The
Rise of the River Man
Conguise
Chronicles
Book
1
L.
S. O’Dea
Genre:
Fantasy, Paranormal
Publisher:
LSODea
Date
of Publication: 10/30/2015
ISBN:
978-1-942706-04-5
ASIN:
B014I7M82I
Number
of pages: 108 pages
Word
Count: approx. 27,700
Cover
Artist: Vincent OCampo
Book
Description:
Obedient
monsters are hard to create.
Mutter
was sure that his pending execution at the Guards’ Shelter was the
worst thing that could happen to him, but that was before he met
Professor Conguise.
Now,
he is living in a laboratory and the Almightys are giving him shots.
He fears that they are attempting to mutate him into some kind of
monster like those in the other cages. The creatures in the other
cages are unnatural. Things that he can’t believe exist. Things
that shouldn’t exist and if he doesn’t escape, soon he will
become one of them.
Excerpt:
MUTTER
WAS IN TROUBLE. No one wanted a Guard like him. He was too big and
too strong and too ugly. He stretched out on the concrete floor and
winced. He definitely had some broken ribs, but he’d fought and
won with broken bones in the past. He started coughing. It was this
sickness that had cost him the match. He sat up; the coughing
subsided. He’d pleaded with Vickers, his Almighty master, not to
make him fight but the money had already switched hands. He leaned
his head against the bars of the cage. He’d lost the fight and now
he’d lose his life. Vickers did not give second chances.
The
door opened and a male Almighty around thirty years old with blond
hair entered the room followed by Satcha, the House Servant who ran
this establishment. The Guards’ Shelter didn’t allow visiting at
this hour but Almightys did whatever they wanted. He didn’t even
bother to stand up. No one wanted him. It was a bit embarrassing,
but he’d tried to find a new home his first few days here. He’d
even trimmed his beard, but it had done no good. Every time that
he’d run to the front of the cage and had smiled at the Almightys,
he’d smelled the fear on them as they’d passed. Most tried not
to look at him, but he was big and scarred and hard to ignore.
They
stopped in front of his cage.
“Ableson,
this is the one I told you about,” said Satcha. “Looks like he
was a fighter, so he should be used to obeying. He does have a bad
cough, but I thought he might work for you.”
The
Almighty remained quiet, his blue eyes sizing Mutter up.
“Come
here,” said Satcha.
Mutter
wanted to stay where he was to annoy the Servant but Guards like him
didn’t get many chances for a home. He slowly stood, letting the
Almighty get used to his size and appearance.
“How
old are you?” asked Ableson.
“Not
sure. Been around for a while but not too old.” That was the safe
answer. He had counted nineteen winters but that might be too old or
too young. He never could tell what an Almighty wanted.
“By
his teeth and body we estimate around twenty-five to thirty years,”
said Satcha.
Ableson
twirled his finger. Mutter understood that signal. Before the
fights started, when the betting happened, he was often sized up by
the gamblers. He turned in a circle, slowly, giving the Almighty
time to study him.
“I’m
strong and healthy.” That was a lie but he would be healthy again.
He just needed a little time and food.
“Does
have that cough, that I mentioned.” Satcha sent him a glare.
“Just
a little. From this damp, rotten place.” He hated Servants. They
didn’t know when to keep their big mouths shut.
“I
need an obedient Guard.” The Almighty’s eyes roamed up and down
his frame.
“Won’t
find one more obedient than me.”
“Let’s
see if that’s true.” Ableson walked down the aisle. “Is there
another Guard who he’s close to?”
“Him?”
Satcha laughed, following the Almighty. “He’s so big and ugly
even the other Guards stay away from him.”
Ableson
stopped in the hallway. “Take this one out.”
The
Servant opened the cage and slipped a rope over a young Guard’s
neck. Mutter’s chest pinched. Typical. The Almighty’s always
chose the young ones. His only chance was gone. They would walk out
and soon he’d be executed. He started to sit back down, when the
three of them stopped in front of his cage.
“Put
her in with him,” said Ableson.
“Ah,
we keep the younger ones separate from the older ones, especially the
older males,” said Satcha.
The
Almighty didn’t say a word, but his look was enough. The Servant
muttered an apology and opened the door shoving the young Guard into
Mutter’s cage.
He
glanced at the little Guard who stood as far away from him as
possible. She couldn’t have been older than nine. She had russet
hair and large, frightened, brown eyes.
“Hit
her,” said Ableson, his tone conversational.
“Wait,”
said Satcha. “That one’s young and attractive. I can find a
home for her. Let me get—”
“I’ll
pay for both.” The Almighty’s eyes never left Mutter.
Mutter
kept his face a mask but his stomach clenched. He didn’t want to
do this. He’d fought females before but they were all older,
experienced fighters. This wouldn’t even be a fight.
“I
need an obedient Guard,” reminded Ableson.
The
girl trembled in the corner, tears streaming down her soft, round
cheeks. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
Pleading
didn’t do any good. It didn’t change anyone’s mind. He knew
the game and it would be her or him. He stared into the girl’s
scared brown eyes. “Bruised, broken or dead?”
“Just
hit her. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Mutter
stepped forward. The girl curled in a ball on the floor, pleading
and crying. He grabbed her by the shirt. She weighed next to
nothing, all skin and bones. He punched her in the gut, making the
blow look harder than it was, but the girl was so small she gasped
and coughed. He hesitated, waiting for the Almighty to stop this,
but no words came. He hit her again. She yelped in pain. He
shifted his stance, stalling again and praying for the words that
would allow him to quit, but the only sounds were the yells of the
other Guards in the nearby cages. Most screamed for him to stop but
some cheered him on. If the Almighty wouldn’t end this, he would.
His next punch caught her upside the head, knocking her out. He let
her slide to the floor.
He
walked toward the Almighty.
“I
didn’t say stop.” Ableson’s blue eyes challenged him.
He
stared at the girl on the floor. Only in the roughest fights, those
to the end, did they hit opponents when they were down.
“Forget
it. He won’t work.” Ableson turned and headed for the door.
His
only chance was leaving. He’d be dead tomorrow if that Almighty
walked out the door. The girl’s tiny frame was about the size of
his arm. She was still breathing. “Wait.”
Ableson
walked back to the cage, a smug smile on his face. “Obey or I
leave. This is your one warning.”
He
nodded. His heart thudded as each footstep moved him closer to the
little female. The other Guards had fallen silent. He grasped her
by the back of the shirt. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes
closed. His supper churned in his stomach. He stared at the tears
on her cheeks as he punched her over and over, trying to hit
non-vital parts but it was difficult. She was tiny and his fits were
big.
“Enough,”
called the Almighty.
He
lowered her to the floor. Her breath was ragged as blood trickled
from her lips. His eyes burned, but no wetness came. He hadn’t
cried since he’d lost his mother. It didn’t do any good. He
wiped the girl’s blood on his shirt as he faced the Almighty.
Ableson
smiled at him and handed an envelope to the Servant. “I’ll take
him.”
Satcha
looked in the envelope. “Ah, the price for the girl…”
Ableson
frowned at the Servant but dug in his pocket and handed Satcha a few
more bills. The Servant stuck them in his pocket and opened the cage
door, putting a rope around Mutter’s neck. He fisted his hands,
fighting the urge to kill both of them, but he’d never make it out
of the shelter if he did that.
“Come.”
Ableson yanked on the rope.
“What
about her?” asked Satcha.
“Do
what you want with her.”
“But…you
already paid….”
“If
she lives, sell her again, or kill her. I don’t care.” Ableson
walked toward the door.
Mutter
refused to look back at the girl, the sacrifice for his freedom.
Author Interview
-
What
writing advice do you have for other aspiring authors?
It may
seem clichéd but, write. Don’t worry about getting it perfect
the first time around, just get it down. Every day, sit down and
write for an hour or thirty minutes or whatever you can do. There
will be some days when you don’t get it done due to other
obligations. Don’t beat yourself up about it, just sit down and
write the next day.
-
How
important are names to you in your books? Do you choose the names
based on liking the way it sounds or the meaning? Do you have any
name choosing resources you recommend?
Names, at least for
the main characters, are important to me. For many, I used names of
my dogs for the Guards in the books. I also often look up names and
their meaning and then sometimes use a Greek or Latin variation on
that name.
-
What is
your best marketing tip?
Marketing is tough. I spent weeks
researching. Then I spent a lot of money trying various
advertisers. If I were to do it over again, I’d document what it
said on the forums on Goodreads and KBoards, regarding which
advertisers deliver. Oh, and make sure that you look at the recent
blogs. Some advertisers worked great two years ago but are now
overpriced for what they deliver.
I also wouldn’t
discount Facebook and Twitter. Although, I don’t have a lot of
direct sales from either of these, I do see more page likes after
running a Facebook ad and many of these people continue to engage in
my posts. As with Twitter, I do see some sales from tweets and the
tweets are free unless you use a third party to schedule them (which
I recommend). I use Buffer and it is only $10 a month.
-
Have
you ever gotten into a bar fight?
No,
but I have witnessed quite a few. I bartended for over ten years.
It was quite an experience. I remember this one group of people
(husband, wife and their friend) who use to come in a lot. They
always caused trouble. I dreaded seeing them enter, even though
they tipped well and were regulars.
-
If you
were an animal in a zoo, what would you be?
I find it
interesting that you phrased the question specifically for animals
in a zoo, not just animals in general. In a zoo, I’d want to be
one of the prey animals. I feel sorry for the predatory animals in
captivity. Genetically, predators desire to roam and hunt and kill
and all of that is denied to them in a zoo. The prey animal is safe
in the zoo (except when the zoo keepers kill them to make room for
the young ones – a disgusting practice that should be banned).
About
the Author:
L.
S. O’Dea sees things a bit differently than most people. This is
probably a bi-product of being the youngest of seven children in a
time when TV was only worth watching in the evenings or Saturday
mornings and there were no computers. Back then, kids had to amuse
themselves and being five years younger than her closest sibling she
was often the unwilling entertainment.
Since
she was so much younger than her siblings, it was only reasonable
that they knew how to do many things that she could not, such as read
and write. One day, before she started kindergarten, she really
wanted to learn how to spell her name. Her mother was busy cooking or
cleaning (she had seven children to care for), so her brothers were
instructed to help their baby sister.
After
she learned how to spell her first and middle name (Linda Sue), she
raced into the kitchen to share this new knowledge with her mother.
She was so proud, standing tall and reciting the letters of her name.
L-E-M-O-N H-E-A-D.
Her
mother was not happy with her brothers and stopped what she was doing
to teach Linda the correct way to spell her name. L. S. still
receives a box of Lemonhead candy every year for Christmas.
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