Tuesday, October 30, 2012

The Sorcerer Gaumata-King of Kings


Amid the turbulent times of the Achaemenid Dynasty, the Sorcerer Gaumata has set his sights on the highest jewel—the throne of the King of Kings. He plans to murder King Cambyses with his sorcery. Then Gaumata plans to take advantage of a complex scheme to seize the throne. Chaos and brutality grip the land as Gaumata abuses his power, but in the back of his mind a terror of his own lurks. He has crossed powerful witches and sorcerers who are now determined to bring him to his knees. The sorceress Spenta and her powerful mage brother Mihr are caught in Gaumata’s trap, but they have allies in the two witches, Indrayani and Apuyani. They have finally discovered the key to his sorcery, and they plan to use it against him to save the kingdom.
Prince Darius, the real heir to the throne, is in danger when Gaumata understands that he has seen through his disguise. Will he be the next to face his worst nightmares in the world of horror only Gaumata, the fiendish sorcerer, can construct?

The sweat was dripping from Cambyses’ forehead as the suffocating dank air of the tomb pressed down on him. It seemed that the smell was so thick in the air that he could almost see it. The cloying smell of putrefaction became stronger after the inner case covering the corpse was exposed and he felt the saliva begin to collect rapidly in his mouth. He could not retch in public, no, that would not do.
He heard the noise faintly at first, but then it became louder and louder. It was a buzzing that sounded filthy, like when one disturbs flies that have been feeding and laying eggs on excrement. The atmosphere pressed down and the sound increased even as the unbearable stench was forced into his nostrils.
Cambyses began to look about the walls of the tomb, not because he was interested, but because he needed to distract himself. He saw that the intricately painted small figures were beginning to move now. It began very slowly, but he suddenly realized that they seemed to see him too, and some of them were making obscene gestures in his direction. One little man pulled up his robe and wagged his genitals at him while women stood by laughing. Some of the servants behind the little painted oxen that were pulling plows began to point and gape at him. They now seemed to be talking, their rough, guttural language grating on his ears. Somehow he could almost understand what they were saying.
Cambyses turned away from the walls, only to find that the chanting was still droning on. He shifted slightly and felt his face color as Matwa, the high priest, glanced at him. Things were getting bad. He just had to get out of this tomb—out of the festering, nauseating atmosphere of that corpse house. The buzzing was steady and strong now. It seemed to be coming from the inside of the closed inner sarcophagus. He held his hands stiffly against himself to hide the shaking, but then his left eyelid began its tremors anew.
Now the high priest was reaching for the lid of the sarcophagus. Why? Why? Cambyses looked down slightly and saw that his knuckles were white and visibly shaking. The box was opened for the last time and the King of Kings could see the linen wrappings of the mummy, who had a brightly painted mask over its face. Its arms lay crossed over its chest and they had placed the two royal scepters in them. The linen wrappings were discolored already, although they appeared to be quite dry. He blinked, hoping that he wouldn’t see it, but he saw it just as he feared.
The buzzing sound had increased dramatically when the lid was raised and he saw it. Struggling to free itself from the wrappings that bound the body, a large creature began to emerge. It was wet, as if it had been born from the hideous, festering, rotting body. It stroked its front feet together as it looked about. Its many faceted eyes seemed to take in the scene as the almost transparent wings stretched out, slimy tendrils breaking off and making quivering puddles under them. The smell of the creature was one of festering liquid putrefaction. It was coming out of the crotch area of the dead man, just as it had been said in the words of the Holy Avesta.
Cambyses was paralyzed. The many knobby knees of the creature stretched tentatively and he could see the flat buttocks and flabby abdomen that swung slightly as it rose. It was now looking at him. When the faceted eyes settled on him, his paralysis was lifted. He took up his sword to defend himself. The creature began to buzz savagely as if it could divine his intensions. Cambyses ran at it with his sword poised to strike. Expertly he slashed at the thing, but it was as fast as lightening. It flew at his face and he smashed it with the blunt end of his sword. It rolled on the floor as if it had been hurt seriously, but then recovered and tried to attack him from behind.
Cambyses was in a frenzied fight for his life, but not one of the other people in the tomb seemed willing to come forward. Again and again the creature attacked. It seemed to be trying to burrow under his clothes—yes, as the legends said, the Demon of Death, if not contained by the sight of a dog, would try to enter the body of the nearest person by burrowing into his ****. The vile feel of it was enough to make his fight desperate, but the thought of it entering his body! He managed to strike it directly in its abhorrent face. Its feelers were bent now and a loathsome liquid dripped from the sharp teeth that were exposed.
Suddenly, the head priest Matwa leapt up to the dead Pharaoh and threw his arms around the body protectively. The creature seemed now to turn his attention to the priest, who appeared to be sobbing and frantically clutching at the frayed spot where the thing had made its way out of the mummy wrappings. It buzzed excitedly and flung itself at Matwa’s back. The man writhed in frenzied terror as the thing began to burrow and the man’s lower garment dropped to the floor as the creature tore at it. Matwa’s scream was unlike that of a man. It sounded like that of a goat whose life is being tortured out of it. Again and again the hysterical shrieks reverberated in the stone pyramid tomb. The thing deftly pulled Matwa’s tightened buttocks apart and then began to burrow nose first into the man. Matwa struggled, desperately squeezing his buttocks against the repulsive thing, but it still fought its way in. Soon only a few of the hairy, repulsive feet remained and then they also slid in, leaving a slimy trail, as the buzzing finally died away.
Cambyses panted in his terror and looked at the people who stood there gaping in horror. Matwa lay dead and the mummy was torn to shreds. Debris from the struggle littered the floor of the tomb and several canopic jars lay smashed, their fetid contents smeared where a foot had slid in the decaying matter. Matwa lay near the mummy, his torn clothing bloody. One of his legs twitched and then relaxed again. The bones under the mummy wrappings stuck out like white branches.
Cambyses was suddenly seized with rage. Why had they not tried to help him and the high priest? What kind of cowards were these Egyptians? He roared his orders now. They were to bring dogs in to watch for the creature and then clean up the mess. He ordered that they take special care of the body of Matwa, now the home of the Demon of Death. Cambyses felt sad for the noble high priest. He had been the only one who had tried to help, but he now lay dead.
What a terrible way to die. He shuddered as he looked around at the craven Egyptians who had failed to help him to fight against the Demon of Death. He was exhausted and heartsick. What was he thinking venturing into this evil place without the magi? They would never have let this terrible thing happen. They would have insisted on having dogs present. They would have known the proper spells to ward it off! Cambyses felt the tremors in his body subside somewhat. Now he would have to undergo a lengthy purification process.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Sorcerer in Egypt--New Book by KB Forrest


Fear yourself, for your deepest fears are his most deadly weapons.

    Cyrus the Great, King of Kings, is dead. Like the Sorcerers Rustem and Anahita, he has been humiliated and killed by the powerful sorcerer Gaumata. The perverse sorcerer is not satisfied with his victory. He has his black heart set on the throne of the King of Kings. It doesn’t matter who he has to kill to get his wish. Mihr and Spenta, son and daughter of the sorcerers Rustem and Anahita, begin to exhibit signs of unusual power. They become the threat Gaumata must now fear.
    Spenta makes moves to protect her brother, but she also finds the love she has longed for in the adoring and passionate Emperor Cambyses, a tortured soul who worships her. Spenta faces danger, passion, and epic historical battles with competence, bravery, and cunning. The Sorcerer Gaumata’s machinations yield fear, insanity, and horror for Cambyses.
    Delving into other people’s most private fears may come at a price. Will his forays into the minds of his victims leave Gaumata unscarred?

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

New Book--Oni Devils


Folklorist Andre Minamoto has returned to Japan to gather data for his doctoral thesis. Most of what he comes across has already been studied. He needs a breakthrough. He needs something new and wonderful. When he discovers a man who claims to be the legendary yin-yang wizard, Abe no Seimei, he is skeptical. After all, a man born in the year 920 has to have been dead and turned to dust by now. Little does he know that he is about to enter an uncharted world where what we think is fantasy is only too real.
Andre is forced to open his mind to the existence of devils, demons, ghosts, and monsters that defy description. He also finds himself opening his heart to the greatest of wizards who has ever lived—Abe no Seimei.
Seimei, the son of a magical one-thousand-year-old fox and a human, lived during the rich Heian period, when the Imperial family still held its power with the help of mighty magicians. Andre takes notes madly as Seimei regales him with tales of his exploits. Andre hears them with new ears as he finally begins to absorb the insane notion that they aren’t just tales, but true stories. As he melts in Seimei’s hot embrace, he wonders still how to learn of his powers of immortality.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

The Sicilian Undead


When a powerful vampire leader hands out penalties, it is terrifying, like thunder and lightning, and even the demons and spirits cannot undo his work: Eliade.

Life sucked more than Tony thought possible. When Vampire Dragomir Eliade sucks out his mortal life, he finally fights back and wins in his own way. No longer bound by the awful curse of being a street fruit vendor, handsome Tony sets his sights on the goal of starting his own detective agency. He and his worshipful sidekick, Eliade, take a bite out of crime.
When a fearful father seeks help from the duo, Tony realizes that he is up against harsh odds. A statue looted from an Iraqi museum turns out to be an image possessed by the Evil Spirit, Iblis himself. The man, an antiques broker, knew that he was purchasing a stolen item. What he doesn’t know is that a Satanist cult wants the statue for its own, and to get it, its members have brainwashed his daughter and won her over to the side of evil. Will Tony have the power it takes to go up against the Evil Spirit, or will he and Eliade become the unwilling servants of the newly risen monster?


“You fools!” Eliade boomed in a preternatural voice. “How dare you bring this thing,” he pointed at the statue. “How ever dare you bring this thing into my Master’s domain without his permission! Do you think you can summon an evil more terrifying than my Lord?”
Some of the people were shaking with fear. A few had fallen to their knees, but there were real demons among the hapless, foolish youth dressed in Goth clothing with their black dyed hair and garish makeup.
One of these demons sneered and challenged Eliade. “Your Lord? Your powerful so-called Master? What a joke. If you were a demon of any merit you would know that this,” he pointed to the statue, “is the original Evil Spirit. There is no demon more powerful. Bow before your real lord and master, lest he kill you and your entire family.”
Eliade smirked. “I am already dead, as is my entire family. If this piece of excrement you call Iblis is so powerful, then let him prove it. My Lord, Master Manichino, can take this statue and shove it up your anus, you butt-dick!”
Tony smiled. He had tried to teach Eliade how to use modern cuss words, but the man always got it wrong. What the hell was a butt-dick?
The demon looked a bit perturbed, but he said, “Lord Iblis created all demons. As our creator, he is above all. He created evil thoughts, evil words, and evil deeds. That is his power.”
Eliade’s gaze bore into the demon. “Master Manichino is more powerful than any demon in this world and in all of the underworld. He can even go to church, although he chooses not to do so because of a great calamity called Vatican-Two. He even wears the cross of the Christians on his very neck and it burns him not. He walks about in the sun, yet he sucks the blood of both men and immortals. He does not fear holy water…no, he drinks it in small green bottles. He communes with the spirits of both heaven and earth. I have heard him conversing even with the being called God.” Eliade gulped so hard that Tony heard him.
“He is…” he paused as if about to make a huge announcement, “he is the son of a Pope! He has a ring kissed by his father! He takes and absorbs the souls of creatures to make their cunning his own. Do you wish to confront this greatest of all demons and be tortured as you are forced to serve him for eternity? He might even absorb you and then pass you out into a toilet like so much human waste. He can do that,” Eliade said with a shiver.
The demon glanced around uncertainly. “You lie. If there was such a creature, why have we not heard of him?”
Eliade looked at him as if he were a simpleton. “Why indeed. Why would such a great personality bother to make himself known to fleas like you? He is too great for that. I am his mere servant, but even I could pummel your buttocks with ease.”
The demon glanced around, probably signaling to his comrades. Tony watched as they shoved the humans aside and crowded around Eliade, who now stood looking like Dracula.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

La Bruja Excerpt

The stone walls dripped with moisture. The hall was hollowed out of the mountain itself, and was dark. It was lit only by the light of candles that dripped tallow, as the walls dripped with water. Uriah was the god and Marisol was the goddess herself. This was the true meaning of Tantra, he knew. This would be the ultimate union of cosmic elements. They, he and Marisol were the two tremendous forces, the yin and the yang that together made up the stuff of the universe. He was the sun and the sky, and Marisol was the moist earth, ready to receive him into the dark fecundity of her passive, yet yearning cave. He had chosen her well. They had to be complete opposites. Uriah knew that as he was the noblest and the most precious, Marisol was base and most common.
In the center of the cave floor there was a low bed made of rushes. It had no sheets, for it was meant only for sex. Oil, garlands, and perfumes had been placed in crystal bottles around the bed. In the shadows of the room, he saw the twinkling of eyes as the candlelight caught the moist eyes of the watchers.
Uriah stood near the bed, completely naked. The ritual called for him to avoid arousal for the first part of it, but he was unable to comply. This did not seem to void the ceremony, as the watchers remained silent. He was the god, after all. He could make the rules, he realized. He looked down at himself, feeling like a great bull ready for coitus, but he saw instead the beginning of a potbelly, under which a small penis surrounded by thin brown hair poked forth.
Looking into the gloom again, he saw Marisol entering the cave. She was naked, and her black hair spilled over her shoulders. She shyly held one arm and hand over her breasts, and the other hand covered her private part. She walked into the middle of the room and the watchers began to close in around them. They were arranged so that there was a ring of pairs of males and females. All of them were naked. Each pair functioned together. Each pair held items for worship. One pair held lamps of ghee oil, which were in the shape of a maiden with six arms. Each hand held a plate whereupon a cotton wick drenched in oil burned. Another pair held camphor-burning lamps in the shape of peacocks. Yet another pair held flowers, and another pair fans made of peacock feathers. The last pairs held yak tail fans and garlands respectively.
These pairs of men and women took turns worshipping Uriah and Marisol. The man of the pair worshipped Marisol, while the woman worshipped him. When this part of the ritual was over, the watchers waved sticks of incense of the most rare and precious sorts. They were then presented with gold cups of fine wine, which they drank.
Now the ritual turned to the most secret of all secrets: the union of the holy couple. They were to perform the most titillating of sexual acts, and all the while, he, the god, while absorbing the shakti, the power of the goddess, must never release his seed. In this way, his power would increase one-hundredfold. He would have to exhibit divine power. He would hold his seed as the yogis of old did. She would give unto him, and he would take from her. He drew a breath as he coached himself mentally. He knew he was well prepared, for he had read the necessary books. Usually, such secret acts had to be performed under the strict direction of a guru, but he had become the guru once he had ended the cycle for Lama Lhodrag Rinpoche. He was master unto himself.
First, he was going to have to sit in the lotus position. His shakti would have to mount him while he meditated, and take him in herself, while he sat unperturbed. She had been taught many tricks by which she could tighten her vagina in such a way as to heighten his pleasure to the point of ejaculation, but he would persist and never give up his holy seed.
He would stand and she would have to wrap her legs around him and strike him on the chest while she positioned his penis in her vagina and increased her friction. He had to stand balanced with one foot bent and set against his own thigh so that she could use it to support her vigorous gyrations.
Finally, he would be required to use various “strokes” to cause the ultimate arousal in her. Yet again, he must remain equipoised. He began to review the various positions he would be required to perform. At this stage, he would have to act as the aggressor, although again, he was required to hold back.
The position called the “dagger” required that he thrust into her, and then withdraw. Then he would have to thrust again quite forcefully. The “boar’s thrust” would be from either side. He would then raise her legs above his head and thrust down. One leg would then be placed upon his shoulder, while the other leg should be forced outward. Her eyes would then roll around in pleasure. She would flail her arms, bite him, and push him deeper and deeper into her.
His entire body was tense and trembling as he reviewed the path he would have to take. He opened his eyes now. A woman approached Marisol with a pot of oil for the preparation of her place of worship. A tall man, the partner of that woman, approached him with a pot containing sandalwood oil laced with aphrodisiacs. This was a necessary part of the preparation, for it would prove that he was indeed the god able to both receive and absorb the woman, without losing even a drop of himself.
The man knelt on one knee and Uriah noticed how the man’s large penis hung down and jiggled slightly with the movement. The man dipped his hands into the pot, and reached for Uriah’s erect penis. He rubbed the oil first up and down, and then he massaged the opening slowly. Uriah’s mouth opened into a scream of primal passion as his semen sprayed up onto his heaving abdomen. His cock shook with a few small spasms before it slowly drooped down.
The man stepped back, as if in shock. All of the watchers stood stunned for what seemed an eternity, as Uriah’s cock shrunk back to a small organ that hung off to the left. Semen dripped from it. They began to walk away, grabbing garments from the darkened recesses of the room. He watched in horror as Marisol joined another naked man. He had rich, tousled black hair. His chest was powerful and his thighs muscled beautifully. He placed an arm that sported a strong bicep on Marisol’s shoulder in a proprietary gesture. As he turned with her in his arms, Uriah started to feel the beginnings of arousal again. The man’s hard buttocks and powerful thighs made his legs weak, while in his heart, black anger roiled. The man was Ramon. The thief was Ramon. The man who had taken everything that belonged to him.
Uriah fell to his knees weeping as he felt the silence of the cave closing in around him.

La Bruja--the Witch


The power of the witch is alluring, but you can't choose to possess the power of witchcraft. It chooses to possess you, and when it does, you do not have the power to resist.

Marisol Milagros sees things. She does the impossible, for she is a witch from a long line of Puerto Rican brujas. The problem is that she wants nothing to do with magic and brujería. Choosing a career in science seemed like a good way to embrace reason, but her magic still calls to her. She knows she must pay attention to the spiritual part of her--the part that refuses to be quieted. Buddhism seems so logical to Marisol after having taken a few classes at the university. As much as she hates to admit it, another fascinating discovery related to the classes is a cool DJ who is a student by day: Ramon Rivas. He has a magic of his own that refuses to be quelled.
The discovery of her new path is threatened, as is her life, when she meets a new guru in town who calls himself Master Lama Ananda Rinpoche. The so-­called Lama is a deranged killer who has become convinced that Marisol must become his tantric partner. DJ Ramon stands in the way of his victory, as does Marisol's magic. When the killer decides to take what he thinks is his, can Ramon and his power save her in time?

Thursday, October 11, 2012

New Book by KB Forrest


The Sorcerer Gaumata has a score to settle with the King of Kings, Cyrus the Great, and the court Sorcerer-Mage, Rustem. He will stop at nothing until he destroys these men and their entire lineages. The problem is that his opponents also have considerable power. Gaumata, a user of black sorcery, has the ability to possess people by entering their minds. He ferrets out a person’s deepest fears and uses them to terrorize and confuse his victim. Once he has accomplished this, he can control a person. Despite his power, he has a weakness. He too, is terrified of something. The Sorcerer Gaumata fears women. After successfully eliminating Rustem and his sorceress wife, Anahita, the Sorcerer is horrified that his plan is going awry. Women may yet be his downfall.
The orphan twin children of the couple find themselves separated. The brother, Mihr, becomes Advisor to Cyrus the Great of Persia. The sister, Spenta, finds refuge with a powerful witch, Indrayani. As they grow older, they come into their parents’ magical powers. Somehow, they are again pulled into the court of the Achaemenid Empire, a world that their parents fled because of a powerful menace. It still lurks, waiting for them. Can Spenta save her brother, or will they both fall prey to madness?


It was the very early morning of the next day and the queen had an army composed of the Scythians, both men and women. All of the remaining Massagetae men and women who could fight, and many outlanders who had come, having heard of the attack were arrayed. Even the Man-Eater tribe had come, hoping to make human meat jerky with the remains of the Persians that would be killed. They had heard that Persians had flesh that made the most delicious of jerked meat because of the fine wines that they drank and the exotic fruits they ate. They would have a good winter stock here.
The scouts had reported that the Persians were still unaware of their presence. Apuyani thought that that would be fitting. Silently, the army approached until they were close enough for the archers to announce their presence. The front line of Scythian archers unleashed a volley of fiery arrows and the horrible war cry was screamed from every eager throat. The Scythians were renowned for their savagery and their war cry was enough to make some of the Persians wet themselves. They stormed the encampment as the Persians scrambled to get their weapons and horses.
Paror the Round-Footed, the keeper of the Scythian horses, expertly began to lead his men in the theft of the horses. The Scythian steeds were so well trained and aggressive that the Persian horses followed them almost passively. Vardak the Stout was seen swinging his mace from side to side as heads flew off the enemy. His wife, Musa the Golden Haired, was intent on retrieving some beautiful cloth for dresses. She wielded a sword in one hand and held the reins with another, all the while carelessly chopping off the heads of the Persians. One man lay with his head cut down the middle and another ran for a moment after the very top of his head lay in the dust. Demonax the Mean’s face was set in exhilaration as he skewered five men at one time with his spear.

Spenta had never seen such a sight. At first, she was so frightened by the war cries and the carnage that she felt the gorge rise in her throat. Her stallion reared indignantly when the vomit hit his side and then he pawed the earth, impatient to join. Suddenly, Spenta felt the horse take off in an exuberant gallop. She almost dropped the sword that she held as he lurched forward. It was not that she hadn’t had plenty of practice. Indrayani and the Scythian women had taught her by having her slash small trees and then bigger ones with her sword. She had also learned by butchering sheep and goats with one tremendous blow of her sword. The sight of real men being cut open made her sick, but her war stallion was too eager to stop.
She was unexpectedly face-to-face with a fierce looking Persian, who raised his spear to throw it at her chest. In his eyes for that instance, she saw the sneer she knew was there because she was a woman. In a flash, a skeletal visage stared at her in surprise as her stallion ripped the man’s leering face off with his teeth. Another Persian struck at the brave horse, making a large cut in its chest. This finally galvanized Spenta and the fog lifted from her head. Giving a shrill war cry, she plunged into the battle. She screamed savagely and attacked another Persian, her sword a blur of deadly silver fire. As her weapon struck home yet again, her eyes took on the wild, misted look of battle fury. Those Persians who saw her and lived swore that she was the warrior Goddess, Spenta Armaiti, after whom she had been named.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Tanuki Demons

My dear friends, this guy really has balls....

Tanukis—Raccoon Dog Spirits
Raccoons are a big problem on my farm. They look cute and furry in pictures, but they are ruthless killers. To protect my exotic chickens, at night I put them into cages with ½” very tough rabbit wire. That was fine for a while, but the raccoons figured out a way to kill them anyway. First they frighten the chickens by banging on the cage and growling. This sends the chicken off their roosts, running—well, like chickens without heads. Then the raccoon will squeeze a stealthy hand through the wire and wait until they can grab a chicken’s foot. When that is accomplished, they simply keep pulling and eating so that the poor chicken is eaten slowly and agonizingly. For this reason, I hate raccoons. At first I tried humane trapping and dispersing a mile away, but they always came back. Now I double cage the poor birds…but I digress…
I wanted to talk about Japanese Raccoon Dogs, better known as Tanukis. These creatures resemble the real Raccoon dog very little. Some people say they look more like badgers. The mythical Tanuki is roguish and mischievous. A tanuki can disguise itself as a Buddhist monk, begging for offerings, which it may also steal outright. In my Fox Sorcery series, it is depicted as a musical creature who will use either its inflated abdomen or scrotum as a percussion instrument. It is depicted in popular Japanese myth this way. One can buy images of lewd looking tanukis playing with their scrotums in Japan. The little guy above has a big sack indeed!

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Water Demons

Kitsune Tsuki—Possession
In this book, one of the many demon characters is the Kappa, a Japanese water demon. The kappa is fond of grabbing children and drowning them, but nobody can really be safe from their attacks near water. They have long hair, and bodies like a cross between a monkey and a turtle. They may be about four feet tall, but don’t weigh more than 80 pounds. Some say that they drink only blood, but others insist that they like cucumbers as well.
Kappas are profligate and thus they like to chase women, and eat them after they use them. They also torment horses, sometimes pulling out their intestines out through the anus.
 Kappas can't remain out of the water for long. They have a depression on their heads that they use to hold water. This allows them to live on land longer. In my book, the daughter of Ashiya Doman is being tricked to come closer to the water by a kappa. Her friends tell her to bow to the creature. For some reason, a kappa must return a bow, and this will make the water spill. The kappa will weaken. The girl is too entranced by the demon, and she ignores the good advice, causing her to be taken. 
Kappas have useful knowledge such a bone setting. Anyone wishing to set a bone might obtain the knowledge by bribing a kappa with an offer of cucumbers. Above is a mummy of a Kappa found in Japan in the 18th century.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

New Book! Free with registration!

All of KB Forrest's books are now 25% off. Extasy Books is giving a $5. coupon to any new readers registering now, as well as a 10% reward! This means you can get this new book free!!

The hunter knew that he was not going to make the same mistake twice.
His hands were covered in blood. Saucy Calf was lying at his feet with her life pouring out. Her eyes were wide, full of a knowledge that scared him. She coughed, and her lips were stained red with her blood. Her eyes were shining with a kindness that he knew would slide away from him and be gone.
“I’m never gone,” she said. But her lips hadn’t moved. Her voice was piercing, and unspeakably beautiful. “You just can’t see me. Open your heart to me, beautiful one. All I want is for you to see me.”
Red Crane screamed. The night swallowed his cry.
She was dead.
There was no compromise. He had seen death so many times. The rocks around the cave entrance glowed with the light of the moon. His eyes found Grasping Raccoon.
“What have you done to your lover? Look at that. You did that.” Grasping Raccoon jumped up and down, laughing. “Now you’ll know the pain you caused me.”
Red Crane felt himself coiling to strike. But the Ukteena struck him first.
Grasping Raccoon screamed and was tossed high in the air. The Ukteena shook him in his jaws and flipped him almost playfully into the air.
Then it turned to Red Crane, sinewy scales sliding past each other. Blood dripped from the jaws of the monster. When it opened its mouth, teeth as long as first year antlers gleamed at him. The Ukteena was death. Yet, there was an innocence in its lack of knowledge, a grace in the pure rage that spoke of deeper realms of pain, of deeper redemptions than he could see. The Ukteena’s light burst forth from the forehead of the beast.
And for the first time, Red Crane could see.
And it was all just as they said it would be. His world fell apart and his mind shattered like a mirror fusing into a shining surface from a million tiny pieces. 

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Onmyoji Abe no Seimei--a Japanese Magician

All Books by KB Forrest now on sale 25% off!!! Sale Price already marked off all books

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The Onmyodo Magician


Onmyodo is the Japanese name for a kind of magic based on the Chinese yin/yang Daoist art used for fortune telling astrology, healing, exorcisms, providing protective amulets or papers called o-fuda, and much more. The specialists in Onmyodo are called Onmyoji or Shomenji. Abe no Seimei, c. 921-1005, was the most famous Onmyoji. He practiced his art during the Heian Period, 794-1192, in Japan, during the heyday of the imperial court. His magic was thought to be extremely powerful as he was the son of a magical fox and an onmyoji of the Abe family.
In my story, Andre Minamoto, a doctoral student, is working on his research into Japanese folklore in Japan. He comes across some people in a small village who know of the existence of an ancient by the name of Abe no Seimei. Hungry to know more, Andre ventures into a remote area to find the reclusive sage. When he finds the man, his entire belief system is shaken. He is forced to admit that he has come across something science just can’t explain. Fables claim that Abe no Seimei lived for an extraordinarily long time. Some stories claim that he still lives—but how can a man over 900 years old be alive, so young looking, and so attractive? As if this were not enough, he finds that Seimei is in the company of a host of demons, ghosts, devils, and goblins Andre thought were the stuff of myth. Thus he begins a journey into the unknown world of Japanese spirits. With Seimei as his guide, he experiences sights he never thought possible. 
Read about Abe no Seimei www.devinedestinies.com/oni-devils and http://www.devinedestinies.com/kitsune-tsukis-possession/

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

The Mind of a Devil--the Oni

The Mind of a Devil

As an oni can shape-shift, why do they appear in a horrid form? The answer is that they are evil by nature. They are cannibals, and enjoy human flesh cooked or raw. Onis were once human, at least some of them. These humans may become onis because of something horrible that has happened. The oni can be a monster deserving pity, because it is quite often the cruelty of humans that has caused the transformation to this form as a devil. For example, in Fox Sorcery II, a young woman’s father makes up an elaborate ruse to make her believe that her lover had died. He does this because he doesn’t think the lover is her equal socially. This causes her intense grief. Women in particular are thought to be given to jealousy and shame. Japanese people were taught to avoid emotions such as anguish, longing, frustration, anger, or resentment, because these strong sentiments can cause one to wander in the world after death. The Buddhist idea of samsara, an Indian philosophical concept literally meaning to wander, is expressed in the concept of a ghost wandering ceaselessly in search of closure. While samsara referred to transmigration, even Indians understood the state of being a ghost as one of the possible bodies one might have to endure.
To avoid this cursed existence, one should avoid situations that might cause one to become distraught. As a devil, an oni is capable of violence, but at the same time, it is a soul aching with some sort of unimaginable pain. Only such anguish can cause a human to take such a form. This is the reason that onis are so often represented in Japanese stories as having human frailties and very human grief or anger. In Shinto this malevolent quality, aramitama, arises when a human or kami feels insulted or wronged. The oni is ensnared in the world of humans, being unable to move on to another body or to the realm of the ancestors, because of a strong emotion such as grief or rejection. The oni is a liminal creature—a part of the world, yet not of the world.
If one were haunted or possessed by an oni, there were specialists who could deal with the problem. The Onmyoji was a ying-yang magician skilled in exorcism. One might also approach a Buddhist monk for help. I will explain how they exorcised demons, devils and other spirits in my next entries.
See my book:
Oni Devils at devinedestinies.com/oni-devils/