To my Sweet Saturday Sample readers my apologies. I forgot I had this guest blogging event going on. But you can still get a great sample...just not one of mine. Check out S.L. Schmitz excerpt of Let It Bleed.  S.L. Schmitz hasre-released the second edition her novel Let It Bleed through Dark ContinentsPublishing. Let It Bleed fits into the Mythpunk Supernatural genre, and iswritten in the elaborate and hypnotizingly poetic prose common for that genre.The novel is currently available in e-book format, and will release as a softcover in the next few months. For more information, visit her website atwww.slschmitz.com. Follow her on twitter @slschmitz and 'like' her on Facebook.Emails and comments are always welcome to [email protected]
The following is anexcerpt for Let It Bleed:
She sighed... eased into a trance and did not open hereyes again until the fourth and last band of the evening began to lug theirgear on stage. Transcendental deity, always asleep at the wheel. Novice,porous, the breathing crux, the lapsed withdrawal, detoxification, Incantatrixbeholden to the silence from within.In ancient times the warriors knew how to fight offdisease of the body and soul by beating their drums, chanting, singing, makingdeep noises to thaw the darkness from taking over the world, prevent theincestuous night from taking away the dawn. Modern tribes having lost theability to surrender, to reconstruct, modern teenagers having forgotten how tobend their knees, lower their shields in the shadow of the One God, feel warmthand security and love.
"Who will be my _____?"
Therefore, the only choice left becomes the choicebetween disintegration and disenfranchisement. Acoustically speaking,disintegration can best be done by peeling the ribbons of sanity one by onefrom the flesh; she was thin and determined. There is a fever brought on onlyby tasting the blood of a transcendental gothic symphony. In this dim indoorlighting, she has lost so much more than seven veils.It was highly unoriginal and non-dramatic when she firstset eyes on the Razorblade Boy. He jumped onto the raised platform (altar) withthe rest of the band and assumed the position by the lead microphone. He wastall, lean, intense, brooding, as all lead singers must be. He perched hisright foot onto an amplifier as the opening riff of the opening song echoed allthe way to the back of the room where the Dead Girl stood, transfixed.
The Outhouse was a small one-storey building in themiddle of a cornfield. The single room was illuminated by the sound of a leadpipe being beaten rhythmically against another lead pipe, sultry music hallalive with thrashing bodies, music that surrenders all that is daylight, richmedieval tapestries of primal imperialism woven into a drum roll of sartorialgravel. The Razorblade Boy with his voice converging in a fist of masshypnotism, producing a tune so bereft of romance, erotic to the point ofsuicide. A boy and his band, an expansion of disease, gauzy background vocals,the Autumnal Girl twisting her bass in an assimilation of blood vessels thateasily railroaded the existing scars and permanent body art. He writhed, hissteaming harlequin face tranquil in the descent of a Victorian novel. Oh, to beinhaled! To be sucked into the crowd's lungs and mixed with tar and beef andglue and nitrous oxide! To be dissipated into chromosomes, genetically alteredat the balcony of perfection, to be cast under the layers of mucous, coughedup, hacked up, spit out in thick androgynous strings of distortion. Able totake a song and chew it into unrecognizable shreds, masticate on the lyrics,bleach the needle words and inject the feedback!Anarchy bred in sour chimera. She stood in whisperedtendrils. She was awake, alert, slave to the endangered chorus of a high-speedgod, motionless in a mockery of spinsterhood. When the spotlight hit her justright, it appeared as though a pair of strong-jawed men with long hair and perfectlytailored black suits flanked her on both sides. In the fleeting strobe light,she sidestepped the two men and began to make her way towards the stage. Themen remained where they were standing, with their hands folded in front oftheir jackets. The next time the thin light passed through the back of theroom, they were gone.
She moved slowly, purposefully through the celebratorycrowd, unaffected by the stifling heat or the press of bodies, movedeffortlessly through the mosh pit without a single one of thenon-discriminating pit bulls attempting to bruise her glowing skin. Once shereached the center of the riotous crowd, she paused. For one burning moment shelocked eyes with the Razorblade Boy, and then thickly, heavily she raised herarms up into the air, her hands floating as if she were pressing against livingwaters. It is unknown where the spark came from--whether she ignited the flamefrom the chipped strobe light or whether she gathered the illumination from theHoly Spirit of all present, but high over all of their heads a gleaming,spinning ball of Light took shape. Her arms stretched, welcoming the Light asit began to descend, her spidery fingers pulling at invisible strings as itfloated gently to rest in the palms of her trembling hands. She held themulticolored ball of fire, cradling it in her arms, kneading the heatless massinto the shape of her heart, lips moistly parted, eyes narrowed, her fingersmanipulating the sphere until she was satisfied with the shape. Again, sheraised it over her head, her actions neither seen nor recorded by any of thetwo hundred people present, murmured an incantation in a forgotten tongue whileopening her fingers to free the energy created. The flame traveled with thespeed of a galactic curve ball over the heads of all the spectators and slammedstraight into the bare chest of the Razorblade Boy. He felt the impact, butnever saw the flame. With the vaguest of alterations of his heart rhythms, hesquinted his eyes and looked out into the pit, followed the trail of glitteringstardust, and suddenly his world shattered…He was Zeus on stage, Adonai mutating. He watched thegates of sublimation open and he stared at the beauty of the gatekeeper withawe, witnessed her unspoken doorway to the stars, unlocking oppositedimensions, poor human relation to the universe with the password divine. "Thy will be done," she said just before the twostrong-jawed men wrapped their arms around her and covered her in theiroutstretched wings.
Wow! SL great excerpt. This is a totally new genre for me. Thank you for sharing it. And for my Sweet Saturday Sample Peeps please go back here to check out more.