Tag Archives: Yearning for Wonderland

Great Indie Books for Christmas

Books are great Christmas gifts – you know that, I know that…everyone should know that!

Books

© Lisa Shambrook

So the great #DFQ has compiled a list of some of the best indie books available this Christmas…look no further for the perfect book to give the person you love.

I can atest to the brilliance of some of these books, having read many of them myself. My personal favourites include:
Orison by Daniel Swensen, Edgar Wilde and the Lost Grimoire by Paul Ramey, Dead Sea Games by J. Whitworth Hazzard, Minstrel by Marissa Ames, Fog by Michael Wombat and I’m currently reading and loving The Complicated Geography of Alice by Jules Vilmur.
I can’t wait to bury myself within many more of the books upon this list…

And my two novels Beneath the Rainbow and Beneath the Old Oak are there accompanied by two of the anthologies I’ve also written for In Creeps the Night and Cutthroats and Curses.

So pop over to Yearning for Wonderland and feast your eyes upon The 2014 DFQ Literary Gift Guide a wondrous list of words and stories, you’ll find something to love!

DFQ Literary Indie Guide 2014

DFQ Literary Indie Guide 2014

Behind the Curtain: Laid Bare

Laid Bare
When they took her leading man they made a hollow of her heart, and left her soul an empty cavern. 
She danced, every night, as if her lover would return, as if he would appear from the wings and take her in his arms; she danced for him and for him only. 
Gauzy skirts caressed her legs as she traversed the stage, snowflakes shimmered on pale skin, and diamond-adorned tresses flowed down her spine as she teased the very air that tried to embrace her. 
Elegance and grace filled every step, and every gesture, and those who beheld her were enthralled, bewitched by the woman pirouetting and leaping across the stage. She seduced indifferently, smouldering beneath the spotlight’s halo, and the sparkling gems in her hair emulated tears that would never fall.
Music drove deep into her solitude, empowering her body to twist and turn, and rise and fall. Every plié drew sighs, pirouettes provoked awe and her arabesque inspired yearning, as the audience fell in love.
She danced in the wash of the moonlight on stage, the beam chasing her like an infatuated paramour as she stretched and rose to the orchestra’s crescendo. The theatre was rapt as the music surged and climaxed, and then she was on the floor, arms stretched over her head protecting her from the huge explosion of applause. She would rise, and pause like a doe caught in a stray shaft of light, her eyes opening wide to stare into the blackness, at the ocean of faces now standing in ovation. 
Every night her hand would move to shade her eyes and she would gaze out over the footlights, across the pit and stalls, she would scan the circle, the balcony and up into the gods, but every night was in vain. 
As the audience gave her their approval, her empty soul cried empty tears and when she was sure he wasn’t there she whirled and tiptoed off stage.
She stole hearts but nothing filled the void, and those purloined hearts, so freely given, were lost forever, adrift within the walls of her icy core. 
(351 Words)

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