Happy October! How’s everyone doing? Historically, October has always been my favorite season of the year. Now that I’m in California, October is still summer, but I’m still drinking pumpkin spice lattes.
For anyone new to the blog: on the first Wednesday of every month, I share an excerpt of a work in progress and invite you to do the same. 500 words or less, please (if you run really long, I’ll edit it), and no sexually explicit or extremely disturbing content, though some coarse language is fine. Do not link to a place to buy your work, but linking to your blog or another website where more of the story is posted is great! Please don’t critique or offer suggestions for improvement on others’ work, since we’re sharing such rough drafts, but words of encouragement are much appreciated.
Here’s a snippet from the sequel to The Phoenix Codex. I’m so embarrassed when I think about about how long this one has remained unfinished. I didn’t expect to help start up a publishing company and write another book in the meantime! But I’m going to use NaNoWriMo to finish it, and then I’ll edit it. I will say that the past year has made me very good at editing.
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The black candle Valentina Vega had set next to the little Virgen de Guadelupe had burned out. The colorfully painted clay figurine had belonged to Val’s grandmother, who had lived most of her days in Mexico City, but for her it represented the Goddess who went by many names. A niche in the steel wall served as her tiny altar. In her quarters at El Dédalo, the Manus Sancti headquarters beneath a remote desert, there wasn’t room for anything more.
Urraca Mesa lay four hours north, and they should have returned hours ago. Sitting alone in bed, she looked back down at the book opened in her lap. How long had it been since she turned the page? Maybe she should light another candle.
Her phone buzzed. She jumped and then snatched it up from the bedside table. The screen displayed the name Dominic Joe, above the time: 3:11 a.m. As she answered, her heart lurched into overtime. “Salaam, Nic. Are they okay?”
“Salaam, Val. They’re good. They got it done.” She exhaled in sheer relief. “Cassie sprained her ankle, nothing serious.”
She stood up and pulled a Chinese silk robe over her satin slip of a nightgown. “Are you in medical? I’m coming down.” Tomorrow she’d need to debrief both Jonathan and Cassie, going into both of their psyches to review and record every detail of the mission, lodged in their memories. Right now, though, she just wanted to hug them.
“Yeah,” Nic said. “Capitán Renaud wants you down here immediately.”
Val stiffened. Their leader stayed informed of all the missions in El Dédalo, night and day, and every twelve hours, he got reports from the other guarídas around the world. But why would he meet with Jonathan and Cassie at this hour? Something sounded off in Nic’s voice, and her empath abilities didn’t work over the phone. “What’s going on?”
A half-laugh. “Michael’s back.”
Her breath stopped in her lungs. She tried to make sense of the words, and failed. The dead returned only in dreams, and she was awake. She pressed her hand to her throat, unconsciously fumbling for the crystal that had hung from a chain there. She’d lost it on a trip not long ago. Its absence underscored her disorientation. “What do you mean?”
“We found him wandering near the mesa. Stark naked and freezing.”
Panic shot through her. “It’s not him.” Had they all lost their minds? What unholy thing they brought within their walls?
“Jon Read him. He’s sure.”
Because of her job, she’d walked into hundreds of people’s psyches. They were all unique. One would look like a rocky beach, another like the gaudy and gilded interior of a crowded opera house, and still another like an empty office at the top of a skyscraper, overlooking a metropolis. Jonathan had been in Michael’s psyche a few times at least. He would recognize it.
Val as much fell as sat back down on the bed. “What in the world.”
Share your own excerpt below — or, if you prefer, just tell us about your writing goals for October. Thanks for reading, and happy writing!
I’m trying my hand at a feature piece on a struggling singer/songwriter. Non fiction is harder than I thought. I’ve struggled with being creative and keeping it fun and light. I hope to finish it this week….which means it won’t be done until next week. Not sure I will do this again! I like challenges but this one lost its appeal.
Hey there! Honestly, that sounds really difficult. Good for you for trying something new! I bet you’ll learn something from it that you’ll use in a project you like better. 🙂 Good luck with it. And thanks for posting!
This is the start of a story about a woman drawn to purchase a particular oil painting. Then she finds herself drawn to the person within it …
“Sold! To the lady in the front row in the royal blue blouse!”
The auctioneer slammed his gavel and handed the beautiful painting to his assistant telling her to add the painting to the other items bought by the same young lady.
Julie could not contain her excitement. She let out a small squeal then lightly punched the man in the arm that was sitting on her left.
“I got it! I got it!” Julie told the man; barely containing her enthusiasm.
“Yes, I see that,” he replied with a smile. “You outbid me on that one. Congratulations!”
That was the final item up for auction so Julie jumped up and rushed through the crowd to get to her newly purchased treasures.
“Now, which ones are yours?” the auctioneer’s assistant asked of her.
“Those three, over there.”
Julie pointed behind the assistant toward a table where the buyer’s items were grouped together.
“My stuff is that music box, the master salt cellar and that painting.”
“Yes Ma’am, let me get it all wrapped and bagged for you. You have some delightful things here!”
The assistant began carefully preparing the items for the journey to their new home.
“Yes, they are! But that painting, that’s my favorite!” Julie told her.
“Well, here you go, I hope you enjoy them!”
The bag and painting was handed over to Julie and with a big smile on her face she headed out with her treasures.
Julie arrived home and set the bag on her glass topped coffee table that sit in her living room, then set the painting on the floor, against the wall that she was going to hang it on. She hadn’t planned on purchasing a large painting that day but when the auctioneer held it up and asked for bids, she was mesmerized.
It was of a landscape, painted in bold autumn colors. The tall oak trees towered over both sides of a small pebble path that started on the right side of the painting and wound around through their splendor to the left. Their leaves of gold, red and orange lightly blanketed the ground. Soft rays of sunshine danced through the branches and shimmered across one of the weathered wooden benches located at the first curve of the trail. The bench, however, was not alone. Sitting on it was one man, dressed in a pale green long sleeved shirt and a pair of light tan trousers; a brown fedora hat tilted slightly on his head. He looked to be comfortable with his right arm propped on the back of the bench, his left hand resting gently in his lap and his legs crossed, seemingly enjoying the beautiful fall day. The other wooden bench that sits further down the trail on the opposite side was empty.
Anxious to discover more about her other two purchases, Julie gently picked up the bag and set it on the sofa beside her. The beautiful music box was the first out of the bag. She unwrapped it from the yellow soft tissue paper that the auctioneer’s assistant had so carefully placed around it and began inspecting it.
“So beautiful!” Julie whispered out loud to herself.
U have really describe it soo well… u had put a life into ur short story ??
Thank you! That is just the beginning. It will become much more interesting!
Waiting then ????
Wonderful description! I did edit this because it went pretty far over the 500-word limit…I have that limit just so it’s easy for everyone to read everybody’s excerpts. I really enjoyed the style. Thanks for posting!
Very sorry, Bryn! I didn’t even realize it was that long! Thank you!
Wow! A great excerpt. Here’s mine. I’m working on Amanda in Malta (no subtitle yet) in my Amanda Travels series.
When they reached the shore, Amanda took off her flip flops and walked along the warm water while Caleb looked for the perfect shot. “Take off your runners, Caleb, and get your feet wet.”
“No, way. There might be fish in there.”
“If there are, they’ll only be little fish. Are you afraid the fishies might bite your toes?” Amanda smirked.
Not saying anything, Caleb continued snapping pictures.
Amanda ventured a little further out, dangling her flip flops from her fingers. She bent over to look closely at the eye of Osiris on the side of a luzzu. She stepped on something squishy and jumped back. One of the flip flops slipped from her fingers and splashed into the water. She reached to grab it, but it floated away too fast.
“Caleb!” she shouted. “Help me get my shoe.”
“What?”
“My flip flop is floating away. Come and help me get it out of the water.”
“I’m not going in that water. Like I said, there could be fish in there.”
Amanda shook her head and took another step. She screamed. Pain shot through her foot and continued up her leg. It felt like she had been shot with a dart.
“H-help.” She felt dizzy and clung to the side of the boat. Everything went black.
###
“Miss, miss. I have you.”
Amanda opened her eyes. Everything looked blurry. Her throat closed and she struggled to breathe. Someone held her tight against the boat. She thought she saw curly black hair. Then someone was carrying her to the shore.
She faintly heard a man’s voice, “We need to get her to a hospital.”
# # #
Amanda woke up in a white room. She squinted. “Why is it so bright in here?”
A nurse pulled the curtain over the window.
“Where am I?” She looked around helplessly and started to cry. “Where’s my mom?”
“You are all right.” The nurse patted her hand. “You were stung by a jellyfish in Marsaxlokk harbour and had an allergic reaction. You went into anaphylactic shock.”
“What’s that?”
Awesome story line???
Darlene, I love it! The very first time I went into the ocean (I was an adult), I got stung by two jellyfish. It hurt so much! But luckily, I didn’t go into shock. Thanks for sharing!
Glad you liked it. I have never been stung by a jelly fish but know many who have, including someone who went into shock. I figured if it happened to Amanda it would have to be a big deal! Thanks for this opportunity to share.
Fabulous detail, Bryn: The dead returned only in dreams, and she was awake.
We’ll Fly Again is my latest Mass Effect 2 romance. Thanks to expensive tech from a human supremacist group neither of them trusts, Marcus is back from the dead and he needs Jeff more than ever in their fight to save all organic life in the galaxy. WIP excerpt includes talk of life support failing in deep space (asphyxia mention, 480 words):
Marcus swallowed the pills with a grimace, and slowly peeled the banana, shrugging the shoulder that had bugged him even before they lost the first Normandy. His long, wavy hair was tangled over his shoulders, stray strands falling forward to stick to his bronze cheeks.
“You want ice?”
Marcus shook his head. “Not now. Cold so close to breathing problems reminds me.” He averted his eyes, took a bite.
A sharp piece of grief constricted around Jeff’s heart for a moment, leaving a lingering ache in his chest. So many things that should comfort or feel ordinary now caused Marcus pain.
He sat at Marcus’ side, gently brushed a stray hair away from Marcus’ face with his fingers. Marcus sighed with relief and leaned closer, so Jeff started finger-combing his hair, untangling little ratty bits with both hands when he encountered them, careful not to tear them apart too fast and break the strands.
“Sorry I don’t take care of it better,” Marcus mumbled. “I should cut it off.”
Shocked, Jeff paused a second. Then gently resumed his task. “You can do whatever you want, but maybe the middle of a depressing night isn’t the best time to decide.”
“It’s not depressing. I’m with you.”
The amazing weight of the declaration plowed into Jeff’s chest like a vanguard. Sure, he knew Marcus loved him—still loved him, after all that had happened—but he always, always, always had something utterly new and profound to say and blow him away. Every day Jeff fell in love with him all over again.
. . .
He had finished his snack and held the peel cupped limply in his hands.
“Space has a smell,” he said. “Did you know that, Jeff?”
“No,” he answered gently, not stopping his task. He’d finished the section over Mark’s cheek and moved to the tangle at the base of his neck. “I didn’t.”
“It’s like the opposite of an airlock.” Marcus stared blankly at the peel in his hand.
After a few seconds of silence, Jeff said, “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. So, when we go in the airlock, I think about how it smells the opposite of what I smelled the day I died. When the oh-two tubes ruptured, space was in my helmet with me. So now, even when it’s not with me, I know what it smells like.
“I hold hands with Garrus in the airlock, Jeff. Even when we dock planetside and there isn’t space outside. I’m sorry, Jeff; I hold hands with Garrus in the airlock.” The peel shook in his trembling hands.
Jeff kept up his steady work on Marcus’ hair. “It’s okay. You can hold hands with whoever you want in the airlock. Or we can airdrop you in the shuttle; we can afford the fuel.”
“Yeah, but . . . what kind of a Spacer is scared of airlocks?”
I love the idea here that space has a smell. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered that idea anywhere (and I do love my sci-fi), so this really twisted my brain and got my imagination going. Thanks for sharing…loved it!!
Thanks, Lisa!
I love you excerpt Brynn. It is definitely something I would be interested in reading, so I will continue to look out for an announcement from you. I don’t have one to offer (I am at work, and my stuff is home), but I wanted to offer a comment on what you posted. Thanks so much! Suzanne Barron
What a great excerpt, Bryn! I am intrigued by Val’s power and her reaction to discovering Michael’s alive. Great stuff!
I hope to do NaNoWriMo this year, though getting my oracle story ready to query is my biggest priority. I might decide it makes more sense to be a rebel and continue to revise it, depending where I am by then. Otherwise, I am entertaining the thought of doing a fairy tale retelling, “Little Brother and Little Sister” from the Brothers Grimm. Here’s a bit of my prewriting:
The day my father died, my stepmother took his corpse into the forest.
I do not know what came back.
They say the forest will grant you your dearest wish, if you are willing to pay for it. And if you receive from it before you give, it will take of its choosing. This is why father never hunted unless he brought a bounty for the Lady of the Forest; eggs from our hens, fruit from the garden, a small flute he had carved of fallen wood. And the Lady always protected him. Even when he was gone for days hunting, we knew he would always come back safe with a fine buck or a wild boar. Friedrich, my animal-loving little brother, always demurred, but the rest of us ate well on the bounty.
That is, until Lotte came, far too greedy to let him offer to the forest spirits anymore. Why give away the eggs when we could sell them? Never mind that there were plenty to go around. And why waste his time carving trinkets when there were mouths to feed?
When the Lady of the Forest sent a fine buck into our yard, my father refused to kill it, though it ate the bulk of our cabbages and Lotte pleaded and scolded. Eventually, in a fit of temper, she threw an axe at it, wounding the buck fatally. It was only mercy that my father kill it then.
Less than a month later my father slipped while chopping wood in our yard, cut himself with that same axe, and bled out.
The forest never gives but that it also takes.
The forest took my father.
It owes me now.
“The day my father died, my stepmother took his corpse into the forest.
I do not know what came back.” What a great opening! So chilling and intriguing! 😀
Thanks! Glad you liked it!
You’re totally welcome! 😀
Saline sat bolt upright in bed. A cold sweat covered her fear stricken body. Her pink floral pajamas were soaked. Long silky strands of chestnut hair clung to her face as a mixture of fear and anger filled her mind. Breathlessly she fought to rid herself of the dark disturbing feelings and images that lingered in her memory.
Dread washed over her as she tried to make sense of the broken fragments of the nightmares she had been enduring for the last several nights. This dream was so clear, but what does it mean?
“This doesn’t make sense. Why am I having nightmares again? The dark, dank prison is confusing. I’ve never even been arrested”. Saline protested to her beloved cat Bella. The little tuxedo cat listened to Saline’s every word. “Am I crazy or paranoid? Sometimes I swear someone’s been in the house. I should get an alarm system installed”. Bella yawned as she watched her master change into new pajamas. “You think I’m paranoid don’t you? Saline’s hazel eyes questioned her beloved cat.
Nice excerpt ???
Aww, little tuxedo cat! I talk to my pets like that, too. Thanks for sharing! I hope you do again, so we can find out what’s going on!
Great excerpt, Brynn! I especially liked the detail in this part:
“She pressed her hand to her throat, unconsciously fumbling for the crystal that had hung from a chain there. She’d lost it on a trip not long ago. Its absence underscored her disorientation.’
Here’s a small snippet of a chapter I wrote yesterday, featuring two of my favorite characters. Enjoy!
***
Dave’s fingers trembled as he rubbed his thumb over the injury on Hank’s throat.
“Hey, it’s all right. I’m all right. Preyuna barely even dented me.”
“She drew blood. I didn’t think she’d go that far.”
Hank shrugged. “You know her and Caten. They’re two of a kind, whether she’ll ever admit it or not.”
“She hurt you.”
“Babe.” Hank took Dave’s hands and kissed them.
Dave looked up at him with tearful eyes. “She could have killed you.”
“True, but she didn’t.”
Dave fixed his gaze on the injury.
“I’ll heal, lover, and it will be just another scar. You know I have plenty of those.”
“You shouldn’t have any.” Dave bowed his head. “You should quit. Leave this place before Caten or Preyuna can really hurt you.”
Hank frowned. “You’re saying I should quit, but what about you? What happens to you?”
Dave didn’t answer.
“I’m not leaving you behind.” He leaned forward and gently kissed the side of Dave’s face. “Do you really think I’d be happy without you in my life?” He spread his hand along the opposite side of Dave’s face. “Without you in my bed? Without the sound of your voice? Without your caresses? Without exuberant, wonderful, loving you?”
“But you’d be safe.”
“Safe and miserable. I love you, Dave. I love you.”
Dave looked love at him. “You really are the most romantic man I’ve ever known.” He hugged him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Hank hugged him back. “I’m not going anywhere, babe. I’m here. I’m right here.”
Ohhhhhhhh this got me right in the feels. I really want to read the rest. Thank you so much for sharing!
Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I love writing all of my characters. They all have something about them that is fun to write. Some element of their personality. But these two guys…Writing them makes me happy. 😀
I do worry that something bad is going to happen to one of them before the end comes, but here’s hoping they’ll both survive. 😉
I’ve gotten in the habit of using writing prompts to hone my skills as a writer, I do have WIP but it’s still rough. I realized that I have to work harder than some to accomplish my goal of being published, I’ve also become a beta and ARC reader for as many writers who’ll let me. Reading your work makes my goals see and feel real. Thank you so much for that!
Hi, Wilma! I honestly think learning how to write was (and is) much harder for me than it is for most people, so I totally get what you’re saying. I really think hard work and determination make all the difference, though. Your writer friends are so lucky to have you for a beta reader! Thanks so much for the kind words and for the thoughtful post.
Oh I love the dialogue!
Heres an extract from the third chapter of something im writing.
He knew he looked suspicious. Cowl pulled low; hands well out of sight- as if he had something to hide. But the city was rioting. Most people had other concerns.
The Dome was growing closer and as it did the sound of gunfire, shouting and the screech of metal on metal grew louder. They would be trying to break in, that’s what usually happened in riots like these. When the poverty got too much, people would try in anyway they could to break down the protection of the wealthy. Just one crack in the Domes curved, unmarred surface would be enough for most. So those inside with their skyscrapers and gilded ships would know they were not as safe as they thought. Because though they might have golden tattoos covering their hands; markings that even the best forger couldn’t hope to replicate; they weren’t better; they could be hurt.
It was a nice fantasy. But a Dome had never been breached and that wasn’t going to change today.
The streets here were deserted; the makeshift doors on the stacks of old, rusted cargo containers; all firmly shut. Zoltan kept his steps even; eyes picking out the Magpie’s tag, a golden crown amidst the collage of graffiti that lined the walls; letting it guide him through the foreign city.
Hi, Megan! I love the voice and the imagery. The golden tattoos really intrigued me. Thanks for posting. I hope you share more!
Trying to get caught up after being away for a week at a writer’s retreat. Then I will be working on querying for an agent. So much to do.
Hi, Rosi! I hope you enjoyed the retreat, and good luck on the querying!
Love the excerpt Stacey. I can’t wait to read it!
Aww, thanks hon! Thanks for reading 🙂 As always!
Oooh, yay…what a great excerpt, Bryn! I’m really lovin’ Val’s character. Good gods, don’t be embarrassed about not having finished it…you’ve only had a couple, little things on your plate — moving to a huge, new city…writing and launching another book…starting up a new publishing arm at Hallmark…easy, right?? 🙂 This will be perfect when you’re done, and I can’t wait to read it.
I’m getting scared about not making my self-imposed deadline for my book. I’m getting insanely close to finishing, but I’m also encountering severe blocks some days that make me want to tear my hair out. I said I’ll be finished in October…let’s see if I can put my money where my mouth is. lol
My excerpt this time around. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Gabrielle went ahead with her arranged marriage to the heir of the Channasi Empire. She loves Gerard, but he’s not her soul mate. This is a whimsical moment between them. (Includes references to sex, but nothing explicit.)
—–
“Do you feel married?” Gerard cuddled her along the length of his body, his pulse slowing. He held her wrist — her sohaar — against his heart.
“I think it’s a little early to ask that.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “You realize we’re practically strangers. You’re my husband, and I know precious little about you.”
“You know plenty about me…and I a great deal about you.”
“Right, ok…what’s my favorite color?”
He made no immediate reply. “It’s…gree—”
“Purple.”
“I meant purple. This is silly…do you know mine?”
“Green?”
“Lucky guess,” he muttered. “Favorite food?”
“Ooh, tough one.” She closed her eyes, sorting through the hundreds of new tastes she’d encountered since falling into the world. “Ah…the bread made by our head chef at Rhoenglasz Palace — best thing ever. Yours?”
“Ryfha nital…have you heard of it?”
Gabrielle rolled her eyes, chuckling. “Yeah…where I’m from, we call it steak tartare. Why am I not surprised? Ok…most embarrassing moment?”
“I’m not sure you’re ready for that.”
“Oh, now you absolutely have to tell me.” Despite his grumbling, Gabrielle wouldn’t let it go. She sat up, glaring at him with an arched brow.
With a tortured sigh, he squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. “This happened when I was eighteen. There was a courtesan here named Odara…a lovely female. She was about ten years my senior. One night, we’d finished…” He grimaced and glanced at her. “You’re not going to get angry, are you?”
“I promise I won’t.”
He licked his lips. “We’d finished making love in a demanding position. She flopped onto the bed and said, ‘When your father and I did that last week, he was perfect. You’re in desperate need of practice if you want to rival him.’ I just grabbed my robe and bolted from her room. I couldn’t believe my eighty-year-old father was still having sex…and he was better than me!”
Gabrielle had clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. When the urge subsided, she dropped her hand to his chest. “So what happened?”
Gerard offered a sheepish smile. “I actively avoided Odara after that. By the same token, I couldn’t look Tahji in the eye for a month. We eventually had a good laugh about it.”
“And Odara?”
He pulled Gabrielle into his arms, kissing her forehead. “Tahji said Odara always talked too much. He arranged an excellent marriage for her. She’s now Lady Vidu’ur, wife to the governor of a western state and mother of four. I saw her two years ago; she was quite happy.” They lay in silence for a short time, Gerard stroking her shoulder. “No one but my father knows about this…funny how you have a way of loosening my tongue.”
So…my ability to compel still works. She stroked his silky chest, her eyelids growing heavy. “I’m glad you trust me.”
“With my life…” He exhaled, snuggling her. “Your turn.”
‘I married in secret, then discovered it wasn’t such a secret…’ She pressed her lips together, knowing it was a confession best avoided. “I’ve done so many dumb things, I’m not sure where to start. Why don’t we save it for another time…get some sleep?”
That was a cliffhanger there…. loved it tgo ????
Thank you…this character is in some hot water, and it’s all going to catch up with her at the end (which will hopefully be done by the end of this month!) 🙂
Lisa! Aw thanks. Sorry to hear you’ve hit some blocks, but I’m glad you’re getting close to your goal! Even though I don’t know all the background for this marriage, I love these two getting to know each other. What a great project.
Great dialogue, Lisa. I don’t have to be familiar with the names or place to follow the conversation. Kudos.
Fabulous description ??
I walk into the headmasters office, my office now. Standing in the center of the oval room, I slowly turn around and decide I don’t like it, too stuffy. The desk stays, it is old and big but it needs to be intimidating. The coffee table is to high and the chairs too stiff; a low oval table with cushioned arm chairs, which one can lean back in, would do, and a nice chess set. You can tell alot about a student in how the play. The book cases, there are too many and all the books are ancient. I’ll keep the important ones, and add newer fun books to loan out to the pages, including the one I wrote, Lady Pirate, the Life and Times of Billy Ericsson, Mermaid of Hatteras. No one will believe it is true, but fiction sometimes is more honest than the truth.
Putting the cardboard box on the desk, I take out Billie’s Legion de Honor in its display case and set it on the shelf, with her flint knife beside it. Taking the seashell out of the box, I hold it to my ear to hear the sirens singing, and set it on the shelf next to the medal.
Sitting down behind Father’s desk… No, my desk I discover a small footstool underneath. Pressing the intercom button I ask the Senior Squire on Duty what is on my schedule for today and what trouble we had last night. While I wait I lean back, prop up my feet, and wonder just what I’ve gotten myself into.
Hi, Donald! Ooh, nice — I haven’t read many scenes about someone taking over, and it’s good dramatic material. Thanks for posting!
I found that writing the ending to a story after the first chapter, gives me a goal and a stopping point. I’ve fleshed out one character’s story, Billy, and am starting in on the main story.. I don’t storyboard the book, I just think one chapter ahead.
Thank you for the praise. I wrote four books without any knowledge of writing skills, and praise from you means a whole lot to me. I would like to relate that a couple of years ago I joined the Isle of Wight Writers group in Virginia. and have learned much from several well published authors. I wonder if you have anything to say about young adult fiction? Thank you again.
GOOSEBUMPS!!! I’m late to reading this month, but I always come around for your excerpts eventually. Love this one, too. I’ve been reading my copy of SUNRISE CABIN and I have to say, I really hope Hallmark picks it up and makes a movie out of it. It’ll be so fun to watch. I’ve gotten to the “open house” scene – I know you know what that means lol. I don’t want to give out any spoilers!
Much love!
Here is an except of a book I need to give more love to:
All was quiet in the castle save for the clinking and clanking of armored footsteps and the flickering of the torches which stood proudly on either side of the long corridors. Those stationed to patrol the halls and stand guard outside the doors of those too important to sleep unattended were meant to bring a reassurance of safety. They did to all but one.
The Queen awoke with a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sweat had matted her hair to her scalp and her mouth was dry. She reached for the decanter of water on her bedside table, weakly poured a glass and drank. She was growing tired and seemingly weaker every morning. The apothecary had mixed her a concoction of garlic, ginger, sage, thyme and honey to drink before bed. It lessened her aches, but did nothing for her dreams. She wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her nightgown and caught her breath.
She thought it strange that the feeling of dread she woke with was not yet gone. Her ears pricked up at each small sound and her eyes darted around the room. Since illness had invaded her body, the underlying fear that death would soon come to her bed chambers had caused many sleepless nights.
“Who’s there?” The Queen’s voice betrayed her. She reached a hand into the darkness. Though she could not see past her frail and bony fingers, she felt someone was there with her. “Sir Horace!” She called for the guard standing watch outside her door. She impatiently waited for the stream of candlelight followed by her loyal Knight to come through the door, but alas, there was no answer. “Sir Horace!” She called as loud as her voice would allow. The silence was deafening.
Placing the palms of her hands on her bed, the Queen lifted her delicate frame with many a labored breath. She hoped that by sitting up, this invisible presence would feel more like something one conjures in the moments between sleep and waking. The change in position brought her some comfort, but it was short lived…
“All hail Queen Bryony Stoneworth, daughter of Edric the conqueror, ruler of Landale.” The crackled voice came from every corner.
Terrified by the voice, the Queen gave great pause before she spoke. “Show yourself. I command you show yourself” Her voice grew stronger which each word.
“I am not here to take you when you are already so close to death, my Queen.” The voice shifted from a hundred whispers to that of a wicked old woman.
“Sir Horace!” The Queen called again with urgency. “Asleep.” The voice was suddenly to her immediate right.
A gasp escaped the lined mouth of the Queen. “Why have you come if not to kill me?”
“You rule with a noble and just hand. You are loved by the townspeople, but word of the sickness that plagues you has traveled.” The voice was now by the window, but the moonlight showed not a shadow or a figure. “They wonder who will wear the crown once you have passed. Landale is soon to be at war.”
“How did you come by that information?” She had been careful so as not to frighten her people until it was certain. She and her advisors had planned a number of possible outcomes and the precautions to take to ensure her people’s survival.
“You would undoubtedly put your people’s safety before victory. The same cannot be said for others who might rule in your stead.” The Queen knew of who she spoke. “What if I told you there was another…” The end of the mattress went down with the weight of someone sitting.
The Queen backed away until her spine was plastered against the headboard. She peered into the darkness in front of her but it revealed nothing.“Another?” She whispered.
“On the night of your late sister’s death they found her and her husband’s bodies. They were mangled in the wreckage of their carriage.”
“I do not wish to hear this,” she stated, forgetting all fear. She remembered that night. Every detail of it. It haunted her. The forced recollection reminded her that only a few selected persons, herself included, saw the wreckage. “How did you know that?”
“What of the baby?” The voice asked, getting closer as if leaning in.
The Queen’s eyes burned with the threat of tears. All “We searched. Everywhere.”
“Everywhere?”
“What do you want? The Queen shook, dismissing what she was hearing. “Food? Coin?”
The voice spoke one last time, as if it was right in front of her face. “I want you to look again.”
The thick atmosphere left the room leaving the Queen breathless, enveloped in nightfall.
Oooooh! Chloe, this is really intriguing! It sounds like such a fun project. I hope you post again on the next WIP Wednesday!