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| Designed by All Authors Cover Design |
Guest Post:
The original cover just came to me when I was knee deep in the story. I wanted it to be more gruesome looking (a thick trail of black blood, leading up to woman’s corpse and the K carved in her) lol but I’m not knocking this cover at all. Less is more.
The story however, was originally a script I was working on before I even started converting it. I remember thinking “this should be a book” That was back when I was a little confused on which path I should take (screenwriting or novel writing), I just went with my gut and haven’t regretted since.
Blurb:
Medina Price always wanted to be a cop, just like her successors, until she gets thrown into a corrupt life at an early age due to witnessing her mother being slaughtered at the hands of a hired gunman. Now that she's been seduced by darkness, she vows to get revenge, but she gets more than she bargained for. What will Medina do? At this juncture in her life Medina realizes that... Everyone is capable of something.
Excerpt:
“You don’t wanna play this game.”
“Ah, how we soon forget.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Never pegged you for the begging type.”
“Not me. You.”
“Watch her.”
He made a huge mistake trusting him. Made a bigger one double crossing me.
Who’s to say he won’t kill you? Or I won’t? He was a wealthy man but he wouldn’t be alive to spend it. He wasn’t a gangster but he knew enough not to carry around dead weight. He didn’t need him anymore and couldn’t trust him. He made his bed and he had to rot in it. If you’re not a friend you’re an enemy. It’s as simple as that. It didn’t take a genius to see that we lived by the same rules. The same code. He was brought up in Youngstown. So did someone else, which brought me back to the source. Alex. They didn’t just meet by chance. There’s a reason for everything. Cause and effect. Have we met someplace before? I traveled back in my mind, trying desperately to remember. Trying to piece it all together. Slowly it came rushing back to me, in bits and pieces. We HAD met before. 2 years before the murder. Alex introduced us to him. Zoe shook his hand, greeted him with an audacious smile. He was very friendly. I looked through him. Didn’t think much of him at the time. He was his colleague. He needed someone he could trust. But why did he pay him off? He didn’t seem like a man who had a squeaky clean reputation. What did he have on him?
“He taped him and threatened to go public with it.” He confessed.
“We don’t have much time.” He blurted out, rushed to remove the tape from the legs. Then made his way to my arms. I noticed the handle of his gun dangling from his pants. BANG! The bullet merely grazed my skin while he crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.
“Leaving so soon?”
My arms were almost free. I studied the men who were in front of me. King and Alex. Each one equipped with a revolver, aiming at my head.
“Hi honey. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman. You still have your mother’s eyes.”
“And my father’s cunning.”
“Let’s finish this.” He growled, cocking his gun.
“Gladly.” Alex uttered, shot him in the head. I broke free. He turned around and put the smoking gun on me.
“Trust me, you won’t feel a thing.”
He placed his fingers on the trigger. I reached for the gun behind my back. This was how things were settled out in the west. I knew it would come to this.
Shots were fired. I saw the bullet holes on his shirt, pulsating to his chest. His heart was next. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. He died right there. I’ve always know he had something to do with it. That he was apart of it. He didn’t have a motive. He did it because he could get away with it. He was a monster. But I believe he had an ounce of decency left in him. Instead of being like my mother, I ended up being the monster he created.
I looked at King. He was injured but still alive. I had to put an end to this. I raised my gun, pulled the trigger but someone got to me first. It was Ava. I felt the bullet penetrate my insides as I stumbled to the floor. I scrambled to get the pistol back in my clutches. She tossed it.
“Goodbye.” She said with a sardonic smile, tucking a hair behind her ear.
I kicked her before it went off. The gun spewed out of her hand. I pummeled her to the ground, popped three bullets in her. One in the chest. One in the head. And one in the heart. I had one bullet left. And I knew just who to use it on. His name was on it. His blood was calling out to me. I could almost smell it. He was screaming before I was through with him.
I retrieved my trusty knife and carved her like a turkey. This probably would be my last so I took my time. Made damn sure they would remember me. This wouldn’t bring them back but I was hoping it would bring me peace. Some kind of relief. There were a few things I believed in. Revenge just happened to be one of them. It was at the top of my list. It was my religion, my sanity. It became my scared realm. Our special place.
The story however, was originally a script I was working on before I even started converting it. I remember thinking “this should be a book” That was back when I was a little confused on which path I should take (screenwriting or novel writing), I just went with my gut and haven’t regretted since.
Blurb:
Medina Price always wanted to be a cop, just like her successors, until she gets thrown into a corrupt life at an early age due to witnessing her mother being slaughtered at the hands of a hired gunman. Now that she's been seduced by darkness, she vows to get revenge, but she gets more than she bargained for. What will Medina do? At this juncture in her life Medina realizes that... Everyone is capable of something.
Excerpt:
“You don’t wanna play this game.”
“Ah, how we soon forget.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Never pegged you for the begging type.”
“Not me. You.”
“Watch her.”
He made a huge mistake trusting him. Made a bigger one double crossing me.
Who’s to say he won’t kill you? Or I won’t? He was a wealthy man but he wouldn’t be alive to spend it. He wasn’t a gangster but he knew enough not to carry around dead weight. He didn’t need him anymore and couldn’t trust him. He made his bed and he had to rot in it. If you’re not a friend you’re an enemy. It’s as simple as that. It didn’t take a genius to see that we lived by the same rules. The same code. He was brought up in Youngstown. So did someone else, which brought me back to the source. Alex. They didn’t just meet by chance. There’s a reason for everything. Cause and effect. Have we met someplace before? I traveled back in my mind, trying desperately to remember. Trying to piece it all together. Slowly it came rushing back to me, in bits and pieces. We HAD met before. 2 years before the murder. Alex introduced us to him. Zoe shook his hand, greeted him with an audacious smile. He was very friendly. I looked through him. Didn’t think much of him at the time. He was his colleague. He needed someone he could trust. But why did he pay him off? He didn’t seem like a man who had a squeaky clean reputation. What did he have on him?
“He taped him and threatened to go public with it.” He confessed.
“We don’t have much time.” He blurted out, rushed to remove the tape from the legs. Then made his way to my arms. I noticed the handle of his gun dangling from his pants. BANG! The bullet merely grazed my skin while he crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.
“Leaving so soon?”
My arms were almost free. I studied the men who were in front of me. King and Alex. Each one equipped with a revolver, aiming at my head.
“Hi honey. You’ve grown into a beautiful woman. You still have your mother’s eyes.”
“And my father’s cunning.”
“Let’s finish this.” He growled, cocking his gun.
“Gladly.” Alex uttered, shot him in the head. I broke free. He turned around and put the smoking gun on me.
“Trust me, you won’t feel a thing.”
He placed his fingers on the trigger. I reached for the gun behind my back. This was how things were settled out in the west. I knew it would come to this.
Shots were fired. I saw the bullet holes on his shirt, pulsating to his chest. His heart was next. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. He died right there. I’ve always know he had something to do with it. That he was apart of it. He didn’t have a motive. He did it because he could get away with it. He was a monster. But I believe he had an ounce of decency left in him. Instead of being like my mother, I ended up being the monster he created.
I looked at King. He was injured but still alive. I had to put an end to this. I raised my gun, pulled the trigger but someone got to me first. It was Ava. I felt the bullet penetrate my insides as I stumbled to the floor. I scrambled to get the pistol back in my clutches. She tossed it.
“Goodbye.” She said with a sardonic smile, tucking a hair behind her ear.
I kicked her before it went off. The gun spewed out of her hand. I pummeled her to the ground, popped three bullets in her. One in the chest. One in the head. And one in the heart. I had one bullet left. And I knew just who to use it on. His name was on it. His blood was calling out to me. I could almost smell it. He was screaming before I was through with him.
I retrieved my trusty knife and carved her like a turkey. This probably would be my last so I took my time. Made damn sure they would remember me. This wouldn’t bring them back but I was hoping it would bring me peace. Some kind of relief. There were a few things I believed in. Revenge just happened to be one of them. It was at the top of my list. It was my religion, my sanity. It became my scared realm. Our special place.
Born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, Aray Brown emerged as a bright eyed scribe at an early age, which began her journey to self discovery.
Her short stories consisted of characters such as She-ra and He-man. Later on she decided to delve into something more real and personal.
She always had a passion for storytelling even though she couldn’t express it verbally.
After dabbling in other areas, she found her true calling and vowed to share her gift with the rest of the world.
Just like every other kid he grew up on Stephen King and Alfred Hithcock, she became obsessed with horror. Most importantly gore.
While she has different genres in mind for her next up and coming projects, her love of gruesome tales will always be eternal.
Author Links: http://facebook.com/ArayBrownfloacistms, http://www.twitter.com/araybrown, http://www.goodreads.com/AraySBrown , http://araybrown.blogspot.com, http://amazon.com/author/araybrown,https://plus.google.com/+AraySBrownAuthor, http://linkedin.com/in/arayb
Her short stories consisted of characters such as She-ra and He-man. Later on she decided to delve into something more real and personal.
She always had a passion for storytelling even though she couldn’t express it verbally.
After dabbling in other areas, she found her true calling and vowed to share her gift with the rest of the world.
Just like every other kid he grew up on Stephen King and Alfred Hithcock, she became obsessed with horror. Most importantly gore.
While she has different genres in mind for her next up and coming projects, her love of gruesome tales will always be eternal.
Author Links: http://facebook.com/ArayBrownfloacistms, http://www.twitter.com/araybrown, http://www.goodreads.com/AraySBrown , http://araybrown.blogspot.com, http://amazon.com/author/araybrown,https://plus.google.com/+AraySBrownAuthor, http://linkedin.com/in/arayb
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