"The Wolfena" Novella Excerpt

“Jimian. Jimian. Jim, wake up.”

“Hmm? Janessa?”

“N-no. Who’s Janessa? Jimian, it’s me Lariette. I hear something. Wake up.”

She snapped into consciousness immediately, forgetting the images still circling through her minds eye, and the strange feeling surrounding her throat. She found one of her necklaces had fallen back over her shoulder, and was pressing into her neck. They were both silent as she listened, and sure enough, a strange sound was hissing from the dark space that had been a dead end last time they’d checked. 

Silently, the two of them stood, and Jimian drew both her sword and knife. The strange hissing sound was rhythmic and raspy. As it grew closer, it was accompanied by soft plodding footsteps—not animal; human, though the breathing sounded anything but human.

One of Carriero’s men stepped into the glow of the mushrooms. Jimian felt dainty fingers grip onto her arm, squeezing tight enough to cause a hint of pain in her muscle. 

“Jimian. Jimian what is wrong with him.”

Jimian didn’t know. The man stopped walking. His arms hung limp at his sides. He had no spear, no gun, no bow, no knife. At first, she thought he was all spattered in blood, until she realized that his eyes were black as an overcast night sky, like the way Vilk’s had flashed when Dusti possessed him, only permanent. She concluded that the liquid smeared all about his nose and mouth was not blood, but that residue created by powerful magic. His breathing sounded wrong, hollow, yet full of fluid. And he only stood there, watching.

“I don’t know. I honestly, do not know.”

“We should run.”

“No. Just hold on.” Jimian took a step forward. Was there the slightest chance someone had put together a possession spell in order to find them? “Hey. That you, Nax? Or Baltio? Aesdana?”

No response, just more hissing breath. And then he took a step forward. And another. Jimian felt as if cool water were dripping down her back, and she met Lariette’s eyes for half a heartbeat. “Now we run.”

They took off in the opposite direction, the puddles exploding and fungi squashing underneath their feet. Lariette’s breathing came in terrified gasps, and the man let out a horrible cry, something between the screech of a dying animal and a predator snarling to defend its kill. They ran harder, but when Jimian turned to see how close he was, his footsteps grew impossibly fast, and he toppled upon her with another awful scream. Her sword went flying from her hand when her wrist collided with a sharp rock, and the wind was knocked from her upon impact. 

“Jimian!” 

She lashed upwards with her knife while trying to fight off the onslaught of fingernails which had turned to claws. A hand wrangled itself in her hair, and all it took was one hit against the rocks to make the adrenaline in her veins surge, and pure survival instinct kick in. Jimian roared almost as terribly as the sick man, and warm blood rained down upon her as his knife caught the skin of his neck and tore him open. Though her wrist was throbbing, she snatched up a loose rock and wailed him so hard in the ear that she heard the crunch of skull. 

He fell, rolling to the side, but still snarling and flailing. Jimian drove her blade into his chest once, twice, and then sliced off one of his hands. Her shoulder ached anew, and she ignored it as she cut his neck once again, and still, he kept fighting. He caught sight of Lariette with his dead eyes, seeming to notice her for the first time, and he lunged.

It was just the opportunity Jimian needed. She retrieved her sword in a motion so fast it was hardly human, and a sickening, wet thud filled the cave when the man’s head was severed and dropped to the floor. In an instant, his body collapsed, blood running from the stump like a spring river. 

____________

All writing found at Ajdodgecreations is © AJ Dodge/Ariel Durkee 2016

Lesbian Warriors and Priestesses.

A few years ago, a writer came to my school to talk to us about her work. At this point in time I had finished the second draft of my first novel, which features two brothers who are at war, Kelson and Avedis, as the main characters.

This author, whose name I shamefully cannot recall, seemed to be a radical-leaning feminist, though she did not name herself as such. I was lucky enough to have a studio session with her, but it was one that left me feeling confused and a little patronized. There wasn't time for her to actually read any of my writing, so I could only give her a quick synopsis of what the book is about. After the conversation with her, I remember feeling rebellious but also a bit disillusioned. 

She asked me why my main characters weren't female. I couldn't give a good answer. Back then, I was so far in the closet I couldn't even coax myself out, and I had this sort of fascination with male characters. I thought they were deeper by nature, more interesting in the contrast that the men I knew in daily life often hid their emotions. Women were too soft, delicate, accessories to characters rather than characters themselves. I liked to write male characters who laid themselves bare on the page, and thought I was getting at something with that.

As it turns out, a character's 'maleness' isn't something that should be glorified, in my opinion. 

The second point that this writer brought up to me was that slavery is little-addressed in modern fiction, despite the fact that slavery is still a global issue which is practically invisible to us living in the "first world." She asked why I didn't address slavery in my writing, and in my head, all I could think was 'oh I'm not interested in that.' Again, I couldn't give a good answer.

Shame on me, twice.

Years later, this conversation lingers in my mind, and I feel a sort of guilty haze about it. The next year, I discovered radical feminism for myself, and came out of the closet. I don't define myself as a radical feminist, but I am radical leaning in that I don't believe our modern systems of patriarchy and capitalism should be rectified, but rather destroyed. New systems need to be built from the ground up, and this is the idea that inspired my most recent series, "Anthology of the Cold Night." 

This series, as it stands, features 5 short stories and a novella which I am still writing. This series has almost exclusively female characters, and addresses the issue of slavery and trafficking, especially that of sex-trafficking. I am aware that authors should not be preachers, and that is not what I am aiming for in this story of lesbian warriors and priestesses. Although both women and men are victims of sex-trafficking, it is statistical fact that women suffer more for their sex/gender than men do. Any strides taken to give women more freedom will inherently benefit men, too. That is what I want to show in my stories. Almost every woman I know has been raped or sexually assaulted/aggravated by a man in their life. That is something that NEEDS to be addressed in current media. 

A lot of writers are afraid to brand themselves as feminist or gay writers. I strive to brand myself as a lesbian feminist writer, because I know how desperate I feel when I pick up a book that seems to have a strong female lead in it, and the heartbreak that comes over me when she loses every sense of autonomy and sleeps with and then bows down to the men in the story. (I would like to iterate here that gay, and trans men and women are not included in this generalization). 

So while I don't want to rewrite my first novel, I have drafted it not only include more female characters, but to expand on the ones who were there already. My future endeavors go forth with feminism and slavery at the forefront of my mind, and I encourage any female/lgbt+ defined writers to embrace these ideas. 

As always, I am open for discussion and thoughts about this. Stay tuned for a small excerpt of the Wolfena novella, and thank you to anyone who has read this. 

Fantasy Indulgence

Writing has always been a form of escapism for me, as it is for so many others. For the three and a half years before I began writing my first novel, the only writing I did was for school. It was a long creative block where I forgot how much I enjoyed storytelling.

When I first ventured into "The Ascent of Avedis," I found a world where I belong. This story and the stories which all center around it have evolved greatly in the nearly 4 years since its inception. I graduated from college, came out as a lesbian, and decided to make writing one of the topmost priorities in my life. Learning that I was gay changed my perspective deeply when it came to storytelling. I began to realize that myself and people like me were abhorrently absent from mainstream media. I searched the depths of Netflix and the internet for every alternative story I could find, and I learned that there is something very particular that people in the LGBT+ community, along with other marginalized groups, are searching for.

We want stories who happen to have gay characters, not necessarily stories about 'coming out.' Those who are already out of the closet live a life just like anyone else. Being gay plays into the day to day of things, but just as often it can be perfectly irrelevant. There's a difference between a 'gay person' and a 'person who is gay.'

The characters in my stories are not 'gay characters'; they are characters who just happen to be gay. Some of them have romance, some don't. I want the people reading my work to feel as if they have a place, like they belong, like they're not alone. As we face both social progression and regression in the USA and throughout the world, sharing stories about alternative communities is more important than ever, and that is my goal.

It is true that I was a different person when I wrote the first manuscript of TAOA, and that piece of writing still reflects that person, but with characters and themes added along the way during my evolution.

I encourage/invite anyone who happens across this little blog post to share their thoughts on this matter. This is an open, reaching out to writers and readers of the LBGT+ community, and a safe space to share.

Welcome to Ismenara.
Read an excerpt from "The Ascent of Avedis."