The Indie Showcase presents, Adele Marie Park.

Today, my guest is a writer of fantasy, I’ll leave her to explain.

Hi, Richard, thanks for showcasing me on your blog.

My name is Adele Marie Park and I’m a fantasy/horror author living near the coast of East Scotland.

Originally I hail from the Orkney isles. A small island called Rousay.

Stories of myth, magic, picts, Vikings, and witches were all around me growing up. So, it’s no surprise that I chose to become a writer.

Rousay is rich in wildlife. Selkies is a term used in Orkney for grey seals. They are abundant on the island’s shores. I used to sing to them as a child having been told they love music. They didn’t budge which proves my singing can’t have been too bad.

Selkie lore is rich and there is a myth in which they come ashore at night, slough off their skins, and become human. This was one of the myths which inspired me to become a writer.

However, it would be my love of faerie lore that saw me self publish my first book Wisp.

My characters live in my head and at times it resembles Piccadilly Circus in there. They each have their own unique voice, some louder than others. They hail from imaginary worlds to the deep south of America.

I was a child when I first fell in love with the vampire myth and have never fallen out of love with it.

I leave you with a short extract from a work in progress.

Thank you again, Richard for showcasing my work today.

Love Song


Adele Marie Park

Chapter One—Andel – From Czech—meaning God’s messenger

Written long ago, “thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,”, but nowhere in that book does it mention, thou shalt not suffer a vampire to live.

The pavements were blue, softened by street lights which falling rain made fuzzy around the edges. Perfect for a warm April night. Scents of petrol mingled with exotic dishes from all over the world. Spices and chilies, herbs, and roasting animal flesh.  The smell of onions permeated the tapestry of world cooking. Cooked in oil, cooked in grease or boiled in vats of water.

Beams of lights from shop windows pierced the night hues and spread their arms as if they created a blanket to illuminate tempting glimpses of the night world. Bodies thronged their way through this patched city jungle. Bunched together like lemmings, avoiding the indigenous as they crowded around corners or slept in darkened doorways. The visitors were blind, by choice, they invaded by night and slunk away, back to their sun before the gates closed in the morning.

The true heirs to this darkened world allowed the tourists to gather and why should they not? For the choicest delicacies lived in their blood no finer vintage than a tourist.

Ruled by claw and fang the moonlight city, like its opposite, had leaders, politicians, and Royalty.

A couple staggers out of a darkened doorway illuminated by the flickering sign above them. They embrace, hungry for other things but briefly as if they sense the danger of lingering too long in a foreign land. Something follows them. The law of the jungle dictates the rules here.

“Two? Hmm, a choice tonight? Or perhaps not?” Andel cocked his head to one side. His long black hair shone blue in the light flicker. It obscured his eye for a second before he reached up with a pale, thin hand to render the offending tress immobile once more.

“Let’s eat?” Questioned the girl standing beside him, hands around her slender frame as if she were cold.

Andel gave her a bemused glance, his quick gaze taking in her stance. He rolled his eyes toward the black sky. “Morrigan Le Fay, La Belle Dame San Merci. Look at you! You do not feel the cold anymore. Remember?”

The girl dropped her arms from her body as if they burned her. A half smile slid up her face, twisting the mischievous features into a caricature. She shrugged her shoulders then frowned. “They are escaping.”

Andel needed no telling, but he allowed her to remind him. It was one of her human traits, the need to point out the obvious.

He turned on his heel and she watched; delighted with the way his garments flowed around him like a shield. A second later, she followed him, their footsteps echoing to those who could hear them. She followed his lead and would continue for a long time. Her real name? It had not been a pretty one, not one to remember well, so she had forgotten and went by the name he had given her. Tara. He had said it was an ancient name to which she had replied that she remembered a dog with the name once. But he called her many things, precious, brat, child, and sometimes harder, uglier things when the rage came on him.

These thoughts now lay as scattered as the newspapers which littered her path as she spied their quarry up ahead.

The couple had given in to their hunger and stopped in a most delightful place, an alleyway.

Andel chuckled softly under his breath. “I can smell a trap here, this seems so easy.” He whispered.

Tara‘s heightened senses picked up his slightest breath these days. She waited but then with a twist of his head, Andel signaled it was safe to approach.

“The routine!” He would shout at her for hours until satisfied she understood. Until she knew a routine would mean the difference between life and death. So as he came at the couple from the front, she descended on them from the rear.

Andel had a wicked sense of humor, one thing which had drawn her to him and he to her. He liked to play and he could do it well. His face was boyishly innocent, his gestures, when he chose, were so non-threatening, they were laughable. It was so as he approached the couple, clearing his throat and making apologetic noises.

The man turned first, a predator’s gaze filled his eyes as he watched a younger male invade his territory. Andel held up his pale hands, and the male relaxed. The female sensed no threat, wrapped up in what she thought was a protective embrace.

Andel produced a cigarette from his pocket, all the while walking softly towards them, one hand still held in the air.

“Do you have a light, please?” He asked. His voice full of culture, it spoke about hidden things, old things, and so out of place here that it lulled them into a false sense of security.

From her vantage point, Tara waited to see Andel’s hand come down. That was her signal, she had memorized it, but every night it was different. Sometimes Andel would make her wait, out of sheer wickedness, his hunger differing from hers. She shifted, a rebellious breath leaving her body.

The male stared at Andel a long time as if he could sense something wrong with him. He should have.

“Hey where did you spring from?” The male said, not letting go his protective hold over the female.

Andel raised his dark eyebrows and smiled. The charm itself would pale into insignificance beside him. A master at his craft.

“Over there,” Andel said, jerking his head towards the back door of a restaurant. “Non-smoking.” Andel shrugged his shoulders again, a gesture of helplessness which all young used when faced with a bigger, stronger thing than they were. It worked. The male relinquished his hold on the female and stood to face Andel. As he reached inside his overcoat pocket, Andel’s hand came down.

As Tara’s hand closed over the mouth of the female, the male dropped the lighter with an exclamation and turned his head, just long enough for Andel to grab him in a headlock.

Two minutes later and the male was a gibbering wreck, held in the deadly grip of a youth, who was not what he seemed.

“Just take the money! Here take the fucking money!” The male said. Andel was watching Tara, and he smiled at her.

“Oh, we will thank you.” He said, the words hissing out of his mouth like acid rain. “After.”

“After what?” The male said and Andel smelt his fear. He was too hungry to tease much more but he could not resist the gesture, it was one which had been born in him. A flamboyance which had been present in his maker took a sinister turn when Andel had been born.

“After I make love to your soul.” He whispered into the male’s ear. The thick accent wound round the unfortunate man’s senses like silken threads, paralyzing him and rendering him unto Andel.

Tara listened to Andel’s croon. A strange half known repetition of tones upon tones, a love song for the dying, he had called it. Now she shook with longing as Andel’s long canines pierced the man’s neck, allowing a gush of warm blood to burst forth into Andel’s mouth. It would hit the back of his throat and explode inside his stomach, burning for an instant pain then soothing, as it sped its way around his beautiful body.

Hypnotized by Andel, she almost forgot the female. So it was with a certain disappointment she sunk her teeth in. The female had struggled and so Tara missed the quick fix and her teeth tore through muscle and ligaments. Instead of purity, she ended up with a mouthful of crap, which would make her sick.

“Tara!” Andel roared as he dropped his body and flew over to where the female was writhing on the ground trying to scream out of a torn throat.

“What the fuck are you doing? What are you? Drink her now before she dies and you go hungry!”

To learn more about my work here are my social media sites:


Thanks, Adele for a great post. I hope you all enjoyed it.

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Have a great week,



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