Clerical Error Update – Finished 3/8 possible endings!

I’ve been writing some more on Clerical Error and now that I’m at 75,000 words and on the home stretch, (having written 3 out of the 8 possible endings), I thought I’d try to blog a little more about the process of getting the words on the page to making it a proper novel and (hopefully) getting it out to the world.

It’s good for keeping me going, I think. I’ve had this amazing idea to get My Little Ponies, Barbies and re-create some of the scenes in the novel because ‘why the fuck not?’ and these are the ideas I have at 2am. I envision making horns to turn ponies into unicorns and making tiny kilts for Ken.

The main problem I’m coming across just now is self-doubt. This novel was never meant to be serious. I’m breaking a whole host of writing Do and Dont’s and making a fair chunk of inappropriate jokes. It was intentional for the most part and how it reads is how I mean for it to read. But is that okay? It is okay to break all those rules if it’s intentional? I’d love to get feedback on sections but so far haven’t been able to go through with it for fear of the cries of ‘Thou must not change point of view characters mid-scene, never mind mid-sentence!’ And the rest.

I suppose I’ll just have to finish it, edit it and hope I have the courage to stand by and let beta readers (constructively) rip it to shreds.

Meanwhile, my favourite line that I’ve written this week:

“The poor Minotaur cried out ‘Raaargh!’ as his little flap of skin tried really, really hard to become erect, but couldn’t quite manage it.” — Clerical Error

Mayhem & Marb vs. The Kitty

The crazy novel I’ve been working on for a rather long time now called Clerical Error contains some of my favourite characters that I’ve ever written. I wanted to start writing some short fiction again and thought maybe using some of them would be a good place to start to get me back into both my novel and writing short fiction. Here is what I’ve come up with.

Mayhem & Marb vs. The Kitty – Clerical Error Fiction

“Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Nonsense!” His wimp of a master whined from atop a rickety wooden bench. “All you have to do is just scamper up the tree and get the thing down.”

“Scamper, Sir?” Marb stared down at his rotting fingertips and considered the difficulty of scaling trees without feeling in his skin.

“Yes, yes!” Draoil pointed up at the creature which had them both so vexed. A small ginger fluffy thing stared down at him with a look that Draoil chose to interpret as ‘scheming’ rather than rather ‘bloody terrified’. “Hurry up, the spell has to be performed at sunset!”

Marb sighed, pushing up the sleeves on his worn blue doublet. “Maybe after this spell Sir will deem me worthy of some new skin…” His voice was low, but even still his stomach churned – it wasn’t proper to be disrespectful of the man who gave him his life back, even if his new life was mostly spent in involuntary servitude.

Draoil almost tripped over the hem of his robe as Marb thrust himself into the air with his foot precariously positioned on his master’s knee. The tree came to life in a manner usually reserved for teen fantasy books about wizards and a huge branch wrapped around Marb’s body, squeezing so tight that his (admittedly superfluous) right lung burst. He hardly felt it anyway.

Draoil toppled off his bench and decided that the best course of action was to lie down close to the ground and not move or appear threatening in any way.

Marb, however, grabbed the branch tentacle thing with his strong dead-man hands and ripped a huge chunk of bark off. He snarled in a typical zombie fashion, which sounded rather odd coming from the mouth of a middle-class English gentlemen wearing a doublet, even if he was dead. The tree shrieked, a jagged mouth forming from a particularly large hole on its trunk just inches from Marb’s face.

“Woah, woah!” It gasped, “Dude, I was like, just trying to help you.”

“Oh,” Marb frowned. He glanced down at Draoil and was unsurprised to see his master cowering underneath the bench. It wasn’t like he could have just turned the tree into a dog with his magic, and had it chase the kitten straight into a neat little sack for use in whatever evil ritual he had planned. Nope. He had to make Marb climb the magic tree.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry about your bark.” He said, trying to smile in a non-offensive way. “But you did burst my lung.”

“Sorry, man, my bad.” The tree shrugged with its two biggest branches. “We cool?”

“Of course,” Marb said, with a more relaxed smile. “But I don’t suppose you could lift me up so that I can apprehend that kitten up there?”

“Sure, dude.” The branch around him tightened slightly, but it was entirely worth the loss of his other lung (and breakages of various ribs) to see the view from the top of the tree. A huge magical land stretched out from them in every direction, with glistening lakes and gorgeous overgrown forests where tree-creatures strode the earth and volcanoes spewed liquid gold. He sighed with happiness, just for a moment, wishing that his life could take him out there amidst the wonder rather than in the desolate land of the evil necromancer who sat and played games all day whilst Marb did all the cleaning and preparation for the spells that his master took credit for.

Still, the kitten was friendly enough when Marb’s seeping fingers reached around it tenderly and lifted it onto his chest. “There, there,” he cooed, stroking the little ginger furball as the tree set him back down on the ground. Other than a rib sticking out in a funny angle which gave him a chest-boner, he was quite content that he’d successfully rescued the kitten.

“Right, put it in the bag!” Draoil commanded, and Marb frowned sadly. “After the ritual we’ll get straight on to fixing you up – I can’t go about with a servant who looks as bad as you. That rot is really starting to smell.”

Marb dared to be hopeful for a moment at the thought of his skin stopping seeping into his clothes as it rotted, his hair getting nice and thick again, his eyeballs stopping rattling around uncomfortably in their sockets. Still, the little creature wrapped in his arms was shivering, looking up at him with wide eyes as if to say, ‘Please don’t sacrifice me?’

Still, Marb couldn’t disobey a direct order from his Master, and apparently the spell was important for solidifying his power base, whatever that meant. The kitty had to die.

By midnight, Draoil was grumpy as all hell, his hands steeped in blood from the icky ritual requirements of magically fiddling with corpses. Marb was grinning so hard that the corners of his mouth split open slightly, but he still couldn’t stop. Things had gone perfectly – Draoil got his ritual kitty sacrifice and then he’d performed a spell for Marb just as he’d promised.

The kitten mewed quietly in Marb’s arms, apparently content with its newly dead feline form. Marb itched around the broken rib that was still poking out of his chest and sighed happily. Worth it.

Did you enjoy that? Please let me know with a comment!


Disobedience and Grace – Erotica short fiction


Disobedience and Grace – By SquirreLeah

Grace knelt on the bed with her long black hair in ringlets falling across her bare shoulders. The black satin top hung low across her arms and chest, leaving more seen than unseen as she leant forward onto all fours. The bed was soft and she lay down sprawled across it, leaning closer to where Cora sat on the chaise lounge. Her matching bloomers were edged with red lace, and it tickled her thighs as she played with the little drawstring that secured them. Cora sat with a little smile on her lips, watching the movement of Grace’s fingers across the drawstring.

“Stop teasing,” Cora growled, crawling forward towards the bed, “and show me.”

“But, Cora!” Grace exhaled, dropping the drawstring. She pursed her lips into a small smile, trying her best to be calm, treating the whole affair with a sense of propriety. It was absurd, of course, to bring propriety into such a situation but learned behaviours were difficult to break.

“Yes! Come now, Grace, and let me see!”

Grace’s pouted lips broke into a wide smile though her dark eyes squeezed shut, her cheeks blushing red in the heat of the small bedroom, and perhaps embarrassment.

“Samuel will have my head if he ever finds out…” She continued, turning onto her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. “You know how precious he is about his workshop.”

She gave herself a moment to watch Cora, and from the upside down view she was every bit as breathtaking. Her auburn hair was far lighter than Grace’s and straight, fanning around her smooth and perfect. With only a white chemise down to her knees, her body seemed curvy but perfectly proportioned, her hips wide and waist so small sometimes Grace worried it would break. Grace’s gaze lingered at where the fabric curved across Cora’s chest,  so thin that the outlines of her nipples were shadows against the white.

“Stop stalling and show me.” Cora whispered, moving closer with each word until her hands gripped the edge of the bed and her face was directly above Grace’s. An auburn curtain circled around them, isolating Grace’s vision until Cora’s dark blue eyes were all that she could see. Her face was so close that Grace gulped, fighting the urge to reach up and touch the soft curve of Cora’s cheek.

“Alright. I’ll show you.”

Cora’s face lit up, her eyes sparkling in the low light of the oil lamps. “Good.” Cora lowered her head until Grace could feel her soft lips brush against hers. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she hoped.

But Cora pulled back, walking around the bed towards Grace’s bedside table. “Is it in here?”

The words made Grace’s heart quicken, a mix of embarrassment and desire. “Yes,” she whispered. “Bottom drawer.”

Grace watched Cora bend down, the curve of her buttocks silhouetted against the light from the lamp on the table. Though she couldn’t see, she heard the sound of the straps clicking against one another as they were lifted out from the drawer.

Cora giggled as she spun around, dropping the mass of leather and metal onto the bed in a little pile. “It’s heavier than I thought.”

Grace nodded, trying to blink away the apprehension. “It is hollowed steel, that’s why the leather straps had to be so strong,” she replied, then bit her lip. Cora’s eyes were focussed on the leather, her fingers reaching out to pick each strap up, trying to untangle it or make sense of what she was seeing.

With a gulp, Grace lifted herself up and crawled closer. “Would you like me to show you?” Her voice came out breathier than she’d intended. Cora nodded, her eyes finally showing something Grace could, perhaps hopefully, identify as lust or desire.

Two of the brown leather straps had small brass buckles, and the other two were continuous, looping around each other. “Stand up,” Grace commanded, finally dealing with something familiar and exact, something she knew how to deal with. Cora did as she was asked, but Grace paused, kneeling on the floor with the device held in her hands. “You’ll need to take this off,” Grace’s eyes flicked up from the hem of Cora’s chemise to her eyes.

Without hesitation the white cloth was dropped to the floor, exposing the flawless skin that Grace tried not to see. She arranged two of the leather loops in a figure of eight, motioning for Cora to step into them. She did so, her small toes curling around the hairs on the sheepskin rug. Cora was so confident, wearing her perfect curves with as much ease as she did clothed.

Grace unbuckled the other two straps and gripped the base of the long metal shaft as she edged the whole thing up Cora’s legs until they reached the top of her thighs. The steel phallus was fixed to a thick leather triangle, covering everything that Grace blushed to see, and as she worked to tighten the straps and buckle the sides her hands shook, brushing against the warmth of Cora’s skin.

On the back the straps met together, criss crossing together. A smaller triangle sat neatly in the space just above her buttocks, set with a small little wind-up key shaped painstakingly into an elaborate brass butterfly.

When it was secured Grace pulled herself back and stood up tall, admiring her creation. It was beautiful and shining, curving upwards from Cora’s pelvis proudly, never discreet. It was sensual, sexual and dangerous, completely eliminating any desire she’d ever had for a man. The straps holding it on were carved with a swirling pattern to hide the wires that fed around from the key to the front. It was such a proud moment and she took the time to admire it being worn by someone so incredibly beautiful that it seemed she would never be able to look away.

“Incredible.” Cora breathed, turning around to see the large oval mirror set into the wall behind her. She moved her hips around, looking at it from every angle, her eyes wide with wonder. Finally her fingers trailed down across her stomach to her hips, touching the leather straps and following them across her pelvis until they could run along the length of metal.

Grace gulped, her breasts heaving out of the silk top that clung loosely to her shoulders. “What do you think?” She asked, fearing to move lest she spill her emotions across the room.

“How does it work?” Cora asked, taking a step towards Grace. The movement was abrupt and unlike her. She was always ever so graceful. But no, it couldn’t be desire, could it? It couldn’t be passion causing her to lose herself the way Grace did every time they were together, could it?

Finally Grace willed herself to move closer, taking hold of Cora’s hips and turning her around to face away from her, towards the mirror again. She could see her hands pale against Cora’s skin, feel the heat between them for the brief moment until she had to let go. The little butterfly was sitting still, waiting for them.

“Are you ready?” Grace asked, her mouth close to Cora’s ear. A shiver ran down Cora’s spine and Grace felt it like electricity pulsing between them. Excitement and fear rode her mind as she gripped the key and began to turn.

A violent gasp from Cora made her fingers stop turning, her hand reaching to make sure that everything was alright. Had something gone wrong?

But when she spun around Cora’s eyes were wide, her hand reaching out to take Graces and place it between her breasts. Her lips parted as her chest heaved, a faint whirring sound coming from between their hips.  Cora’s whole body shuddered and she fell towards Grace, holding her hands to steady her. “Incredible,” she whispered. “I didn’t think…”

Grace couldn’t speak, seeing the shudders running through Cora’s body, her breasts swaying and back arching. More than anything she wanted Cora to kiss her, let her feel the intense pulsating around the steel too, as it was meant to be used – together.

The mechanism continued down further inside the leather, as Cora had discovered, and when Grace reached out and ran her finger down the shaft, it vibrated up her arm and forced more pressure downwards into Cora. Cora almost screamed, her hands reaching out to take Grace’s hips and pull them closer. But before Cora’s fingers found the little silk drawstring the springs inside the key ground to a halt and Cora fell still.

They watched each other silently, both out of breath and shaking.

Finally Cora smiled and Grace let out the breath she’d been holding. The first laugh brought more laughs, and once again the room seemed calm and relaxed. “Help me out of this, huh?” Cora smiled, her shaking fingers struggling to undo the buckles.

Grace nodded, and quickly slipped the straps down to the floor, careful not to look at what she was exposing of Cora.

“So,” she grinned, tucking all the straps back into the drawer. “What do you think?”

“I think we are going to be very, very rich.”

The Ball – Trifextra

athena picture face


The first time I saw the ball it flew up high. Bark! I ran to it, mouth wide. Bark, bark! I was on it, caught it. Bark, bark. Woof!

Grr. I woke up.

Whine. There is no ball.







Trifextra Flash Challenge:

We are asking for a 33-word response to the following snippet:

The first time I saw. . .

Here’s the catch: all of your 33 words must be one syllable each.  We’re going low-brow on your this week.  Or not.  Can you class it up under these restrictions?  Give us your best. To clarify, we are giving you 5 words.  We want another 33 from you, for a grand total of 38. Good luck! – See more at:

‘Messy Love’ – for Indies Unlimited

Prompt for IU Flash Fiction Challenge

Messy Love – By SquirreLeah
“What is it?” I asked the waiter. The table was scattered with many unfamiliar treats but the offending piece was a lump of opaque jelly on the end of my fork. It was slimy, juicy, and the smell wasn’t entirely unpleasant, just strong on the garlic.

“Does it matter, madame?” The waiter smiled, “Per’aps you should try it first? Just take a little bite.” Pushy. His thick French accent reminded me of where I was, stuck in France alone, far from my James.

“Snails, right?” The waiter just continued to smile, and I continued to choke. If they were so damn tasty why smother their smell? Should I eat it or not? Would it be daring and exciting or would I end up heaving across the delicately arranged food?

People around started to stare. They wanted to get to the table and I was blocking it. They muttered in French. Finally, with a shudder, I quickly threw it in my mouth and swallowed, managing to entirely bypass the taste or texture.  Almost immediately my throat clenched and I knew it was coming back, but before I could rush off I heard a shout.


It was James rushing towards me. As he came close I gargled and sprayed watery goo all across the floor. The little blob fell with a flop onto the carpet.

I was more horrified when I saw a glistening spec of gold amongst the mess, a diamond ring.

James bit his lip. “Will you marry me?”


(250 words @DeviouSquirrel)

Back to Blogging!

Hey! You might note that things have changed now I’m back. I’m Leah, I’m squirrelly, and I’m writing fiction!

I’ve started writing another novel (and shelved editing my last because I think due to inexperience, it’s not really worth salvaging). I’d be better re-writing it with all that I’ve learned in the process. My new novel is The Invasion of Meribius and it’s a fantasy erotica novel. I’ve only just started it, and at about 6700 words in, I already decided I needed to change from first person to third. I don’t know why that was, but it was just really hard to write. Seemed forced. Couldn’t get ‘in the zone’ but since I’ve changed it (some of it, I’m still going through editing the previous scenes) it’s been coming a lot easier. Good stuff, right?

In order to help myself stay focussed, I’m going to participate in: WIP500, the aim of which is to write at least 500 words a day. At the end of the year, the idea is that you’ll have written 182.5k words. Well, 2014 has just started, so I thought it would be a grand idea to try. Considering this is the first novel I’ve written that seems to have expanded itself and its world so large that I think I’m going to have to write a trilogy just to get it all out, I think that’s a goodly sum of words!

In other news, I think I’ve mentioned that I suffer with Bipolar. Last year was a really tough year, hence why I ended up falling away from blogging and writing quite a lot. I lost my job, my boyfriend and most of my friends because of how I was feeling. I’m still not working, but at the end of last year I finally found medication – Lamotrigine – which fixes me. Not ‘helps control my moods’ or ‘stops me feeling quite so depressed’ but literally, changed everything about me.

It’s fantastic. I’ve been ill with bipolar since I was 14, though we didn’t know about it. I was on a similar drug for epilepsy until I was 14, so I figure it had been helping me with the bipolar as a side effect. So, when you look at it, Bipolar stole 10 years of my life. It’s been hell most of the time. Ups and downs and roundabouts, that eventually made me lose pretty much everything.

But now that I’m back? Well, I want to make up for lost time. I’m applying to University to do a props and costume making degree (and if I don’t get in I imagine I’ll start my own business doing it anyway) and I want to finally write some novels and hopefully get published.

I’m also on my way to losing the 5.5 stone that I need to get back to my goal weight that I was in the past. I’ve lost 1.5stone already. Lots more to go.

The reason I’m sharing is to explain why I’ve been away and why everything’s so different. I expect my writing will have changed (hopefully for the better, but I imagine the time off will have taken it’s toll too).

It’s good to be back. Happy 2014 everyone!


Leah xxx