GODDESS OF THE NORTH (Adult Urban Fantasy)


Goddess of the North


Georgina Kamsika


Adult Urban Fantasy

Word Count:

95,000 words


Saraswathi (Sara) is a four-thousand-year-old Hindu goddess accidentally brought back to England by the British Empire’s expansion into India. She draws her meager powers from the innate human belief in law and order working as a police detective in the British city of Sheffield. This allows her to live as a small god who can scrape by without disturbing any of the scarier immortals.

When Sara witnesses a murder performed by another god, she assumes her role as a goddess of order and sets out to discover the motives behind the human’s death. The increased expenditure of power leaves her struggling to hold herself together.

Sara discovers that there is more at stake than a simple murder mystery. Sheffield is a city of many gods, and when their antagonisms and cultures collide it’s the humans who will pay the price. She must stop the feuding gods, but if she ignores her own dwindling godhood she will fade away entirely and be forgotten.

GODDESS OF THE NORTH is adult urban fantasy complete at 95,000 words. It explores themes of racial and immigrant identity, coming of age, loyalty and friendship. It will appeal to people who enjoy American Gods or the Rivers of London series. The book stands alone as a whole and complete story but is the first of a potential series.

I am an Anglo-Indian writer and attended Clarion West writing workshop in 2012. My first novel ‘The Sulphur Diaries’ was published by independent publisher Legend Press in 2011. My latest story is available in the ‘Eclipse Phase: After the Fall’ anthology.

First 300 words:

Stop. Freeze frame.

Blood hangs in the air, a fine spray about to dapple my suit. It belongs to Robert Shelton, a respectable looking thirty-two-year-old IC2 white investment banker. Not that this matters, seeing as how he was just stabbed three times then flattened by falling rubble. I can also tell you about his five-year-old nephew, who he adored, the baby he dreamed of and his wife Heather the cut-throat lawyer. I can even say how often they had sex and what his favourite position was, though I won’t.

People say that when you are on the edge of death, your life flashes before your eyes, but when a dagger hits his heart and the chunk of masonry meets Robert, it’s my mind that’s filled with every last detail, from the moment he was born until his last breath a mere moment ago.

Robert spends his last milliseconds mourning his life. It seems so short, like a mayfly, compared to my own vast store of memories. I might look like a youthful Bollywood actress, yet my hair singed as Rome burned; I was in the alley when Jack the Ripper took his first victim (they never found her), and I watched as Marie Curie shaped the 20th century.

Most of the time being a god doesn’t make much difference in my life. I’m not like Ra, having to trudge across the sky every day, or Poseidon ruling the world’s oceans and fighting creeping pollution. Not that any of those major players have any interest in me, a two-bit squirt from a family of millions, one with little to no power. With no power comes no responsibilities, I guess.

Humans think we’re special and we’re not – have you read any of the old myths? From any religion.


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