BryonySeries "Before The Blood" Prequel

I was still in the drafting and editing phases for the BryonySeries original trilogy (2009 to 2010) when I began to seriously consider writing a prequel.

Because the prequel is mostly historical fiction with supernatural undercurrents, the initial research alone took several years.

At the time, I saw the prequel as one novel (which it is). But I struggled to find the best protagonist for the story, since no one character possessed the overarching "best perspective."

I finally decided to tell the story from the point of view from four main characters (each character would have his or her own section) with the storylines weaving and crisscrossing - until all four appeared together in the final section like a 1970s disaster movie.

I was well into the writing when Rebekah suggested publishing each section as a separate installment, since each section was really five incomplete novels that comprised one larger (and also incomplete) novel.

The initial research continued several years until I finally began any serious writing in January 2014. More research continued throughout the writing and initial editing process until the end of 2018.

I had entire the novel ready to go before publishing the first volume in January 2019. And then released each installment in two-month segments, working on each segment in those quiet spaces.

We called it "Before The Blood" because the action tells the back story before the three main BryonySeries vampires became vampires (although one is actually turned in BTB) and the events that led to the vampirism in the first place. 

The fourth character is Bryony herself, who only appears in the prequel, despite the entire series bearing her name.

Sue Midlock, who creates all The Adventures of Cornell Dyer art, worked with me to create a cover concept with a nineteenth century feel.

Christopher Gleason, cover artist for "Staked!" and "Snowbell," created five frontispieces for each volume. The colors are stunning; and we considered publishing them in color, but the cost was prohibitive.

However, you may enjoy them on the BryonySeries Facebook page.

And Colleen H. Robbins shared her editorial skills to find areas to polish that my own editing missed.

Here is the description for each book.

Browse - and enjoy!

Before The Blood

"Before The Blood" is a five installment prequel to the original "drop of blood" trilogy. It's part historical fiction, part gothic fiction, and part tragedy as it centers on four key characters and how they ruin their lives.

Its tagline reads: "Step into the past when dreams were still bright and the future was unwritten."

Before The Blood: John Simons

In Book One, read how nineteenth century pianist/composer John Simons goes from riches to rags to riches, and the price he pays along the way.

Before The Blood: Kellen Wechsler

In Book Two, read how Kellen Wechsler goes from rags to riches, and the lives he discards along the way.

Before The Blood: Bryony Marseilles

In Book Three, read how little Bryony Marseilles, spoiled sheltered, and sickly, uses her introversion and imagination to make sense of her Utopia.

Before The Blood: Henry Matthews

In Book Four, read how Henry Matthews goes from rags to riches and what he sacrifices to serve the riches.

Before The Blood: Bryony Simons

In Book Five, read how Bryony Simons and those she loves destroy their dreams.

Before the Blood 

Get all five installments in one volume for a lower overall price. Just be aware the paper is white as opposed to cream and the print is very, very small.

Construction Notes for the Character of Bryony Marseilles

In early June 2015, I stayed a couple of days at a charming Victorian bed and breakfast, where I spent a few hours in the parlor that first morning and built the character of Bryony Marseilles.

I found these buried notes this past week while working on entries for the BryonySeries guidebook and read them for the first time since I wrote them in 2015.

Up until 2015, Bryony was a shadow in her own series, even though "drop of blood" protagonist Melissa Marchellis was obsessed with her memory to the point of assuming Bryony's persona in her vampire-staged reality.

So what better setting to bring Bryony out of the shadows than in her home state (Michigan) in a home with Simons Mansion elements, where Bryony would live the most noteworthy years of her life.

But to construct Bryony, I also had to construct her parents, for every back story in Before The Blood started with the parents, where all back stories ultimately begin. 

I also needed to construct a very stark and primitive Munsonville, which was barely settled when Bryony's parents arrive.

I already knew that her father Galien was a minister and her mother Adele died when Bryony was three years old. I knew that Bertha Parks, the parsonage's housekeeper, stepped into a mothering type of role.

Before typing anything, I pondered on what I did know about Bryony (scant details already written and published) and how to expand the details into her character.

I turned to my long-buried, adolescent interest in astrology and decided to entwine Bryony with the fishing village. I chose a birthdate that made her a Pisces and used lake and fish imagery to fashion her personality and beliefs.

Re-reading these notes this week, I was struck at how remarkably true I stayed to them. I think the only digression was that Bryony never fell in love with either of the Scandinavian twins (she was more intimidated and fascinated by them), although her best friend had unrequited love for one of them.

I also never used the quote from John Simons. But he implemented it.

Temporarily.

Bryony and John's marriage was wonderful when her lake rolled to his shore, the place where two extremely disimiliar people could temporarily meet.

But lakes also roll away from the shore in smaller waves, with deeper mystery.

Here then are the initial, rough notes I made (in all their randomness and typos) on that beautiful summer morning.

Happy scrolling!

The long hours caused a setback, and Galien had forbidden Adele

Adele, her feminism and their premarital sex experiences and Galien, meeting, marriage after Adele is pregnant. She battles persistent bad health due to rhema feer after bought of scarlet fever. Ashamed and moves to Munsonville. 

When had Musnonville begun?

Munsonville is pretty new. Need a back story for it. and a reason for Galien to be sent there. Both of them are intellectuals and possibly older individuals that have Bryony a little later in life.

Very wilderness liek. Cottages for fishing and that's about it. A few homes begin to dot the hill, one store.

Need a back story about how Galien and Adele met, fell in love, conversed. They're vegetarians 

Owen Munson is there? He is mayor.

 Ann’s research highlighted an obscure fact about the village’s origins. Nearly two hundred years before Owen Munson visited the area, French fur trapper and fisherman Pierre Sicard established a small community that never thrived. During a trip to North America, Owen Munson purchased some land, assumed control, and named it after him.

Adele has poor health, they had sex anyway and feel guilty about the sin. Galien wants to be a minister, IS a minister at a church, and they are not married. Want a fresh start. He shares his dilemna with a friend who taught at the Need a back story for the historical Jenson, Shelby, and Thornton. The friend mentions the new settlement that wants to build a church and needs a minister to care for it. A hurried marriage in Thornton (Shelby is much younger) and Galien and Adele transplant themselves to Munsonvillle. (belongs in chapter 2). they live in a fishing cottage while waiting for the church adn parsonage to be compelted

Adele likes to sketch; they both like to read.

Scarlett fever

Adele, her feminism and their premarital sex experiences and Galien, meeting, marriage after Adele is pregnant. She battles persistent bad health due to rhema feer after bought of scarlet fever. Ashamed and moves to 

CHAPTER 2: THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH. Bryony’s earliest childhood years, Adele’s sickness and death, and Galien’s new role as mother/father. Views Adele’s death as punishment from God and is super strict with Bryony. 

SHOW that they shun meant.

   lived in a four-room cabin on the lake.

The ngihmare of symtpoms. GAlein did waht and ebruned her sheets at the end left ehr limp, we adn what.

   Bryony came home int hepsring and Galein set her aout side, ,up  the child dance dbatou ehr fett. 

Bryony’s earliest childhood years, Adele’s sickness and death Views Adele’s death as punishment from God and is super strict with Bryony. 

Shotgun marriage

Pregnancy and early years of marriage

Adele as mother and Galien as co-parent father

Building a church together

(reading with his head on her lap)

Bryony is ho june 5, 1892 brony is 17 Dec. 24, 1893 Bryony is 18.

Bryony is born 1875.

Bryony (Feb. 19) Water and fish are the biggest metaphors

Ethereal 

Dreamer

Makes connections others don't see

Sees below the surface

Intuitive

Swim through life: with the flow or against it?

Kind to friends and strangers

What you see isn't necessarily what you get, much swims below the surface

She is the shy (?) one in the corner listening, especially true at the Munsonville Socoety for the Humanities meetings.

Listens to people's problems

Is trustworthy

Escapes through daydreaming or reading

Swims away from her problems?

Emotions are complex, fluid, stormy, changeable. 

Her challenge is to discern between truth and mirage.  (John faithful, not unfaithful)

Vivid imagination

Fascinated with the green-blue lake

She is the lake, John is the land, very different to each other, the magic is where they meet, the conflict is where they don't

When the honeymoon period ends, Bryony is wary of leaving Munsonville.

Daydreams of love growing up, love is a daydream

Bryony’s actual marriage to John is gentle rain, thunderstorms, retreat, ebbing away

She gives everything when it comes to love…except leaving Munsonville and her father.

Bryony wants the fairytale romance in the woods with John. John wants her to roam the world with him. He sees Simons Mansion as their retreat sanctuary. Eventually, they both view it as prison.

Bryony is in love with one of the twins, then Henry, and then with John.

To John, there is an aura of mystery around Bryony, a pureness, and a subtle distance that intrigues him. 

Bryony shrugs off emotional jams or arguments with John, to the point of minimizing the depth of his need behind his requests, can be evasive and even avoidant. John counteracts this with his blunt, brief, candid directness (think morning room scene where he overturns the table when Bryony casually announces she is not going).

She is physically weak, but psychically strong. (John sees the capability, the Reverend Marseilles sees the limits).

Easily forgives

Is lonely if the important person in her life, John, leaves her alone to take care of her life when her life is a mess. She interprets this as lack of concern and love on his part. (Why she reaches out to Henry).

Swimming with the currents, her life in Munsonville as she has always known it, Bryony is most relaxed. She resists John pulling her against that current for a broader life.

Needs a lover, John, to safeguard her and give her security. It seems John wants to provide this. He wants Bryony to find it in him. She does, but the pull of Munsonville and her father’s wish she stay is strong.

John tries to be her optimal partner: a man that can inspire her to be larger and protect her while doing it, to ground her in her unrealistic fantasies, to help her achieve.

More comfortable and at home drifting with the Munsonville currents

Copes by floating away in her own world

Not a leader

A friend to all

Has trouble saying no

Supportive

The scent of the lake turns her on.

Sex and love are the same for her (at girst)

With a heavy heart, Galien shouldered the task of becoming father and mother to Bryony as well as chief housekeeper.

How managed daily life with a child beside him . What their daily life consists of

Galien's struggles to maintain his vegetarian principles. He reads a lot. Misses company of Adele won't find it in other women so begins the Musnovnilel Scoiety for the HJuamnites men only no owmenb.

He reads constantly, so Bryony asks him to teach her how to read, impatient with being read to so she can read on her own like he does too.

What he cooks for her

He also reads stories. Her favorite Bible stories have to do with fisherman.

Bryony lieks to sketch and is ecurged to sketh wwhat she sees. Precosious devlepmet.

She learns to read and reads aloud to her father while lying in his lap. Galien recreates Adele 's habits as much as possible in Bryony.

Housekeeping suffering. STruggled to keep up.

 "Reverend Marseilles," Bertha Parks said as she removed the mop form his hand. "I am here to help."

 Wityh a tremendous sigh of relilg, Galien relinquished his weapon to the woman soon to become general of his household.

Has chlorosis: Health: headaches, breathless, blue tinge (iron-deficient anemia)

Propfessor friend start visitnh Galien and eventually brings more friends. Bryony stays close by. Bertha Parks comes to help with the housework.

Bryony's preschool years at home with Galien: what were they like

Bryony is reading in preschool by Galien

Her favorite Bible stories have to do with fishermen

Has sketches that Adele did; Bryony likes to sketch, too.

Psudo-incestuous (reminscent of The Cenci, study)

Mother Goose

Grimm's Fairy Tales

Aesop's Fables

End with Bertha Parks bullying her way into the household.

Housekeeping suffering. STruggled to keep up.

Needs to use her creativity

Dedicates herself wholly to the tasks at hand (even Reverend Marseilles’ parsonage work).

Has a difficult time setting forth a course of action for themselves. Floats along with  child-like trust fate will guide her the right way. Needs guidance and grounding.

John handles all money affairs.

Bryony handles Bryga

Loves Anna to the moon and back but lacks the inner discipline to discipline her. Can be a child right beside Anna and share too much about her life with John. Anna eagerly soaks it up.

Needs to be near a body of water, needs to be near Lake Munson and Munsonville. Is grounded there.

Not one to exercise much because of poor health

Simple clothing as a child. John chooses bold fashionable clothing for her in marriage.

“Time for the mermaid to step onto shore,” John said.

Watermelon Yarn

This week is unintentionally evolving into a watermelon week.

Yesterday I posted a novel way to eat watermelon. So in keeping with that theme, today I will post a watermelon story that appears in two BryonySeries books.

Context: Eleven-year-old Bryony Marseilles and her strict father live alone in a big house. Bryony doesn’t realize she’s lonely until she spends three months with a large family of girls at their farm. For the first time, Bryony can run free and enjoy the company of her peers. She learns people and situations aren’t always what they seem – and that people, even Bryony, change.

In this excerpt below, Bryony enjoys her first taste of watermelon with her summer farm family. And that watermelon is served up with a watermelon "yarn" from Munsonville founder Owen Munson.

This excerpt appears in two BryonySeries books: Summer Sisters and Before The Blood: Bryony Marseilles. 

For another of Owen's yarns,, read this post (with introduction) of Stingy Jack.

The next morning, the mustangs were gone, and beef showed up on the breakfast table.

            "Don't be sad, Bryony," Rose said. "That's why the Grandpa Clyde and Mr. Munson break them, to sell them."

            "Every horse?"

            "There'll be more."

            To celebrate, Grandpa Clyde dug up the first watermelons ever grown on Fisher Farm, hauled them in a wheelbarrow to the fields where the girls were weeding, and then sent Robbie to fetch Mrs. Fisher and the little girls.

            "Oh my! Oh my!" Mrs. Fisher exclaimed at the sight of the juicy scarlet flesh, laid out across the makeshift table of boards and sawhorses and practically begging to be eaten.

            WHACK!

            Mr. Munson's saw knife split the watermelon and rapidly fabricated it into slices.

            Grinning at Mrs. Fisher, Grandpa Clyde brought forth another melon.

            WHACK! Mr. Munson quickly chop-chopped.

            Grandpa Clyde grabbed the largest wedge. "Here, Maybelle."

            "Uncle Clyde, I can't...it's not my place..."

            "Now, Maybelle. Your hungry girls are pining for their first bite."

            "But..."

            "So please respect the tender conscience of an old man, and decide if his first attempts are worthy of consumption."

            WHACK!

            "Clyde, you're too polite," Owen said over another WHACK! "Maybelle, eat the damn thing already. I, for one, don't intend to languish."

            "Well..."

            All eyes watched Maybelle as she bit into the tender rosy flesh. The look on her face wasn't enjoyment.

            It was rapture.

            "Anything like Mississippi watermelons?" Grandpa Clyde reached for large chunk and gestured for the girls to follow.

            "Mmm, hmmm."

            Mrs. Fisher devoured the watermelon, expertly spat out the seeds to the astonishment of the girls, and frantically licked her fingers.

            The slices disappeared as fast as Mr. Munson cut them, with Mr. Munson eating more than any two people, although Robbie gnawed wedge after wedge to the rind with the speed of a hardworking beaver.

            "We're spoiling our appetites for supper," Maybelle wiped her dripping chin with her sleeve.

            "So we spoil our appetites." Mr. Fisher stole another slice. "We'll have bread and cheese and no kitchen clean-up."

            Bryony spat seeds with the rest and wondered how Reverend and Mrs. Parks might react if they could see her acting so common. Susan consistently sprayed farther than anyone, a feat that didn't escape Mr. Munson as he chopped the watermelon.

            "Clyde," Mr. Munson sighed. "I haven't seen seed-spitting this fine since the time we turned an entire city against us because of our watermelons."

            "A likely story," Daisy said.

            "What! Clyde, you never told these beautiful young ladies about our magnificent watermelon patch?"

            "Must've slipped my mind."

            Daisy still looked skeptical. "You're making it up."

            Mr. Munson slapped his hand to his chest. "Upon my beating heart, Miss Daisy, I swear, I'm telling the truth. Now if everyone will gather under that white bush yonder," he pointed to a Japanese lilac, "while I polish off the last of this delectable melon, I will share our strange tale. Clyde, if I forget a detail or two, feel free to chime in."

            "Whatever you say, Owen."

            Bryony eased onto the grass. Her stomach rolled like waves in the lake. Shallow breaths were safer.

            Maybelle reclined against the tree and clasped her hands over her huge abdomen, Marigold curled up near her legs and pillowed her hands.

            Daisy plucked grass; Lilac panted through gaping mouth; Ivy silently gagged;  Rose clenched her fists and closed her eyes.

            "My tummy hurts," Heather announced.

            Mr. Fisher faced the bean fields and hugged his knees.

            Robbie was snoring. Susan was petting Blue.

            Mr. Munson spat out the last seeds and then sprawled beside Clyde, who lay on his back and watched the clouds.

            "It was the winter of eighteen something, January, I think, and your Grandpa Clyde and I were footin' around back east. On a whim, we bought a big ol' field that was going cheap. And on that field was a little green house. Now, what do you suppose we found in the cellar?"

            "Watermelons," Heather said.

            Mr. Munson tweaked her cowgirl hat. "Wrong! There were turnips and rutabagas and potatoes, and pickles and preserves that weren't as good as your ma's and apple cider that was far, far, far better than your Grandpa Clyde's."

            "Thanks, Owen."

            "So your Grandpa Clyde said to me, 'Owen, we could live like kings off the rations until spring,' and I said, "Clyde, we could.' So we set up the checker board and didn't budge for three months, except to venture into the cellar for more cider and provisions."

            "What about firewood?" Ivy asked.

            "Didn't I mention firewood? "

            "No," Daisy said.

            "Oh. Well, there was a huge stack in the cellar. We had plenty all winter."

            "And meat?"

            "Miss Daisy, we had plenty of meat. Any critters sneaking into our basement and hoping to winter with us was skewered and roasted over the fire. That job fell to your Grandpa Clyde, because he kept losing at checkers."

            Grandpa Clyde snickered and slid his hat over his face.

            "Finally, the only item left in the cellar was a burlap sack."

            "A body!" Daisy cried excitedly.

            "Watermelon seeds!"

            "Wha...watermelon seeds?"

            "Miss Daisy, those watermelon seeds gave us the best summer of our lives. We planted, hoed, weeded, and by summer we had splendid watermelons: dark green on the outside and crimson-red on the inside, with seeds so black they looked like flecks of the devil's soul."

            A snort broke out under Grandpa Clyde's hat.

            "Now what do you think we did?"

            "Ate them?" Heather asked.

            "Ate them? We sold them!"

            "Oh."

            "Hundreds and hundreds! Nobody had seen fruit so sweet and ripe. Everyone spent so much on watermelon and giving away prizes for seed-spitting contests, the town went broke. The officials called an important meeting and unanimously passed a law against selling watermelon, and do you know why?"

            No one answered.

            "Because they said it was the devil's fruit, and everyone knows the devil's fruit causes frightful shakes and aches."

            "You had to stop?" Lilac whispered.

            Mr. Munson's face softened.

            "Miss Lilac, it takes a lot more than a silly law and fever or two to stop your Grandpa Clyde and me. For every watermelon we moved out of that field, we set a mossy boulder in its place. Day by day, the townspeople grew more frightened of our field. On July nineteenth an angry mob showed up. And that," Mr. Munson crossed his heart, "is the very last time I tasted watermelon. Until today."

            Ivy's eyes opened wide. "Were you hurt?"

            "They set fire to our watermelon field, but your grandpa and I were already an easy mile away, each of us carrying a sack of money and a sack of watermelon seeds. But we did stop to watch the thick smoke overtaking the sky. Foolish townspeople!"

            Mr. Munson ruefully shook his head.

            "Because they didn't understand watermelons?" Rose asked

            "Because they kept growing their fire, bigger and bigger, until it reached the candle factory, where they stored the saltpeter. The explosion destroyed the town. All they had left was a burnt field of rocks."

            "If that's true," Daisy said, "why didn't it make the papers?"

            "It did make the papers, well, all except the watermelon part. And who can blame them?"

            "I'm glad you and Grandpa Clyde got away."

            "That we did, Miss Lilac, although..."

            Mr. Munson shifted his gaze over the quivering form of Grandpa Clyde.

            "Although, what?" Daisy asked.

            "I don't know, Clyde. Is it wise to tell them?"

            Grandpa Clyde removed his hat. His eyes were merry. "Owen, you've gone this far..."

            Mr. Munson leaned in. "Can you keep a secret?" he whispered.

            They nodded.

            "We never spent our watermelon money. Eventually, they brought the town back to life and built big banks smack over our old watermelon field. So we invested our money in those banks."

            "Why? Stupid, mean town."

            Grandpa Clyde sat up. "Daisy, a good farmer always puts his money back into his field. And speaking of fields, Owen."

            On cue, Robbie awakened and rubbed his eyes.

            Mr. Munson sprang to his feet, swept off his cowboy hat, and bowed low.

            "Alas, my toils are not yet complete. And so, adieu, adieu, adieu!"

            Robbie disassembled the "table." The other three men headed to the fields: Mr. Fisher with his hands in his pockets; and Mr. Munson laughing, joking, and slapping Grandpa Clyde on the back.

Fifty-Two Minutes of Summer

"She was the lake."

This is the opening line of the third chapter in the third installment of the BryonySeries novel Before The Blood.

And it kept running through my head through the fifty-two minutes I spent immersed in Falls Lake, North Caroline a few weeks ago.

I don't know if early childhood experiences shaped my love for water or if that love is something innate

All I know is that summer, for me, is associated with water, and summer is never summer without swimming, lakes, oceans.

I've been married twice and both husbands were afraid of water. So out of respect, we never engaged in activities that might trigger that fear.

I didn't travel during the pandemic, so no Falls Lake for me.

The last time I saw Falls Lake was 2019. And I remember thinking as I paddled in the waters that a year was a long time, but not really, that 2020 would be here before I knew it.

Well, we all know what happened in 2020.

But then circumstances prevented my from traveling in 2021.

As the summer of 2022 was closing, I couldn't believe another summer was to vanish without being truly summer.

But Timothy and I finally had an opportunity to fly to Raleigh for a couple of days shortly after Labor Day to see my father who is not well.

Four of us (Timothy, Sarah, Lucas, and me) had our lunch one day by the lake. And then we had fifty-two minutes to enjoy the lake before we had to leave.

Timothy snapped this photo shortly before we headed to the restrooms to change.

Fifty-two minutes isn't a long time.

But it was fifty-two minutes I didn't think I'd have this year.

And it must do until 2023.

10 Quotes from "Before The Blood: Bryony Marseilles"

When we were getting ready to release Bryony back in 2011, my daughter Sarah (who did a lot of the marketing for me) suggested I pull thirty teaser quotes from the book that she could post on Facebook, one each day.

We did the same for the second book, Visage, which is also part of the BryonySeries.

But for some reason, I never did the same for another book.

So now I am catching up.

Here is the synopsis and chapter headings for the third installment of the BryonySeries prequel Before The Blood, followed by 10 quotes, one from each chapter.

"Before the Blood" is a five-novel prequel to the BryonySeries "drop of blood" trilogy. Told in multiple points of view with Faustian elements, "Before the Blood" centers on the lives of four key characters and the choices that ultimately lead to a tragic ending. In Book Three, read how little Bryony Marseilles, spoiled, sheltered, and sickly, uses her introversion and imagination to make sense of her Utopia.

And look - Blogger kept the book font intact!

Enjoy!

BRYONY MARSEILLES

CHAPTER 1: WORM IN THE APPLE

"It's far from ideal, especially in her condition," Algernon said as he and Galien spread out blankets in thick layers. "But it wouldn't do to have you at the parsonage, you understand."

Galien nodded and stacked the satchels against the wall on top of the first layer.

 

"Not that I have any objection," Algernon quickly added. "But my sister keeps house for me, and you know how women's tongues can wag."

To Adele's delight, Galien blushed again, quite deeply red this time

CHAPTER 2: THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH

On clear days, Galien ventured to the general store for Belinda Drake's coffee and news. On stormy days, he and Adele stayed close by the fire, reading, studying, journaling, drinking tea, and ignoring the desperate howls of starving wolves.

Yet at the end of the day, regardless of weather, Galien knew no finer recreation than lying across the sofa, no pillow more luxurious than Adele’s soft lap, and no angel’s hymn sweeter than Adele’s voice as she read aloud from Chaucer.

CHAPTER 3: BREATH OF LIFE

She was the lake, and the lake was she.

From deep beyond deep, it called to her from depths, and her chest rose and fell its answer. Sometimes its waves were gentle and easy; sometimes they were short and choppy; sometimes they were rapid, harsh, and heaving with spume.

CHAPTER 4: BABY STEPS.

They fled with little more than the clothes they were wearin', on a stolen wagon and stolen horses, sick horses that died where they fell.

So they'd walked the rest of the way. Wasn't the first time.

Mister Munson didn't want particulars. He jest stood there, grinnin' under his bushy mustache as he pushed back his cowboy hat and askin' the one question that made all the diff'rens: Are you willin' to work?

And Sebbie, drunker than a skunk on the Fourth of July with the last of their pilferin's, had hung his head, which made him look shorter than what he was, and said, "Yes."

Then Mister Munson slapped his back and said, "Welcome to Munsonville."

The look on Sebbie's face as he slowly looked up...it was the first and only time she'd seen tears in her husband's eyes.

It was also the first and only time anyone ever welcomed them. Mostly, people put boot toes up their asses.

CHAPTER 5: A MOST PERFECT PLACE TO LIVE

Dr. Stone snickered and shook his head in a pitying way, while tapping his ashes against the tray. "Come, come, Algernon. You speak of Man's nobility in the same breath as a cast-off rib."

"You can't deny some women complement their husbands in terms of intelligence, diligence, and temperance," Professor Clarke addressed the group, but his gaze rested on Dr. Stone. "Man's mission to the world is enhanced when the rib fits perfectly. Much like the glass slipper on Ashputtel, wouldn't you agree, Sebastian?"

"I wouldn't know anything about it," Mr. Betts said glumly, which caused all the men to laugh.

CHAPTER 6: THE MYSTERIOUS, MIRACULOUS MEDICAL BAG

"So Dr. Gothart," Dr. Sidney Stone said, and Bryony sat attention. "What's the latest from Europe?"

"The debunking of bloodletting for most conditions...finally."

A low rumbling of male voices responded and then silence. Bryony learned forward as much she dared.

"Come, come, Dr. Gothart," Dr. Stone said. "You don't propose to abandon clinical experience and empirical observation for the theories of pathology and physiology?"

"Microscopes and their specimens don't lie."

"Neither does clinical experience and empirical observation."

CHAPTER 7: DOUBLE VISION

Bryony grabbed a spoon and started on the bite-sized pieces of beef, drenched in a puddle of their blood. They were raw, messy, so unlike the white pureness of fish.

CHAPTER 8: THE DARK SIDE OF PROGRESS

"Miss Daisy, we had plenty of meat. Any critters sneaking into our basement and hoping to winter with us was skewered and roasted over the fire. That job fell to your Grandpa Clyde, because he kept losing at checkers."

Grandpa Clyde snickered and slid his hat over his face.

 

"Finally, the only item left in the cellar was a burlap sack."

 

"A body!" Daisy cried excitedly.

"Watermelon seeds!"

CHAPTER 9: THE DREADED CURSE BEGINS

Mrs. Parks gasped and dropped the plates, scattering food and fragments everywhere. Reverend dashed to the coat rack. Bryony flew after him and grabbed her cloak.

Reverend whirled around. "Daughter, what are you doing?"

"Going with you."

"Absolutely not!"

"Try and stop me, Father!"

To her amazement, Reverend sighed as he accepted his bag from Mrs. Parks, who had scuttled to his office to retrieve it.

"Very well, Bryony, but I'm warning you. A man's sick room is not a romantic place to be."

CHAPTER 10: CHILLED

Cyrus demanded an inn. Sebastian didn't object; no one did.

"I promised to make Munsonville grow," Sebastian said. "And I am."

"You are," Reverend agreed.

Damn him.

Ed Calkins Reviews all Five Volumes of "Before The Blood"

So right before WriteOn Joliet's meeting began on Thursday night, I received this "telegram" from Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara, who is now a full-fledged, dues-paying member of the group.

Two weeks ago, I read an excerpt from Ruthless to everyone present. I'd placed it in the group's drive about a month or so ago. When the time came to raed it, Ed had joined and happened to make that meeting.

I'm not certain what prompted such a generous review. I guess Ed felt one good turn deserved another.

And I guess I have TWO super fans, now.

Dear MOMI,

My first COVID-19 shot didn't go well, or went perfectly depending on perspective. I'm sick, which means the vaccine is working expect I feel like dying. I need to sleep this off.

What I was going to read today is my review of your series, “Before the Blood.” Here is that review. Try not to roll your eyes.

Book review on “Before the Blood,” written by Denise M. Baran-Unland as reviewed by the Ruthless Ed Calkins.

This series, like the BryonySeries, is all about the author’s greatest and most ruthlessly beloved character, Ed Calkins, the vampire writing this review. At least that’s what I was all ready to say.

I will admit it might be a tad bit improper to start a book review before reading the work I’m evaluating, but, had I not, this review would write itself. It might be a small bit heavy handed of me to berate the author for not including me, her favorite character, in her five-part series, which would naturally compel me to criticize her or her work, or at very least insist that this series, much like the BryonySeries to which this is a prequel, is actually all about me, whether the reader and author realize it or not. I imagined claiming that the no- once mentioned Ed Calkins was the elephant in every room, not written about because he’s too ruthless for adequate words.

But then, I had another humbling thought. Maybe I should get over myself and read what was written instead of imagining what it might say. Maybe a work, crafted by a skilled writer could be found interesting without referencing or implying my personage.

With this in mind, I read the series; all five volumes, determined to be nonprejudicial. I read unassumingly, as if I had no idea who the author was or that she even ever knew the most ruthless of vampires as to give a fair and balance view of the story as the words themselves told it, to render an impartial verdict that I could back up with direct text from the piece.

The words I read betrayed all that. “Before the Blood” really is all about me! I’ll circle back to that point.

The work is divided unevenly between three will-be vampires, a maiden, and another character who is as crucial as is overlooked; each intertwining in complex ways that mirror the characters themselves. Each holds its intrigue beyond the carefully crafted spirit of the late eighteen hundreds to one hundred years later where the BryonySeries takes over.

The first volume is devoted to the master piano genius, John Simons. Against a backdrop of scandal and corruption of a fraternal industrialist aristocrat, he is raised, as if he belongs, with all of its privileges, expectations, pressures applied to him. He father is cold and distant, his assumed mother is warm, loving, and increasingly unbalanced. Among the swirls of parties, monetary clout, and improper liaisons between aristocrats and chamber maids, John grows to be tall, dark, and handsome with the dark being more his mood and motives. He plows through his father’s expectations to be his protégé, but his real aspiration is music. As a proficient piano player and composer, he impresses the top minstrel of his day, gaining him the expectation for musical greatness but starts a rift with his powerful father. First his heart is crushed by a temptress, then he is disowned by his father and banished to play in a seedy music hall where is talents go unappreciated. Hungry, overworked, and despairing, John meets the next character, Kellen Wechsler, who is at this point already a vampire. John’s book, the shortest one in the series, ends with a deal in blood, but his story carries through the other volumes as it touches all characters.

Kellen Wechsler’s story starts centuries earlier. He, too, is conceived out of wedlock by a war hero that Kellen would never meet. Born into peasantry, he is the poorest of the characters throughout is life and doesn’t know wealth until hundreds of years later. When he “turns,” it’s under quite gruesome circumstance, but he appreciates the difference of a life of hunger against an undead life of constant feeding opportunity. For hundreds of years, he is content to just feed until a would-be victim suggests that wealth and power might suit him. Kellen gets his own story confused in the way that is reminiscent of another vampire character and seeks out a psychiatrist to help him sort it all out. It’s his psychiatrist that introduces him to the idea of feeding on John Simons on a regular non-fatal perpetual tryst. But Kellen takes his eyes off the prize for a moment, just long enough for John Simons to find his own prize.

In the next volume, you meet that prize. Bryony Marseilles (her maiden name), and Bryony Simons, claims two volumes with their respective names, but this uneven coverage is mitigated as she shares the bulk of the text about the crucial but overlooked character I mentioned earlier. One could say that Bryony is drowned by this character’s charm and ruthlessness in much the way that she drowns many of those she loves. Bryony is as fatally loving and beautiful as the lake she names as herself. Like that lake, she never leaves the character she shares the story with. Again, I’ll revisit this point.

Bryony’s mother dies in the second chapter. Her young life is imprisoned, more by her view of the world, which contains only Munsonville’ then by the deliberate confinement of her cold, distant, over-protective, and disapproving father, who seems to believe the tragic females in his life are divine retribution. He does relent sometimes to his daughter’s wants and needs. Bryony’s health seems to require meat, something the residents have disavowed, but he reluctantly allows it. Also, with extreme resistance, he allows his daughter to go to a few parties and spend a summer with other girls her age. But his goal seems to be to keep her innocent by a type of captivity. He wants her never to leave, but he doesn’t express affection toward her or any real interest in her happiness. Despite this, Bryony has arguably the best past in the series.

The volume dedicated to Henry Matthews is between the two about Bryony and it starts with a queer kidnapping of his wealthy maiden by an impoverished street musician. The doubtful prisoner gives the man, Harold Mathews, a string of daughters before giving birth to the imaginative artist and writer, whose name bares the volume. Henry’s heath is bad, but his life of moving ahead of unpaid landlords and living off of stolen foods is nonetheless filled with love, not just his parents, but most of his older sisters. The mystique of Henry’s change of lifestyle is fertile ground for speculation but his writing talent is discovered, and he is extracted to a paradise-like dwelling, but not before his mother and sisters died of disease.

Henry is not what I expected. In John Simons’ volume, he is described as a dandy. His lack of interest in his fiancé might make one believe, as I did, that his sexual identity is queer. But his story lacks the trysts with other men that you might expect, instead focusing on halfhearted pursing of young women, both in lovers but also the daughters of his one surviving sister. All of this ends badly. Henry Mathews becomes a reporter, but the reach and power of his Uncle is continuously implied, rather than stated, in ways that will make you uneasy. Nothing of what happens next is directly explained in favor of tossed hints, casting shadows on what might seem obvious. Henry leaves his life for the amenity of Munsonville where he falls in love with a woman but fails to claim her as a wife.

The last and longest volume covers the least amount of time but cast shadows on all the other volumes. Inexplicably, as least on the surface, Bryony’s father consents to John Simons’ marriage to his daughter. Her new husband does not take her to his lavish home but instead builds a mansion in the middle of her hometown and hires many of her former friends. The new joys of marriage and wealth, however, are haunted by the shadows of a dark husband, trying to keep his new wife as innocent as her father had once. But Bryony is the lake, beautiful, but stormy. The mansion paradise with so many servants and rooms also has a room that is locked to her, and one of her “servant protectors” is a man who also loved her. Tragedy takes the village as was so common in both the series and the 1800’s where the story takes place.

Perhaps this review is taking too long to discuss the charming, ruthless character that haunts all five volumes.

I speak of Munsonville, the village where Bryony was born to a preacher and his wife who, like so many of their new neighbors, hope to never be found by their former lives. But the town isn’t built yet. Each resident takes up an ax to fell the trees that will build their new lives with such unselfishness that you want to forgive whatever they did to put themselves in hiding the first place. But their lives won’t forgive themselves. Each resident has a reason to abandon what he or she knew to come into an unknown village of little influence or notice. Only Bryony knows no other life it seems in a village where the bodies refuse to stay buried.

Now, I must speak about the elephant in every room in Munsonville. This series invites many theories and discussions about what, where, and whys that keep the volumes reread and the readers rethinking, but no one will disagree that the real back story here is the one about Ed Calkins. More to the point, the book is your back story too. Any of us that survived our youth by a hurried adulthood didn’t expect to want to know or care what is in a past until the bodies start to float up on to the lake’s surface. Munsonville is an American story of people that left the life they knew for reasons that may have hoped not to ever tell anyone. It’s a story that would have given the talk show host Maury ratings through the roof.

But the author isn’t going to give the dirt up if you, as a reader, don’t earn it. And that’s OK. If you wish to read the about love, betrayal, and vampires as if it’s the primary reason for the text, that’s fine. Personally, I’m not that interested in vampires, as the one I know best is kind of a jerk. Nonetheless, there is plenty of neck biting and horror to keep the undead aficionados reading for ages to come. Similarly, there is plenty of accurate history of the 1880s, complete with menus and dressing for parties, the miracle of the iron horse and the fading, but still, present wild west. But for anyone that has ancestors at that time, your own story is there for the picking. Be reminded of all the people who died back then, unknown with misery and disappointment, that might draw a tear to your eye; it’s not what you might expect from an undead horror story. A poet once told me in hard-to-read verse that the living bones of the people who lived before us were ground down to pave modern streets.

“Before the Blood” is a brilliant tapestry of tragedy and triumph, grief and grievance, and let us not forget love – for even the darkest characters love well their favorites. John has his tutor, Kellen has John, Bryony has her beloved summer sisters, and Henry has two sets of families that he embraces before….well, just “before.”

If you’re like me, you’ll want to read “Before the Blood” with someone willing to discuss it or, if you prefer, argue with – as you’ll surely miss some of the subtle clues. But in choosing a reading partner, you might skip any vampire who might have made up his mind before reading the piece.

Ruthlessly yours,

Ed Calkins, Steward of Tara

Spring

 I'm pretty certain I have spring fever.

The signs are all these: reveling in the cool breeze coming through my window as I write this blog, a higher than average eagerness to get outside and walk, and practically swooning to the giddy tweeting of birds in the yard.

So I decided to share some quotes about spring from great literature. As I'm doing an online search, and reading through some quotes, I thought, "Wait a minute. I've written a lot of stuff. How have I described spring in the BryonySeries?"

So in a rae moment of self-indulgence, I did a quick search through some of my books. 

The first two quotes are from the third installment of Before The Blood: Bryony Marseilles.

The third is from the fifth installment of Before the Blood: Bryony Simons.

The fourth is from the second installment of Before the Blood: Kellen Wechsler.

The last three are from the "drop of blood" trilogy: Bryony, Visage and Staked! - in that order.

While the world still grapples with a pandemic, it's to know that spring fever is the one afflication that might actually be good for us.

Have a beautiful spring Tuesday!

And Bryony would don her wraps, softly close the parsonage door behind her, and greet the cool Munsonville spring with a happy toss of her head and a blissful smile.

            "Hello, world," Bryony said softly.

On this day, giddy with springtime promise and her newly bestowed independence, Bryony sang All Things Bright and Beautiful under her breath as she trudged down the muddy path and over to Main Street.

When Bryony paused to catch her breath, she'd do so near a window, where she yearned to walk along the cobblestone, among the colorful buds poking through the damp earth, and smell the spring air blowing off the lake.

The warm winds of spring blew away winter's frigid ones. Again, Metta gathered twigs and broken branches until spring grew strong, and fire could sleep.  

Signs of spring arrived early that year in Munsonville. Red, yellow, and orange buds poked from their hiding places beneath the soil, although Melissa could not identify the flowers. In Grover’s Park, her mother planted mostly tomatoes and impatiens along the sides of the house, but Simons Mansion contained many gardens, each grouped by type or theme. 

One warm spring afternoon, Melissa did it. Perhaps the tender greenery sprouting up from the ground beckoned her, or perhaps the warm wisps of wind stirring the air also stirred inside Melissa her buried feelings for the past. Either way, when the final school bell for the day had rung, Melissa headed for the road leading to the former Simons estate. 

As winter melted into spring, Angela gradually weaned herself from the Wechsler residence to a larger world that did not interest Melissa. The more independent Angela grew, the more introspective Melissa became, until their worlds rarely collided. 

Stingy Jack

Happy Saturday readers, writers, and BryonySeries fans.

In honor of October and autumn fun, here's a short story excerpt from the third installment of Before the Blood.

It's the late nineteenth century in a fishing village in northern Michigan. The gathering is an all-age harvest party at Fisher Farm. The perspective is third person, from a sheltered nine-year-old's point of view, who's at the party with her aunt and uncle.

The storyteller is Owen Munson, the village leader. He just won a bottle of "Grandpa" Clyde Fisher's moonshine for winning a pumpkin carving contest.

If you'd like to know more of the Irish lore behind this piece of fiction, visit https://www.irishcentral.com/roots/history/jack-o-lantern-turnips-ireland

            Gradually, the men arranged the pumpkins, now grotesquely carved and lit with candles, around the bonfire, which now burned lower, less brightly.

            "Owen, come git yore prize!"

            Mesmerized, Bryony watched the flickering eyes of the cadaverous lanterns.

            "Now, you young'un's know the legend of the Stingy Jack?" Mr. Munson asked.

            The reply was a chorus of. "Noooo!"

            Immersed in the mystery of the night, Bryony could only watch Mr. Munson and shake her head.

            A sly expression crossed his face, and he took a swig from his well-earned bottle.

            "Well, it just so happens Stingy Jack's legend begins with a bottle just like this."

            Mr. Munson held it up for all to see.

           "Now everyone knows," Mr. Munson dropped his voice, "that the devil makes the best moonshine around." He raised his eyes and the bottle. "No slam, Clyde!"

            "None, taken!"

            "So Stingy Jack longed for some of the devil's brew, but he didn't want to ante up for it. 'Course, he wouldn't share that information with you-know-who. So he washed his face and combed his hair and knocked on the door of hell and told the devil he wanted to buy his best spirits."

            "'Why, come in, Jack,' the devil says, setting down his pitchfork and opening the furnace door wide. 'I've got just the thing.'"

            "So Jack goes inside, drinks up the sample, and says, 'Oh, ho, devil, you have to get up early in the morning to trick Old Jack. I said I wanted to buy your best spirits.' And Jack threw down the glass."

            Mr. Munson's eyes swept over the crowd. "Now what do you  s'pose happened to poor Jack?"

            No one answered. Bryony's mouth hung loose, and she shrank lower on her hay bale..

            "Well, the devil says, 'Why, Jack, you are a clever man. I only save the best spirits for the most worthy of drinkers.' And the devil brought in a fresh glass for Jack to taste.'

            "Jacks drinks it up, smacks his lips, and again throws down the glass. 'Mr. Satan,' Jack said, 'I'm beginning to think the tales about your moonshine are false. If you don't have anything better'n this, I'll be on my way.'

            "But as Jack turns to leave, the devil grabs him by the throat. 'Now, Jack,' the devil says, 'I'll have no dissatisfied customers, especially when they are as discerning as you. Wait here."

            Mr. Munson took a gulp and swiped his mouth on his shoulder.

            "So Jack waits, and he waits, and he waits, and he waits, and he waits. After a long, long wait, the devil trots in with a glass of the clearest brew Jack ever did see. Jack, delighted the devil finally brought forth the goods, savored that drink, sip by itty bitty sip, until he was done."

            Mr. Munson paused, grinning as wickedly as a Hoberdy lantern.

            "'Did you enjoy it?' the devil asked. "I've had better,' Jack said and turned to the door, only to find the door had disappeared into the flames, as had the walls and everything else except for him and Satan.

            "'It's time to settle your debt, Jack,' the devil softly said.

            "This frightened Jack, but he still was keen on outwitting the devil. 'Lookee here, Satan,' Jack said. 'I've somehow misplaced my wallet. If you just let me run home, I'll be back lickety-split with your money.'

            "'I'm afraid it's not that simple, Jack,' the devil replied.

            Mr. Munson took a gulp of Old Man Fisher's moonshine and a step toward the audience.

            "'You see, Jack, anyone who's tasted my prized spirits can no longer enter heaven, but because you tried swindling me, you ain't fit for hell, either.'"

            Mr. Munson moved closer to the hay hales.

            "This frightened Jack. He wished he never heard of the devil or his moonshine."

            Mr. Munson leaned close to the front row.

            "'There's only one way to pay for this, Jack. I'm gonna have to take..."

            He grabbed Freddie Betts' throat, and Freddie slid right off his bale and out of Mr. Munson's clutches.

            "Your soul! MUAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!"

              Freddie sprinted to the outhouse. With a snarl and a chuckle, Mr. Munson brought the bottle to his lips, leaned down, and scanned the faces before him.

            "Now that the devil had poor Jack's soul, he needed a place to stick it. So he sliced the top off a juicy pumpkin, gouged out some eye holes, and a nose hole, and a mouth hole so Jack could see the world he lost, stuffed Jack's soul in, and popped back the top."

           An invisible force lured Bryony's gaze to the rows of Hoberdy lanterns, their lost souls cavorting in hellfire and damnation.