First Frost Excerpt

Bianca got out of her car and ran inside the house. She called for her mother as she searched for her upstairs in all of the rooms. Nothing. She quickly ran downstairs and was ready to go down to the basement when a strange turquoise light caught her eye. She looked out the kitchen window; she couldn’t believe what she saw. Her mother was throwing what Bianca could only describe as balls of turquoise fireballs at a woman wearing a black hood. Bianca couldn’t see the woman’s face, but she could see her pale hands and slender fingers. Bianca tried to make sense of it all. She kept expecting to see a special effects crew to come out from behind the trees and tell her that it was all part of an elaborate prank. But no such thing happened. All she knew was that a strange turquoise flame was coming out of her mother’s hands. She knew that her mother sometimes read old dusty books on witchcraft, but she didn’t know she had actual powers. She thought about all the little quirks her mother had. Things that Bianca thought were essentially Rose. Her mother talked to plants and trees. She would sometimes stare off into space as though she were looking at something in another world. Something only she could see. She read tarot cards to random people and would tell them things about his or her life as though she were reading an open book. Bianca always thought she just made really lucky guesses. She chose not to believe in this other world and everything it stood for. Magic represented a life out of the norm, and Bianca desperately wanted to be normal. Just like everyone else. Bianca pulled herself out of her thoughts. As she looked at the blue and green flashes in the backyard, she quickly realized that this was something she couldn’t escape. Normal was no longer a part of her world. Normal was no longer an option for her. Bianca didn’t know what to do. She was frozen in place. She was afraid to distract her mother for even a second. She ducked behind the screen door; at least this way she could still hear what they were saying to each other. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come?” the witch shouted. “Oh, I knew you’d be back,” Rose replied. Bianca slowly lifted her gaze and peeked above the screen. She saw her mother standing behind the shed on the left side of their backyard. The witch was still too far away for her to get a good look at her, but Bianca could tell that she was on the far right corner of their yard. “Where’s the book?” the witch demanded. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rose replied with a smirk. “Don’t be coy with me. You know very well what I’m talking about.” “Sorry. I can’t help you.” Rose’s breathing was becoming more labored and she was drenched in sweat…obvious signs of exhaustion, but Bianca could tell by the look on her mother’s face that she wouldn’t give up. “The wards in the museum are impressive. I couldn’t get past them. But maybe…she’ll know where the book is,” the witch said as she looked in Bianca’s direction and threw a sickly olive-colored fireball at the screen door. Bianca shrieked and jumped out of the way. The screen door fell off its hinges and landed on the kitchen floor with a loud thud. “Bianca!” Rose screamed. © Liz DeJesus 2012 Purchase a copy of First Frost.

Work in Progress

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First Frost Excerpt

Chapter One

Bianca sighed in dismay. The vacuum cleaner was broken again. It was a black and blue monstrosity. When it did work properly, it pulled Bianca every which way whenever she turned it on. Sometimes she wondered what her mother would say if she bought a saddle for the vacuum cleaner and just rode it around the museum. But lately it was giving her problems. This was the second time this month that it refused to work. Bianca doubled-checked to make sure it was plugged into the socket properly, placed a new piece of duct tape on the cord and then tried to turn it on once more…still nothing.

“Stupid piece of crap,” she muttered under her breath. “Oh, God,” she groaned as she picked up the heavy vacuum cleaner and put it back in the utility room. She would have to tell her mother, Rose, about the broken machine after story time in the Princess Room.

The Princess Room was every bit as girly as the name entailed. It was a place that catered to little girls with hopes and dreams of being pretty little princesses. The walls were painted in pale pink. There was a forest painted on one of the walls and an enchanted castle on the opposite wall. There were small chairs and tables so the children could color after hearing a story. There was also a big round rug close to the stage in case the children wanted to sit on the floor. It was a very comfortable set up. The items in that room were more in the Hans Christian Andersen vein. Rose was worried that the items from the Grimm stories would frighten the younger kids. That was why Rose went to great lengths to make a tiny set with the characters from Thumbelina. Inside one of the display cases were items from the story The Little Mermaid. A comb made out of seashells, pearl earrings and bracelet set and pale aqua colored fish scales. In the furthest corner of the Princess Room was a huge Plexiglas case containing a few of the feather mattresses from The Princess and the Pea.

Bianca looked at the clock and sighed. It was nine fifty-five in the morning. She peeked into the room, and there were already ten little girls with their respective moms waiting for Rose the Storyteller. Three times a week, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, you could count on hearing a different fairy tale in the Princess Room.
Rose walked into the room wearing a pale pink conical hennin, which was a headdress in the shape of a cone that was worn by nobility in the Middle Ages. A long and wispy white veil was sown into the tip of the hennin and delicately trailed behind her. It amused Bianca to no end to see her mother wearing their work “uniform” and still look elegant with a princess hat. Bianca looked down at her own clothes. Their uniform at the museum consisted of khaki pants and a red polo shirt with a name tag pinned above her heart. Rose said it made them look professional. Bianca thought it made them look stupid, but that was her opinion.

“Good morning, everyone!” Rose said.

“Good morning,” all the children and their parents replied in unison.

“How are you on this beautiful summer day?” Rose asked as she took a seat and cradled a book of classic fairy tales against her chest. Bianca noticed how peaceful Rose looked when she held the book close to her body. Almost as if she wanted to absorb all of the words within its pages through osmosis…if that was at all possible she knew Rose would find a way to do it.
Everyone in the crowd replied with different answers.

“Fantastic,” she said with a cheerful smile. “Today, I’m going to read the story of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. This is a personal favorite of mine. I hope you all enjoy it.”

Rose and Bianca Frost ran the only children’s museum in town: The Museum of Magical and Rare Artifacts. It focused mostly on items that came out of fairy tales and other rarely-heard fables from other countries. As far as Bianca knew they were the only museum in the United States that had such items.

Bianca went to the supply closet, grabbed the Windex and a huge roll of paper towels. She figured if she couldn’t clean the carpet, she could at least clean the windows and the glass cases. She didn’t mind doing this menial job. Of course, it wasn’t her favorite thing to do, but she liked helping her mother any way she could. Bianca sprayed the blue cleaner on the glass case that held a small green pea and she listened to her mother’s melodic voice as she read the story of Snow White.

Her mother’s voice was clear and deep as she sat in front of a tin soldier and a ballerina figurine. For people who didn’t know the story about the Steadfast Tin Soldier, there was a copy of Hans Christian Andersen’s book of fairy tales on display inside the case open to the story about the brave tin soldier who risked everything for love.

“Once upon a time… in the depth of winter, when the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the clouds, a queen sat at her palace window, which had an ebony black frame, stitching her husband’s shirts. While she sat thus engaged and looking out at the snow, she pricked her finger and three drops of blood fell upon the snow. Because the red looked so well upon the white, she thought to herself, ‘Had I now but a child as white as this snow, as red as this blood and as black as the wood of this frame!’ Soon afterwards a little daughter was born to her, who was as white as snow, and as red as blood and with hair as black as ebony, and thence she was named Snow White. When the child was born, the mother died…”

Bianca mouthed the words her mother spoke. She knew every word by heart. Her mother had read every fairy tale imaginable to her since the day she was born. Bianca was amazed how quiet the kids were. She shook her head, unable to understand her mother’s ability to calm children down using only the sound of her voice. Anytime Bianca had to step in and take over story time, the children would stand up, talk or whine. Yet the moment Rose returned and resumed storytelling, the children magically stopped and listened to her.
Bianca couldn’t believe people still came to hear Rose tell stories they’d read hundreds of times. Although she had to admit, her mother was an excellent storyteller. It was almost as if nothing else mattered except what she had to say at that moment.

She left the Princess Room and headed to the Snow White Room. She wasn’t really finished cleaning, but she wanted to be alone for a while. She remembered a time when she had loved the museum her family had run for generations. But this was a place that was passed down to the women in the family. Because she didn’t have any brothers or sisters she would eventually inherit the responsibility of managing the museum on her own when her mother passed away.. She was seventeen years old and she had spent every free moment of her life working at the museum. She didn’t know what it was like to call in sick from work or have vacation. She wanted to leave, see the world, meet new people and experience life. Not sit around all day long and tell fairy tales to kids with glazed over eyes. Bianca wanted to go to New York City and study art. She wanted to be an illustrator, a photographer, an artist…anything that required her to use her artistic talents and imagination.
Bianca stopped in front of a bright red apple. She sprayed a bit of Windex on the glass case and wiped it clean in circular motions like her mother taught her when she was ten years old. The apple was carefully kept inside a Plexiglas case. Well lit and on display for the whole world to see. The fruit was a perfect ruby red and it was centuries old. It would never rot. A tiny bite mark revealed the perfect whiteness that the red skin protected. This was the poisoned apple that nearly killed Snow White. Bianca wasn’t sure if it was real or fake. She didn’t know what to believe anymore. It was almost like being agnostic except that the things in the museum had nothing to do with God.

“Excuse me?” a tiny voice spoke.

“Huh?” Bianca said as she looked down.

Standing in front of her was a little girl with bright red hair tied in pigtails.

Bianca smiled her best smile and asked, “Yes? How can I help you?”

“I need to use the potty,” she said as she crossed her legs.

“Follow me, I’ll show you the way.”

Bianca led the little girl through a maze of fairy tale artifacts: a seven foot lock of Rapunzel’s hair. Puss in Boots’ miniscule black leather boots. A feather that belonged to one of the Seven Brothers. A handful of beans from the tale Jack and the Beanstalk. They walked past several other items until they stopped in front of a door with Princess in big glitter-covered letters.

“Here you go. Will you be okay to use the potty by yourself? Do you need your mommy to help you?”

“No, thank you. I’m a big girl,” she replied and then gave her a big gap-toothed smile.

“Okay, I’ll be close by if you need me.”

“Thank you,” she replied and then walked into the bathroom.

Bianca finished cleaning the glass cases in the Snow White Room and then she wandered over to the Wicked Wing to clean and straighten things out. That part of the museum always gave her the creeps. This was where they kept all of the really dangerous artifacts. No one spent much time in that area…with good reason. Most of the time it was filled with boys she knew from her school; daring each other to touch some of the artifacts that weren’t safe behind the Plexiglass. More often than not they would dare each other to touch the Evil Queen’s Magic Mirror.

You couldn’t pay me enough money to touch that thing.


Bianca cleaned the glass case that held the hot iron slippers that Snow White’s stepmother was forced to wear on her stepdaughter’s wedding day.

Yeah, Disney left out that part of the story.

She went to the next display case and stopped in front of the red dancing shoes. The red leather was worn and scuffed, as though they had been to hell and back. It was a Mary Jane-type shoe except that it had two additional straps. Bianca swore that the crimson shoes twitched whenever she looked at them out of the corner of her eye. Every time she reread the story she made a point to stay as far away from the dancing shoes as humanly possible.

Then there was the spinning wheel Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger on. And a wall covered with the thorny branches all the princes had to go through to try to rescue Sleeping Beauty, as she waited for one hundred years. Bianca was fairly certain that she saw some bones still embedded in there.

The oven Hansel and Gretel pushed the witch into…that cooked her…alive.

Not real. These things are not real. They’re just really good fakes. They’re NOT real! She said that to herself every time she had to be in the Wicked Wing for any length of time. She had forced her mother to remove the needle in the spinning wheel after she had a horrible vision of her dusting it and accidentally pricking her finger and falling into a hundred year sleep. Bianca shuddered as she walked past it.

I’ve been helping Mom out in the museum for as long as I can remember and it still freaks me out. Of course, it didn’t help matters when her mother decided to put fake cobwebs in the room and keep it as dark as possible. It was obvious to anyone who set foot in the room that these items were not to be tampered with. There were other things in the Wicked Wing that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. Bianca shuddered once more and walked out of the Wicked Wing.

The children were applauding by the time Bianca was finished cleaning the windows and the glass cases in the Snow White Room and the Wicked Wing. That meant that Rose was officially finished with story time. The kids then wandered around the museum with their parents. Child and grownup alike were in awe over the fact that they could see items from their favorite fairy tales. They didn’t seem to care that they weren’t real; it seemed to be enough for them that it was something they could see with their own eyes.

©  Liz DeJesus 2012

First Frost has the tentative release date of June 15th 2012. It will be released through Musa Publishing.

Excerpt of The Laurel

In a dark cave filled with multicolored strings and golden cords that hummed with power sit The Moirae. Three sisters, daughters of Zeus and the Titaness Themis.
Clotho the Spinner, Lachesis the Allotter and Atropos the Inexorable. Each one with a purpose, each one with a task that must never end. Clotho, the youngest of the three, must forever spin the thread of life from her distaff onto her spindle. She is called upon at the ninth month of pregnancy when life must come forth.
Lachesis, the middle sister, then takes the thread and measure it, she decides how long a person must live. Atropos, the eldest of the three, was the cutter of the thread. She chose the way a person was destined to die. Her golden shears were always sharp and ready for the task that was assigned to her.
Lachesis watched Clotho out of the corner of her eye and frowned.
“What are you doing?” Lachesis asked while she continued to measure the cord.
“What I always do, I spin,” she replied.
“That’s not wool thread, nor is it the golden thread that belongs to the gods,” Lachesis pointed out.
“I know,” Clotho replied.
“Then what are you spinning?”
“I spin a tale that will told long after the three of us are gone. I spin a tale that will teach a lesson to both god and man,” she replied.
“Who is this person?” Atropos asked. “How long will she live so that I may know when to cut the cord?” She chuckled as she cut the air with her golden shears already eager to put them to good use.
“You won’t have to,” Clotho replied as she kept spinning the cord.
“Don’t be silly, of course I’ll have to cut it. It is my job, it’s what I do,” Atropos argued as she waved her shears from side to side.
“She will live on forever,” Clotho muttered as she continued to spin a dark green cloth.
Her sisters shook their heads unable to understand their young sister’s strange behavior.
“You speak nonsense Clotho. I will always have a cord to measure just as Atropos will always have something to cut,” Lachesis said.
“That’s quite alright sisters, there is no need for you to understand,” Clotho smiled an innocent smile as she continued to spin the thread and feed it into the spinning wheel.
Their cavern looked more and more like an elaborately decorated and multicolored spider web with every passing day. Every day Clotho created a new cord for each child that was born into the world. It was a cycle. It was the way the world worked. You are born, you live and then you die.
But not you sweet one. We have other plans for you. The world will remember your name, Clotho thought as she continued to work on the dark green thread. © Liz DeJesus 2008

Note: This is the new intro to The Laurel, I hope you all like it. Naturally it's the first draft. Anyway I'm enjoying writing this so much I just can't contain my joy. :D *bounce, bounce, bounce*

Under the Moonlight

JOY OF JOYS! Under the Moonlight got picked up by a publisher! I got the contract today, apparently the publisher tried to send to me before but I never got the email. Here's a link to their site http://www.cacoethespublishing.net I'm so excited. My friend and fabulous author Crymsyn Hart has a few books with them and they do both e-books and print. Which was exactly what I was looking for. Anyway I'm glad you will all have a chance to read Under the Moonlight. It's an interesting book, I can guarantee that much. Anyway I'm going to reread the contract for the hundreth time today and mail it in the morning. :D Yey!

Review for Nina by D. Moonfire

This story is a lot like that. It is a painting of words. Beautiful but tragic in so many ways. The writing style is clear and easy to read, it flows past the eye nicely, but it has a slow burn in the beginning and smolders long after you set it down. Would I read it again? Yes, I think I would. Maybe not tomorrow or even next month, but there will be that point when I’m browsing through my library and I decide I want to enjoy some art again. And then, I’ll relive that beautiful sadness. Read the rest here

http://dmoonfire.livejournal.com/

First review for The Jackets :D

Liz DeJesus', The Jackets is a splendid compilation of perfectly written stories that will keep you turning the pages. Gorgeous illustrations were at the beginning of some chapters, they were very eye pleasing. I would highly recommend The Jackets to anyone that can pick up a book and read. The stories are things that can happen to real people, with a fantasy twist. I do hope you will take my advice and order your copy today! 5 Hearts.

Read the rest of the review at http://bookreviewsbycrystal.blogspot.com/

The Jackets is scheduled for a release in November 2008 through Blu Phi'er Publishing