Hi everyone! I’m so excited to be part of the Book Brew’s Myth Madness.
I love myths and legends. I’m not sure if their appeal has to do with the hero’s journey or gods behaving badly but I’ve always been drawn to them. They are as rich and compelling today as they were when they were first told around the fires of the past. So whether your favourite myth is about is a Greek demi-god or a Viking warrior, there nothing quite like delving into the ancient past for some heroic inspiration.
My latest story, Rain is a medieval fairytale about an elemental rain spirit.
On the mountain, high above the village of Farran ““ Nuri is caught between heaven and hell. Two men fight for her love and her soul. The first is Maras, an elemental being who follows the storms. Nuri knows that he is not human, he’s something more. She believes he is her beautiful fallen angel. Yet he is transient and is bound to the elements and their love may be as fleeting as the storm itself. The second is Brother Erebus, a pious monk whose tortured soul is twisted by his desire for her.
But Nuri may sacrifice more than her heart when the Church brands her angel a demon. As Brother Erebus will do anything to protect her soul from the silver haired devil, even if he has to crush her body to do it.
Extract
He hovered high above the ground as the heavy rain ran over his lithe body. As each drop hit his skin, he revelled in the exhilaration of the storm as it swirled around him. With one deft movement his gray wings sent him soaring upward, where he spun and spiralled in the damp, cold air. There, he hovered until a small movement from below caught his pale, ice-gray eyes. His interest snared, he swooped lower and saw with amusement that a small village lay below. It sat on the side of a river, in the shadow of a great mountain.
As he flew closer, he saw its inhabitants running to and fro in a vain attempt to escape from the storm. The smoke from their hearth fires, which burnt so brightly in an endeavour to warm their tiny cottages, curled in the air and wafted up to where Maras flew. In the smoke he could smell ash, herbs, and the aromas of roasted meat, yet almost immediately the rain dissipated the odour and replaced it with its own cool sweetness.
Once, long ago, Maras had been interested in these fragile beings. From afar, he had watched and studied their lives and peculiar habits. Intrigued, he had made the mistake of walking among them. Some had shown promise, but overall he had found them petty and cruel ““ and after forming this opinion, he had shied away. Now they held little interest for him, although he did find some enjoyment watching them scuttle about in the rain”¦like little dark beetles or ants.
A crack of thunder in the distance drew his attention. The tempest started to move away from the village and up the mountain ““ and Maras would follow it.
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