The Cherub’s Cataclysm


I am warning you, this week’s post is very, very dark. I’m not sure where it came from, or what it was inspired by. It just seemed to flow out of me.

But before I talk about the subject of this post, I would like to say to all six of my readers that I apologize for not posting as often as I promised in my about page. The reasoning that I claim is a mixture of two things: writer’s block, and a busy, chaotic life.

I can now gladly say that both the writers block and the chaos both seem to have passed, because a dark, creepy short story was birthed from my mind today! (Which may have been a product of the chaos, but i’m not 100% sure. The workings of my mind are always lost to me.) The only explanation I have for this is that it came to me when I listened to a very epic and very dark instrumental song, which I unfortunately do not know the name of, and probably never will. I think this just goes to show that inspiration can come from anywhere, even if you do not exactly know the source yourself.

So without further ado, here is my newest short story, The Cherub’s Cataclysm:

A ray of light shined into the underground cavern of a safe house and onto a young girl. It had been hours upon hours since the mother had left the shelter to look for her husband. The sounds of screams and explosions had finally stopped and an icy silence had come over the village. She opened her eyes and slowly dropped her hands from her ears. Maybe it was all over now.

Her small shaking hands reached towards the door of the cavern and grabbed the handle without pushing just yet. After listening for a few more moments to make sure there wasn’t any danger lurking outside, she pursed her lips and gave the door a slight shove. Peering through the opening, the smoke drifted in, stinging her eyes and making her cough. When she caught her breath, she gave the door another shove, harder this time, and with both hands. The door collapsed outward from the force and she went crashing down with it, cutting her arms and legs on the splintered wood. Blood splattered onto her stuffed rabbit. She picked it up off the ground and slowly stood to get a view of her surroundings.

A sea of red and black came into view. Pits of flames licked the air and embers spit out of the ground. Black gnarled forms covered the village floor for a mile all around. She couldn’t distinguish between what used to be huts and what was charred human limbs. The wind blew through her delicate pale hair as she looked upon what used to be her home. The blood from her wounds dripped slowly down her arms and legs, covering her porcelain skin with long red fingers.

A shadow began to creep over the land, swallowing the sunlight. When it fell over her, two tears of blood fell from her eyes as they rolled back into her head. Her body tipped backward and was engulfed by the hellish abyss of the destroyed landscape. Ashes billowed up around her, and slowly settled back to the ground, sprinkling her body with grey flakes.


I hope you liked it!!! And I hope I didn’t scare you away forever!!

But I warned you; I told ya it was dark.


Book Review: My Heart’s Choir Sings by Maureen Flynn

My Heart’s Choir Sings sounds like the type of book I would be interested in! Especially since its only 0.99¢ for the kindle version!

H L Petrovic

52 pages
Published 2014

Brave Adventurers,

I’m breaking with tradition today to bring you a review of an amazing debut verse novella by talented writer, Maureen Flynn.

Maureen is a fantasy writer and close personal friend, but I must say that when I read My Heart’s Choir Sings I was blown away by her poetic talent. Before I’d read My Heart’s Choir Sings, I would have said that post-modern verse novellas aren’t really my thing. I like poetry, but I’m a classics kinda girl. Think Tennyson or Coleridge, fantasy in verse, and you’ve got me. So it surprised me when this little verse novella, 25 free verse poems, got to me too.

It was the story that won me, the non-linear narrative of Stewart, a man who has lost his lover in tragic circumstances. Through the poems he reflects honestly on his less-than-perfect relationship and the emotional baggage of…

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A Vision

I turn the key in the hole and twist the knob, opening the door to my small two bedroom apartment. I set down my keys on the table and drop my coat and bags on the floor with a huff. I was so productive today, but now I am paying the price. I am exhausted. After going to meetings, reading countless emails, and sitting for hours rereading and editing manuscripts, I come home looking and feeling like a replica of my mother.  I sit down on my big fluffy couch and pull out the manuscript I’ve been working on lately. The author wants to call it Cosmic Paradise.

I look out my living room window at the city lights and I remember when i used to go to my mom’s work when I had a doctor’s appointment. My mom would still try to get in a few hours of work instead of taking the whole day off. She was so dedicated to her work. I remember thinking to myself that I would never get an office job like she had, it seemed so boring! Now that I have one, I have come to realize that the boring meetings and emails and office work is worth it because I am doing something that I actually enjoy. I enjoy being a book editor. Yes, the workload is sometimes heavy and stressful, but when a book is finished, the cover designed, the words grammatically correct, and the final manuscript is printed, bound, and mailed to my office, I remember why I chose this job. I get to be a part of creating novels like the ones I used to read, and hopefully they make as much of a difference in someone’s life as the ones I used to read did.

I pull a pack of gummy bears out of my coat pocket and make a cup of chamomile tea. As I eat only the red, green, and white gummy bears, I realize I haven’t changed much since those times when I read His Dark Materials, The Hunger Games, and Game Of Thrones. I have learned a lot about the world, about myself, and about life, growing as a person with each new lesson; but after all this time, I still sit down with my gummy bears and tea to read a book about some far off land. I can’t believe I get to do this for a job. I used to get so worried about what I was going to do for a career after school. For awhile I thought I would be a graphic designer, but after years in high school and college studying it I realized it wasn’t for me. I thought about being an art teacher, librarian, even a wedding planner. When I thought of a book editor I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. I had always loved reading, and my spelling and grammar was so good that my friends, sisters, and even my parents were always asking me how to spell words. It was such a relief to finally figure it out after years of being unsure. I am now doing what I’ve always loved to do; read. I am out on my own, self- sufficient in my little apartment and happier than I’ve ever been.

After I finish editing the last page of the manuscript, I gather all the pages together, stand them up on the table and tap them so they shuffle into place. Then I clutch them to my chest and hug them tightly, like I always do after I finish a book. This is a weird habit I started after reading Evermeet, Island of Elves in high school. I loved it so much that I wanted to give it a hug, so I did. As I hug the manuscript of Cosmic Paradise I think about about how good it was, and how without books like this I wouldn’t be in my little city apartment, drinking tea and eating my red, green, and white gummy bears.