Here is an illustration of what Mutter looks like once he turns into a River Man. I don’t have an illustration of him before he was genetically modified, when he was Mutter the Guard.
In the Lake of Sins series, Mutter is called Christian by Trinity (the main character). I had no intention of making Christian a major character but he had other ideas. That may seem a weird way of looking at things but let me explain something about me. I feel that the characters for all my current and future books reside in my mind. They are already individuals with likes and dislikes. My job as the writer is to get them to tell me about themselves. Some are open while others are shy. Christian/Mutter was not shy.
He kept pushing himself into the Lake of Sins series—kind of a whisper in my ear. “I could help in this scene. I’d do this in that scene.” In general, he was right. By adding him to the book more often he made it better, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. He continued to pester me until I wrote down his entire story. I think he is as happy as he is going to be, although there might be an end for him in the Lake of Sins series. I’m hoping his end will make him happy because he was a good Guard who had a rough life. He deserves some happiness.
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.
Available at Amazon
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.
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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4 comments:
Thanks for hosting my release day blitz.
Thank you for hosting.
Sounds like an interesting read.
Hi Havebook willsurvive,
Thanks. Let me know what you think after you read it. (Oh, love the screen name :)
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