down, and Samhain walked through in her calm, unruffled manner. Two Nightmares followed her. A stab of fear raced through Thalia, but she had been most exposed to the corpse and wasp forms of the Nightmares. They still terrified her, but less so now. Over the past weeks, Thalia had come to realize that while it was fear that kept her human, at times like these, fear could suck it.

There was no time to be paralyzed by it. She just needed to take the terror in stride and overcome it.

Samhain frowned. It looked unnatural. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing,” Thalia replied innocently.

Samhain's eyes flashed, and the picture of calm perfection was shattered. Her Nightmare arm twitched horribly, longing to close around its adversary's throat. She took a step forward. That was Thalia's cue.

“I'd love to stay and chat, but you know what they say.” She smiled her crazy smile. “Geronimo!”

She kicked off.

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EXTRA SCENE:

The bell above the door of James White's bookshop jingled merrily. He ambled out of the back rooms with an armful of books, smiling. His entire facial expression was slightly dazed, and his eyes seemed to have the habit of looking just over someone's head. When talking to the young man, many had the impression that he was never entirely listening to them.

James blinked slightly when he saw the person who had entered his shop. It was not the usual middle aged man or elderly couple. No. A teenage girl, maybe somewhere around fifteen or sixteen, was leaning back against the counter, looking around the store with a bored look on her face. Her black suit made her look rather professional, which confused James. Why would such a young girl be a professional? More importantly, what was a professional doing in his store?

The girl caught sight of him, and her expression lit up. She hurried up to him.

“Excuse me, do you happen to be Mr. James White?” she asked pleasantly

He nodded. “Er, yes. I am.”

“Good.” She pulled a pocket watch out of her blazer, checked the time, then smiled and replaced the watch. “If you have the time, can I ask you a few questions?”

A Plea, Skyril

This is a plea, Skyril. Please, I need you. More now than ever before. Please, just try  to come on. I feel you're not even putting in an effort. Just please, Skyril. I'm going to break in the next few days if you don't get on... you need to sort me out.
    You're the only one that can do it. You're the only one that save me from the pit of endless nothing, the pit of sadness, that rests beneath my feet.
     I need you.
     After tonight, everyone knows just how badly I need you. Skyril, you need to come on. If you don't, I don't know what will happen with me... I just need to talk to you.

     You're the only one that truly understands, the only one that can help. Guys, you help too, but Skyril can solve any problem. You guys have saved up until this point, but right now I'm perched on an edge, and Skyril is the only angel with wings big enough to save me from that treacherous fall.

THIS IS A PLEA, SKYRIL, FOR YOU TO SAVE ME FROM A LONG TIME IN THE PIT. I DON'T WANT THE PIT, I WANT YOU. SO, PLEASE... HELP ME.

Covers, get your covers here! [RE-OPEN]

Hey guys! Gepard here, wondering if you would like me to make you a cover/promo. Fill this out if you do:

Title:
Author:
Subtitle(if there is one):
Mood(E.g. Dark, mysterious):
Plot(make it short please):
Ideas(if you have one):
Keywords: e.g angel, flower, death, balloon.

AND I ALSO DO PROMO BANNERS! 

JUST FILL OUT THE COVER FORM AND PUT "I WANT A PROMO YAH IDIOT!" AT THE TOP.

EXAMPLES:

 

  

(THIS ONE ACTUALLY WON A CONTEST)

 KTHXBAI!

PLEEEAASSEEE

GUYS, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE CLICK THIS LINK AND LIKE IT. IT WOULD MEAN SO MUCH TO ME, I REALLY WANT THE BOOK.
http://www.facebook.com/notes/heaven-bound-hell-hunted/burning-cold-creative-media-contest-entry/10151262580660573

THANK YOU!

BURNING COLD

                                             BURNING COLD

The flames are cold on my skin. Too cold. Flames should hurt. I should be burning. But I’m not. Opening my eyes, I see why. I’m wrapped in his arms… and his wings. His long, white wings. His brown hair is nicely cut from yesterday, and when I look into his emerald eyes I melt. I push into his firm chest. I need him. I need to be with him. He can’t let me go. I’d be nothing without him.

    “Don’t leave me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse from the fire in which we had nearly died in only five minutes ago.

    “I’d never leave you.” His breath caresses my hair, my scalp. It’s warm. It makes me want his lips.

     His wings are freezing me now.

    “I’m sorry. Here.” I hear a soft foosh and watch as his wings become ash-black. They’re warm. I nestle into them and smile. Mmm. “Sometimes I forget that they hurt you,” he says to me, looking angry at himself.

    “They don’t hurt. They’re just cold. And I know it’s easier for you to be in your angelic form.” I lean up and kiss him, seeing his blood-red face, emerald-green eyes, snakelike nose and pointed ears. This is what he looks like in his demonic form. “But you’re my angel no matter what you look like,” I say after our intimate kiss. It’s as if it sent jolts of love shooting through my body.

    “Will they find us now that somethings happened? They know that we’re in the area. Maybe we should leave,” I say. When I look down I can see our house still in flames. Our possessions… the past month of our lives.

     “Okay. But we need to be careful leaving. Maybe if we can get the news people to think we died in the fire then The Takers won’t come after us.” He knew as well as I did that they would know we’d left.

    “Hang on,” Lucien tells me.

    “I’ll never let go of you.”

    I wrap my arms around his neck as he takes off towards the ground, and my raven-coloured hair whips down my back, and his black wings flapping every so often. We’re there within thirty seconds and in the car within another minute. The soft seat is a relief after the ordeal we were just in. The mirror shows my ocean-blue eyes looking wild, and my slender figure is just as good as it was yesterday, give or take a few burn marks.

    “Where will we go? We’ve run out of places,” I say, thinking. We’ve been running for five years, and from what I can see, we’ve used up all the spots in which The Takers would never look. But something always happens—a fire, a flood, a storm. All natural occurrences. But they’re not. It’s always The Takers. Their assassin finally gains enough power, which he gets from killing humans, to cast the spell that washes us out.

    “Don’t worry, Lilliana, we’ll find somewhere.”

    “You know what? No. I’m sick out running.” I get out of the car and cast my arms to outwards. An enormous fireball appears before my chest, the size of myself. “I’m going to fight,” I say. “If I have to keep running then it’s not worth living.”

    “Would you not live for me?”

    “Not if I know you can be killed at any moment. If we do this, then we can live without fear. We can have a normal life… we could have a child.” That’s what we’ve always wanted and I know it will win him over. I’m right. His eyes light up at the word of a child, and he steps forward, his angelic white wings bursting from his back. He curls his fingers and small white orbs appear.

    “Are you sure you want to do this? Because I sense he’s close.” Lucien looks to me as I push the fireball forward a bit, to get away from the heat.

    “It’s either now or never.”

     “He’s here… to your left!”

     I curl my fingers, imagining that I’m sinking my fingers into a tennis ball, and the fling my hands to the left, letting go of my imaginary ball. The fireball follows my movement and shoots of to the left where it hits something which erupts in flames. A man in yelling, then I see clouds appear in the sky above and before I know it, it’s lashing rain. It’s hard to see with no sun, but a man is walking out of the wreckage of whatever erupted.

    His bald head had a scar running along it, going from his right eye, and I think it crosses over his head to his neck, but I can’t see. His eyes are pure black. I catch my breath at his beauty. No, I think to myself, you only feel like this for Lucien. This man has been hunting you for five years, waiting for your death.

    My arms extend and erupt in flames. Time for some one on one with the assassin. I turn my head and nod to Lucien. Orbs the size of soccer balls of pure angelic power appear in the air and shoot towards the assassin. He tries to black them only to find himself flipping in the air.

    I run at him and jump, my leg lighting up with fire, and kick him in the back, the fire giving me extra strength. He roars in pain before falling to the dirty mud below. I land alongside him in a crouch. Is he dead? Or merely unconscious? I go with the second choice but before I can even register what to do next he grabs me and pulls me down to him.

    “You’re beautiful, darlin’,” he says, his voice coming out in a southern drawl.

    “Shut up!” I yell, before forming a small fireball in my hand and shoving it in his face. He screams in agony at the pain before he kicks me off, the impact to my stomach. I collapse on the ground, not able to breathe. My eyes clothes, the last thing I see being the assassin standing above me. When they open, lightning flashes all around me and I’m able to breathe again.

    It takes me a moment to get my bearings, and when I do I see Lucien and the assassin battling with their powers. Lightning threatens to break Lucien’s angelic force field, but his orbs seem impervious to the assassin’s barrier of the strikes from the sky, standing around him like a cage. They hit him and he sprawls backwards, before getting up and attacking with more lightning.

    “Don’t hurt him,” I shout, clapping my hands just once. But it rings around the area, and the ground in front of it is torn up, heading straight at the assassin.

    “You’re dead, Darlos!” Lucien shouts at the assassin. Then he laughs, almost maniacally. But he’s lost his concentration and Darlos lets one last strike of lightning rip from the sky, and it pierces the force field, shooting through Lucien. His eyes are wide, his arms flopping to his sides, before he falls. Knees to the ground, then face first into the wet mud.

    “No!” I shout. The earth tears up and through Darlos. A spike of it goes right through his chest, ripping him apart. The blood is everywhere, some even over my clothes.

    “Lucien!” I rush to his side, then smile as he opens his eyes.

    “You know I’ll never die… well, I will, but not right now. My angelic self is dying, I’m going to be stuck with my demonic wings and powers. I won’t be good anymore, Lilli, I’ll be bad. I’ll be a pure demon. I won’t have any angel to stop me.”

    “Lucien, you’re an angel no matter what wings you have. You’re the nicest, most holiest person I know. You’ll never be bad. You’ll always be my guardian angel.”

    I smile as his black wings replace his white ones, and the feigning force field around us that withstands nothing now turn a devilish red. Lucien’s hair is turning black, and I watch as his open, emerald eyes, turn a black I’ve only ever seen once. In Darlos’s eyes.

    “Lucien?” I whisper. He doesn’t respond. “Lucien! Hello?” His eyes slowly turn to me, before his hand reached out and grips my throat, intending on breaking it… He is the new Darlos. 

And guys, choose a cover!

Cover 1

Cover 2

Thanks!!

I have returned.

   Well hello there! Long time no.....type....I guess?
   I have had literally NO access to any computers oncesoever. And I haven't posted on here for weeks- no, months, really. I've missed posting on here. I'm going to do it much more often now that i have a laptop again.
   But a warm hello was not my only reason for creating this post.
   I have reached 30, 000 words. I dont really know what everyone else has gotten to, but to me this is an impressive obstacle and I am very proud of myself for overcoming it. I actually went out with a group of comerades as celebration. (Only few of my closest friends know that I am writing a book). And as I am realising that I may actually finish this book before the year of 3000, it hits me that I do not have a cover. Does anyone know a website where you can make covers, or does anybody know HOW to actually make one?
    All answers are helpful ones- except for those stupid ones... you know who you are- and I would be sincerely grateful for helpful answers.
   (P.S. Sorry for typos, Im still getting used to typing on this odd keyboard.)