These past two weeks have been ones of trials. It seems a certain person who shall remain unnamed has decided to pop back into my life. No, not a person who is wanted, rather one I ran from two years ago because I found out the man wished to take my life and almost succeeded. Now, he is here, tormenting me beyond all end. He slashed my daughter's tire, has been stalking the house, and killed my beloved pet, Samson. All my soul screams is justice, yet now,once again, because he's discovered where I live, we have to move. And to make matters worse, my finance and I parted company on Tuesday. I feel very alone during this tribulation. It seems harder this time, to gather my warrior spirit together. Luckily I found a place and will be moving posthaste by July 4th.
Book One is reformatting itself again in my mind. I have completed a prologue which wasn't there before, and am making the main characters older. This change seems needed and sets well in my mind.
Prologue:
Ceridwyn
The blade felt heavy, cold and good in her hands. She hid it beneath the wool of her cloak as she stood under the Elder tree watching the guards slide in the mud as they readied the cage. God she hated them and their master. Why did her father send her here anyway? The House of Murias Donn needed no ally; it was well established in its own right. Erulisse, the Elf Queen, was far to the North and knew nothing of their strength; they could take Green Isle if they had to. How could he justify siding with these demons?
"We are ready Princess. The cage has been constructed according to the instruction of the witch."
A meaty guard approached her, drenched from the downpour. "Now it is your task to catch the beast, otherwise..." He offered her the brief glance of his blade, pulling it part way from its sheath.
Ceridwyn nodded her understanding all the while glaring at the man. "The witch shall have her prize and then my family will be allied with the Dark One and Crag Cairn forever. Best mind your manners then; otherwise your constant lack of respect will be noticed and dealt with!"
Sneering, he rubbed his lips as his eyes traveled the length of her slender body. "I won't be minding a turn in the hay."
Instinctively her hand lashed out, striking the exposed skin under the dirty helmet. "Watch your tongue, or I'll cut it from your mouth, and show it to you before slitting your throat!"
Laughing, the guard turned away and proceeded to the large cage, his stride sinking his boots ankle deep into the muck. "Get your asses back in the cover of the trees, or it will see you." He commanded of the others. Glancing back at the girl, he sneered. "And are you sure, you still be a virgin, Princess?"
Touching the sharp edge of the dagger with her fingertip, she didn't reply. An intense desire rose from the very pit of her being to sink the length of the steel though his chest as she stared at the grizzled face of the guard. Her mind screamed a war cry of vengeance, but she held her body still. Disappointing her father was far more reason to allow the man this one indiscretion. She would deal with him soon enough.
An unfamiliar sound filtered from the forest. The cry echoing through the mist made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. It was time. She left the shelter of the Elder and walked the well worn path to the edge of Half Moon Lake. Standing in the marsh grasses, she waited until the cry came closer before she stepped into the open.
And then she saw it, running on top of the fog, its white coat glistening in the rain. Its mane flowing in waves as it galloped towards her. "Come, mighty one. Come closer." She called lightly, her lyric voice melting with the breeze.
The sight of its beauty touched even her dark heart and water filled her eyes at the thought of the task she was about to perform. Stopping inches from Ceridwyn, the Unicorn snorted, as it measured the girl standing in the drizzling rain. Its hoof took a tentative step closer, its soul sensing her, fear leaving its body as it realized what she was.
Her voice, soft, coaxed the stallion nearer, until she was able to take a silk rope from the pocket of her cloak and slip it over his head, tightening the noose. As she lead the Unicorn back up the path towards the cage, her heart sank at her duty. It was the last of its kind here on Green Isle. Could she do what her father and the witch expected?
Willingly, it allowed itself to be ushered into the confines of the cage. As the lock slipped into place, the Unicorn's dark eyes searched her face. Ceridwyn clasped the dagger in her hands, as she continued to move closer to the beast. Her hand found its way up into the coarse hair of the mane and she stroked its neck, holding its attention as she sliced the horn from its head. Staggering to the ground, the animal took a shallow breath of air, and laid still.
"Well done Princess!" The guard stomped his way to the cage. "Now we know you still be a virgin. But not for long, eh?" His hand grabbed at her shoulder.
Anticipating the unwanted advance, Ceridwyn countered by pivoting away and as she turned, the hand with the horn came up, embedding itself deeply into the man's groin traveling through the lower part of his stomach upwards. Wrapping her arm around the man's shoulder, she pulled him closer, driving the horn deeper. "I warned you about your disrespect." She whispered into his ear, before wrenching the horn from his body.
His face frozen in shock, gaped at her in amazement. Falling to his knees, he tilted his head towards her. “Your justice will come Princess…” he managed to cough before falling over face first into the slimy lake of mud.
Narrowing her eyes, she mentally reflected on the body already sinking under the top layer of mud. She reveled in her deed, a slight smile breaking her rigid posture. Pulling a cloth from her cloak she wrapped the bloodied horn within its folds, and tied it with the silk noose.
“Yes…maybe one day my just reward will come, but only after your sacrifice brings justice to the House of Murias Donn.” The words sounded sweet in her ears, as she thought of the downfall of the Elf kingdom and their precious Queen Erulisse.
One of her father’s guards approached her, interrupting her daydreams of the swift death of their enemy. Warily baring his sword in a show to the witch’s men, he motioned for her to quickly move to their horses. “We must ride, Princess, before this bunch of primitives come to attention and decide you have done a great injustice to their captain.”
“He had it coming.”
“They may not see it that way.”
“The witch expressed to all of them that no harm should befall either of us. As for my deed to the captain, I will not tolerate any type of disrespect; especially coming from our ally. He was ignorant and a slob. I only took his vile words and touches until we had the horn.” She swung a leg over the top of her mare. “The witch is expecting us soon, for the horn will be the beginning ingredient for the forgotten spell, and with its weaving, so shall justice be woven for Murias Donn!”
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Submitting Short Stories
Okay, So I am submitting some short stories:
This one went out today:: Titled "Vengenance"
The figure was always a shadow, half hidden behind outdated drapery in the front window of the aging and weathered Victorian home on the end of the street. Children often ran by, laughing, as they pushed each other into the overgrown yard, challenging the other to pull a prank and ring the doorbell. Everyone wanted to glimpse the object of many sordid tales and rumors of the town’s gossip chain, but the door never seemed to open for anyone or anything. So it was sometime before those in the neighborhood noticed that the strange figure that once stood at the window didn’t stand there anymore, and the demise of the lonely old woman undiscovered, until the smell of putrid decay penetrated the dainty nose of the self appointed neighborhood watchdog, Adalay Thompson.
“Sheriff, you need to get up to the old Ledford home. I think Ms. Sarah finally kicked the bucket!” She demanded of Rudy Garrett one afternoon.
“Adalay, what has gotten you up in a dander today?” His voice suggested that he had already been down the road of her nosiness before and didn’t want to be bothered in the humid heat of the day.
“There is a god awful smell coming from that house, and you need to get up there and investigate!”
“Alright, alright. Keep your skirt on.” He sighed lazily hanging up the phone. Grabbing his cowboy hat off the hat-rack by the door, Rudy stepped into the sunlight. Squinting up to the sky before putting on the prerequisite shades most of the good old boys in the Georgia force wore, he shook his head as he climbed into the patrol car and headed up the road to the Ledford house.
Adalay Thompson was always sticking her nose into other people's business and Ms. Sarah was just a kindly little old lady who didn't bother much of nothing. He hated to go knocking at her door just to satisfy Adalay who snooped more than anyone else he knew. He had visited Ms. Sarah a few years back in his younger days, when there was some disturbance reported by an out-of-towner who claimed she was the sister of a Mr. Nathanial Clemens and that Mr. Clemens was to wed Ms. Sarah and had disappeared, after breaking their engagement. Mr. Clemens' sister had the whole town in an uproar saying Ms. Sarah had killed her brother and disposed of the body.
“Rudy Garrett,” Ms. Sarah's soft spoken manner always captured the attention of whoever she addressed. “I buried Mr. Ledford a long time ago and have been a widow for these long years. I don't believe that I am the marrying kind anymore.” She smiled slightly as she offered him a plate of cookies.
Taking one, he bit into the soft chewy morsel and nodded. “Yes Ma'am I know, but when someone makes any kind of accusation like that, you know it's part of my job to follow up.”
“Yes, I understand. If I see this Mr. Clemens, I'll be sure to let him know to contact you.”
With that Ms. Sarah ushered him out the door, and closed it firmly behind him. It was the last time he really saw anything of her. She became more and more of a recluse, keeping watch at the window during the day, and at night a small light burned from the upstairs window into the wee hours of the morning. He always wondered what she was doing up so late.
Pulling into the circular drive of the old home, he saw Adalay was already standing on the front porch holding her nose. As he exited the vehicle he noticed a rather pungent odor.
“Either she's dead or she got something that crawled up into the basement and died, because I've never smelled anything like this before.” Adalay commented as Rudy climbed the wooden stairs leading up to the front door.
“Now Adalay, I want you to be kind and stay out of the way when I go knocking at this door. Do I make myself clear?”
“Whatever you say Sheriff.” She nodded taking a couple of steps back.
Rudy tapped on the door with his knuckle. After waiting for several seconds, he knocked again, but this time louder, calling out Ms. Sarah's name. When no response came, he beat on the door with all his might. Walking to the front window, he peered inside, past the dusty curtains.
“What the...?” The question came as a surprise and intent on getting in quickly he kicked the door down.
Adalay followed the Sheriff into the darkened home. Furniture lay strewn amidst broken glass from pictures which had been knocked off the wall. The house was in shambles.
“What happened here?” Adalay gazed around the small foyer into the adjoining room.
“Ms. Sarah?” Rudy hollered.
“Look over there!”
Squinting into the dim hallway, Rudy noticed the basement door. Axe marks were chiseled the middle of the door from the direction of the basement, and the door hung from its hinges, torn almost in two.
“Do you suppose they got in that way, through the basement?”
Rudy touched the wood, feeling the splinters. “I don't know. Adalay, you need to wait outside.” He whispered as he drew his gun.
Being the stubborn woman she was, Adalay clung to Rudy's back as he followed the axe marks in the floor and up the staircase, seeming cut into the wooden planks as the intruder chased someone to the upper level of the house.
Carefully and quietly they made their way to the third story. Standing at the top stair, Rudy paused at the sight of another mangled door.
“The smell is worse up here!” Adalay whined.
Rudy furrowed his brow at her. “Do you not know what 'wait outside means' Adalay?” He shook his head.
The two tiptoed to the end of the hall. When they reached the room, Rudy threw his back against the wall and with his gun, eased the door opened.
“Oh my God!” Adalay exclaimed gagging.
Centered in the bed was the decomposing body of Ms. Sarah. Draped over her was what appeared to be a man's body, shrived, his suit covered in dirt. His skeletal hands still clutched the axe which was deeply embedded in the chest of the old woman. Rudy took out a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose.
Edging closer he pulled on the ragged material of the jacket of the man. The body came up, ripping from the arm sockets. Adalay screamed as the mummified man fell at their feet.
“What in heavens is that?” She cried.
“It looks like the remains of a dead man, that's been buried a long time.” Rudy observed.
“Well who is he?”
Digging into the protruding back pocket of the trousers, Rudy pulled out an aging black leather wallet. Carefully unfolding it, he rubbed at the dirt covering the driver's license.
“I'll be a monkey's uncle.” The Sheriff whispered, amazed at what he saw.
“Rudy Garrett, who is he?” Adalay demanded.
“Nathaniel Clemens.”
This one went out today:: Titled "Vengenance"
The figure was always a shadow, half hidden behind outdated drapery in the front window of the aging and weathered Victorian home on the end of the street. Children often ran by, laughing, as they pushed each other into the overgrown yard, challenging the other to pull a prank and ring the doorbell. Everyone wanted to glimpse the object of many sordid tales and rumors of the town’s gossip chain, but the door never seemed to open for anyone or anything. So it was sometime before those in the neighborhood noticed that the strange figure that once stood at the window didn’t stand there anymore, and the demise of the lonely old woman undiscovered, until the smell of putrid decay penetrated the dainty nose of the self appointed neighborhood watchdog, Adalay Thompson.
“Sheriff, you need to get up to the old Ledford home. I think Ms. Sarah finally kicked the bucket!” She demanded of Rudy Garrett one afternoon.
“Adalay, what has gotten you up in a dander today?” His voice suggested that he had already been down the road of her nosiness before and didn’t want to be bothered in the humid heat of the day.
“There is a god awful smell coming from that house, and you need to get up there and investigate!”
“Alright, alright. Keep your skirt on.” He sighed lazily hanging up the phone. Grabbing his cowboy hat off the hat-rack by the door, Rudy stepped into the sunlight. Squinting up to the sky before putting on the prerequisite shades most of the good old boys in the Georgia force wore, he shook his head as he climbed into the patrol car and headed up the road to the Ledford house.
Adalay Thompson was always sticking her nose into other people's business and Ms. Sarah was just a kindly little old lady who didn't bother much of nothing. He hated to go knocking at her door just to satisfy Adalay who snooped more than anyone else he knew. He had visited Ms. Sarah a few years back in his younger days, when there was some disturbance reported by an out-of-towner who claimed she was the sister of a Mr. Nathanial Clemens and that Mr. Clemens was to wed Ms. Sarah and had disappeared, after breaking their engagement. Mr. Clemens' sister had the whole town in an uproar saying Ms. Sarah had killed her brother and disposed of the body.
“Rudy Garrett,” Ms. Sarah's soft spoken manner always captured the attention of whoever she addressed. “I buried Mr. Ledford a long time ago and have been a widow for these long years. I don't believe that I am the marrying kind anymore.” She smiled slightly as she offered him a plate of cookies.
Taking one, he bit into the soft chewy morsel and nodded. “Yes Ma'am I know, but when someone makes any kind of accusation like that, you know it's part of my job to follow up.”
“Yes, I understand. If I see this Mr. Clemens, I'll be sure to let him know to contact you.”
With that Ms. Sarah ushered him out the door, and closed it firmly behind him. It was the last time he really saw anything of her. She became more and more of a recluse, keeping watch at the window during the day, and at night a small light burned from the upstairs window into the wee hours of the morning. He always wondered what she was doing up so late.
Pulling into the circular drive of the old home, he saw Adalay was already standing on the front porch holding her nose. As he exited the vehicle he noticed a rather pungent odor.
“Either she's dead or she got something that crawled up into the basement and died, because I've never smelled anything like this before.” Adalay commented as Rudy climbed the wooden stairs leading up to the front door.
“Now Adalay, I want you to be kind and stay out of the way when I go knocking at this door. Do I make myself clear?”
“Whatever you say Sheriff.” She nodded taking a couple of steps back.
Rudy tapped on the door with his knuckle. After waiting for several seconds, he knocked again, but this time louder, calling out Ms. Sarah's name. When no response came, he beat on the door with all his might. Walking to the front window, he peered inside, past the dusty curtains.
“What the...?” The question came as a surprise and intent on getting in quickly he kicked the door down.
Adalay followed the Sheriff into the darkened home. Furniture lay strewn amidst broken glass from pictures which had been knocked off the wall. The house was in shambles.
“What happened here?” Adalay gazed around the small foyer into the adjoining room.
“Ms. Sarah?” Rudy hollered.
“Look over there!”
Squinting into the dim hallway, Rudy noticed the basement door. Axe marks were chiseled the middle of the door from the direction of the basement, and the door hung from its hinges, torn almost in two.
“Do you suppose they got in that way, through the basement?”
Rudy touched the wood, feeling the splinters. “I don't know. Adalay, you need to wait outside.” He whispered as he drew his gun.
Being the stubborn woman she was, Adalay clung to Rudy's back as he followed the axe marks in the floor and up the staircase, seeming cut into the wooden planks as the intruder chased someone to the upper level of the house.
Carefully and quietly they made their way to the third story. Standing at the top stair, Rudy paused at the sight of another mangled door.
“The smell is worse up here!” Adalay whined.
Rudy furrowed his brow at her. “Do you not know what 'wait outside means' Adalay?” He shook his head.
The two tiptoed to the end of the hall. When they reached the room, Rudy threw his back against the wall and with his gun, eased the door opened.
“Oh my God!” Adalay exclaimed gagging.
Centered in the bed was the decomposing body of Ms. Sarah. Draped over her was what appeared to be a man's body, shrived, his suit covered in dirt. His skeletal hands still clutched the axe which was deeply embedded in the chest of the old woman. Rudy took out a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose.
Edging closer he pulled on the ragged material of the jacket of the man. The body came up, ripping from the arm sockets. Adalay screamed as the mummified man fell at their feet.
“What in heavens is that?” She cried.
“It looks like the remains of a dead man, that's been buried a long time.” Rudy observed.
“Well who is he?”
Digging into the protruding back pocket of the trousers, Rudy pulled out an aging black leather wallet. Carefully unfolding it, he rubbed at the dirt covering the driver's license.
“I'll be a monkey's uncle.” The Sheriff whispered, amazed at what he saw.
“Rudy Garrett, who is he?” Adalay demanded.
“Nathaniel Clemens.”
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Writing Exercises/ Last Man on Earth
In one of my writing groups, someone gave these two sentences and challenged those there to write a short story based on these two sentences. What were they, you ask?
"The last man on Earth sat alone in his room. There was a knock on the door."
“Mr. Williams, it is time.” The words filtered through the voice box from the other side of the door in an exacting fashion, without care or compassion.
Slowly he stood up, he eyes watering. He walked to the suit hanging on the hook by the door and donned the environmental garb. Zipped into the contraption like a piece of unwanted garbage, he waited before answering, savoring the last bit of fresh air before placing his helmet on and snapping the oxygen lines together.
“Are you ready?” The woman’s voice questioned as the locks turned, releasing the six inch steel door from its frame.
Breathing erratically, he mumbled his acknowledgement of the two females who greeted him. Dressed in white uniforms, they led the man down a long corridor. Stripped of any recognizable emblems, the stark white walls blinded him, as he shuffled behind his guards to the end of the hall.
Pausing briefly, before pushing on the door hardware, the blond headed woman on his left smiled slightly. “It will be over before you know it.”
Stepping over the threshold as she held the door open, the man stood quietly for a moment, drinking in his newfound fame. His presence, spotlighted in the piercing lights of cameras from the local news, caused a stir within the audience, as the females whispered and pointed. He raised an arm to shield his eyes, as he glanced around the courtroom, his stare finally resting on the matronly Judge.
“This way Mr. Williams.” The blond motioned towards the benches situated before the judge.
He stumbled, awkwardly making his way to the seat beside his attorney. Careful to pull his oxygen lines from around his body, he stood until the Judge smacked the gravel, signaling for the courtroom to become quiet and those in front to sit.
Sighing deeply, the elderly Judge furrowed her brow. Her eyes squinted slightly as she sized up the lonely man in front of her. “Mr. Williams, you are on trial today, not for what you have done, but for what all men have done to this earth, do you understand?”
Mr. Williams nodded slowly. “Yes ma’am.”
“Because of men striving to constantly control every aspect of life here on earth through war and corruption your kind created the greatest injustice. By seeking to eliminate others through man made disease, your kind only managed to kill off itself. I guess this trial is to determine whether or not we should allow the male part of our species to continue. And you, being the last man on Earth, I ask, can you give me any reason why men should be allowed to continue to exist?”
Swallowing hard, Mr. Williams stood. “Men help to procreate our human species. Without us, life would not continue.”
The courtroom burst into laughter. “Mr. Williams,” the Judge smiled, “women can use science to procreate. We’ve mastered many ways to create life, and with all the sperm banks available, we have just what we need. Anything else?”
“Who will you fall in love with?” He stammered his heart caught in his throat.
“Well, you may have a point there, but it still doesn’t disguise the fact of what men do. All your kind wants is war and money, and you abuse the power God gave to you, but putting this world in a constant state of dysfunction. How can men overcome that?”
Bowing his head, Mr. Williams realized the Judge was right. From the time history could be written, men seemed to always be at war, murdering and destroying in the name of some pretended injustice. He was at a loss; he raised his eyes and shook his head. “Your honor, I don’t have an answer.”
The courtroom became quiet. “Without any fallible reason then, you will bear the punishment of all those before you…” the Judge began.
“Wait!” The word was spoken loudly from the back of the room. Mr. Williams struggled to turn his helmet to see who had come to aid in his defense.
A small girl of about twelve stepped through the crowd of women, pushing her way forward. “Wait, I have a reason.” She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“And what is that reason, child!” The Judge demanded.
“Without men, we don’t have Daddies, and without Daddies, we don’t have butterfly kisses, someone to buy you milkshakes when days don’t go right, someone to help you ride a bike for the first time, someone to keep the monsters out of the closet and someone to hold you when your mom can’t. Please Ms. Judge, don’t take away Daddies. Kids need Daddies just as much as they need Mommies!”
The Judge leaned back in her seat, contemplating the young girl and her words. The mental pictures of her father slid into focus and she thought of her times with him. She smiled. “Out of the mouth of babes…” She murmured.
“Mr. Williams…in lieu of what has been said in your defense; you have been sentenced, not to death but to life. A life of greater meaning, as a teacher. You must build and teach the next age of men, to find the part of themselves, that nurtures and loves, so that our world doesn’t have to be without Daddies.”
That was my response.
"The last man on Earth sat alone in his room. There was a knock on the door."
“Mr. Williams, it is time.” The words filtered through the voice box from the other side of the door in an exacting fashion, without care or compassion.
Slowly he stood up, he eyes watering. He walked to the suit hanging on the hook by the door and donned the environmental garb. Zipped into the contraption like a piece of unwanted garbage, he waited before answering, savoring the last bit of fresh air before placing his helmet on and snapping the oxygen lines together.
“Are you ready?” The woman’s voice questioned as the locks turned, releasing the six inch steel door from its frame.
Breathing erratically, he mumbled his acknowledgement of the two females who greeted him. Dressed in white uniforms, they led the man down a long corridor. Stripped of any recognizable emblems, the stark white walls blinded him, as he shuffled behind his guards to the end of the hall.
Pausing briefly, before pushing on the door hardware, the blond headed woman on his left smiled slightly. “It will be over before you know it.”
Stepping over the threshold as she held the door open, the man stood quietly for a moment, drinking in his newfound fame. His presence, spotlighted in the piercing lights of cameras from the local news, caused a stir within the audience, as the females whispered and pointed. He raised an arm to shield his eyes, as he glanced around the courtroom, his stare finally resting on the matronly Judge.
“This way Mr. Williams.” The blond motioned towards the benches situated before the judge.
He stumbled, awkwardly making his way to the seat beside his attorney. Careful to pull his oxygen lines from around his body, he stood until the Judge smacked the gravel, signaling for the courtroom to become quiet and those in front to sit.
Sighing deeply, the elderly Judge furrowed her brow. Her eyes squinted slightly as she sized up the lonely man in front of her. “Mr. Williams, you are on trial today, not for what you have done, but for what all men have done to this earth, do you understand?”
Mr. Williams nodded slowly. “Yes ma’am.”
“Because of men striving to constantly control every aspect of life here on earth through war and corruption your kind created the greatest injustice. By seeking to eliminate others through man made disease, your kind only managed to kill off itself. I guess this trial is to determine whether or not we should allow the male part of our species to continue. And you, being the last man on Earth, I ask, can you give me any reason why men should be allowed to continue to exist?”
Swallowing hard, Mr. Williams stood. “Men help to procreate our human species. Without us, life would not continue.”
The courtroom burst into laughter. “Mr. Williams,” the Judge smiled, “women can use science to procreate. We’ve mastered many ways to create life, and with all the sperm banks available, we have just what we need. Anything else?”
“Who will you fall in love with?” He stammered his heart caught in his throat.
“Well, you may have a point there, but it still doesn’t disguise the fact of what men do. All your kind wants is war and money, and you abuse the power God gave to you, but putting this world in a constant state of dysfunction. How can men overcome that?”
Bowing his head, Mr. Williams realized the Judge was right. From the time history could be written, men seemed to always be at war, murdering and destroying in the name of some pretended injustice. He was at a loss; he raised his eyes and shook his head. “Your honor, I don’t have an answer.”
The courtroom became quiet. “Without any fallible reason then, you will bear the punishment of all those before you…” the Judge began.
“Wait!” The word was spoken loudly from the back of the room. Mr. Williams struggled to turn his helmet to see who had come to aid in his defense.
A small girl of about twelve stepped through the crowd of women, pushing her way forward. “Wait, I have a reason.” She cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“And what is that reason, child!” The Judge demanded.
“Without men, we don’t have Daddies, and without Daddies, we don’t have butterfly kisses, someone to buy you milkshakes when days don’t go right, someone to help you ride a bike for the first time, someone to keep the monsters out of the closet and someone to hold you when your mom can’t. Please Ms. Judge, don’t take away Daddies. Kids need Daddies just as much as they need Mommies!”
The Judge leaned back in her seat, contemplating the young girl and her words. The mental pictures of her father slid into focus and she thought of her times with him. She smiled. “Out of the mouth of babes…” She murmured.
“Mr. Williams…in lieu of what has been said in your defense; you have been sentenced, not to death but to life. A life of greater meaning, as a teacher. You must build and teach the next age of men, to find the part of themselves, that nurtures and loves, so that our world doesn’t have to be without Daddies.”
That was my response.
The Beginning
I have never submitted blogs or organized a blog, but now that I am on the final stages of editing book one of my Series Legends of Green Isle, I wanted to keep a diary of what I am experiencing as far as completing and submitting my work.
First a little background... I am 44, mother of three, stepmother to two, Mom Wallace to lots of others who have congretated many nights and days at my house for movies, band parties, end of school parties and whatever else. So if you guessed it by now I love kids. This series was started in 2003 from a dream I had one night and has progressed and taken on a life of its own. The thing that amazes me is I will creat a passage or event in the book and somewhere down the road, I will look back at something I created earlier and find that they fit... the creepy part is I don't remember writing it. So I believe this series was meant for me to write, and some unseen divine intervention has had a hand in it.
The series is centered around a mythical place in a parallel world, called ...(you guessed it) Green Isle. It starts with two brothers in the 1940s and progesses over 6 books and three generations. Matt and Toby, the two brothers, are transplanted during WWII from Chicago to a house in the south so their father can manage an airplane factory. Many mysteries come with the house, and the town kids tell them its haunted. Matt experiences a picture that moves, ghost voices from the garden and a talking horse named Chester. They also find out that the previous managers two kids disappeared without a trace. When Toby disappears along with two more children from the town, Chester tells Matt to get help from his new friends and meet up with him in the haunted hedge maze behind the house, where a hidden portal to Green Isle is kept. Thus Matt and his friends embark on an epic adventure to find a legendary sword that is needed to battle the dark warlock who kidnapped his brother and the other children. With the help of a dragon and a fairy, Book one and two follow their story.
So, here I am finishing part of their journey and will be soon seeking an agent.
First a little background... I am 44, mother of three, stepmother to two, Mom Wallace to lots of others who have congretated many nights and days at my house for movies, band parties, end of school parties and whatever else. So if you guessed it by now I love kids. This series was started in 2003 from a dream I had one night and has progressed and taken on a life of its own. The thing that amazes me is I will creat a passage or event in the book and somewhere down the road, I will look back at something I created earlier and find that they fit... the creepy part is I don't remember writing it. So I believe this series was meant for me to write, and some unseen divine intervention has had a hand in it.
The series is centered around a mythical place in a parallel world, called ...(you guessed it) Green Isle. It starts with two brothers in the 1940s and progesses over 6 books and three generations. Matt and Toby, the two brothers, are transplanted during WWII from Chicago to a house in the south so their father can manage an airplane factory. Many mysteries come with the house, and the town kids tell them its haunted. Matt experiences a picture that moves, ghost voices from the garden and a talking horse named Chester. They also find out that the previous managers two kids disappeared without a trace. When Toby disappears along with two more children from the town, Chester tells Matt to get help from his new friends and meet up with him in the haunted hedge maze behind the house, where a hidden portal to Green Isle is kept. Thus Matt and his friends embark on an epic adventure to find a legendary sword that is needed to battle the dark warlock who kidnapped his brother and the other children. With the help of a dragon and a fairy, Book one and two follow their story.
So, here I am finishing part of their journey and will be soon seeking an agent.
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