Hello ~ it's time for 
You can find the challenge, and join in too, at the following link:
https://steemit.com/freeread/@freewritehouse/freeread-week-4-23-2019-author-reading-a-onelovedtube-and-freewrite-house-project
Today I'm doing some things a little different. First of all, I'm using a different mic than I used for my last recording; hopefully this one sounds better. And secondly, my first published book - Half Past the Moonfall - is currently available for FREE on Smashwords and I thought that I would read an excerpt from one of my favourite chapters.
Hopefully you enjoy it! :D
Or read more about the offer here on the blockchain!
The image featured in the video is the cover of my book; I hold the rights to use the image. :)
Katéa closed her eyes and gulped the entirety of the questionable liquid in a long, continuous slurp. When she reached the bottom of the bottomless mug it would all be over, she would awaken within the scrub-land with one of those cursed lights hovering and humming over her fallen body, and perhaps there would be a stick wedging into her thigh and that’s what had summoned Grissom into this nightmare.
The mead didn’t taste as bad as she feared. It was as pure honey; thick, syrupy, overly sweet, and she struggled to swallow it, but it didn’t burn her throat like the last mead she had dared to try. That concoction had been watery and was more of a salad dressing than anything else; a very sharp, vinegary salad dressing. This beverage, despite the colouring and floaties, was delicious.
Her lips met the golden glitter the pixie had left behind —the ‘dust’, the kind stranger had called it— and she melted into her seat.
Good gravy! That was the most pleasurable thing her tongue had ever had the joy of tasting. Each fleck was as an intensely flavoured sugar granule that ‘popped’ as they dissolved. It was as though chocolate and fairy floss intertwined together and had a lovechild infused with the delicate hint of a glace cherry. Each ‘pop’ tingled through her throat and spread warmth through her body, and she shivered as the heat embraced every single pore.
The blazing fire burned across both body and mind and the mug fell from her hand, its clatter upon the table resounding in an everlasting echo. Beads of sweat formed above her brow, but her movements were slow, sluggish and it took an age to wipe them away. The mere motion of lifting her arm was as tiring as… there was nothing to compare it to. This was as unique as a damned pixie rubbing her golden arse on the edge of a mug. What did that feel like? She giggled. Had it chafed her tiny little butt cheeks?
The elf-woman looked worried, her big emerald eyes spiralling into oblivion the longer Katéa stared into them, and her soft voice was a strange comfort as she at last said, “Draven, I don’t think she’s had pixie dust before,” and hopped down from the chair.
