Welcome!
Hi all and welcome to Angst! Angst is a blog dedicated to me, author Victoria Sawyer and my current book for sale on Amazon, Angst (Check it out, only 99 shiny pennies right now or 19 nickles and 4 pennies! What a freakin DEAL! haha. Click on the cover photo on the sidebar if you’re interested). Secondly, I’d like to introduce myself as a snarky, sarcastic, honest to a fault, emotional spewer and downright crazy, sexy, cool girl who happens to suffer from panic attacks and depression and loves to write!
Today’s Blog Hop Post:
I’m proud to be a part of this week’s blog hop and I hope you’ll enjoy my blog post for you today. I’m aiming to give you a taste of my writing style. This doesn’t come from my book Angst (which is based on my personal experience and you can learn more about it everywhere else on my blog, like here or here) this is my work in progress book. I like to call it a modern day fairy tale with a twist of grit, dirt, sex, magic and of course romance. I hope you like this snippet! Thanks for stopping by and please enter my giveaway below (some free books!) and click on for more excellent blogs! Thanks! (p.s. I also recommend the songs that are mentioned in my story snippet below! Some awesome classic rock!)
Bring Me to Life (tentative name) ~ Victoria Sawyer
(FYI, small amount of harsh language to follow)
The bartender brings me our drinks and I wave to Brit to help me carry them. She pushes through the crowd and grabs her drink and I carry Steph’s. The first notes of Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir crashes over us and we find our way through the surging crowd, trying to find a space to hang. God I love Led Zeppelin. The notes of the music flow over me and touch me on some crazy depressed introspective ancient level. There’s nothing better.
The song doesn’t sound exactly like Led since it’s live and these guys only seem to have regular instruments, although there is one guy playing a horn and I think I see some kind of stringed instrument in the corner, but it sounds pretty close, sort of like a stripped version. The lead singer has a deeper more gravelly voice and right now I can only see him in profile as he holds the mic to his mouth and leans against the mic stand.
It’s strange cause the band is dressed like preppy guys with shirts and ties but they’re singing Led. Must be their thing, I guess. The lead singer in particular is moving in and out of a spot light, his bright green button up dress shirt catching the light, glowing, the sleeves rolled up around his thick biceps, a striped tie loosened at his throat.
Suddenly the lead singer sings, “Ohhhhhh…baby,” that little sexy aside in Kashmir, just like Led and my heart stops. I know that voice! It’s like he just sang that for me. My heart thumps as I stand on tip toes, trying to see over the crowd to get a good look at him. He’s holding the mic stand then slides down low, singing into the crowd at his feet and when he stands back up he looks in my direction.
My heart stops.
Even in the dim light, even without seeing him fully, I know it’s Henry.
My heart throbs back to life, jumping inside my chest and I hold my hand over it without realizing what I’m doing. I sink from my tiptoes in my heels and look down. How can he have that effect on me? I’m confused. I look at the people crowding around me, at Steph as she stands with Brit, leaning down to talk to her and I feel alone in this crowd…but then his voice pierces me and sends a shiver down my spine and the music rushes over me in soft waves, kissing along my skin like the tide to the beach, every hair standing on end. I close my eyes. I linger within it, his voice, gravel and grit, dark and personal, like it’s the first time I’m hearing this song as he sings it to me…An old story, things that will be revealed…
I see the words behind my eyes, I feel them in my body. Old, old like time, over the years, a sail, a place, the setting sun, truth, I will return to you. A touch. Things that can’t be known, things that…feel…emotion welling. I’m electrically alive right now, the music inside me, threading through my body, weaving itself within my heart, warming me, higher and more meaningful, more truthful, more emotional and raw than the fuck I just had, more exciting too, thrilling me, scaring me, rushing me. Kissing me…warmth unfurling…
But then darkness pulls at the edges of my vision, heartbreak suddenly pouring through me, thoughts inside a dream. Inside a dream. Stone walls, unyielding, my fingertips grating, painfully, across a cold stone surface, my nails grinding, grinding, bloodying my fingertips. Fear, palpable… and guilt. So much guilt, like a stone in my belly, heavy and real.
My eyes fly open because it feels like the sun is suddenly warming me…inside this dark club and I go to my tiptoes and stare at the stage and he’s looking at me, watching me. He knows. He knows it’s me. He doesn’t smile, just sings the words, letting them linger and reach out into the crowd to touch me, reaching inside my heart.
The song ends and he turns away for a moment to his band mates, telling them something or other and they launch into Young Lust by Pink Floyd and I turn and grab Steph’s wrist and yell into her ear.
“I see a spot closer with a better view. Follow me.”
She nods and takes Brit’s arm, pulling her behind us into the crowd. I weave in and around people, squeezing when there’s not enough room until finally the stage is before me and a thick wood support post that reaches up into the ceiling in the middle of the room is at my back. I lean into it and he’s focused on me, sparking blue eyes holding mine as he sings, lips forming the words….he needs a dirty woman. He wants a dirty woman. I’m a dirty woman. A shiver runs through me again, his eyes raking over me, lingering on my lips and I swallow and take him in. He’s so serious, so sexy. Brown hair mussed, tie loose, shirt unbuttoned at the throat, some kind of leather wrap watch on his wrist, dark jeans, shirt tucked in, black leather belt, growling low voice about how he’s new to this town, he needs a dirty woman to show him around.
The music is rocking, guitar wailing, Henry singing and I realize as I stare at him that he’s too good for me. This preppy hottie, this guy who could have any girl in this club, he’s far too good for me. What the hell does he want with me? Why does he waste his time? Why the fuck did he want me to pretend to be his girlfriend? Is there something he finds exciting about me…some kind of bad girl, trashy, slumming fantasy he wants to live out?
The thing is that I’m seeing the badboy side of him…the rock and roll, dark, but soulful side. And it’s sexy as all sweet hell. He wants a dirty woman. He wants a dirty girl. I am that girl. He wants me. My heart continues to throb but now sexual excitement flows inside me, spreading, languid, as I lean against that column, head back, watching him through slitted eyes, bringing my drink to my lips every few moments and his eyes linger on my lips from across the room, as if we’re the only two people here, the noise doesn’t matter, the people dancing and swaying around us, singing along, the squealing girls who obviously find this band hot…none of that matters. Just the music and him and me. Just the guitar around his neck, his fingers as they strum, evoking hurt, rage, a beautiful hard musical snarl during the rocking guitar solo. It’s swirling around me, all my focus, all my being on the wailing notes and his sexy voice, fingers plucking, emotions soaring, dark and dirty and hard.
The band moves directly into One of my Turns and a girl steps up on stage and plays the groupie in the background asking questions. The music swells and then Henry starts singing slowly, quietly, growling into the mic and then he gets louder and louder the rock feel of the song blasting the club and everyone is going wild, singing, screeching, jumping, rocking out. Someone in the band even makes the sound of glass shattering toward the crazy crescendo.
People around me are cheering, but all I can do is focus on Henry as he sings. I had no idea about this side of him. It’s a shock to see this guy, this frat kid, this college student that I thought was so one dimensional, that I thought was so…easy to manipulate, so ordinary, so clean, so….perfect. He brings such emotion to the song, I can feel the anger, the rage, the desperation in his voice, the depression, the buildup, the violence, his muscles tensed and then the forceful out-of-his-mind climax.
As the song ends on a soulful sad note, Henry leans back and looks at the ceiling and then looks out over the crowd again, his eyes connecting with mine as he puts his mic in the stand and announces to the crowd that they’re taking a break, his mouth brushing the metal of the mic as he speaks and I wish his lips would brush mine. My heart thumps and he looks into me, eyes dark blue with a slight sparkle.
Someone in the club puts on some background music and as if that’s my cue to rejoin real life I tense and stand up straight. What happens now? Will he come over to me? He was looking right at me. Should I be creeped out? Was it weird that it felt like he was singing to me? What the hell? I want him…like he’s touched me. But I can’t have that. That is not acceptable. That doesn’t fit into my plan, there are no “nice guy with a sexy dark side” complications allowed.
If I’m honest, which I try not to be most of the time, someone like him intimidates me. He’s too good..too good looking, too perfect…and I’m trash. So I hide behind my bitchy attitude. Bitch me is the perfect disguise for someone who feels like shit. She can’t be hurt, she can only hurt others and she never lets anyone close enough.
The problem is that I feel like he’s already getting far too close. I’m finding him within me now…within the way my body responds, in my thoughts, in my sexual fantasies, I mean shit..when other guys are fucking me in the dirtiest way possible, all I can think about is him. This can’t happen. This is how I get hurt. I can’t get hurt.
I’m trembling as I watch him step off the stage to the right and lean down to talk to someone as he passes. I realize suddenly that I’m still standing on my tiptoes, so I slide back down and look for Brit and Steph. I’ve been so lost in thought, so…overwhelmed that I completely forgot about them.
When I look over, Steph is grinning at me in a naughty, I caught you, kind of way.
“Holy shit…that’s him, isn’t it? That’s Henry,” she says and my mouth hangs open. I quickly close it so as not to reveal any kind of emotion, but as I look at Steph and then over at Brit’s shining eyes and slight love story smile, lips curved up, I realize I’ve already expressed myself by being lost in the song, the music, by staring at him, by his eyes that followed me. Shit. SHIT!
I try to play it off, “Uhh…yeah it looks like him, huh,” I say and the girls just look at each other and grin. Then their smiles quickly fall and they turn to talk to each other. What the fuck?
I look over my shoulder and Henry’s pushing through the crowd in my direction. My heart thuds and I turn away toward the girls, wishing they were actually speaking to me, so I can pretend not to notice him. But before I know it, someone is leaning against the column, arm sliding by my hair, mouth close to my ear.
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