Gothic Tastes discussion

The first 100 words...

Feel free to make a separate post for each of your books. Dark fiction/ gothic/ gothic fantasy/ poetry etc. Add the link or cover to the book too.

Sol, messenger of the Thirteen Elder Gods, rode the wind’s thermals.

As he flew over the sapphire-blue waters of the Aeacus Sea, his sculptured limbs glowed radiant and golden, and his immense white wings caressed the breeze. Guided by chance, blown by fortuitous winds, the young God arrived at the Isle of Tinne.

A white castle stood high on the crest of a hill. Silver banners hung from the high ramparts, shimmering in the breeze. Framed within a tower’s arched window, a young woman stood looking down at the teeming life below. Her long, light brown hair flowed loose upon her shoulders, catching and reflecting the morning light. A beautiful, bewitching beacon.

Perhaps it was only her youthful splendour that drew Sol in, or the look of bored petulance in her delicate, green eyes. Yet as the God soared closer he sensed the creature’s carnal nature. Her Mortal mind excited him; a caged beast that stalked within its prison, twisting and turning, craving adoration and stimulation.

She was all but naked beneath a wisp of sheer silk, with small but full breasts, her stomach flat and her legs long, slender and shapely. A sudden urge to posses this tender young, Mortal morsel in the full flower of her bloom seized Sol, wrapping him in a delirious and enthralling spell. With a single shift in thought and mass the God vanished and a small, dark rain cloud filled the space he had just occupied. Without wind the cloud entered the room...

Greaveburn

Rain pounded Greaveburn.
Rivulets coursed across acres of slate and through labyrinths of ornate stonework. Gurgling along gutters and rusty pipes, the torrent spewed into the narrow streets below, watched over by a tribe of gargoyles.
A cathedral to the Gods of despair and misery, the Citadel stood with its talons buried into the ancient cobbles. Water surged over its buttresses like the tendrils of a beast rising from the deep. Light spilled into the night from the great stained glass eye in its forehead, casting shadows across the square...


That's the opening 100 words. Hope they've piqued your interest! :D

Craig

THE AGE OF APOLLYON

The members of the congregation trembled like withered leaves shaken by the wind.

Father Gregori spread his crimson-robed arms wide, his hands slicing through the quivering audience like blades. His eyes flashed and a supernatural fury filled his soul.

“I look around this sanctuary...and I see liars! Hypocrites! This temple is despoiled by imposters and pretenders! Have you forgotten what is demanded of you? Do you so easily forget the majesty, the grandeur of our Lord when he manifested himself upon our world? Do you forget who gives you life?”