Ray Stone's Blog: A blog for everyone, page 29

An interesting letter all authors should read

 

Dear KDP Author,

 

Just ahead of World War II, there was a radical invention that shook the foundations of book publishing. It was the paperback book. This was a time when movie tickets cost 10 or 20 cents, and books cost $2.50. The new paperback cost 25 cents – it was ten times cheaper. Readers loved the paperback and millions of copies were sold in just the first year.

With it being so inexpensive and with so many more people able to afford to buy and read books, you would think the literary establishment of the day would have celebrated the invention of the paperback, yes? Nope. Instead, they dug in and circled the wagons. They believed low cost paperbacks would destroy literary culture and harm the industry (not to mention their own bank accounts). Many bookstores refused to stock them, and the early paperback publishers had to use unconventional methods of distribution – places like newsstands and drugstores. The famous author George Orwell came out publicly and said about the new paperback format, if “publishers had any sense, they would combine against them and suppress them.” Yes, George Orwell was suggesting collusion.

Well… history doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.

Fast forward to today, and it’s the e-book’s turn to be opposed by the literary establishment. Amazon and Hachette – a big US publisher and part of a $10 billion media conglomerate – are in the middle of a business dispute about e-books. We want lower e-book prices. Hachette does not. Many e-books are being released at $14.99 and even $19.99. That is unjustifiably high for an e-book. With an e-book, there’s no printing, no over-printing, no need to forecast, no returns, no lost sales due to out of stock, no warehousing costs, no transportation costs, and there is no secondary market – e-books cannot be resold as used books. E-books can and should be less expensive.

Perhaps channeling Orwell’s decades old suggestion, Hachette has already been caught illegally colluding with its competitors to raise e-book prices. So far those parties have paid $166 million in penalties and restitution. Colluding with its competitors to raise prices wasn’t only illegal, it was also highly disrespectful to Hachette’s readers.

The fact is many established incumbents in the industry have taken the position that lower e-book prices will “devalue books” and hurt “Arts and Letters.” They’re wrong. Just as paperbacks did not destroy book culture despite being ten times cheaper, neither will e-books. On the contrary, paperbacks ended up rejuvenating the book industry and making it stronger. The same will happen with e-books.

Many inside the echo-chamber of the industry often draw the box too small. They think books only compete against books. But in reality, books compete against mobile games, television, movies, Facebook, blogs, free news sites and more. If we want a healthy reading culture, we have to work hard to be sure books actually are competitive against these other media types, and a big part of that is working hard to make books less expensive.

Moreover, e-books are highly price elastic. This means that when the price goes down, customers buy much more. We’ve quantified the price elasticity of e-books from repeated measurements across many titles. For every copy an e-book would sell at $14.99, it would sell 1.74 copies if priced at $9.99. So, for example, if customers would buy 100,000 copies of a particular e-book at $14.99, then customers would buy 174,000 copies of that same e-book at $9.99. Total revenue at $14.99 would be $1,499,000. Total revenue at $9.99 is $1,738,000. The important thing to note here is that the lower price is good for all parties involved: the customer is paying 33% less and the author is getting a royalty check 16% larger and being read by an audience that’s 74% larger. The pie is simply bigger.

But when a thing has been done a certain way for a long time, resisting change can be a reflexive instinct, and the powerful interests of the status quo are hard to move. It was never in George Orwell’s interest to suppress paperback books – he was wrong about that.

And despite what some would have you believe, authors are not united on this issue. When the Authors Guild recently wrote on this, they titled their post: “Amazon-Hachette Debate Yields Diverse Opinions Among Authors” (the comments to this post are worth a read). A petition started by another group of authors and aimed at Hachette, titled “Stop Fighting Low Prices and Fair Wages,” garnered over 7,600 signatures. And there are myriad articles and posts, by authors and readers alike, supporting us in our effort to keep prices low and build a healthy reading culture. Author David Gaughran’s recent interview is another piece worth reading.

We recognize that writers reasonably want to be left out of a dispute between large companies. Some have suggested that we “just talk.” We tried that. Hachette spent three months stonewalling and only grudgingly began to even acknowledge our concerns when we took action to reduce sales of their titles in our store. Since then Amazon has made three separate offers to Hachette to take authors out of the middle. We first suggested that we (Amazon and Hachette) jointly make author royalties whole during the term of the dispute. Then we suggested that authors receive 100% of all sales of their titles until this dispute is resolved. Then we suggested that we would return to normal business operations if Amazon and Hachette’s normal share of revenue went to a literacy charity. But Hachette, and their parent company Lagardere, have quickly and repeatedly dismissed these offers even though e-books represent 1% of their revenues and they could easily agree to do so. They believe they get leverage from keeping their authors in the middle.

We will never give up our fight for reasonable e-book prices. We know making books more affordable is good for book culture. We’d like your help. Please email Hachette and copy us.

Hachette CEO, Michael Pietsch: Michael.Pietsch@hbgusa.com

Copy us at: readers-united@amazon.com

Please consider including these points:

- We have noted your illegal collusion. Please stop working so hard to overcharge for ebooks. They can and should be less expensive.

- Lowering e-book prices will help – not hurt – the reading culture, just like paperbacks did.

- Stop using your authors as leverage and accept one of Amazon’s offers to take them out of the middle.

- Especially if you’re an author yourself: Remind them that authors are not united on this issue.

 

Thanks for your support.

The Amazon Books Team

P.S. You can also find this letter at www.readersunited.com

What’s in there

Donna McTavish is an accomplished writer and here she writes the third chapter of ‘What’s in there,’ a Story Mint serial.

 

Chapter 3

 

Written by: Donna McT

It was going to be another cold night and he’d bloody forgotten his gloves.

The glow from the house added to his bad mood. It wasn’t fair that the bastard was inside in the warmth and he was out here freezing his proverbials off.

He could picture it. The crackling fire, the boys chattering about their adventures and the parents laughing indulgently. Everything had gone to plan, just as O’Connor had said it would. Stupid bloody happy families.

Through his binoculars he’d watched as the smaller boy had spotted the chest and the other one had waded into the water. He’d been worried that they wouldn’t see it. The rope hadn’t been long enough but he needn’t have worried. The boys had done everything right. Just like taking candy from a baby, he smirked.

The next bit would be tougher. There was no way to know how Tony (he wouldn’t ever get used to calling him Brad) would react but it didn’t matter. O’Connor had it covered. There would be no getting away this time. He blew on his frozen fingers and pulled a small bottle from his pocket. It was time to hunker down until show time.

****

Jackson and Matt were still asking questions when he turned off the bedroom light. He’d managed to distract them with the promise of a bike ride but their questions burrowed into his brain. He’d told them everything and nothing.

What he did in the next few days would change their lives forever. He knew that and he needed time to think. He stared at the red line that ran raggedly across the back of his hand and flexed his fingers thinking about the notebook.

He knew that he wasn’t off the hook with Mandy. She was far too smart not to see that he hadn’t told her everything so he took his time as he padded down the stairs. In his gut he knew that their beautiful, ordinary life was slipping away and he didn’t know how to stop it.

In the weeks to come he’d go over and over what happened next. What if he hadn’t lingered on the stairs? What if he hadn’t been so damn preoccupied? What if he’d emptied the safe? He kicked himself for being an easy target. Fourteen years ago he’d have been alert, instantly assessing risks and options. He’d have had a plan and a backup and he’d have been armed.

Mandy was on the sofa. As he called her name he sensed a tiny movement at the periphery of his vision. He saw the muscles in her jaw tighten and as she turned towards him he saw the tape over her mouth and her eyes wild and fearful.

He lurched towards her wanting nothing but to keep her safe and in that instant he heard a voice that rent the air into a million pieces.

“You’ve lost your touch Tony.

“Be a good chap and pour us a drink. It’s bloody freezing out there.”

 

 

Tune in to read other chapters. http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/whats-there

The Vacant Room

Chapter 5

Written by: Ray Stone

Marie always puts the kitchen rubbish out each afternoon. My feet crunch on broken glass and I step sideways quickly onto the rust stained concrete by the swinging gate.

As the ambulance speeds off I turn around to find a hand thrusting out toward me, accompanied by a widening grin.

“I’m Brian, your neighbour down the hall. You must be Tamara.” He points to the pile of sacks. “She took a tumble onto that broken glass. That was a nasty gash.”

I agree with him and turn to walk back to the kitchen. He might think me rude but I choose to ignore conversation for a quiet moment to reflect and gather my thoughts.

Marie has confirmed that there is a link between the photos and me. The room holds the answer; the vacant room where the first photo lies on the table, upside down.

It has been some time since I visited that room. For some unexplained reason I have never entered there since that first day despite several opportunities when Marie has gone out.

Maybe I have an overactive imagination but my mind conjured up all manner of frightening scenarios after finding the photo. Staying out of the room has somehow kept any danger I imagine at arm’s length. As the door remains shut so my fears subside. With the discovery of another photo I am not so much fearful now but more angry. I need to revisit the room.

I hear the soft tick ticking of a clock in the hallway. The worn blind is tapping on the kitchen window. A newspaper lying on the table near the open kitchen door rustles constantly. It’s as though the house is talking to me in soothing tones, calming me. My mind is set and walking past the photo on the wall, I glare back at the cat who sits on the washing machine with unblinking eyes, staring me down.

There are two boxes I want to examine. Maybe there will be something that reveals an answer to the puzzle. A movement on the landing breaks into my thoughts and I turn nervously. There is no-one. The music box starts playing. My head spins and I grab instinctively at the handle.

The music stops as I close the door swiftly behind me. I look expectantly at the two boxes. Before I can move, the door opens behind me and Brian is standing there.

“There is obviously something wrong,” he says. “Would you like to share?”

I don’t want to but I have to explain why I am in the room. I briefly tell him of my strange experience and Marie’s message. “I have to look in those boxes,” I tell him.

As we remove the lid from the first box, I gasp. Sitting neatly at the bottom is my backpack, or rather a similar one. The New Zealand key ring has gone.

There is a small metal ornament attached to the zip instead – the Eiffel Tower.

 

Suraya Dewing on Wed, 2014-08-20 05:56

I really like the atmospheric tapping of the blind. It echoes what is happening inside Tamara and the key ring really opens up the mystery. I enjoyed this very much

 

Submitted by Donna McT on Wed, 2014-08-20 11:15

This story is really getting some legs! I loved this. You’ve moved the story on effortlessly and added interesting new layers to explore. I envy the next (lucky) writer.

 

Submitted by dannyo77 on Sat, 2014-08-23 09:29

Nice job Ray. Its funny how 500 words is up just when you feel like you’re getting into the groove!

http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/vacant-room

COLD

Written by: WeiJia (NZ)

My initial suspicions always gravitated to Tom.

“He must have tampered with her drink or spread some kind of ephemeral lubricant on the road.” Crazy thoughts screamed at me, even years after Emily’s death. “He has close connections to both hit men and policemen. He’s the perfect man to set up an ‘accidental’ death.”

As though he read my thoughts, Tom grabbed my jacket and thrust me up against the alley wall. I heard the dull thwack of my calf hitting the dumpster. Pain shot sharply up my side. My back grazed against the damp, grainy wall. I wasn’t sure whether or not the dampness was from the rain or my blood.

“I know you think it was me,” he hissed.

I wanted to scream, but his grip choked it off.

Tom brutally knocked me against the alley wall. I gasped. He yelled incoherently. Was it that I just couldn’t comprehend in my battered state or was he rambling? I could only just pick out fleeting vulgarities. Every so often his lips seemed to spell “I loved her”.

“Do you think I would’ve – could’ve – killed Emily? Do you honestly think that?”

Tom smelled of smoke and medicine. Every time I met him, he was further down the rabbit hole.

I struggled. When I tried to form words, I gagged and bile rose bitterly to my throat. Our gazes brushed and Tom’s hold loosened.

I slumped onto the ground sucking air into my lungs in painful wheezes.

“The ‘Asphalt Angel’ and Emily, they’re both gone. There are NO LEADS. I hoped this would be our last meeting.”

I could finally feel my left leg again. I propped myself up and began to leave the alley.

“Ned.”

I froze.

“I don’t care whether it’s a cold case or not. I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he said.

I just nodded and walked away. He didn’t know I already paid a special individual to tackle the case. My blue sedan was parked further down the street from where I left it last. The moment I clambered in, my phone buzzed.

“Hope ya don’t mind me re-parking the car. I wanted a good view.”

I don’t even know how he managed to do that.

As though he could see my expression, he snickered down the line.

 

There was a brief pause before he continued. I’ll never forget the false nonchalance in his voice.

“Oh, yeah, Ned? Don’t forget to double barricade your doors and your windows tonight. Given that you’re an engineer and all, I probably shouldn’t have to tell you this, but make sure you lock your windows BEHIND the curtains. I hid a glock under your poppy plant and left some ammo in your shoes outside the front door.

“Just pretend you’re dead for a week.”

Copyright – Weijia 2014 ©

 

My Comments

Every writer brings their own personality to the writing table and Weijia did not forget. This is the kind of writing that sometimes stamps a writer’s style on the mind. Regardless of the genre, I am sure I could pick this writer out if there was no credit. I loved this. It has an earthy feel to it and the writer has not spared us from life’s violent realities or streetwise language.

‘As though he could see my expression, he snickered down the line.’ and ‘Every time I met him, he was further down the rabbit hole.’ Wonderful stuff. I also liked the unusual use of CAPS within the work. It will be interesting to read this author again.

Ray Stone

Catch up on this serial each week   http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/cold

Publishing from beyond the USA

Can anyone advise me if it is worth it for a starting author living outside the USA to self-publish through Amazon? What are the pros and cons?

 

Anusha Wijesinghe

Writer / Author at Self

I am a writer from Sri Lanka, and was thinking of self-publishing a book through Amazon. What should I expect and is it worth it?

 

 

Ray Stone

Author – Lyricist – Poet

 

Wherever you live, it’s worth publishing. Why did you write in the first place – so others can enjoy your work as well as yourself. I live outside the USA and have an Amazon account in North America. My books are published on Amazon and are available all over the world. The only thing I find irritating is that any reviews I get from a US reader go on the US amazon sales page. If I want their review to go on the UK page they have to have a UK account as well. I personally suggest you also publish on Smashwords too so that your book is available in all the major stores like I tune, Sony, Barnes and Noble, diesel and a few others. Stop worrying about whether or not and publish. Remember, self-publishing is out there forever so crack on and leave your mark on the literary world. ,

$24 for 4 edits

There are thousands of writers self-publishing today and only 1% can afford an editor. The problem is that even those of us who are getting savvy about marketing our work still need to edit. With all the will in the world we cannot force a reader to buy our books but we can make sure that a prospective reader or reviewer reads something that has been edited to a certain standard. A good review helps us sell but before we market the book we have to make sure the product is worth reading.

There are as many readers out there as there are writers and each of us must know at least two readers who always have a book to hand; who love talking about the latest great book they are reading. Potentially these are your editors. Well read people, especially those you know, will consider you asking them to read your work as a compliment. Book clubs are a great place to find advice and critique but I have found they are not personal enough. I have four readers who go through my work as I progress and some give overall feedback while others go into great detail. I love this. Some readers will let me know that perhaps a certain passage is too long winded and the story has stalled for example.

Of course this is not professional editing but by the time you have the work read and you have taken some advice and disregarded the rest, your work is going to be 100% better than if you had no advice at all. Proof reading is the next step. That will cost you about $200 but it really is worth it. You cannot see all the typos yourself. They just disappear when you read the book yourself.

Don’t forget your little army of editors. When the book is published send them a free copy and ask them for two things. A review posted on Amazon and a friend you can send another book to – and ask them for a review too. If you can get four readers the cost to you at $2.99 a book is $24. The editors will be only to happy to look at the next book so keep in touch with them through social media and don’t forget to thank them publicly.

Remember with Amazon – they will not publish a review unless the book has been bought with money. FREE give-aways don’t count. Goodreads, Ask David, Smashwords to name a few, will accept a review as long as the reader starts a free account with them. There are many others.

Island Hopping

At the turn of the century, it was the ‘done’ thing for wealthy families to send their offspring to Europe for several months or a couple of years. This was to enrich their lives with foreign culture and a wider understanding of the world in general. From the sixties back-packing around Europe was the accepted norm for students and those who just wanted a different kind of escape. Today, students and sight-seeing travelers are not the only ones taking to the road. Ex pats have always been imbedded in just about every country in the world, particularly the old British colonies. It is only since the eighties that the exclusive ex-pats club has become a fashionable way of life abroad, particularly for the retired who want out of concrete blocks, high taxation, and inner city violence.

I considered myself a bit of everything until I moved to Malta. I traveled all over Europe to most countries and many times I had that urge to look into moving to a place I had fallen in love with. One place that was so enticing was Cyprus. My time there brought me into contact with conflicting cultures, Mediterranean cuisine, beautiful landscapes, and some of the nicest people I had ever met. I promised myself I would go back. That was in 1974, six months almost to the day before Turkey invaded. Forty years later and I still want to go. Yet, when I came on holiday to Malta and found myself visiting Mdina the ‘Silent City’ and all the other wonderful historical antiquities and remnants of the Hospitalers, plus weather to die for, I decided maybe this was a good place to retire to. A year later we moved here and have been very happy…until now.

A good friend of mine, Irene Kimmel, who publishes my books, had to leave the island for a few months because of some immigration red tape. Not wishing to go too far, she decided to hop across the Med and spend time in Cyprus. I was really interested in her telling me what the island was like today. Within two weeks she had fallen in love with the place and was telling me what a wonderful place it was and how nice and laid back the Greek population are. I was surprised to learn that the cost of living is even lower than Malta. So now Mrellan and I have booked a week in October to go back to Cyprus and already we are rebooking air fares to stay another week. I am sure that we will return here and start making plans to move to Cyprus. I know I will find there, what I do not have here. Peace and quiet to write, and a view to inspire me.

It used to be a very complicated procedure to move to foreign parts but now, being an EU resident, moving is no big deal. I guess that is one plus for the EU although I do find more things I dislike about the EU than what I like. I will let you know about my trip later.

 

Recently I had a three week break in Washington, visiting friends and visiting a dentist. I love America but after living there for ten years and then moving to the Med where the pace of life is slower I don’t think I could go back to live there permanently. The same applies to my birthplace. England has joined the ranks of the ‘overtaxed’ European countries. Add to that a huge influx of Europeans from the Baltic States and India who are settling there. What we are seeing are large communities of unemployed who require financial help, housing, healthcare, and education. The drain on resources, particularly with healthcare, is enormous. The mix of cultures and religions adds color to the green, green grass of home but with towns and cities expanding I wonder how much longer there will be any green grass. Malta has started to have the same growing pains too. Immigrants and boat people from North Africa are entering the island and so the government here has to look after them. This new community is growing here on an island where unemployment means the Maltese must come first for jobs that are available and immigrants stay unemployed. A high percentage of them are, however, using Malta as a stepping stone into Europe.

So with all this going on and my visit to the USA making me think about my future it looks as though I may be hopping across the water to the place I first visited forty years ago. Now a divided island, Cyprus has very few problems domestically. Politics are a different matter. The EU and the UN and the British and the Americans and the Greek parliament and the Turkish parliament….. have messed up. I won’t get on my soapbox now but while researching for my last novel I unearthed some extraordinary facts about the ‘goings on’ that led to the invasion in 74′. I know writers and poets sometimes have their heads in the clouds and hope someone will wave a wand and all will be right with the world. Personally, I know that will never happen but I want to be somewhere beautiful when the EU become bankrupt, the USA gets involved in another war, and the Middle East blows itself up.

I was going to update you about Malta but that will come next week. Keep one thought in your head as you face tomorrow. Don’t criticize others unless you understand both sides of an argument. Don’t shout…Listen, and whatever you do, remember that all of us from different religions and cultures are the same when we get undressed – we are human and share common frailties and emotions. Let’s try and understand one another.

Love you all. Ciao, ciao.

 

 

A Confession – chapter 10

 

 

GREG ROCHLIN

 

Many years have passed since that day. I suppose I have found happiness, in my own way. It’s true that now I work at a job I like well enough, although Jenna thinks I could have done better. I sell life insurance, and I like to think it gives the client something to look forward to — giving succour to his loved ones when he passes away. Danny dropped out of geology and became a carpet salesman. I had always thought he had a head for mathematics, and was keen for him to be an actuary, but he would have none of it. He does not tend to take my advice. Elise became an audiologist and lives in Edinburgh with her boyfriend. As for Iqbal (or Ian, as he now calls himself), in the end he preferred to stay with William. I think Jenna as not averse to this arrangement. Slowly, he had less and less time for me. He once said I was a “mystery man”. He graduated in aeronautical engineering last year, and wanted to apply for the RAF, but William said it was too risky, what with the security checks he would have to undergo. And as for my father, he never did come to stay. It was a wild dream, as it turns out. Especially under the circumstances. You see, I am not his child. We were in that dark room, the two of us shut up together. “I’m so sorry, Thomas, I had to tell you. You see, Marion had an affair while I was in hospital for three months.” He paused to allow what he said to sink in. “The timing, you understand.” He went on, “We brought you up as our own. But I am afraid it was never the same between your mother and I.” I tore myself away from him. I felt the walls closing in on me, everything seemed false, the books were all laughing, and the photo still in my hand now depicted strangers. I had to be alone, I fled, into the car, and drove and drove, until I was in my own home in its suburban street, with its honeysuckle growing up the wall and its wonderful oak tree. Then, a week later, while I was still stewing in my stupid anger, Ronald (for that’s how I think of him now) went into a depression, it seems, caught a bad cold that grew into pneumonia, and passed away in the space of days. I often wonder if it is not better to hold secrets inside of oneself. Sometimes, however, I wake in the night, and the moon is reflecting off the leaves of the apple tree outside the window, casting its light through the flimsy curtain, onto Jenna’s round face. Then I think of one of the happiest moments in my life, the moment when Ronald came to my side in the hospital, unscathed, and with shining eyes.   Greg Rochlin (AUS)

 

My comment – This chapter is brilliant. Mood, tension, mystery, love. awareness and inner feelings. What a wonderful concise, compact and thought provoking piece of work. Terrific chapter, Greg. Fabulous

Read the whole serial here  -  http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/confession

ILLUSION

Chapter 6

Written by: Emily Palk

Elizabeth glanced at the time on her phone, waiting for the driver to pick her up. A text message buzzed that he was pulling up outside. Arpad, the club manager had asked that Elizabeth dress in her most glamorous gown for the evening, and Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush with shame as she pulled her grey overcoat over the simple peach, chiffon dress that had been her mother’s. Tailored in the 60′s, the dress draped to her ankles and the slim belt circled her tiny waist. Her mother’s emerald earrings, lashings of mascara and some blush on her cheekbones completed the look, setting fire to the gold flecks in her green eyes. Her wild red curls however, refused to be tamed into a chignon so Elizabeth had left them loose. The driver nodded at her, and she willed her hands to steady as they drove away.

 

Arpad gave her a cursory tour the evening before, telling Elizabeth she would be one of several hostesses of the evening as their wealthy clientele came to wind down for the evening after a torrid day of business-making. She was required to be friendly but quiet, pass drink orders to the bar staff, and if necessary, send empty hors d’oeuvres trays back to the kitchen for refilling. It sounded simple enough, the place looked elegant and felt calm, with cascading jazz music playing and honeyed lighting creating warm nooks where overstuffed gentlemen lounged and talked to each other in rumbling tones. Several beautiful women perched, laughing occasionally, but mostly seeming to just listen to the conversation around them. A queasy feeling of déjà vu threatened to muddle her senses, as she handed her coat over to the exotic lady at the cloakroom. Thinking she resembled a Siamese cat, Elizabeth managed a meek smile and the woman smiled rather slyly back at Elizabeth, casting her eye over Elizabeth’s dress. “Ahhh, peaches and cream my darrrling?” she purred. Elizabeth blinked in confusion. Arpad appeared at her side. “Hello Elizabeth, you look very nice. That colour suits you well. Come now, we have many guests to tend this evening”, and placing his hand in the small of her back he guided her towards the bar.

 

“Elizabeth, our guests will look your way should they need attention. Please do not approach them otherwise, our guests are businessmen and do not appreciate being disrupted. Please wait here at the bar and enjoy the atmosphere – have a drink and enjoy the amuse bouche. Our chefs are very talented, you will find, although I do not expect you will be sitting alone for long”, Arpad left her to greet two young women at the other end of the bar, and Elizabeth’s nerves vaporised as she recognised Shalini as one of them. Catching Shalini’s eye, Elizabeth gave a tentative wave in greeting and called out to her “Hey, Shalini! Come ov” and stopped dead. Shalini turned her back, ignoring Elizabeth coldly. Stunned, Elizabeth gulped hard and willed herself not to cry.

 

My comments

I do like the descriptive work. It lets us see the inside of the club and taste the atmosphere. One can almost sense a little tension and we hold our breath, hoping the next writer will take Elizabeth into a dangerous situation where no knight in shining armour is about to rescue her…or maybe he is. Who knows? I liked this chapter but perhaps the paragraphing around dialogue could have been looked at more closely.

http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/illusion-m

The Fayre – chapter 7

Well done, Iliena, what makes a good chapter even better is when the writer does something a little more original as with a short verse that creates more tension and mystery. Readers do notice this and will remember this chapter for its originality. Great chapter. Loved it.

 

Written by: Iliena Bosu

What began as a lovely, temperate day, turned ominously cloudy by the time we set out to investigate the inscribed stone. Consumed by our own preoccupations, none of us spoke the entire two hours’ distance. In addition, the fact that the hawk never let us out of its sight, from the moment we stepped out of the house, seemed strange enough to keep us quiet. I wanted to get this finished as quickly as possible. I looked at Rose as she slipped her right hand in mine, tapping the window with her left, looking outside. All of a sudden, her grip tightened around my fingers and she drew my attention towards the white, shrouded figure gliding ahead of us.

Brian had not noticed the apparition at first. Nevertheless, he lost balance of the wheels, trying not to collide with it; the car came to a screeching halt as he drove right through the floating. A gut wrenching high-pitched laughter instilled fear in all three of us – the spirit was not to be messed with. I looked up at the sky to see whether the hawk witnessed this or not. However, it was not visible. The dangerously quiet sky made me feel in jeopardy without the hawk over our heads.

Fortunately, the spot where the inscribed stone was supposed to sit was not far from where we encountered Shaphina’s apparition. Rose leapt from the car as soon as we reached the location, followed by Brian and me.

“I hope it is still there.” Rose’s voice rang with excitement. She was half walking half running by now.

“The stone ought to shed some light upon this mystery.”

My eyes were constantly shooting up, scrutinizing the sky for any sign of the hawk. It was like a good omen, a guardian, which watched over us. Therefore, when its loud shriek finally split the morose silence, I knew I was safe.

“Follow the screeching sound!”

We rushed to the spot, as the hawk beckoned us, without stopping to catch our breath.

“It’s there!” Brian said, pointing towards his right. “It’s there, I see it!”

As we hurried forward, we saw the hawk majestically perched on the inscribed stone, only to fly away at our arrival.

Rose had described the stone to us this morning, and true to her description, there was an inscription exactly at the centre of it. In addition, there were also two human figures depicted, representing the two sisters. The three of us sat down to read the inscription-

Two bodies, one soul,

Two sisters were born

To live as whole.

 

 

Break if they must,

The traitor must

Rot without form.

 

 

The innocent must

Rise as a winged Protector

And summon the storm.

 

 

 

Hide she must

Her secrets in earth,

Away from her sister

After she is dust.

 

 

Once again, I felt Rose’s hand on mine.

“I think I know where the book is.” She was beaming. “Come, let’s go.”

 

 

 

Iliena Bosu (India)

 

http://www.thestorymint.com/serials/fayre-fw