Diane Saxon Blog Spot

Kilchoan, Mainland Scotland 1672 Swathes of wet hair clung and tangled around her face in a heavy curtain, enough to obscure her view as another spasm seized her. Pain far worse than she’d ever imagined wrenched through her, and clutched deep into her belly to tear at her insides. Pride refused to allow her to cry out. As she surfaced, she snatched another lungful of air. The frigid waters chilled her to the bone, sending a fresh rash of shudders through her between each painful contraction. The villagers crowded closer, faces twisted with fear and rage. People she’d known all her life, people she loved. Women she’d tended in childbirth, and men whose wounds she’d healed. The sentiment turned vicious as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose in the darkened sky. After a full day of her tied to the ducking stool, their disgust in her was palpable at not obtaining the confession they sought. How could she confess to something that wasn’t true? She’d ne...

Kilchoan, Mainland Scotland 1672 Swathes of wet hair clung and tangled around her face in a heavy curtain, enough to obscure her view as another spasm seized her. Pain far worse than she’d ever imagined wrenched through her, and clutched deep into her belly to tear at her insides. Pride refused to allow her to cry out. As she surfaced, she snatched another lungful of air. The frigid waters chilled her to the bone, sending a fresh rash of shudders through her between each painful contraction. The villagers crowded closer, faces twisted with fear and rage. People she’d known all her life, people she loved. Women she’d tended in childbirth, and men whose wounds she’d healed. The sentiment turned vicious as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose in the darkened sky. After a full day of her tied to the ducking stool, their disgust in her was palpable at not obtaining the confession they sought. How could she confess to something that wasn’t true? She’d never consorted wi...

Under the Full Blooded Moon

Okay, well this may not appear simple. It is the sweetest little building that Skye, Beau and I came across this morning on our 7.00am walk. The little front door is probably less than 3 foot high. I've never come across it before and yet I've walked the paths around Haughmond Hill for years. I just happened to step off the beaten track, which I frequently do, but this was a path I'd never been up before. There it was. Simple What is also simple, yet slightly strange is the story I'm currently writing is a paranormal. A story of witchcraft and ancient times brought into the modern day. Quite often when I'm writing a new manuscript simple things will happen, little incidents to trigger whole scenes. I'm going for a scene with this little gem and I'll let you know how it turns out. In the meantime, here's something from Banshee Seduction. This was another scene inspired by something so simple as a lady called Mandy who works in Laura Ashley...