After many moons I ‘m finally making progress on the second in my YA Fantasy seriesThe Curse of Time Book 2 Golden Healer.
It has been a long haul BUT I can begin to see encouraging flickers of light at the end of a very long, arduous tunnel.
Writing a sequel is so hard! No, scratch that, it’s TORTURE.
Why?
My memory isn’t as good as it used to be. I realised that I’d forgotten some of the minutiae of book one. Sequential aspects, patterns of speech and the like.
Writing a novel isn’t for the faint-hearted. It’s around 80,000 and that’s a lot of words.
Structuring the bloody thing… ugh… when will I ever learn to plot?
Working full-time whilst trying to wrangle it into shape. Masochist.
My imagined final copy is never the final version. Betas read it and you realise you must do more work. The slog is real. It seems interminable. And then SCBWI (Society of Children’s Writers and Book Illustrators) conference goers read parts of it too and have more suggestions for you too.
Then there’s the dreaded B word: Boredom. Yes, it gets to the point were you are so fed up looking at your once treasured words.
Followed by the dreaded D word: Doubt. Who wants to read the bloody thing anyway? It’s such a crock of… miserable… you get the picture.
And the dreaded E word: Experience. I will no longer be a debut. This will be my second novel. Perhaps people will expect more from me? EEK.
Help…
That’s when point 9 comes trotting along before no. 10 to restore my sanity.
9. Stop beating myself with my notebook, pen, keyboard whatever. Take a break. BREAK? What do writers do when they long for a break? Rest… NO. OF COURSE NOT. In my case, I decided to write a poetry and prose book.
I told you I’m a masochist!
10. So, now I have a poetry collection to finish and edit too. Double TORTURE. Only joking, this poetry collection seems easy in comparison to the novel. OR IS IT?
It’s called Mr. Sagitarrius – Poetry, and Prose. It includes various short form poetry, short fiction and my photography images of the natural world: trees, a robin, a dragonfly, plus a couple of images via a young photographer Alex Murdoch – son of Sam Murdoch – who has a lovely blog about cats and crystals: https://samanthamurdochblog.wordpress.com/
Hope you like the title. Please let me know your thoughts…
Titles are interesting, aren’t they? I nearly called it The Magic Golden Willow Tree – Poetry and Prose but decided that was too wordy.
I don’t have a cover yet so…. Image via pixabay – Monfocus.
Here’s the blurb… or what might become the blurb….
Two twin brothers Harold and William love the magic of the natural world.
When Harold dies he leaves a simple memorial request.
Will his brother William and his sister Annette honour it?
Or, will the garden work its magic to ensure that they do.
A magical story expressed via an original compilation of poetry and prose
with photographic images.
Now, it is possible that this usurper poetry book might come out before The Curse of Time Book 2.
Oh. A race is on, which one will win?
In the meantime, if you haven’t read the first in the series, now’s the time… HURRY! And if you do I’d love some more reviews. I’m creeping up to 20 on Amazon UK. Can you get me from 18 to 20?
Unique Selling Point: Unique, Imaginative, ‘Charming, enchanting and richly layered this is purely delightful.’
“This delightful book will appeal to teens and young adults who love stories filled with magical crystals, dark family curses, and mysteries waiting to be solved around every corner. Each chapter leads you on a journey of discovery where Amelina earns the right to use three wizard stones to reset the balance of time and finally break the curse that holds her family hostage. A captivating tale!” – Colleen M. Chesebro (Editor)
Today, I am thrilled to share with you details of a crystal that I have recently discovered.
Chiastolite
Chiastolite is such a fascinating crystal! I have chosen to feature it in the second book in the Curse of Time YA Fantasy series. This current work in progress stands in the region of 70,000 words. I am very excited about how it is progressing.
Chiastolite exhibits may be brown or green with a black cross pattern. The meaning of its name comes from the Greek word “chiastos” meaning cruciform or crosswise.
It has many wonderful properties: stone of balance, harmony, creativity. It is spiritually grounding, an excellent tool for meditation, psychic protection, problem solving, understanding aging, death, and is considered to be a stone of prosperity.
Let me share with you the unedited prologue/first chapter of The Curse of Time Book Two – Golden Healer. I hope you enjoy! Any feedback would be gratefully received.
Prologue
Eruterac wore a round knitted rasta cap embellished with bright sun-cured palm leaves. At the centre, he’d attached a shining Chiastolite – otherwise known as the death crystal.
The Chiastolite shared the brown colour of the earth he inhabited apart from a distinct black cross in the middle. Other than that and several cakes of mud he was naked, if you can call such a creature naked.
His filthy, matted dreadlocks tumbled forwards as he picked off a wriggling worm which dared to crawl across his bony frame. He held it inches from where his mouth used to be and dangled it in front of Leanne’s nose.
‘Dinner,’ he joked, as he bobbed his skeletal head.
‘No thanks, dearest creature,’ replied Leanne, as she tucked a strand of her silver pink hair behind her ear. ‘I prefer caviar. But I do like your new hat – that Chiastolite is very fetching!’
Leanne picked up her teapot and poured the liquid into a cup. It flowed slowly, twinkling with the brilliant colour of a thousand crystals. When it filled the cup, it turned the colour Leanne expected. She’d thought of green tea and magical green tea it was.
Eruterac reacted by choking and spluttering on clods of earth as he laughed. ‘That’s foul. Green tea, how can you drink such muck? Stinking Caviar. Sturgeon’s excrement.’
‘Huh, you can talk! You’re the one infested with worms.’
‘Worms… yes… I don’t blame you for hating worms. Worms are a wriggling nuisance but heavens to cemeteries they are nowhere near as bad as rats. Disrespectful Vermin!’
‘Poor you! Take heart,look, it must cheer you up to see such beauty every day,’ Leanne turned and pointed at the rose and myrtle garden and the cottage beyond with its walls of brilliant crystals.
‘My heart beats no more but I adore the tranquillity and beauty of this magical garden and cottage.’
A white dove landed on Leanne’s shoulder, she turned and smiled. But the dove thought better of it and alighted on the Creature’s hat. It pecked away at the worms making the creature smile.
‘Cheeky doves, always favouring you and your sunny hat when you’re around.’
‘They know who provides them with a constant dinner of worms. And who’s… boss.’
‘Huh! Yes to dinner, but a boss? You? That Chiastolite’s making you big-headed. Oh, my days. The mythological protectors and my dearest doves are all I – and my dear cottage need. And… to return to our earlier conversation, the mythological fly is up to his tricks.’
‘Where’s that stinking fly from hell been to this time?’ asked Eruterac, leaning forward, sending a bunch of worms tumbling towards Leanne’s teacup. Her eyes grew wide as she placed a protective hand over the top but a few swift worms landed in the saucer. She swiped them away.
‘Oh, anguish me. Worms in my saucer! How my flesh crawls. Ugh. I feel giddy,’ she placed a trembling hand on her forehead.
‘Leanne, forget the innocent worms. We were talking of the fly?’
‘Yes, we were. Now let me see. The fly has been to Amelina’s,’ she paused for a moment, her eyes wide. ‘He flew in the window but I am at a loss to figure out what happened next. My naughty crystal ball refuses to grant me a vision. I do know this – I placed my trust in Amelina – but I fear I was hasty.’
Leanne sighed.
‘Your heartfelt sigh makes me glad I’m dead. I no longer experience human stress and with time to waste, I’m a master at pontificating about nothing. But, I have a gurgling sensation in my once gut which tells me that the Grasshopper and the fly are in cahoots. Either way, I could suggest this or that, but it would all be for nought. Amelina is young, she will learn to master the magical crystal gifts you have entrusted to her. Time is on her side. I have every faith in her.’
He lifted his hat in a calculated salute to Leanne. A family of rats who had been resting on his dreadlocks ran free, knocking over Leanne’s cup.
‘Ugh. I wish you wouldn’t do that Eruterac,’ said Leanne. ‘You pretend to honour me but the last time you did that, you broke my precious teacup!’
‘Me! Mercy!’ replied Eruterac, laughing so hard that his eye sockets crunched together producing a horrendous grinding sound.
‘Stop that! You know you have no eyeballs – you devil! The rats devoured both your eyes long ago. Enough, our conversation is at an end,’ she paused for a moment before proclaiming, ‘The Bloodstone will find a way.’
‘Of Krystallos blood and Amelina I am certain,’ replied Eruterac, bowing.
I haven’t had much chance recently to have time for writing. Oh, that makes me so sad! So I thought it would be nice to have a go at Sacha Black’s Writespiration by writing a story in just 52 words.
The prompt – Write about the night you spent in a cemetery really got me thinking…
This is my entry… Be prepared … this ended up being definitely in the horror/dark humour genre!
Marti and I didn’t want to appear chicken, so we accepted a dare – A night in a cemetery, alone, partying with the dead. Nothing creepy happened or so we thought, until I awoke with a freshly dug grave next to me with the inscription: Dig Marti out quick, if you dare, Chicken.
Sorry that wasn’t very Christmassy! Lol… I did get my writing analysed ages ago and it said I wrote like Stephen King (I wish! So this is just my tribute to him!)
Wishing you a very Happy Christmas and Joyful New Year. No walking late at night in cemeteries folks!
Oh, by the way my YA Novel is currently on special offer … on Amazon Kindle.
Bye for now,
My Social Media Links:
Fellow Administrators of our Authors Bloggers Rainbow Support Club #ABRSC on Facebook, myself, my good friends – Colleen Chesebro and Debby Gies
Welcome to Kyrosmagica, Shadow – the black cat who features in my book – The Curse of Time: The Bloodstone. I’m so glad you agreed to this interview opportunity today to help me promote my book which I hope to release this summer. You are such a handsome fellow and quite the gent I hear. Today, we’re going to discuss all manner of things and we will also have a #mentalhealthawarenessweek discussion about anxiety, depression, self-harm and eating disorders.
Tell me about yourself…
Purrrrr.… Thanks for being so welcoming Marje not everyone is so kind to cats. Luckily, I have a lovely owner Amelina who cares for me. I discovered her one day when I was playing in her garden; I peered in the window and I knew she was a special person so I stayed. I’m persuasive that way, one purr, and a stroke of my sleek black fur and humans can’t resist me!
When you say not everyone is so kind to cats does that mean you have had a rough life?
Oh, to answer this question I have to think back in time. The strangest thing happened to me one day. I felt this abundant change in my spirit. One minute I was chasing birds, playing with the mice in a field and then kapow, it hit me. I felt this overwhelming feeling of change. I felt different, overcome with these overwhelming feelings of goodness. But, the goodness felt alien, like it belonged to an earwig or something! The weird thing is in rare moments I feel like I’m someone else entirely and that someone else isn’t nice at all. One day, I experienced this intense moment of evil flooding my poor furry body, it only lasted a second but it shook me up real bad. I’m still trying to recover, my fur is all matted and ruffled. Shadow shivers…
Oh, my goodness that sounds horrible!Perhaps we better change the subject. Could you tell me why you’re called Shadow?
That is a very perceptive question. Shadow twitches his whiskers while considering it. I think it’s because I arrived in the Scott’s house when something good happened that revealed something bad. I represent yin, (shady side,) and yang, (the sunny side,) light and dark, but I am more yang – of sunny disposition – than ying. My tiny moments of ying disturb me…
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That’s deep…
Yes, life can be full of perplexities and this story is a fine example of that. I prefer the simple things in life… exploring, enjoying the sunshine, lying on the grass, hanging out in my garden, chilling, eating, playing, cuddling, purring, and looking adorable!
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What is it like living in the Scott’s household?
Challengingggggg! They are such a strange family. The dad is half dead; the mum is stroppy and Amelina has this sister called Esme whose not a sister but behaves like one. Esme always seems to be up and down in her emotions. Her ying and yang are out of control. She is one confused girl and behaves like a prisoner to her own reflection. I listen to them nattering on… They all have a tragic story and mum, dad and Esme inadvertently tell me their individual stories. More about that in the book…. no spoilers! I know all of their secrets. I’m a snoop! Oh, and I nearly forgot to say Amelina has an aunt Karissa who owns a dog… UGH… a critter called Toby – most unfortunate. The bloody thing comes to stay, breaks things, eats all the time and causes havoc. The aunt drinks, tea, and alcohol too, and eats a lot, mainly chocolate unless she’s dieting. She’s always losing her glasses. Toby and her are quite a pairing!
My goodness sounds like you have to put up with a lot. Getting back to the stories – they sound shocking. Did one confession shock you more than the rest?
The dad’s and Esme’s are the worst. The dad because something has happened to him that is out of his control, (and seems to have impacted upon the whole family,) and I relate to that (after my weird overload of goodness episode,) and Esme because she self harms or did.
Self harm… that and other mental illnesses like anxiety, and depression, are a rising problem in our young people. What’s your opinion about it?
Kids nowadays have a lot of problems and it’s not their fault. I sympathise, I really do. The word pressure sums it up. Pressure to succeed, pressure to look good, (on Instagram, and other social media,) pressure to be thin, pressure to be popular, pressure to have the best-looking boyfriend/girlfriend, pressure to have money, pressure to get to the best Universities… the list just goes on and on.
There’s bullying too, and it isn’t just face to face like it used to be now its via social media too. It’s like there’s no escaping meanness, and rudeness. It’s so immediate, one little tweet, or nasty message via an Instagram shot can go to masses of your ‘friends’ in a mere second. So it’s not surprising that our young people often have mental health issues such as anxiety, eating disorders, depression and self-harm. In the worst case scenario some resort to suicide and that makes me so sad. No one should ever feel that way, there is always help out there. Talk to your mum, dad, a close friend you can trust, a sibling, a counsellor, an aunt, anyone who loves you. Just don’t bottle it up that’s the worst thing you can do.
All youngsters should own cats, Meowwww, cats are good for you. We have superpowers. Truly, we lower your heart rate, boost your immunity, help you relax – we release a calming chemical called oxytocin into your body, and that helps induce love and trust and make you smile. We increase your sociability, yes having cats makes you more sociable, and stops you feeling lonely. Purrrrr. We have a stack load of medical health benefits too: we reduce the risk of heart disease, and heart attacks. We lower your triglycerides and cholesterol levels.Hey, we even reduce your chances of having a stroke. See we cats are superheros! Oh, and top of all that we reduce the carbon footprint, not like doggies like Toby who eat a ton. We eat small morsels, fish, and catch our own prey.
Is there anyone in Amelina’s life who has an eating disorder?
Yes, there’s this girl called Emily, who struggles with her desire to be thin, and to be loved. I don’t have that problem – I know that Amelina loves me. Also, I take a lot of exercise to keep fit and trim. But, I have a huge heart so I cry real cat tears when I think about poor Emily and others like her.
Does Amelina have a lot of friends?
No, not loads, she’s smart that way, she knows it’s not the number of friends but the quality of friends. Though, not all of them are to my liking… Except me, of course… (I’m her best friend.) She has three close human friends: Jade, Joselyn, and Ilaria. Jade is Amelina’s best human friend. She is arguably the prettiest but the most spoilt. She has this huge house, owns horses, and gets everything she wants. Joselyn is the worrier, (this girl needs a cat!) and Ilaria is the joker, but I sense the jokes hide something deeper. My favourite is Ilaria because I like a laugh. The four of them play in a band and write their own music. It’s pretty cool.
What about guys, does she have a regular boyfriend?
There is nothing regular about Amelina! She stumbled upon this guy called Ryder down a scary river pathway. I tried to follow her, but she shooed me away. The guy’s dangerous I don’t know why I know but I do. He has too much ying in his soul. I don’t trust him. He dresses all in black and has one green eye and one black. But sometimes that green eye looks red to me, like it is bleeding. Creepyyyyyyy. But, Amelina thinks he saved her, from what I can’t imagine, some prank probably.
Is there anyone else you’ve met through Amelina that has left a lasting impression on you?
Oh, yes, Kyle. Love him, he is Ryder’s best friend. He’s so snuggly and nice, I love to sit on his lap and purrrrr. Ohhh….
If you could sum your owner Amelina in words what would you say?
She’s poetic, artistic, musical, kind-hearted, magical and brave but makes mistakes. She is a flawed human, poor thing! Miaowwww.
Thank you so much Shadow for coming on to my blog today and telling us all about my forthcoming new book, The Curse of Time: The Bloodstone. I really appreciate it.
It is my pleasure my dear. Any time… Oh, before I go can I be cheeky and ask one question?
Yes of course you can Shadow.
It’s about Lily who models for me, can you set me up with a date? She looks real cute!
Of course I can Shadow, will do! I chuckle… imagine a date between yourself, (Shadow,) a fictional cat and a non-fictional cat, (Lily,) it could only happen in a writer’s life. Next time, (as long as Lily is willing,) we’ll have the date on Kyrosmagica… and she can tell us all about herself!
Shadow purrs a rich note of contentment in reply.
All above photos of Lily (our black cat model,) courtesy of my lovely blogging friend Samantha Murdoch – photography credit her son Alex Marlowe.
Samantha has recently started an Instagram account so please do click the link to see her lovely cats, (they are all supermodels,) and her crystals : Samantha’s IG account
For Colleen and Ronovan’s Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge, #WQWWC – I’m sharing two quotes, one about the nature of fantasy, and the other about Time.
I’ve also written a poem, which I’ve called If Only Time.. The poem is inspired by my current WIP: The Curse of Time.
My Wattpad link is below – at the end of this post – if you’d like to read some of my novel. Do bear in mind that this is a WIP and not the final version .. I’ve been editing my novel….. and it will soon be getting a beta read so I’m getting nearer and nearer to completing it, and readying it for publishing.. EXCITING!!!!!! So do pop over to Wattpad and give me some support. All comments, shares, likes most gratefully received. x
Here’s the link to Colleen’s blog to join in the challenge: WQWWC – Fantasy
The quotes I’m featuring this week are:
Fantasy mirrors desire, imagination reshapes it. Mason Cooley.
Love this quote isn’t it the best?
And the one below is for all us procrastinators – you know who I’m talking about! This quote is the most popular Goodreads quote about Time… I wonder why?….
Second piece of news is I’ve decided to change the title. For ages I’ve been thinking of The Crystal Cottage, Krystallos…. but after much thought and some feedback from friends, family, and my blogging buddies, I’ve decided on – The Curse of Time..
The prologue is a recent development, so I would appreciate it if I could get some feedback – prologues tend to be a bit of a pain in the ***. Comments, positive critiquing, are welcomed so I can make this beginning to the story the best it can be. With that in mind, I’m doing a gentle ask here – if you could please share this post on social media, and reblog. This request is doing the rounds on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, Google+ and might even make it to the photographic shores of Instagram!!
I would be so grateful. You can count on lots of shout outs, hugs, and Easter eggs in return. I promise.
PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
Go for the entertainment value!
State the Genre of your story at the top of your post.
Post your story on Tuesday, by 11:59 PM PST
Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
Have fun!
The inspiration for this story came from a missing present on Christmas day, not an unusual event in our house as I tend to be a bit scatty and sometimes I forget where I have put all the presents! It eventually turned up, luckily I hadn’t thrown it into the rubbish by mistake but it just got me thinking…… what might happen in different circumstances if a touch of fantasy made its way into Christmas Day. Who knows where a missing present might lead you ?
Read on and find out…
Genre: Fantasy/Romance/Christmas
The Secret Santa Gift
The envelope was white, plain apart from the printed letters marking her name. Ellie opened it and found a white and gold gift tag inside bearing the words: Happy Christmas, love from your Secret Santa, followed by two golden criss-cross kisses. The envelope was empty, no present, no gift voucher, nothing.
Ellie didn’t mind that there was no present inside, that just made her even more curious. She lifted the envelope to her nose and inhaled the masculine scent within. This succeeded in making her knees go all weak.
She dropped the envelope and a flurry of gold dust appeared, scattering a trail that extended towards the front door. Ellie didn’t hesitate for a moment she liked an adventure so she followed the trail. The gold dust continued for several feet and then vanished. She spotted another tiny envelope. Ellie leant down and picked it up. Inside she found the tiniest folded envelope that she had ever seen, and within this envelope there was an even tinier painting of a heart. Ellie blushed.
She paused, wondering what to do next. The tiny folded envelope began to spiral round and round twirling, lengthening and widening, flattening and folding into a succession of beautiful origami flowers. First, an exquisite rose, then a vibrant lotus flower, followed by a proud orchid, and then the origami flower took flight turning into a bird of paradise that flew up into the air and finally flattened out, folding into a pocket heart than lingered like a tender caress within the palm of her hand. Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes, how extraordinary!
She unfolded the origami pocket heart and saw that within it there were three paper puzzle pieces with the words:
Love and kisses!
From your …..
Secret admirer.
How strange! She heard a rustling sound and looked up, just above her sat a tiny elf on a branch of an overhanging tree. He smiled at her, and blushed so much that he turned the tips of his pointed ears a spectacular candy floss pink.
Ellie realised that her secret admirer was in fact one of Santa’s elves. He was tiny, but had the most handsome face that she had ever seen. He was dressed to impress, his clothes were smart and shiny, his hair sleeked back. He jumped down from the tree with the agility of a dancer and bowed down so low that it looked like he might scrape his nose on the ground.
“So pleased that my gift reached you Ellie; I’ve been saving up Santa points for good behaviour for years so that I could be your Secret Santa!”
“Goodness, that’s so sweet of you… ”
“Eddy the elf, at your sweet service,” he said bowing again, even more theatrically than he had done before.
“I’ve never met an elf before,” said Ellie, reflecting that she had never met such an imposing fellow in such a tiny but perfect muscular frame.
“Well, you’ll have lots of opportunity to meet all of my elf friends,” said Eddy, “We’re off to help Santa with the last minute wrapping.”
“You’re kidding me,” said Ellie, wide eyed with excitement. She couldn’t believe her ears. She thought she must be dreaming, this couldn’t possibly be real.
“No, I most certainly am not kidding! You are to be my new bride, so I must make a special elf speech. Here goes,” he cleared his throat for special effect, several times before continuing, “Every year one elf must choose a human bride so that we will be on the pulse of what youngsters want today. Will you marry me, sweet, beautiful, exquisite, Ellie? ”
“Your bride!” said Ellie in surprise, “But I’m still in secondary school, I’m way too young to marry.”
“Not in Elfland. Elves marry really young, you’re the perfect age for a love match,” said Eddy with a grin, “We seal the match with a very special kiss. That is how we show love in Elfland, we kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss! We are the kissing champions!”
Eddy took a massive leap catapulting himself up to land a kiss in a million on Ellie’s lips before she could even think to reply.
The kiss was beyond magical. It lingered for ages, long after he had landed back on the ground, tingling and caressing her lips. At the same time Ellie felt a strange sensation, as if someone was pressing firmly, but gently down on her head, squeezing her oversized body into her shoes. She looked at Eddy. Eddy’s nose and her nose were on a level, Eddy’s lips and her lips were at exactly the right point, and she was now the exact same height and proportions as him.
He gave her a huge hug. “Welcome to Elfhood my love,” he said.
Ellie no longer had the feeling that she didn’t belong in her tall, gangly human body. She wanted to screech with joy but she thought that might not be the best example of elfish etiquette.
So instead she said, “Thanks for rescuing me Eddy,” and with a demure lady like smile, she continued,” I always felt out of sorts, a stranger in my gigantic, gangly, human body.”
“I know,” said Eddy, jumping up and down with excitement, as if he was on a super charged pogo stick. “I have always been sure that you are the one for me.”
Eddy and Ellie danced around and around, twirling faster and faster until Ellie’s head felt as light as the lightest Chocolate Whip.
“Hurry, Santa’s nose will be getting redder by the moment, his nose goes as red as his Santa’s top when he’s cross, we’d better go, or we’ll be late for the present wrapping ceremony.”
Off they went, their hands swaying together in perfect joyous unison. Ellie grinned, squeezing Eddie’s hand. Eddie tickled her hand, and Ellie laughed, an unrestrained elfish laugh that started deep in her soul and never ended just like those tasty Elfish lingering kisses!
I hope you liked my story, a bit of a Christmas theme!
Well it’s time for another Blog Battle, if you haven’t come across Rachael Ritchey’s Blog Battles here’s your chance to join in this fun community of writers.
PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
Go for the entertainment value!
Post your story by Tuesday 11:59 PM PST
Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
Have fun!
The prompt word this week is Prophet. I thought I’d give you another little taster of my WIP, a children’s fantasy set in Edinburgh. I have written about 12,000 words in total for this new manuscript, so there is still a long way to go! This is the opening chapter of Morag Eu-Fung’s adventures, which is still to be edited/critiqued, by my writing group so all comments appreciated.
Hope you enjoy!
Grandma’s Prophesy
Morag shouted, a wide grin erupted on her moon-shaped face, any spirits evil or otherwise were probably deafened and finding a hiding place in a crater somewhere. Now Morag’s voice sounded hoarse. Eilidh rolled her eyes, and frowned, her forehead creasing tightly in a sisterly display of disapproval. Morag acknowledged the frown by sticking her tongue out at her sister, but it was too late, Eilidh had turned away totally missing Morag’s rebellious gesture.
Just at that very moment, the night sky lit up with another jubilant burst of fireworks. The rainbow of light seemed to catch Morag’s dark brown hair which hung loose, and then alighted on her coat which was unbuttoned, thrown on. Another burst of colour settled momentarily on her fingerless mittens. Morag’s face glowed, her breaths panting, like a tribe of joggers, trying to keep up with each quick step of excitement. As if to match the momentum of Morag’s breathing a sequence of fireworks burst into another wonderful display, light fell, illuminating the freckles on Eilidh’s face which squeezed together impersonating a series of tiny black dots. Somehow Eilidh’s freckles reminded Morag of what you might see after staring too long and hard at an optician’s bright light.
Morag’s dad had outdone himself. Where had he managed to find such a wonderful array of fireworks? The firecrackers had been noisy; the neighbours must be at breaking point by now. Morag imagined them in their houses gritting their teeth, and muttering with growing annoyance. She giggled. No doubt they could smell the aroma of burning bamboo sticks too. Anybody would think that they were living in Hong Kong or somewhere equally exotic, but no they were in Scotland, at least they were living in the capital city Edinburgh and not in some back water. The centre of Asian culture, no, not really, but most of the inhabitants of their house thought differently, and those who didn’t kept that opinion to themselves!
Mum, dad, grandma and grandpa joined them but watched from a distance. Morag and Eilidh huddled together in the back garden sharing this moment until Eilidh spoilt it with her selfish words.
“Come on Morag, let’s go, it’s over.”
Eilidh didn’t even have the decency to let the very last firework fizz out properly. Morag ignored her sister, she lingered, savouring the memory of the sight of the sparkling fireworks exploding into the darkness of the night, they might be gone but the atmosphere crackled with the promise of a New Year. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that for a moment she hadn’t noticed everyone else trooping back into the house. But when she did she questioned why they always did as Eilidh said? Before Morag could wonder anymore Grandmother trudged up and grabbed her by the collar of her coat and yanked her back to reality.
“Whooa Grandma, I’m coming, stop pulling at my coat,” said Morag, as she turned for one last stolen glance at the night sky.
Grandmother might seem to be the patient one but when it came to tradition she was always the first one in line, on a mission, in a hurry, organising the family in her quiet, devoted way. She had come outside to collect Morag without bothering to put on her coat. Her black dress was tightly drawn across her plump body, acting as a fearsome barrier to the cold. Morag studied Grandmother Lean’s wrinkly, tired face. She’d been working really hard, busily preparing everything for Chinese New Year. Grandmother had very rarely sat down, whilst grandfather settled down into the best chair in the house and refused to get up! Typical grandfather!
The reunion dinner had been well worth all the effort. Morag’s favourite dumplings had sat like tempting morsels quivering with expectant anticipation on the dining table. Within one of the dumplings a gold coin lay hidden and whoever found the coin was considered to be lucky. Morag had hoped that it would be her. She had looked at the dumplings hungrily and wondered which one to choose. Her hunger had got the better of her and she had chosen the biggest, fattest, one. In her haste she had opened her mouth wide and had taken an enormous bite, almost eating the dumpling whole. Of course, her elder sister had chosen the smaller more delicate dumpling and had found the gold coin. Typical! Why did her eldest sister have to be the lucky one? It was so unfair. Ugh! Still, maybe it was just as well, Morag had swallowed the gold coin last year by mistake, and they had had to rush her to hospital! After the gold coin incident, Eilidh had taken great delight in calling Morag a greedy pig. Morag didn’t want that name tag, even though the pig was one of the illustrious animals to grace the Chinese Zodiac.
The first day of this New Year had begun well. Grandmother Lean had greeted Morag and Eilidh with an individual ang pow, a little red packet.
“Spend it wisely, and all will be well,” Grandmother had prophesied.
Of course Grandmother hadn’t said this to Eilidh, she expected Eilidh to spend it wisely without being reminded. Eilidh would too, she knew how to get on the right side of grandmother and keep her sweet.
Morag had bowed respectfully to her grandmother, even though she was a bit annoyed by Grandmother selecting her for the “spend it wisely” message but she knew better than to say anything, and she certainly didn’t intend to open it in front of her. This was considered to be very rude! So she sneaked upstairs and opened the packet in her room, £20. Wow. She couldn’t wait to spend it.
She remembered her grandmother’s words.
“Spend it wisely.”
She loved her grandmother and knew that the spirits of her ancestors had been listening and that to disobey would be very, very, unwise. She must try her best to buy something worthy of her grandmother’s wish. She prophesied that she would be good, a little chuckle escaped betraying her like a prisoner from her lips.
Hope you like my #BlogBattle story. I’m enjoying writing this WIP. Do let me know what you think. I would love some opinions on the Chinese New Year Theme. Thanks a million.
The challenge word this week is spaghetti. Ah this conjures up messy eating habits, and trips to Rome, well in my mind it does anyway!
The rules and details of joining in this blog battle are at the end of this post.
Here’s my entry. It’s about Spag and Hetti, twin pieces of spaghetti who are made out of the same piece of pasta but are very, very different!
The Spag and Hetti Twins
“Hey Spag what you think about those diners last night talking about punting in Cambridge?’ asked Hetti.
“You won’t catch me a punting Hetti I’m too bendy, I’d be all over the place, toppling those fine people into mucky water. I ain’t no punting pasta,” replied Spag.
“Yeah, you said it! And you’d be messing up the punt with your tomato sauce, me brother.”
“I’m not a messy punter, don’t get all posh Fettucine, Rigatoni on me,” said Spag with a chuckle.
Hetti looked at his brother and smiled. Spag had always been a straight up spaghetti boy, served with Mama’s fine Italian sauce whereas Hetti preferred to be shaped into something different, moulded into a new style. Hetti had ambitions. He wanted to grace the finest Italian restaurants and be served all round the world.
“Hey Hetti you remember that time we were the centre piece in a messy party?”
“Yeah how could I ever forget! That’s ingrained in my pasta memory me brother.” Hetti winced. “The pasta sauce was all over their faces, dribbling down their mucky chins. It was everywhere.” replied Hetti.
“Yeah. The kids were cracking up, giggling non-stop. Then their mama she laughed so much she started clutching her chest. I thought she was going to have a heart attack,” said Spag talking faster and faster as if his pasta sauce was about to boil over.
Hetti put on his disapproving face. Spag knew that tell-tale look so well.
“Sometimes I think people are kind of silly, laughing so much, why can’t they eat pasta properly? They don’t have a clue, they got no pasta etiquette.”
“Hey stop being such a stuck up kill joy Hetti, they were just having a laugh. Those moments are the best, real family times, rare, just natural like, no TV, no outside stuff just being together sharing moments. Those are the memories they’ll remember when the kids are long gone and all grown up. They’re precious those special times.”
“You’re such a big softy Spag, no wonder your pasta’s prone to being soggy,” said Hetti playfully punching his brother in the tummy.
“Huh, just because you’re always so Al Dente, Hetti. Why you got to be so perfect? Sometimes it gets on my nerves. For pasta’s sake Hetti just let your hair down.”
“You’re telling me to let my hair down, that’s rich. You’ve got to stop being a mummy’s boy Spag. Don’t you want to explore, see the world?” asked Hetti looking at his brother curiously.
Spag raised his voice slightly, his pasta adam’s apple wobbling as he spoke. “I see and hear all I gonna see and hear every day in Mama’s restaurant. This is the best, nothing like it. Nowhere else compares. ”
“Huh, Mama’s restaurant, you and I we may be twins cut from the same piece of pasta but I just don’t understand you. When the nurse cut our spaghetti cord she did me a big favour, she made sure that I was the more handsome longer half, me brother.”
“More handsome longer half. What a cheek! Hetti don’t you go a winding me up, twist me around your annoying fork I’m not playing that game me brother.”
“You play the Spaghetti game every day Spag, you’re all meat balls, and tomato sauce you are. Where’s your imagination? Why you not come with me? Try something different, go somewhere different. It’ll be a blast. Let’s go exploring.”
“Where you going Hetti?” asked Spag raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
“I’m going to Italy me brother to the finest city, Rome. There we can learn all about the finest pasta, culture and history. ”
“How are you going to get to Rome, this cultural oasis Hetti?” asked Spag looking at his brother’s legs. “Those bendy legs won’t carry you further than your next serving plate, you’ll need crutches, better still a wheelchair. If you’re not careful they’ll feed your sorry ass to the lions in the Colloseum.”
“Ha Ha. Stop looking at me legs. I can’t help it if they’re long and thin. Anyway I’ll show you Hetti, we’ll get there you’ll see.”
“How me brother? On a helicopter, a speed boat, a jet ski, or what about one of them posh cruise ships? That sounds more your style, or maybe you’re thinking of a flight on a pasta passport? You got your passport photo yet? That I got to see!”
Hetti laughed. His long thin pasta body wiggled. “I’ll find a way Spag. I always find a way, it’s a long challenging piece of pasta to get there but I’ll get there in the end.”
“Yeah, I can just see it now Boomerang Airlines, twirl your pasta around the boomerang and you might go as far as Australia, return trip the same day.”
“Ha Ha very funny. I’ll surprise you, you’ll see. I’m the final bite ain’t I?” said Hetti standing up taller, stretching to his full height.
“That you are me brother, that you are. I tell you what, you’re me brother and I love you like we’re the same piece of pasta so if you can get to Rome I’m a coming with you. I’ve heard all about Rome, the Colloseum, The Pantheum, The Spanish Steps, The Trevi fountain.
“The beautiful Italian ladies!”
Spag sighed. Hetti sighed.
“I knew it. Never mind about family love. The ladies. Now, you want to come with me brother!”
Hetti inspected Spag as if he was searching for some magical secret ingredient. “You may be a bit on the small side but the ladies love you. I never figured that out me brother! How come? What you got that I lack?”
“You know the saying, size don’t matter. It’s me charm.”
Hetti grinned. “Yeah, and all of those lovely ladies they always smile real wistful like when they finish a plate of your finest Spag, you pasta devil, Spag!”
Here are the Voting rules, and rules of participating in Rachel’s Challenge:
Everyone, regardless of participation, who reads ALL the stories for the week may vote.
PLEASE VOTE for your top TWO favorites (not two for the same, though!).
Vote by 10 PM PST on SATURDAY so Rachel can announce the winner on SUNDAY!
Rules:
1000 words max
fictional tale (or true if you really want)
PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
Go for the entertainment value!
Post your story by Tuesday 11:59 PM PST
Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/orinclude a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
Have fun!
Thanks for stopping by, I hope you liked my #BlogBattle story, maybe you might like to join in Rachel’s challenge too.
Welcome to Writing Through the Soul to Heal the Soul. Where you will learn everything you need to know to heal your soul through writing! Thanks for stopping by.
M J Mallon YA Author and Poet 
