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BW ButtonEver since Blue Words was released, I have been asked time and time again if the settings were real or not. Well the answer is yes……and no. Like many writers, I draw inspiration from the world I live within, but in most cases, I took my favourite locations, rolled them into a tight little ball and consolidated new, fictional places from the mix. The story is set within Australia because, well it’s an amazing place with a vast array of settings to choose from, and let’s face it…..what place do you know better than home? Anyway, today I thought I would share some details about the major settings in the book. Any of the pictures below which are not mine have been linked to site to which they belong, usually with heaps of great info about the location.


The majority of the book takes place in Queensland, known in Australia as the sunshine state. It is a sparsely populated place really – fewer than 5 million people spread over 1.7 million square kilometres…….that leaves a lot of empty space. That space is filled with some of the world’s best beaches, lush rainforest and arid, red inlands.



The book kicks off in Brisbane, the capital city of Queensland. It has a populous of just over 2 million and is centred along the winding banks of the Brisbane River.


The Beach House

The beach house and its surroundings, in which much of the story is set, was conjured from a mixture of different beaches, national parks and islands around my home of Mackay in the northern half of Queensland. The following snaps are ones which I have taken myself.


The Casuarina Trees – These trees are found all over the beaches here. FYI, the dry needles make great kindling for starting camp fires too.


Deserted Beaches – This one’s actually on an island, but there are plenty along the mainland coast to lay the first footprints on as well.


Sunset from the beach – This pretty much speaks for itself.


Coastal Scrub – This is the sort of hardy bushland vegetation which I picture surrounding the beach house.

Western Queensland & The Northern Territory

When Gudrik and the Inscribed head west to the Raven’s Skull Creek mining facility, they passed from the coastal regions, through the forested ranges and into the arid, red centre of Australia. This area was inspired by the mining fields in the Bowen Basin.


The road west – I love the colour of the dirt.


The mine itself – Just to put the size into perspective, those arms reach out nearly 90m, almost 300ft!


I hope you have enjoyed sharing this brief snapshot into the world of Blue Words with me. When you flick through the pages of the book, it will be as though you are seeing Australia through my eyes, it really is an amazing place to behold. I appreciate you taking the time to read my ramblings. Cheers.



Book Description:

BWBCMCE.jpgCommon threads have always woven through the world’s mythology and folklore, strings which seem to link cultures divided by the vastness of oceans and time.

Have you ever wondered why? What if I told you that they all stem from a single origin…..the Varth-lokkr. Within this ancient creature’s blood, stirs the power to save or enslave the world as we know it, a power ignited by a simple word. But which does it truly desire?

This dark urban fantasy follows one of these creatures through its emergence into 21st century Australia. It chronicles the rise of those who oppose it, those who ally themselves with it and those who are unwillingly drawn into its wake.

Shed the blood. Speak the words. Change the world.


Book Trailer:


Available for Purchase at Warpath Print


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“Don’t move or we’ll fire,” ordered one of the guards, his voice shook and his trigger finger twitched. Gudrik glared at him and swiftly shot towards George, who was now leaning over the stainless steel top rail, still scouring for an escape which didn’t exist. The guards began to fire wildly at him. They may not have seemed overly competent, but they could shoot. Several projectiles tore through Gudrik’s flesh as he moved, spattering blue onto the grass. Startled by the gunshots, George spun just in time to see the scruffy relic hurtling towards her. A bullet buried into Gudrik’s knee. He stumbled. Before she had a chance to react, Gudrik crashed into George. His momentum forced her backwards, toppling them both indigently over the safety railing in a tangled mess of arms and legs.

The pair rocketed towards the ground. George screamed profanities so coarse that they blistered the very air around her. She scrambled and flailed as if trying to climb back up Gudrik’s body. He wrapped himself tightly around her. “Earvictius groot,” he bellowed.

His bullet wounds glowed, and the tender flesh surrounding them began to transform into cold, speckled granite. The stone rapidly spread along his limbs and across his abdomen, searing with pain as it went. He cringed and grated his teeth. As it spread across his chest and onto George she began to scream as though he were slashing chunks of flesh from her. Thankfully, the agony did not linger and in the blink of an eye, stone had completely swallowed both of them. No matter how hard she tried George could not move. It was both claustrophobic and frightening.

The living statues whistled closer and closer to the ground. Until……SMASH! They crashed unhindered onto the roof of a parked car. Glass and shrapnel exploded from the vehicle as they tore through the chassis and into the road beneath.

Just as painfully as it had spread, the rock retreated returning the flesh to its vulnerable state, leaving it sensitive and speckled with sweat. Both lay for a moment of recovery. Their chests heaved deeply as they came to terms with what had just happened. Gudrik crawled out of the mangled wreck and climbed to his feet. “Are you harmed?” he grunted, lifting George to her feet.

She was pale and disheveled with blank shock clouding her eyes. Time was of the essence. Gudrik slapped her across the cheek. Fire filled her blank eyes. She swung a punch, which he avoided. He grabbed her shoulders and repeated his question, “Are you harmed?”

“I-I’m confused as hell,” she responded, panicked, but glad to be alive. “But fine. I think. Yes fine. Definitely ok,” she stammered nervously, quickly checking her body over for injuries and pulling her dress down to cover the lacy black panties on show to the world. Her hand quickly went to her locket, checking it was still there. “Was I made of stone then?” Gudrik ignored her question. His attention was otherwise occupied. By that stage, a huge crowd of onlookers and good Samaritans had gathered around their impact point.

“We must keep moving.”

He dragged his hand along a twisted shard of the car’s metal shell and spoke, “Unjallius.”

Gudrik groaned as huge, white wings tore from the flesh of his back in a puff of loose feathers and a splatter of blue. They stretched to a massive, elegant span and quivered in the sun. The suit jacket and shirt were left torn and tattered, spattered, stained and hanging in shreds from Gudrik’s muscled shoulders. The stunned onlookers stepped back in awe. He grasped the confused woman tightly and with a few powerful beats of his mighty wings launched the two of them into the sky.

George clung tightly as they whipped and glided through the city. They weaved between the highrise buildings, slowly gaining altitude and suddenly plunging toward the ground as Gudrik negotiated the unpredictable up-drafts above the busy city streets. George was not as terrified as her brain insisted she should be. She loved the speed, she loved the wind and she loved the gaping faces of the populous below. It all exhilarated her. Gudrik’s grasp was gentle and caring, but still so firm and reliable that there was no fear of falling.

Finally, Gudrik surged up and breached the top of the sky scrapers. The onlookers below were now nothing more than ants. George released her grip on Gudrik and shielded her eyes. The sun was much fiercer up there without the buildings’ protection. She swivelled and squirmed as she gathered bearings. “Land on those cliffs over there,” George said pointing at a small lookout point above the river.

Gudrik dived and swooped in, gently putting the two of them down on the grass in a rapid flutter of tiny wing beats. “Gratitude,” Gudrik grunted as the wings collapsed into a sprinkling of blood.



authorAbout the Author:


M.C. Edwards, or Eddie as he is known to his mates, grew up in a coastal town on the picturesque Central Queensland coast of Australia. He has travelled to many corners of the world and has a love of all things bizarre. He enjoys motorcycles, beards, comics, videogames and the taste of a fine single malt scotch. In his writing he crafts immersive worlds which mix reality and fantasy to create a strangely believable mix.


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