Each year since 2004 I've had a story to share for Halloween, because it's a significant date for me. This year is no exceptions, although I'm posting a little early because circumstances will prevent me from getting online on the day, and I'm determined not to skip.

This year's tale is a Tawnholme story, which means it's a contemporary, roughly 'real world', story set in a fictional UK town, and I think it's a little smoky and a lot sweet - a good pair to 2007's Favour, in fact. Many thanks to Pen for last minute editing services; any remaining mistakes are entirely my own fault, especially as I've worked on this since she saw it last.

Here Comes The Rain, by Alex Draven )

If you're interested in more, here's a list of the past stories.

Dream Come True (2004)
Thirteen Kisses (2005)
All Souls (2006)
Favour (2007) (for sale) & Soar and Raining Cats (2007)(free sketches)
Tradition (2008)
Everything changes (2009)
It’s not the dead that haunt graveyards (2010)

You'll find these and other seasonally appropriate snippets under 'seasonal : autumn' in the tags list

(If I was doing this as a promotional thing, I would have picked a less popular date, because there's an awful lot of fabulous fiction being released for Halloween - more of it every year - so, thank you, everyone who reads this, and twice thanks to those of you who let me know that you did.)
alexdraven: Negative image of a raven in flight with the text Alex Draven (Reverse Raven)
( Sep. 11th, 2011 05:20 pm)
[personal profile] jjhunter issued a speculative fiction fest challenge, to write a short story describing an ordinary day in the life for an ordinary woman and her family coping with illness somewhen in the future. It's quite a specific set of prompts, but it sparked off with the song I was listening to, and turned into this, which I post as it stands, as a rough sketch.

(It's a stand alone, although it could be the same world as these snippets, not least because it's inspired by music from the same source - thank you Deathboy, for your music as both band and individual!

*****

First of March

"So, here we are - the first of March and the sun's shining." Kal tilted the camera towards the viewscreen behind her, and smiled. The automatic polarisation on Ella's bedside viewer abruptly killed the contrast, but she could still see the light burst bleaching out most of Kal's viewscreen. "We made orbit right on schedule." Kal returned the camera to dock, and the light levels settled back down again. "I love you, lady. Have a good day." Kal touched two fingers to her lips, and blew a kiss to the camera, and then the screen went dark.

"Love you, too," Ella whispered, and flopped back in the unmade bed, allowing herself the luxury of a minute or two's silence to feel herself missing her wife.Read more... ) so - what do you think?
I have a new story coming out through Torquere Press today! I'm posting about it early because I'm about to vanish offline for the weekend, but at some point during the day, the new e-book and an extract will appear on my author's page.

It's a Single Shot called Staytape. It's about Kit and Dirk, eyeliner and photography, kilts and corsets. It's about love, and trust, and doing the things that scare you because if you never get scared you're not growing.

I don't know yet which extract they'll put up on the site, so I'll hold back on posting one here, and save that for another day. Instead, I have a whole short story for you.

A version of this story - Fair - came out in an anthology called 'Naughty' a few of years back. I was writing Staytape at the time when Fair reverted to me, and it wasn't till I re-read Fair that I realised they could be connected. I still don't know who the narrator of Fair is, although I can see him crystal sharp in my mind's eye, but his friend, Kit? That's the Kit from Staytape, only about ten, years ago, when he was still in his hometown, still a teenager, still figuring out who he might be. The styles of the two stories are quite different, but I hope you can enjoy both.

******

Fair
By Alex Draven

Candy-floss is grainy sweet on your tongue and sweat pricks where the sun hits between your shoulders and Kit grabs your hand and pulls you up short, ducking down the quiet lee between two butcher-striped tents. Power cables roll under your feet and when you look down the grass is trodden flat and bedraggled and Kit's glitter-painted boot still manages to sparkle.

read on )
I have a new story coming out through Torquere Press today! I'm posting about it early because I'm about to vanish offline for the weekend, but at some point during the day, the new e-book and an extract will appear on my author's page.

It's a Single Shot called Staytape. It's about Kit and Dirk, eyeliner and photography, kilts and corsets. It's about love, and trust, and doing the things that scare you because if you never get scared you're not growing.

I don't know yet which extract they'll put up on the site, so I'll hold back on posting one here, and save that for another day. Instead, I have a whole short story for you.

A version of this story - Fair - came out in an anthology called 'Naughty' a few of years back. I was writing Staytape at the time when Fair reverted to me, and it wasn't till I re-read Fair that I realised they could be connected. I still don't know who the narrator of Fair is, although I can see him crystal sharp in my mind's eye, but his friend, Kit? That's the Kit from Staytape, only about ten, years ago, when he was still in his hometown, still a teenager, still figuring out who he might be. The styles of the two stories are quite different, but I hope you can enjoy both.

******

Fair
By Alex Draven

Candy-floss is grainy sweet on your tongue and sweat pricks where the sun hits between your shoulders and Kit grabs your hand and pulls you up short, ducking down the quiet lee between two butcher-striped tents. Power cables roll under your feet and when you look down the grass is trodden flat and bedraggled and Kit's glitter-painted boot still manages to sparkle.

read on )
I'm hosting over at the [livejournal.com profile] torquere_social LJ today, and offered to write a couple of New Year resolution inspired ficlets. [livejournal.com profile] machineplay's resolution was : to visit the gravesite of someone you haven't seen since before they died. Somehow that turned into a partner peice to this.

*****

It didn't say Tell on the gravemarker. He didn't have a tombstone, and if he did that wouldn't have said Tell either. Or Tallulah. Or Scarlet, or any of the other names Tell had taken on in his few years.

Read more... )
I'm hosting over at the [livejournal.com profile] torquere_social LJ today, and offered to write a couple of New Year resolution inspired ficlets. [livejournal.com profile] machineplay's resolution was : to visit the gravesite of someone you haven't seen since before they died. Somehow that turned into a partner peice to this.

*****

It didn't say Tell on the gravemarker. He didn't have a tombstone, and if he did that wouldn't have said Tell either. Or Tallulah. Or Scarlet, or any of the other names Tell had taken on in his few years.

Read more... )
alexdraven: Negative image of a raven in flight with the text Alex Draven (Default)
( Oct. 31st, 2006 03:03 pm)
Partly for [livejournal.com profile] oct31challenge, but mostly because I have had something to share for Halloween every year since I really started writing and it feels wrong not to have anything to offer. My main idea for the challenge somewhat ran away with me, so this was hammered out in my lunchbreak ....

*********

Father Pete sat vigil. On the eve of All Souls, in a little place like this, the parishioners liked to see the chapel lights glowing against the night and to know that one of their priests was inside, praying for the souls of the dead and the protection of the living. Father Mortimer was elderly now, too old for a long night on his knees when there was a curate to take his place. So Father Pete sat vigil, by candlelight. Read more... )
alexdraven: Negative image of a raven in flight with the text Alex Draven (Default)
( Oct. 31st, 2006 03:03 pm)
Partly for [livejournal.com profile] oct31challenge, but mostly because I have had something to share for Halloween every year since I really started writing and it feels wrong not to have anything to offer. My main idea for the challenge somewhat ran away with me, so this was hammered out in my lunchbreak ....

*********

Father Pete sat vigil. On the eve of All Souls, in a little place like this, the parishioners liked to see the chapel lights glowing against the night and to know that one of their priests was inside, praying for the souls of the dead and the protection of the living. Father Mortimer was elderly now, too old for a long night on his knees when there was a curate to take his place. So Father Pete sat vigil, by candlelight. Read more... )
alexdraven: (Centaurs)
( Oct. 6th, 2006 03:09 pm)
This is the first story I ever sold, something over two years ago. The anthology it was in has now gone out of print, and the contract ended. I thought about maybe trying to find the story a new press, seeing as I am pretty proud of itbut, actually, I think I want it to be avaliable to all. At this moment I'd rather hear what you think of Pet and Matthias, than try and earn a few extra dollars from them. I am awfully fond of this story.

Read, enjoy, leave comments.

***** ***** *****

Fall
By Alex Draven

***** ***** *****

"Fuck off!"

The second centaur didn’t budge.

For fuck's sake. It was too hot to move, the air heavy and about set to start pissing down with rain, and he'd left his cigarettes inside. Nigh on twenty minutes since the knock had rung through the warehouse and he still wasn't quite self-destructive enough to turn his back on a strange stallion standing in his own front drive.

"I said, fuck off. I'm not interested."

The little bastard just stood there, arms crossed, and one hind leg cocked, the very picture of relaxed patience.

It was winding him up. Another few minutes of silence and nothing had changed except his mood.

"Oh for fuck's sake. Stand there as long as you like. I've got things to do."

Pet backed up a couple of paces, shaking his head and whisking his tail, and then snagged the door, pulling it closed.

Fuck.

He let out a kick that left the walls of the warehouse ringing.

Roll on thunder.

Roll on thunder and air conditioning and Cashman's Royals, and a bottle or six of beer.

Roll on forgetting and not having ghosts from your fucking past turn up on in the front yard and look at you, like you owed it to them to live up to whatever fucked-up expectations they had. Read more... )
alexdraven: (Centaurs)
( Oct. 6th, 2006 03:09 pm)
This is the first story I ever sold, something over two years ago. The anthology it was in has now gone out of print, and the contract ended. I thought about maybe trying to find the story a new press, seeing as I am pretty proud of itbut, actually, I think I want it to be avaliable to all. At this moment I'd rather hear what you think of Pet and Matthias, than try and earn a few extra dollars from them. I am awfully fond of this story.

Read, enjoy, leave comments.

***** ***** *****

Fall
By Alex Draven

***** ***** *****

"Fuck off!"

The second centaur didn’t budge.

For fuck's sake. It was too hot to move, the air heavy and about set to start pissing down with rain, and he'd left his cigarettes inside. Nigh on twenty minutes since the knock had rung through the warehouse and he still wasn't quite self-destructive enough to turn his back on a strange stallion standing in his own front drive.

"I said, fuck off. I'm not interested."

The little bastard just stood there, arms crossed, and one hind leg cocked, the very picture of relaxed patience.

It was winding him up. Another few minutes of silence and nothing had changed except his mood.

"Oh for fuck's sake. Stand there as long as you like. I've got things to do."

Pet backed up a couple of paces, shaking his head and whisking his tail, and then snagged the door, pulling it closed.

Fuck.

He let out a kick that left the walls of the warehouse ringing.

Roll on thunder.

Roll on thunder and air conditioning and Cashman's Royals, and a bottle or six of beer.

Roll on forgetting and not having ghosts from your fucking past turn up on in the front yard and look at you, like you owed it to them to live up to whatever fucked-up expectations they had. Read more... )
This is me trying to spin something erotic with popsicles for CB Potts - it's notably lacking in both popsicles and sex, really ....

***

"Stop it!" Izzy squirmed and tried to get away from Cal's tongue. "Seriously, man, cut that out. It's gross. I'm all sweaty."

"That's why it tastes so good." Cal grinned up from where he'd managed to pin Izzy's arm and had been lapping at the fold of his elbow.

"Freak."

"Your freak." Cal shot back.

"Yeah – I'm starting to wonder about that." Izzy was teasing, and Cal knew it, and retorted with another broad, warm, swipe of his tongue. Cal's fingers were tight around Izzy's wrist, and he had his whole body weight pressing down on Izzy's shoulder, and there was no getting away by pulling.

Izzy got smart. He relaxed, and let the arm that wasn't being molested flop, and then felt his way along the deck until he found the bucket they'd been cooling the beers in. Grabbing a handful of wet slippery ice cubes, he twisted and scrubbed them into Cal's ribs. Cal shrieked, and the plastic recliner skittered on the concrete as they both hit the floor on opposite sides.

Read more... )
This is me trying to spin something erotic with popsicles for CB Potts - it's notably lacking in both popsicles and sex, really ....

***

"Stop it!" Izzy squirmed and tried to get away from Cal's tongue. "Seriously, man, cut that out. It's gross. I'm all sweaty."

"That's why it tastes so good." Cal grinned up from where he'd managed to pin Izzy's arm and had been lapping at the fold of his elbow.

"Freak."

"Your freak." Cal shot back.

"Yeah – I'm starting to wonder about that." Izzy was teasing, and Cal knew it, and retorted with another broad, warm, swipe of his tongue. Cal's fingers were tight around Izzy's wrist, and he had his whole body weight pressing down on Izzy's shoulder, and there was no getting away by pulling.

Izzy got smart. He relaxed, and let the arm that wasn't being molested flop, and then felt his way along the deck until he found the bucket they'd been cooling the beers in. Grabbing a handful of wet slippery ice cubes, he twisted and scrubbed them into Cal's ribs. Cal shrieked, and the plastic recliner skittered on the concrete as they both hit the floor on opposite sides.

Read more... )
When You Are Out There On The Road
By Ephemera.


Inspired by Such Great Heights, by The Postal Service, and written for [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara's 2nd Original Ficathon, June 2006. Thanks to C and M for the cheerleading, and especially to [livejournal.com profile] ms_manna, without whom this would have been much shorter and much less in every way. All remaining mistakes are my own.

*****

Beck's my room mate. My best friend. My guardian angel. He's, like, the single best thing about going away to college, so when he called my cell at two am, four days after he dropped me off at the airport so I could fly home for the summer, I was right there. I wasn't asleep. Actually, I was kind of putzing around on the computer one handed and jerking off, but that's fairly irrelevant.

"Hey, man, what's up!"

We keep pretty late hours on campus, so I didn't automatically think that anything was going to be wrong, but when he didn't answer right off the bat, I did.

"Sam."

His voice was real choked up, which made my blood run, honest to god, cold. Beck had seen me through some real crap that year, and I'd never heard him sound like that.

"Fuck, Beck. I'm here. What's up. What's wrong." Read more... )
When You Are Out There On The Road
By Ephemera.


Inspired by Such Great Heights, by The Postal Service, and written for [livejournal.com profile] tsuki_no_bara's 2nd Original Ficathon, June 2006. Thanks to C and M for the cheerleading, and especially to [livejournal.com profile] ms_manna, without whom this would have been much shorter and much less in every way. All remaining mistakes are my own.

*****

Beck's my room mate. My best friend. My guardian angel. He's, like, the single best thing about going away to college, so when he called my cell at two am, four days after he dropped me off at the airport so I could fly home for the summer, I was right there. I wasn't asleep. Actually, I was kind of putzing around on the computer one handed and jerking off, but that's fairly irrelevant.

"Hey, man, what's up!"

We keep pretty late hours on campus, so I didn't automatically think that anything was going to be wrong, but when he didn't answer right off the bat, I did.

"Sam."

His voice was real choked up, which made my blood run, honest to god, cold. Beck had seen me through some real crap that year, and I'd never heard him sound like that.

"Fuck, Beck. I'm here. What's up. What's wrong." Read more... )
alexdraven: (General writing)
( Jan. 19th, 2006 12:32 am)

"You can't do that!"   Paul hissed desperately. His hand was tight around Cameron's wrist, pressing pale against the tendons, but the older boy didn't drop his arm. He smiled.  He smiled so wide that it stretched his words, rich with something Paul wasn't so sure he wanted to be able to recognise. .

"Oh Paul, I can. You think … tell me. Why not?"   Cameron's chin tipped up to mark the question; a challenge, like they were in a boxing ring, not hiding in the wide open dark of the church.

Read more... )

alexdraven: (General writing)
( Jan. 19th, 2006 12:32 am)

"You can't do that!"   Paul hissed desperately. His hand was tight around Cameron's wrist, pressing pale against the tendons, but the older boy didn't drop his arm. He smiled.  He smiled so wide that it stretched his words, rich with something Paul wasn't so sure he wanted to be able to recognise. .

"Oh Paul, I can. You think … tell me. Why not?"   Cameron's chin tipped up to mark the question; a challenge, like they were in a boxing ring, not hiding in the wide open dark of the church.

Read more... )

For Halloween, 2005, and for [profile] buhfly's Halloween Challenge
With thanks to [livejournal.com profile] turps33 for sparking off the idea, and [livejournal.com profile] morgaine_x and [livejournal.com profile] asradel for helping it come to pass. All remaining mistakes are, of course, my own.

*****

#1

Every sleepless night Nick waits to take Bell out for their morning run, and every morning he makes himself wait more, until the school rush and the office rush are done. For the first time this year the air is still thick with mist: even at after-nine the far side of the road is grayed-out and the air is cool and wet and heavy. Bell lifts her head and pulls at her harness as they get closer to the park, bouncing on fallen leaves and flicking her ears tracking mist-muffled sounds.

Out on the heath Nick unbuckles her and then chases after, pulling the thick watery air into his lungs and grinning. There’s a time for thinking about everything that’s wrong with his life, but this isn’t it.

***** )
For Halloween, 2005, and for [profile] buhfly's Halloween Challenge
With thanks to [livejournal.com profile] turps33 for sparking off the idea, and [livejournal.com profile] morgaine_x and [livejournal.com profile] asradel for helping it come to pass. All remaining mistakes are, of course, my own.

*****

#1

Every sleepless night Nick waits to take Bell out for their morning run, and every morning he makes himself wait more, until the school rush and the office rush are done. For the first time this year the air is still thick with mist: even at after-nine the far side of the road is grayed-out and the air is cool and wet and heavy. Bell lifts her head and pulls at her harness as they get closer to the park, bouncing on fallen leaves and flicking her ears tracking mist-muffled sounds.

Out on the heath Nick unbuckles her and then chases after, pulling the thick watery air into his lungs and grinning. There’s a time for thinking about everything that’s wrong with his life, but this isn’t it.

***** )
Clifford squished the soft ripe apricot against the roof of his mouth. Bliss. He was holed up in his New York apartment for the long weekend, with the heating on max to keep out any thought of the bleak February weather, and well stocked with all the luxuries he could need. He lazily selected another perfect piece of fruit, and lounged back on the couch, scratching idly at the junction between thigh and groin with the other hand.

***** )
Clifford squished the soft ripe apricot against the roof of his mouth. Bliss. He was holed up in his New York apartment for the long weekend, with the heating on max to keep out any thought of the bleak February weather, and well stocked with all the luxuries he could need. He lazily selected another perfect piece of fruit, and lounged back on the couch, scratching idly at the junction between thigh and groin with the other hand.

***** )
.

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