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message 1: by Brianna, So get up. Get up and FIGHT BACK. (new)

Brianna (briannagpeterson) | 109 comments Mod
Post excerpts of your favorite (and not so favorite) stories here! No sex or language please, but post anything else!
If you're willing to have people critique, let them know! We can have fun with this and learn!

message 2: by Brianna, So get up. Get up and FIGHT BACK. (new)

Brianna (briannagpeterson) | 109 comments Mod
“Get away from me!” Tyler Jacobs swung his fist out at the burly man, getting smacked in the jaw by another one in the process. Pain shot through his head, sending him stumbling back against the brick wall.
“Not on my watch, you’re not.” The man grabbed his t-shirt, dripping with red, and aimed a punch at his stomach.
Tyler managed to stay upright but his strength was wavered.
“You’ll pay, Tyler. You’ll pay.” A fist swung at his face and everything went black.

This is the first scene of my in-the-works-book Never Beyond Repair that I wrote for NanoWrimo. I know there isn't much, (I'll post some more later,) but go ahead and tell me how you like it!

message 3: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Wow! Sounds interesting!! :)

message 4: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
I'm writing 25+ books right now, but the main one I'm working on is my trilogy.

Something More Trilogy

Born and raised a farmer, Savird is suddenly pulled into palace life when he is chosen by the king and queen as their heir. He struggles to cope with his new life, finding it tedious and confining after his free upbringing. Then a mysterious man appears at the palace, and makes a stunning claim. Suddenly, Savird's world is hurled into war, and his once ordinary life is turned upside down.

Let me know what you think!!

message 5: by Brianna, So get up. Get up and FIGHT BACK. (new)

Brianna (briannagpeterson) | 109 comments Mod
Lena wrote: "I'm writing 25+ books right now, but the main one I'm working on is my trilogy.

Something More Trilogy

Born and raised a farmer, Savird is suddenly pulled into palace life when he is chosen ..."

Is this an excerpt or a synopsis? Either way it sounds interesting!

message 6: by Brianna, So get up. Get up and FIGHT BACK. (new)

Brianna (briannagpeterson) | 109 comments Mod
What else have you written?

message 7: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (last edited Aug 04, 2014 03:49PM) (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Brianna wrote: "Is this an excerpt or a synopsis? Either way it sounds interesting!"

It's a synopsis. I'll post an excerpt too, if you're interested!

Brianna wrote: "What else have you written?"

A lot of things... I'm currently writing a short story for a contest, but all my other books are kinda paused right now

message 8: by Melanie (last edited Aug 21, 2014 01:42PM) (new)

Melanie Kilsby (realitywriter) | 18 comments Here is a little excerpt from my book Reality, Darkness into Light: Darkness into Light

Just a mini synopsis about the book first~Zoe is depressed. She is burdened down by the weight of the world and is seeking something? Anything-but-this life! Will she find what she is looking for, or something even greater? Something she wasn't expecting? Something tangible? A true friendship? A real love that will never fail her?

The room stands still, as if a thousand viewers were watching the reality sitcom of the century at that very moment. ‘Tune into this week’s drama at Zoë’s house,’ would be the leading title.
Chad, my bratty little brother, sits there staring at his plate. He looks very disinterested either way. Not for a moment was I about to appease my mother by giving into her will. Why would I want to sit with someone who was more interested in having a flawless, perfect family for the sake of her own pride than for the benefit of her children?
“Make me,” I hiss, bellowing my eyes deep at her.
My mother sits down, knowing I won. Chad goes on eating his dinner as if he were happy that at least the awkwardness is gone and the thousand viewers are now getting up for a snack because the show has gone to commercials. The drama is over for one more night. I have no emotion. I go to bed. I really don’t care about anything anymore.


My iTab phone catches the morning sun and glares in my eyes.


“Sigh…another morning. The sun…” I pause. “It’s shining of all things!” I can’t help but be overwhelmed by anger. “I would call this a ‘mockery’ of my feelings. All my thoughts are just making me sink deeper. I feel as if I can’t move. I don’t want to move. I don’t even want to go to school anymore. I couldn’t begin to tell you why I even bother going day after day. I am in the class but really I’m not there at all. I feel…feel?” I laugh.
“I can’t feel! My pain is too deep. I am on a downward spiral and suffer an uncontrollable pull that I don’t oppose. Looking at my wrists....the scars of these cuts are thick, but not deep. Not deep enough. If I had it my way, when I cut again, it will be the last time. The blood will run steep and will not seize. Day 135…of this misery.”


Reality, Darkness into Light Darkness into Light by Melanie Kilsby

message 9: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
I recently wrote a fantasy/mythological short story. I'm planning to expand it, but if you'd like to read it you can find it here: Poseidon's Spear.

message 10: by Kathleen (new)

Kathleen | 36 comments Here is my newest story: "Miriam's Story; From Bethlehem to Nazareth And Back".

I've been working on it for a little over a year and welcome anyone editing my grammar/spelling/word usage as well as general thoughts & comments; I need all the help I can get!

Also, I've been having a bit of "tense" problems. I keep switching between past & present tense accidentally. If y'all notice any switches or think the book would work best in either past or presence, please speak up!! Thanks y'all!!

Without further ado...

Chapter Five
Majd al-Krum

I gazed at the miraculous scene below me and my heart sank. Winding valleys and mountinous cliffs jutted out above running rivers and crystal-clear water falls. I sat atop a donkey, uncomfortably side-saddled between a basket of food and a water jug. My stomach, at this point bulging noticeably, was pressed to my knees and an avalanche of pressure was kept in check by my thighs.

″Yosef, I can't go much longer,″ I whined and breathed in the salty air.

Yosef paused and turned around from leading the donkey, with me atop it, ″Elizabeth's house is just a couple of kilometers longer,″ he tried to persuade me, ″Miryam,″ He took another look at me. The bumps and disagreeable temprament of the donkey had taken its toll on me, and, as tired as I was, I knew we needed to go on.

″Synechizo,″ I replied, groaning slightly, ″How much longer could it possibly be?″

″Are you sure? We can stop, if you need to rest,″

I groaned again, ″Keep going before I change my mind,″ The heat had changed my temprement, like milk, sour. Sore in all places and not looking forward to five or so more kilometers of bumps, I sat stiffly and quietly, one hand poised protectively on my stomach, the other gripping the donkey's mane.

The donkey continued plotting on for a while longer. Slowly, the path became narrower, until Yosef and the donkey stood single file. To our left, large trees loomed above us, and birds called us to its heavenly shade. To our right, a cliff jutted out, an unsure step would send you tumbling to your premature death.

Deep down, I knew the Lord would keep me safe, for I carried His son, Jesus, but that didn't stop me from fearing every step the domesticated beast took.

″Miryam!″ Yosef shouted over his shoulder as the path grew even narrower, ″Hold on tightly, the path here is unstable!″ As he said this, rocks beneath the donkey's feet began to crumble and it was as if the earth under us had disapeared.

″Yosef!″ I called desperately. The donkey's eyes were wide with fear and I gripped his main tightly, tugging to the right, urging it to hug the tree line even closer. The donkey began stumbling and slipping in the mobilized earth.

Yosef reached up with both musceled arms and grabbed my hand, tugging me off the donkey. We tumbled to the ground just as the footing of the donkey was lost, and he fell to his untimely death.

My stomach bounced off the ground and cushioned my fall, though I wished I had been bruised, rather than the our savior. I buried my head in Yosef's shoulder and cried in fear, ″That was too close,″ I repeated over and over, ″Poly konta,″

Yosef gripped me tightly, as if never letting go. Finally, I sniffled one last time and attempted standing. Yosef stood easily and held out a hand for me. I grabbed onto it and slowly, slowly pulled myself up, ″Yosef, what will we do?″ I asked quietly.

Thanks y'all!!

message 11: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Second sentence: should be mountainous
Sixth paragraph, second sentence: temprement should be temperament
Seventh paragraph, first sentence: plotting should be plodding
Paragraph ten, sentence two: main should be mane
Eleventh paragraph, first sentence: musceled should be muscled
Twelfth paragraph, first sentence: it should be either the or our savior, not both.

I really like the storyline! Very interesting, with good characters!!

message 12: by Kathleen (new)

Kathleen | 36 comments Thanks for the tips! I'v been having trouble with my computer, it won't edit for me (ha ha first world problems) and I keep assuming it's the right spelling, for obvious reasons! Thanks again, Kathleen

message 13: by Melanie (new)

Melanie Kilsby (realitywriter) | 18 comments 3rd paragraph, you can omit "me on top of it," because we already learned the character was on top of the donkey in a paragraph just before. Your reader will know that already and have pictured it as she speaks with Yoseph.

..."like milk, it went sour." Is what I would say?

Great job :D

message 14: by Brianna, So get up. Get up and FIGHT BACK. (new)

Brianna (briannagpeterson) | 109 comments Mod
This is the prologue of the book I will be publishing soon, The Comeback Kids. Let me know what you think! *note: Jeanne hasn't edited this yet so I'm sure there some things I missed. J

Fourteen-year-old Katie Taylor sat at her desk, staring at her computer. Yes, she should have been doing school, but right now, she just wanted to watch her friend Benjamin Connor and his team, the New England Patriots, play.
“Katie! Get off that computer, now!” Her mom, Jessica, shouted from the hallway. “You’re supposed to be doing school.”
“Okay, okay.” She closed her computer and pulled out her phone. She found the game and pretended to be doing school while she watched. They were making a comeback now and she wasn’t going to miss it if they won.
“And Benjamin steps back into the pocket, watching, waiting as Jake Western gets open.” The announcer’s excitement was obvious. “And he fires and….Ah! He catches it! Jake catches it in the end zone! Touchdown Patriots!”
“Yes!” She did a fist pump. They’d done it! The Patriots won!
“Katharine Loraina Taylor!”
Oh, great.
Jessica stood over, hands on her hips. “What is the rule about watching football?”
“After schoolwork, after schoolwork.” Katie rolled her eyes.
“Yes. I think I recall you agreeing to that.”
“But Mom, that means that I can only watch highlights! We don’t have DVR and if I don’t watch it live, I can’t watch it.”
“If you hadn’t spent most of the afternoon playing football with Isaiah and the boys, you would’ve been done by the time the game started.”
“But…” No use arguing. Her mom was right. Before she got all her school done, her cousin Isaiah came over and begged her to play football with him and some of his friends. She couldn’t resist. “I’m sorry. I’ll get the rest of it done now.”
After Jessica left, she finished her math and science before pulling out her phone again and texting Benjamin. Hey! Good game. I got in trouble for watching it cuz I was supposed to be doing school.
She received a text a minute later. Thanks.  Someday I’m going to get you DVR. You get in trouble with something that involves football a lot. How’s football with the boys goin? I bet you’re kicking their rear ends!
She grinned. Benjamin always encouraged her like that. She’d been on the boys high school football team for four months now and she loved it. Especially when she burned the coverage and caught touchdown passes. I’ve caught five touchdown passes so far. Makes me really want to play in the NFL someday.
Just let me know in a few years. The way you play now, you could be a legitimate threat soon. GTG now. Time for interviews.
Just as she closed the app, the phone rang.
“Hey, Isaiah.”
“Did you see the game?”
“A little bit. I had to do school thanks to the football game outside.”
“Sorry ‘bout that.” Her almost thirteen-year-old cousin probably didn’t care. “They had an awesome comeback there!”
“They did. Very heart-pumping.”
Isaiah laughed. “You know what it makes me want to do? Play in the NFL. I know we’ve talked about it before, but I think we could really do it.”
“Hey, you’re not even in high school yet.”
The easy laughter came again. “I guess I forgot to tell you. We’re going to the National Championship!”
“Seriously? Isaiah, that’s great! When do you play?”
“We start in a couple weeks.”
“Wait…that means…” She shrieked. “Julie and Nancy are going too?”
“How did I not know that?”
“My guess is that Benjamin took up a lot of your time.”
Katie hung up on him.

Six days later, the cousins gathered in the living room, watching the Patriots play again.
“Time for a discussion.” Isaiah blew the whistle that he always carried. “Ladies and gentlemen, Katie and I have a proposition.”
Katie sighed as the others rolled their eyes. Isaiah wasn’t doing a good job at making them listen. “Okay, forget what Isaiah said.”
“I already did.” Twelve-year-old Julie shot Isaiah a look.
She did not want her sister and cousin to get into a fight right now. “Good. So anybody wanna hear my idea?”
“Yes!” Six hands flew up. Except Isaiah’s.
“Now that you’re not gonna let me in on the advertising, I don’t know if want to be a part of this.”
Whatever that meant. Katie tried to ignore half of what Isaiah said. “So… how about if we play football?”
“We already do!” A couple of the kids shrieked. “We all do, except April and Kevin.”
Katie smiled down at her youngest siblings, six and seven. “They will soon, won’t you?”
“Uh huh.” Kevin jumped up and spun around. “And then I’ll score as many touchdowns as you, Katie!”
“You could do that.” She turned back to the others. “I know we play football. But what about real football? Like where Benjamin plays?”
“The NFL?” Tommy’s eyes grew big as he processed the thought.
Nine-year-old Annie shook her head. “But girls can’t play in the NFL.”
“Because very few have tried. No one’s tried hard enough to do it. We could it! We’re already some of the best kid-players in the U.S. Why couldn’t we play in the NFL in a few years?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Julie stood and dragged her twin, Nancy, with her. “Whadya think, Nancy?”
“I love the idea!”
“Me too.” Tommy jumped up. Annie followed, along with April and Kevin.
Everyone looked at Isaiah, who still sat on the couch. He rolled his eyes and stood. “Doesn’t it look like I want to make it to the NFL?” He flexed his biceps and laughed. “Might as well make it a few years sooner.”
They stood in a circle, arms around each other. Katie looked at her cousins, at the determined looks on their faces. They could do this. They would do this. “Everyone who is in this circle, we’re going to be held accountable. We’re each going to try our best to do this and we’re gonna encourage each other. We’re going to work as hard as we can and in a few years, when we’re all ready, we’re gonna play. Everybody got that?”
Solemn nods came from everyone, even Isaiah.
“Then let’s pray. Dear Jesus, we’re here with a little request: we want to play football for the New England Patriots. We know people will laugh at us and tell us we can’t do it, but we were made for a purpose and we weren’t given these skills for nothing. I believe you created us for something really special. Help us to work hard and get ready for whatever crazy things you’ve laid ahead for us. And when the time comes, open the eyes of the coaches and owners. Show them what we’ve seen. Make sure they see what we can do through spirit-filled eyes. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Isaiah put his hand in the middle, followed by the rest from all eight of them. “‘We can do this’ on three. One, two, three.”
“We can do this!” All eight of them joined in a roar that shook the house.

As the months flew by, as each cousin reached weight-lifting age, as they reached high school and joined the football team, as they received honors for their contribution to teams, each cousin wrote on their wall four simple words that would change their lives:
We can do this.

message 15: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Awesome!! Kudos to you for getting published soon! Good luck!

message 16: by Brianna, So get up. Get up and FIGHT BACK. (new)

Brianna (briannagpeterson) | 109 comments Mod
Kathleen wrote: "Here is my newest story: "Miriam's Story; From Bethlehem to Nazareth And Back".

I've been working on it for a little over a year and welcome anyone editing my grammar/spelling/word usage as well a..."

This sounds weird, but I learned this from Jeanne Leach. Sometimes dialogue is enough. In the first part when you write, "Yoseph, I can't go on much longer," I whined and breathed in the salty air, I think the words she says are enough to show that she she's tired of moving and just wants to quit. Or you could eve say, "Yoseph, I can't go on much longer. The air's salty and I'm tired." That would further add that she's whining.

Another example: just before the donkey falls, she yells, "Yospeh!" You added, I call desperately. She obviously in trouble here, and actually, you wouldn't need that in there. If you italicize his name, it would be enough to show the readers her fear, and move the story along.

So when you're writing-I'm always messing this up, just so you know-think to yourself, "Does the words this person say explain it enough that I don't need to add anything?" It'll help a lot. :)
Just some suggestion. :)

message 17: by Kathleen (new)

Kathleen | 36 comments Thanks so much! I think ur right about that!

message 18: by Daniel (new)

Daniel Adorno (danieladorno) | 96 comments Here's the first chapter of my post-apocalyptic sci-fi novella, I'm working on. It's rough and I haven't edited it yet since I'm still writing the rest of the book, but I wanted to share something new that isn't already online somewhere:

The pale streaks of red and orange increase in intensity above the horizon as I watch the top of the sun peek over the dewy grass of Mr. Gray’s farm. It’s the first sunrise I’ve seen in weeks. The cool morning air begins to dissipate as warmth and light wash over me on the moist ground. August has been unseasonably cool this year, even for Minnesota. I soak up the ascending sun for a few moments and clear my head of every disturbing thought. I manage to to be at peace for five minutes before the memory of my mother’s lifeless eyes invades my mind.

A rooster crows in the distance as I reach into my leather backpack and pull out my father’s journal. Before he died, my father wrote an entry in the spiral-bound notebook every morning. The entries were short and five could easily take up a page. He always began with something he was thankful for and a short prayer afterward. I often wonder if the days he wrote simple things like “Emily’s cooking, silence, and Dex’s smile”, were days he couldn’t think of anything else to thank God about. Today is not like that for me.

With pen in hand, I flip through the numerous entries and find a blank page. Another rooster crow fills the air as I scrawl “sunrise” on the page. A short prayer eludes me, but that’s not uncommon. My father loved to write praises to God for whatever he could think of, but in the last year since he and my mother died, I can’t think of a reverent request beyond “please help me, God.” I close the notebook and toss it inside my pack.

A cool breeze sweeps my shaggy hair from my forehead as I walk to the dilapidated barn where Edith, our dairy cow, sleeps. Mr. Gray usually milks Edith and never lets Mrs. Gray or his son, Zechariah, outside the house. I’ve managed to convince him to allow me do the chore on occasion, but most times he refuses. I pleaded with him last night about it and perhaps he grew tired of my whining and caved. But I have a suspicion that deep down, he lets me do it because he feels sorry for me and knows I’ve been through hell in the past year. But I guess everyone has lost loved ones since IlluMonday.

Very few people take in their neighbors’ orphaned kid, but the Grays did. My family and the Grays were always close, so I can understand the obligation they felt to take care of me. But they could have left me to fend for myself since that’s so commonplace now, especially in rural cities like Forest Lake.

Inside the barn, the pungent smell of dung and hay was rampant. Edith’s head pokes up from behind her stall and she lows when I unhook an empty milk can hanging from the wall. I stroke her head gently before placing the can beneath her udders. The rhythmic chore of milking the cow is oddly soothing and I lose myself in it. My thoughts linger on my parents for a moment, but then I think of Cassidy, my good friend from our church’s youth group. We used to communicate over a CB radio last winter before the world figured out the Mindless were using electricity to track down the uninfected.

Almost a year ago, Dronis Biotech released a software update to their brand of popular cyber implants and inadvertently created a biotechnic virus called Navitas. The virus infected anyone with an Illumen implant and turned them into savage drones, capable of killing anyone in their path. Cassidy’s mom had an Illumen implant and Navitas deleted any semblance of the woman she once was. Her dad, Garrett, had to shoot his wife nine times with a twelve gauge shotgun to stop her from killing him and infecting Cassidy. I used to think my mother’s death was tragic, but it doesn’t compare to what Cassidy and Garrett have been through.

I miss my conversations with her over the radio. Despite all the havoc the Mindless were wreaking in Minnesota and the rest of the world, Cassidy and I could still laugh over stupid jokes we’d share over our own channel. I guess that’s how we coped.

The sudden creak of the barn door interrupted my chore and I immediately rose from the ground to face the entrance. In the doorway stands Mr. Gray, a muscled black man with a focused gaze capable of cutting a diamond. His imposing stature and unkempt clothing belie the compassionate person hiding underneath.

“What’s taking so long, Dex?” Mr. Gray asks.

My full name is Declan Finnegan, but everyone who knows me and still lives calls me Dex. Occasionally, Cassidy annoys me by using “Finny” to address me.

“It’s only been twenty minutes, I haven’t even filled half the can,” I say, gesturing at the milk beneath Edith.

“It’s been thirty. You were watching the sunrise weren’t you?” Mr. Gray prods. He shuts the door and approaches me, giving me the same stern look he uses on Zechariah when he’s in trouble.

“It’s been months since I’ve seen it. And I wanted to write—” I stop myself. Mr. Gray doesn’t know about my father’s journal.

“Write what?” Mr. Gray questions, crossing his arms.

“Nevermind, I’ll finish milking Edith.”

“Dex, you know I treat you like a son because your family and my family were—”

“Close. I know,” I say while I turn to face Edith.

“Right. I’m trying to protect you just like your parents would. There are Mindless and sparkhounds still roaming outside the Cities.”

Sparkhounds. Stray dogs infected by Navitas and used by the Mindless to track survivors. Some genius at Dronis thought it would be a good idea to offer an implant product line for dogs so owners could connect with their pets wirelessly and entertain them with specialized canine apps. On IlluMonday, when the Navitas update was released for Illumen, dogs were affected too. Now they’re programmed to sniff out electrical currents to find survivors. Their bites are rumored to be capable of spreading the virus, but I’ve never met anyone who’s survived a sparkhound encounter.

“I know you mean well, Mr. Gray. I just needed a moment to myself this morning, outside of the house for once,” I say.

Mr. Gray purses his lips and nods slightly. “I understand. Finish up here and I’ll wait for you by the vegetable garden.”

The door creaks open behind me and I’m alone with Edith again. I love the Gray family and owe them more than I can ever repay. But I hate being locked up in a house with little to do besides surviving. Edith lows as if in agreement with the thought and I smile.

Before I resume milking, the barn door swings open and Mr. Gray steps through, eyes wide and nostrils flared.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Get in the house!” Mr. Gray growls. “There are dog tracks outside.”

message 19: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Thanks for sharing, Daniel! It sounds very exciting!!!

message 20: by Daniel (new)

Daniel Adorno (danieladorno) | 96 comments Thanks, Lena, I'm glad you like it :)

message 21: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
It sounds like a fascinating storyline! Does the book have a title yet?

message 22: by Daniel (new)

Daniel Adorno (danieladorno) | 96 comments It's tentatively titled "Thy Kingdom Come". We'll see if that sticks though. I tend to change my titles once the story is actually finished.

message 23: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Yeah, I know what you mean! Cool title though!

message 24: by E. (new)

E. Writes (elizabethkaiser) | 32 comments Here's a scene I wrote recently... after many years barren, the rulers of Noran named their first princess "Elise", meaning blessing; but she feels her existence is more of a curse, a price paid for the birth of her younger, normal sister, Girta.
(Fairytale retelling off the Snow Queen, Snegurken, and the Snow Child)


Ch 19: The New Chancellor

The doorman’s staff of office hit the floor, and Elise held her head higher in the perfect position as the newly appointed chancellor of Noran approached the throne, his welcome visit with the king.
“Neapolis Kuhn; Chief Chancellor of Noran, His Grace the Earl of Esser.”
King Bernard looked up with relief.
“Good. I am glad you are at last returned. All was easily taken care of as you shut up your old home? We will do everything in our power to make sure you do not miss it, and come to think of Noran as your home instead. ” The hint of a smile touched his lips as he raised a welcoming hand. “It’s been too long, my friend. You had a good journey, I hope?”
The tall, well built man striding across the floor in full uniform and bemedaled sash, paused and dropped a low bow to the reigning royals of Noran.
Beside Elise, Girta fidgeted, and the oldest princess flicked a toe against her younger sister’s ankle.
Girta scowled for a fleeting instant, then sighed and stood straight.
Elise breathed out and watched the boy that trailed after the earl, his steps hesitant and eyes unsure of what was expected of him.
“As good a journey as ca be expected, Your Majesty.” The earl straightened. “But since we had Noran as our destination, the return trip could only be as delightful as the prospect of making it our true home is to my heart.”
“You flatter us.” The king smiled anyway, glad his new official was so well pleased with his newly adopted country of service. “And… this is your son, you have brought?”
“Yes, your highness.” The earl turned, then gave a quick gesture as if impatient at the boy’s pace.
The lad hastened to his father’s side, and the earl laid a heavy hand on the smaller shoulder.
“May I present to you my only child, Viscount Gustav of Esser.”
They both bowed in unison.
Elise breathed in and blinked to keep herself from having any kind of thoughts at all. That was probably the safest thing to do when presented with new people.
Her father stepped over to the lad.
“Welcome, young Gustav, to Noran. We hope you will be very happy here.”
“Thank-you, sir.” The boy’s voice was small in the great reaches of the room. “I trust that we both shall.”
Then he shot a glance at his father, and the Earl nodded almost imperceptibly.
The king smiled.
“And may I present our daughters, the Princess Elise, and Princess Girthilde, of Noran.” He lifted a hand their way and both girls dropped a polite curtsy.
The boy bowed, his hand clenched uncertainly across his middle.
“Enchanted.” He said, but the words had a ring of the rote to them, as if he was repeating something drilled into him on the long voyage here. “Your beauty, fair princesses, do your royal house a credit.”
The earl beamed and Elise and Girta bobbed again in response.
“And your tongue, good sir, does the same for your house.” Elise didn’t have to respond, protocol would have been satisfied without it. But there was something in her that demanded it be said.
The lad straightened and let his hand fall to his side, relieved to be out of the limelight, and totally oblivious to the veiled barb under the princess’s honeyed words.
Elise decided this boy was of no possible interest. If he couldn’t even notice how corny he sounded, or how echoey her reply, his wit was seriously below the level to be entertaining at all.
“Why don’t you children go out and see the gardens?” Queen Deirdree ushered them toward the door, arms spread.
“Thank-you, madam.” The boy replied, and Elise shot a look over her shoulder at the earl. He seemed to be glad to see the room clearing of the younger folk, so he and the king could get down to business.
Well, it didn’t matter. He was here to do a job, to help her father. And so long as he performed well in that, his social skills or that of his son was of no consequence to her or anyone.
She sniffed and turned to the door.
The day was a fine one, and Girta immediately bounced off ahead, as usual.
The queen lead the small party to a table set with refreshments, and poured a glass of cider.
“Are you thirsty, Gustav?” She asked, holding the glass out, the sun sparkling off the sweet brown drink within.
“Thank-you, yes.” He took it, and Elise moved around the far side of the table, picking up a thin, flaky honey cracker out of boredom more than anything else.
“Perhaps you’d like to tell us about your home in Esser?” Queen Dierdree prompted. It seemed clear that her eldest wasn’t taking a talkative turn this afternoon. She shot Elise a glance, and Elise turned a sweet smile on the boy.
“Yes, do tell us. It must be ever so different from Noran.” Her eyes hid her total non-interest in the subject. She had extensively studied every kingdom of possible connection with Noran, and had long ago memorized exactly what crops grew in all the surrounding countries, differentiated county by county, and could tell the lad what the frost free dates were in his precious Esser. Something she doubted he could do himself.
“No.” he offered, with no spark of wit or charm. “It’s not at all different, I don’t think.”
Well, at least he was honest.
“And to be a Viscount so young, you must be very proud of your title, sir.” Her polite smile masked the mean streak behind her words from him, but not from her mother.
Why didn’t she like this boy? Elise couldn’t have said. But he seemed so dull and uninteresting, and to be forced to make idle chit-chat with someone so very boring was a burden to her intelligence.
He glanced down, as if he didn’t know what to say now that his father wasn’t there to prompt him.
“I’m the only one, so of course it fell to me.” He fingered the hem of his cuff, but then cut that off abruptly with a frightened glance around as if he though someone disapproving surely must be watching him.
“Have some tea cake?” The queen graciously held out the small silver tray and the boy nodded gratefully and took a small piece. Cupping his small plate uncertainly in his hands, he looked furtively around the garden, then politely but hastily devoured the portion.
Elise nibbled the cracker.
“Here, Elise!” Girta dashed up and stuck a crimson rose under her older sister’s nose. “This one is for you!”
Elise raised a hand and took hold of the spiny stem carefully, almost without looking at her sister, out of habit.
“It’s special…” Girta crowed. “See how red it is? Just beautiful!!!” And she hopped around the table on one foot.
“Here, this is for you!” she held out a yellow rose toward the newcomer, the full, golden blossom unfurled in velvety petals.
The boy looked at it.
“Take it!” Girta insisted.
“I don’t have a pen knife with me.” The lad intoned, and seemed to retreat closer toward the cider he wrapped both hands around..
“So?” Girta stopped still, a puzzled look furrowing her reddish brown eyebrows.
“So, I can’t take the thorns off. And you must never hold a rose without first taking its thorns off.” He turned back to his cider. “It’s not safe.”
“Safe?” Girta stuck it out to him again. “I do it all the time.”
He cast her an uncomfortable look, and edged his chair away further.
“Well, perhaps for a child…” his tone was condescending.
Girta dropped her chin, her bluish-greenish hazel eyes blinking fast against a tear that threatened. She couldn’t understand why, but somehow this new playmate disapproved of her.
Elise sat very rigid and her breath came shorter. How dare this insignificant waif from far away immediately turn to setting Girta down like that? Deriding a princess of Noran for being braver than he had the guts to be?
Queen Deirdree shot her eldest daughter a glance.
“Elise.” The word was keen as a knife and filled with warning. “You may be excused.”
Elise blinked sharply, then stood to her full height.
“I bid thee adieu.” She said, her voice as chilled as a winter sea. Then she turned and swept back up the garden path, her hand lightly holding the crimson rose.
Her breath came hotter and quicker as she boiled up the stairs and then she burst through her tower room door, quickly throwing the lock behind her.
How dare anyone mock her little sister?!!! Girta might be a total pain, but no outsider had the right to make the little girl feel smaller than she already was.
A hot, angry tear slid down the porcelain cheek, and then a sob broke from Elise’s throat.
She glanced down, and the crimson petals had sprung a forest of frost shards, lancing up as if in preparation for a battle of wills.
Gasping in despair, she flung the rose onto the nearby table and dashed for her bed, throwing herself across the deep blue comforter. Tears came hot and fast, and the feeling of loneliness and the feeling of anger mixed together, as the rose on the table slowly wilted under the weight of the ice that thickened across it.
Suddenly she jumped off the bed and dashed back to it. Snatching up her little sister’s gift, she swirled her hand around it, encasing it in a bed of solid ice. Now the rose could not wilt, it was caught forever in the moment, frozen in time.
She pulled open a drawer and dropped the ice chunk in. What she would do with it later would have to be seen, but at least it was beautiful there, in its icy bed; like clear crystal.
Suddenly overwhelmingly tired, she returned to her bed and crawled under the covers… letting the slow tears wash her away into slumber.

If anyone's interested, the rest can be read on Wattpad here;

If you read it, let me know what you think! :-)

message 25: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Sounds wonderful! :)

message 26: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Incredible poem Ysa!!! Great job! Is it related to a book you're writing?

message 27: by Mojoboy31 (new)

Mojoboy31 | 83 comments Wow, some awesome stuff in here.

I'll have to go through my stuff and try to find something fun to share.

message 28: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
That'd be great, mojo!! :)

message 29: by Mojoboy31 (new)

Mojoboy31 | 83 comments So, here is a very, very random scrap from one of my stories. Context, a young man and a young woman share a horse, going into a deep forest at night, hunting for a gang of bandits...

She grunts, and leads the horse deeper into the forest.

“So what's your plan?” he says behind her.

“Find the bandits,” she says.

“And then what?”

“Then we cut them down.”

“Oh, okay, yeah,” he says. “How are we going to do that?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” she says.

“Do you always dive headlong into danger without a plan?”

The horse snorts, and throws his head to one side. A bat flies over head, then disappears in the foliage.

“I know what I'm doing,” she says.


“Do I hear sarcasm?”

“Oh, no, I love being unarmed, and facing off against dozens of ruthless psychopaths.”

“Hey," she says "you wanted to come.”

message 30: by Louisa (new)

Louisa Black (lblack32) Ysa, your poem is wonderful x I want to read more! x

message 31: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Mojoboy31 wrote: "So, here is a very, very random scrap from one of my stories. Context, a young man and a young woman share a horse, going into a deep forest at night, hunting for a gang of bandits...

She grunt..."

Sounds pretty awesome!!!

message 32: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Wow!!! You are an outstanding poet!!!

message 33: by Kendra (new)

Kendra Ardnek | 114 comments Here are introductions to part one and part two of my NaNo novel (which I'm going rebel on ... I already had 30,000 words written before NaNo started, i.e. most of part 1.) Clara and Andrew are the main characters.

“It is a fact universally acknowledged that a short girl, in the procession of something above her head must be in want of some young man to get it down for her,” Clara stated, as she and her two best friends headed to the pool. “And no matter how far from the case it may be, if it just so happens that her mom has told her to get something that just so happens to be on a shelf above her head, and some guy just so happens to be walking by and sees her, he's going to offer his help."
“Is that so?” Rhoda asked. "You know, you could just let them help you. It would save you a lot of time."
Clara rolled her eyes. "I had it handled. I didn't even need to be on tiptoe to get it. He only offered to help me so that he could be a dashing hero."
"Maybe he was just trying to be nice?" Rhoda suggested.
"You're a pretty girl," Kath added. ''And we know that you're against the thought of boys liking you and all that, but they don't know, so ..."
Clara tossed Kath a glare. “I’m not against boys liking me, it’s just that …”
“Was he a redhead?” Kath continued, seemingly oblivious. “Because I do know that you are especially against them if they’re not.”
“Redheads have nothing to do with it,” Clara insisted, with a roll of her eyes. “I’m only fifteen, and I’m not ready to be thinking about things like that, and he was being an unnecessary dashing hero. That’s what I don’t like.”
“That and the fact that he probably wasn’t a redhead.”
Rhoda rolled her eyes, “What is its with you and redheads when it comes to Clara?”


“Yes Kyle, you may take Josh and Parker for a hike before we leave,” said Andrew, without looking up from the map he was examining. “Just don’t push them off of any cliffs. We don’t have time to call 911 right now.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to ask, Andrew,” said Kyle, with a groan. “I –”
“Well, it happens to be what I just gave you permission to do, unless you want to stay and help me pack up the tent. On second thought …”
“I’ll take them hiking,” Kyle quickly amended, before Andrew could finish the thought.
“Good. Make sure they’re both wearing proper climbing gear.”
“We’re not babies anymore, Andrew!” protested Josh, who was apparently in earshot. “We know how to prepare for a hike.”
“Good, then do so.”
Andrew, satisfied with the directions they needed for the day’s trip, folded up the map and put it into his backpack. Now just to get everything into the car, and maybe, just maybe, he’d have time for a quick hike of his own.

message 34: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Cool! I love to read what other people are working on!

message 35: by Tamara (new)

Tamara Georges  (tamarasinnamon) Alright, here's the short story I just wrote. It doesn't have a name yet. Hope you like it! Feel free to tell me your honest opinion, wether good or bad. ;)

Evil. It broke me apart, ruined my life, and made my very existence miserable. There was a time when I would have welcomed death, I longed to be free from all the pain and suffering. That was before I met Him, and found a reason to live. For the first time in my life, evil had no hold over me. I was free.

There was nowhere for me to go, I was trapped in a dark alley far from my home and loved ones. Someone was behind me, and I knew his intentions. I held a book in my right hand clutched tightly to my breast, my left hand formed a fist as quiet footsteps got closer.
A knife flashed in the darkness, it was coming towards me. I ducked to the right and barely missed being struck by a second knife that was thrown just past my shoulder. The figure advanced, and as I stepped backwards in escape my foot caught on a stone and I fell, striking my head on a rock. The book fell not a few feet away.
The sky blurred, and I felt a sharp pain starting at the base of my skull. I struggled to rise, despite the pain, but my pursuer was already there. It was then that I realized that my attacker was a woman. She pulled a gun from her coat and pointed it at my pitiful form. I froze in fear, my mind searching for escape options. There were none.
“You thought we wouldn’t find you.” The woman let out a low chuckle. “How amusing.”
I rose slightly, supporting my weight on my elbows. The fear was gone, I was confident and assured. I stared straight into the woman’s eyes and ignored her laughter.
“I don’t fear you, I knew you would find me someday, it was only a matter of when.”
She stopped laughing. “Of course your not afraid of me, you all say that.” She crouched, the gun leveled at my head. “Your afraid of failing, and you have failed. All your friends are dead, it’s over, we have won.”
“You may think you have won now, but this is only the beginning.”
Fury filled her face and she cocked the gun.
“Go ahead, kill me, my work here is finished.”
I lay back and closed my eyes. I no longer welcomed death, but neither did I fear it. The woman was right, I did fear failure; but I knew that I hadn’t failed. I lay there for what seemed like hours, but I know was only a few minutes. The longer she waited the more fearful I became. She wanted me to panic.
Suddenly I felt a searing fire in my chest. I gasped in agony and opened my eyes. Bright light flooded my eyes, temporarily overwhelming the pain. I breathed easier even as I felt my senses starting to fade. A wave of peace and contentment washed over me. I experienced a final wracking breath of pain, then darkness washed over me. My hand lay limp, the book lay next to me. I could see Him.

Isabel of the Sea (oceangirlie) Nice story!!!!

message 37: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Great story, Tamara! You should write one for our contest!!

message 38: by Tamara (new)

Tamara Georges  (tamarasinnamon) Thanks! :)

Isabel of the Sea (oceangirlie) ;) Continue to write!

message 40: by Daniel (new)

Daniel Adorno (danieladorno) | 96 comments Very good work, Tamara! Your descriptions are wonderful and vivid. Are you planning to expand on this story at all? I wanted to know more about the evil woman, like an exnteded allegory or something. Either way, keep on writing!

message 41: by Tamara (new)

Tamara Georges  (tamarasinnamon) Thanks! I don't know if I'll write more to the story, I've already been asked that quite a few times. :) I wrote it on impulse for a contest, and that's all I had planned on writing. I'm having some second thoughts on it being just a short story though, so... :D

message 42: by Richard (new)

Richard Dieckhoff | 4 comments Please read the prologue for my new book, Under a Fallen Sky. It is available on Amazon. Thank you.

“...The reason each of those are urgent, is that CRE is the nightmare bacteria we reported on in March, bacteria that can resist essentially all antibiotics, kill a high number of people who get it in their blood...”

CDC Director Tom Friedman, MD, MPH, September 16, 2013

The killer was polished and smooth. Nobody suspected him of anything. Not his colleagues at the CDC or the members of his dark faith. The holocaust he would later commit started in a home built laboratory (or lavatory in his case). Like a spider spinning a web to hunt it's kill, he would spin labyrinth of bacteria, staph infection, viruses, fungi and parasites. His prey was mankind. His delivery system had yet to be determined. Would it be airborne or surface, or maybe a new STD? Drug resistant Gonorrhea was very effective, but so was E.Coli and C Difficile. But then there was the mother of all infection, Carbapenem-Resistant Enterobacteriaceae. Should he poison the water, or maybe the food supply? Rats and roaches, they always worked well in the past, maybe he'd use rats, or roaches to spread his carnage. He worked night after night, in dark diligence, trying to unlock a deadly combination, build an unbreakable chain of epidemic proportions and release an unholy mess on the world. He would continue to spin that web until the fate of all men was sealed.
He was conceived on a Friday the thirteenth,and even though he didn’t know it then—as a one day embryo—that's when the real doomsday clock started ticking. It was a new era, the daybreak of doom's dawn. He was raised among the black eyed children, that evil sprout of devilish brats. But even to them he was a freak, too evil for their purposes. His mind would frolic on a playground somewhere between being accursed and insane...a carousel of chaos, guided by the father of chaos, always spinning round and round in utter darkness. One thing was for sure, he was destined for greatness. His name would be known in the nether world as the great slayer...the greatest mass murderer of all time, and he would receive the tallest memorial in the palace of the most wicked. His evil smile, his ghoulish laugh, they were just add-ons he acquired to compliment the evil that was engraved in his DNA: The doctor is in; The Witchdoctor. That phrase defined him, it was his mantra. His name was Zeke Hile, and hell fire followed in his every foot step.

message 43: by Isabel of the Sea (last edited Nov 21, 2014 03:17AM) (new)

Isabel of the Sea (oceangirlie) Love the title of the book! And it is a very interesting story. The ending gave me chills!

message 44: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (last edited Nov 21, 2014 04:32AM) (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Awesome!!! With this many talented writers, it's going to be hard choosing a winner for the contest, if you all enter!!!

message 45: by Jason (new)

Jason Hein (jasonphein) | 216 comments Mod
Ysa wrote: "Awesome excerpts, everybody!!!

I'm working on 84 ish different stories right now, but the current favorite "excerpt" is a poem that I wrote. Hmm. I kinda wrote it, meaning that it came to me and ..."

This is an amazing poem! Loved every line of it!

I love poetry of this nature more than any form of poetry out there. It's the funnest poetry to read adn write. I've compiled a collection of similar poetry related to a series of Novels I am working on and it's been exciting to see the steps as the stories unfold.

Once you get more done on your book you will have to post some excerpts for us!

message 46: by Jason (new)

Jason Hein (jasonphein) | 216 comments Mod
I have had a bit of a debate in myself about a prologue of world history in a Novel I am working on. I don't know whether to cut it, put it at the end of the book instead of the front, or something else entirely.

It really can't be thinned down much but it's 25 pages... so a long prologue.

I decided I would post the first couple pages here and see what everyone thinks.

Would you even want to read 25 pages (This being on an 5x 8 template with size 12 Times New roman font) of this? Would it be better before or after the book. (Though it does explain a few things in the book that would not be so easily understood without it)

Let me know what you think! Thanks.

Varsia and Varsa
For eternity there was One called, Talviaol, by the tongues of all. His name is universal to all languages and through all ages.
Before the age of time Talviaol opened his clenched hands and spoke with his mouth, releasing sparkling orbs of light. Three orbs were released in the vast expanse below the dwelling place of Talviaol.
From Talviaol’s right hand came the orb named Nethium, and to him was given a fiery red light.
From Talviaol’s left hand came the orb named Zurisha and to her was given a sulfur yellow light.
The third orb proceeded from the mouth of Talviaol and was named Gemal. To Gemal was given a hyacinth blue light.
Talviaol saw the orbs and was pleased, naming them Varsia. To each Varsia He gave dominion over elements of the earth that was to be. Talviaol created the earth and its powers, giving command of its elements to Nethium, the fiery red orb of his right hand.
To Zurisha, the sulfur yellow light of his left hand, He gave dominion over all unseen forces such as wind, light, and life.
Gemal, the hyacinth blue light that proceeded from the mouth of Talviaol , was given charge over all knowledge and wisdom contained within the earth which was named Varsia after its three sentinels.
With their new powers the Varsia created the lesser guardians of the earth, Varsa. As the three orbs dashed through the world sparkling dust fell from their dissipating light trails. Every spec of dust was bent to their will to form the Varsa.
Nethium created the Nethunim, Varsa of the earth and its elements.
Zurisha created the Zurishaddai, Varsa of the unseen forces of the earth such as wind and light.
Gemal created the Gemalli, Varsa of knowledge and wisdom.
As Talviaol instructed them, the Varsia and their Varsa helpers flew over and through the land, dropping and creating with their trails of sparkling dust that lingered behind them, doing the will of their Creator. Once the surface of the earth was fashioned with all its things of nature Nethium began to grow proud of his works and desired to rule the world above his fellow Varsia. Despite his ill desires Nethium held his peace, but his desires filtered through into a forbidden creation.
As Nethium pondered his tangled desires, alone in the dark, a few flakes of sparkling dust fell from his red light. These grains, through his desires, forged another Varsa named Azrael. Azrael was created for one purpose, to be ruler over all Varsa. The other Varsa and Varsia, however, did not accept him as ruler but reported him to Talviaol.
“I have known your creation before its conception,” Talviaol told Nethium. “And as you, in your imperfection, have created Azrael whom I forbade so I have created, in my perfection, an adversary for him. Mickiel is his name and the two will strive against one another from now until the end of time.”
After being rebuked by Talviaol it grieved Nethium for what he had done. Azrael also outwardly repented for his existence but his wicked nature he hid inside himself and pondered how he may attain the position for which he had been created, King of the Varsa.
As time went on Azrael persuaded many of the Varsa to embrace him as their king, but within Azrael’s mind lay an even greater abomination, for he sought to gain power and overthrow the very throne of Talviaol himself. With such thoughts running through his head and through the minds of his minions a new race of Varsa was born, the dark Varsa.
After these things abundant life was created on the earth. All manner of life was created by Talviaol. The Varsia and Varsa chose for themselves a kingdom on the earth where they could live among Talviaol’s creations, for the Varsia loved the nature Talviaol had instructed them to build. They sought to teach the races of the world how to care for Varsia and its things of nature. But Azrael and the other dark Varsa strived against such teachings and sought to corrupt all life and nature for their own selfish purposes.
The Varsia roamed across the kingdom they had chosen for themselves, naming the lands and choosing their settlements. And there was no need of the sun or moon in those days, for the light of the Varsia themselves shone forth to brighten the land.
Nethium and the Nethunim settled foremost in the southern regions and there was a fiery red light in all the land during the day and dim darkness at night. As time went on many of the Nethunim began to yearn for other lands. They roamed the Varsian Kingdom, settling in the forests and under the earth in caves.
Zurisha and her Zurishaddai settled in the central plains of the kingdom and she named them the Sarengedeeze plains. Throughout all the land her Sulfur yellow light shone to brighten the day and dimmed at night.
Gemal and the Gemalli settled at the top of the region, naming the land Sanhadree. Sanhadree shone with a hyacinth blue light during the day and dimmed for the night. It was there that Gemal and his Varsa taught wisdom to all who wished to live in their domain.
Of all the lands in the Varsian kingdom, Sanhadree was the fairest. Lush plains, scattered forests, crystal streams and fair weather were ever present in Sanhadree.
As the kingdoms and the people grew, many races settled across the map. Many humans, fairies, nymphs, and other noble creatures settled in Sanhadree with the Gemalli. Chief among these were the humans for they sought more than any race to expand the mind.
The wisest and fairest race, the elves, however, stayed isolated from other races because through their superiority, that was given as a tool to aid the lesser races, Azrael had caused them to become haughty and arrogant.
The grandest race of all, below the elves only in beauty, were the Centaurs. They settled in the lowest region of the Varsian Kingdom, upon the southern boarder. The Centaurs were wise and sought a name for their realm from the Varsia, thus Nethium who dwelt in the lands close by named it the Traylin Realm.
The Centaurs grew in wisdom and might, making many trips to visit the Varsia and the lesser protectors, the Varsa. So much was their pursuit for betterment that they had very little dealings with the outside world.
Other races such as the minotaurs, dwarves, and other such groups roamed the land freely, often dealing with other races. The minotaurs lived nomadic lives, entangled in the excitement of constant exploration and endeavors. Because of this desire in their nature they later became a race to be feared and a chief instrument in Azrael’s bid for power over the land.
The dwarves also were corrupted through a twisting of their love for beauty and precious things. Before Azrael corrupted them, however, they were a kind and gentle people who lived in clans and loved the other races. They had much delight in physical contests and games, thus were twisted by Azrael towards war, riches, and plunder.
Despite Azrael’s twisting, the dwarves were turned back to Talviaol. One of the Varsa, Taylein by name, who loved the dwarves more than any other race left his home to dwell among them. By his careful guidance the dwarves were pulled back to Talviaol’s will. Though Taylein was never able to remove their love for riches and battle he managed to twist their inner being again, modifying the corrupt nature that Azrael had given them so it could be used for good.
Before the days of the corruption, when the dwarves and minotaurs were tainted by Azrael, the Varsia ruled the kingdom in peace and all races gathered there. During this time of peace Gemal and Zurisha were wed, joining their neighboring kingdoms.
It was after this that many of the Varsa also began to marry, blurring the lines between Nethunim, Zurishaddai, and Gemalli. Before long the separate factions of lesser protectors were mingled into one incoherent group.
It happened that all children of the Varsa were born with abilities regarding either earth, sky, water, or light. Seeing this the Varsia set up four new groups of Varsa.
There are five distinct groups of Varsa.
Earth Varsa are the guardians of the land, trees, plants, and the beasts of the earth.
Water Varsa are guardians of the waters and its inhabitants.
Air Varsa are guardians of the air, weather, and the creatures of flight.
Light Varsa are guardians of the races, watching over the affairs of mortals and the lights of the heavens.
The fifth group are dark Varsa, who roam the earth seeking self enrichment. The dark Varsa are merely those who have abandon their role in life as protectors and now seek their own gain. Dark Varsa may come from any one of the other four groups.
The immortality of the Varsa allows them to live forever unless killed while meddling in the affairs of men, whether the meddling is necessary or not is irrelevant.
Set above the Earth Varsa is Mendow, the strongest and most mightiest of all Varsa. Mendow is ultimately in charge off all that him and his people do when meddling in earthly affairs.
Shasia is leader of the Light Varsa and eldest daughter of Gemal and Zurisha. Though her parents were Varsia her powers were limited to that of an original Varsa. She has often appeared to the races of Varsia in their darkest hours to aid and advise. Her and her people keep careful watch over the races. As Shasia grew in wisdom all Varsa and mortals revered her with great reverence.
It was Shaisa, sister of Shasia, who was sought after most, however. Azrael himself sought after her, for she was fairer even than the elves. Her beauty was immortalized in verse and song. As leader of the water Varsa, Shaisa and her people watch over and tend closely the needs of the water and its inhabitants.
Arktron, leader of the air Varsa, lives with his people high in the heavens, flying the skies and watching over weather and all flying beasts. Arktron, known for his temper, is said to be the source of most, if not all, storms and turbulent weather. Despite his disposition he is a fervent and loyal follower of Talviaol his God.
The dark Varsa have no official leader, no authority. They have abandoned the traditional ways and sought self gain rather than doing their eternal jobs. However, Azrael is regarded as the most powerful of all dark Varsa and holds a dominant place among them all.

message 47: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
I absolutely love histories, especially of fantastical worlds, but I think some people might find it somewhat tedious. My advice would be to put it in the back of the book as an appendix, with maybe a note to the readers about it at the beginning of the book.

message 48: by Jason (new)

Jason Hein (jasonphein) | 216 comments Mod
Thanks, it seems some other's I have let view it say the same thing.

I don't technically have anything else for the prologue so I guess I can cut the prologue all together and add this in the back of the book instead.

Thanks for the advice!

message 49: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
No problem!! :)

message 50: by Lena, Shot through the heart, and you're to blame (new)

Lena (lenakarynn) | 1526 comments Mod
Here's a part of a short story I'm writing:

Marissa twirled the ring on her finger thoughtfully. Rome was far behind now; the frigid Northern Lands getting nearer every day. What awaited her there?
Declan watched the girl from his perch up in the rigging. She was a strange one. The day before cast off, she had come aboard while they were loading, and demanded passage to Norway. Not begged or pleaded, but demanded. Her manner was authoritative, and her blue, fur-lined cloak showed she was no peasant. Why then did she choose to travel on a cargo ship?

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