Hey, everyone!
First, thanks to the writers and readers who've participated so far in this month's critique round. There are, once again, some amazing entries and I hope you're all spreading the word (after leaving your own critiques, of course) to help these writers get the feedback they deserve.
Speaking of critiques and feedback, I have a guest post about said topic over on author PW Creighton's website. I would love for you to check it out, leave your thoughts, and tell your friends about it. Here's the link:
http://www.pwcreighton.com/surveillance-report/2012/5/30/intriguing-observations-fear-and-critiques.html
I'd be lying if I said I didn't stress over what to write about when I was asked to guest post. It's funny; I have no issues posting on my own website, but ask me to post elsewhere and I shake in my boots. Hopefully you'll find it useful and I hope his readers do, too. I'm still suffering residual nervousness, haha. So your support, like always, is appreciated!
While you're there, make sure to check out his site. PW is a wonderful writer and blogger, and he's someone I have much respect for. I very much enjoy his posts and appreciate his friendship in the writing community.
That's all for now. Hugs and inspiration to each of you. <3
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
May Test Run #7
Title: The Changeling
Genre: YA Paranormal
I came home from the hospital on the anniversary of my sister’s death. Mom kept chatting away with nervous energy, fingers tapping on the wheel of the car as she drove. I didn’t recognize the way she took. Then again, this would be the first time I saw the new house, bought 3 years ago.
“I got you registered for school last week,” she said bringing me out of my thoughts.
“What?”
“I got you registered for school. Eleventh grade.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked.
“You have another week before school starts, so you’ll have time to prepare.” She cast a quick glance my way. “Besides, Dr. Morris said you should get used to a normal routine and what’s more normal for a sixteen year old than high school?”
I shook my head and turned to look out of the window again. Normal
“So you talked to Dr. Morris about this?”
“Of course I did, honey,” she said to me, not a little exasperated. “I’m not going to do anything that would-”
“Send me to Nutsville again,” I finished for her.
“Hey, Dr. Morris has said time and time again that the emotional trauma you went through would have left it’s mark on any young girl.”
May Test Run #6
TITLE: Listen to Me
GENRE: YA contemporary with magical realism
GENRE: YA contemporary with magical realism
As he sinks slowly into the chair across from me, he looks just like a doctor should -- greying hair, a well-trimmed beard with badger-stripes framing his lips, and wire rimmed glasses his wife must have chosen. They're far too tasteful compared to the awful polyester shirt and pants he's wearing. On the plus side, his smile seems genuine.
"How are you feeling about today, Stacy?" His voice is too loud for the muted tones of the room -- all earthy browns and soft corners. It's his office, but he's tried to make it look like a living room -- complete with a coffee table squatting between us and lamps on the varnished surfaces at our sides. Too bad the external door has a combination lock. Kind of kills the good-time vibe.
He's waiting for an answer. I start to shrug, then freeze in place until the razors of pain ease. My stitches are all out now, but the hard pink lines spiderwebbing across most of my upper body are just a pitiful attempt at healing. Underneath I am still many layers of mangled nerve endings and fractured flesh.
Doctor hears me catch my breath and his eyes snap to mine. All that beguiling disinterest is an act. He is measuring me.
"Pain?" he says, softly this time.
"Yes. But it's not so bad. I just moved wrong." It burns and crackles under my skin until I want to scream. But I won't tell him that.
May Test Run #5
TITLE: Threads
GENRE: YA Fantasy
The soldiers boarded up the doors of Flynn’s house and set it on fire
in the night.
Climbing through the cracks of the splintered door, Flynn grabbed his
two-year-old sister Mena from his mother’s battered hands and ran
through the flames, knowing the cracks were too small for his parents
to escape. He flew down the blazing streets of the snowy mountain town
and struggled to stay upright amongst the bloody slush beneath his
feet. A monstrous army, dressed in bronze and green, trampled through
the streets between the houses and snatched up the people running from
their burning homes while those still trapped in their houses screamed
and thrashed against the walls.
Flynn gagged on the smoke, held Mena closer to his chest, and skidded
onto the last street of the town, ducking under an arrow and slipping
on the ice. Another arrow flew by his face as Mena sobbed into his
shoulder. Her hands clutched his neck and hair, and the last image of
his mother’s bloody hands stuck in his mind. Flynn swallowed back a
shout.
Laughter rang out behind him. He turned and saw his elderly neighbors,
dead and splayed out in the dull red snow filling their basement
doorway. The laughing soldiers kicked the bodies back into the
smoke-filled basement. Flynn blinked and turned away. Skidding across
the ice, he twisted his body and darted between two shouting soldiers
standing between him and the safety of the woods. Mena screamed.
GENRE: YA Fantasy
The soldiers boarded up the doors of Flynn’s house and set it on fire
in the night.
Climbing through the cracks of the splintered door, Flynn grabbed his
two-year-old sister Mena from his mother’s battered hands and ran
through the flames, knowing the cracks were too small for his parents
to escape. He flew down the blazing streets of the snowy mountain town
and struggled to stay upright amongst the bloody slush beneath his
feet. A monstrous army, dressed in bronze and green, trampled through
the streets between the houses and snatched up the people running from
their burning homes while those still trapped in their houses screamed
and thrashed against the walls.
Flynn gagged on the smoke, held Mena closer to his chest, and skidded
onto the last street of the town, ducking under an arrow and slipping
on the ice. Another arrow flew by his face as Mena sobbed into his
shoulder. Her hands clutched his neck and hair, and the last image of
his mother’s bloody hands stuck in his mind. Flynn swallowed back a
shout.
Laughter rang out behind him. He turned and saw his elderly neighbors,
dead and splayed out in the dull red snow filling their basement
doorway. The laughing soldiers kicked the bodies back into the
smoke-filled basement. Flynn blinked and turned away. Skidding across
the ice, he twisted his body and darted between two shouting soldiers
standing between him and the safety of the woods. Mena screamed.
May Test Run #4
TITLE: Running From Shadows
GENRE: YA paranormal
GENRE: YA paranormal
The giant oaks of the Red Forest loomed above me. Unease prickled down my spine. Something else was in the woods. Lurking in the shadows. Watching me. I froze mid-step, ice in my veins. Peered into the darkness with my breath caught in my throat.
Haven slammed into my back. “Greta, seriously?”
A shiver rippled through me. The thing in the shadows had taken my attention so completely I’d forgotten that my two best friends trailed behind me. What was that thing? Had I imagined it?
When I didn’t answer she stomped in front of me. “Don’t just stop like that.” Haven smoothed a loose strand of pink hair behind her ear. “Damn. Maybe I should take the lead.”
“Whatever, girl.” I risked a quick glance over Haven’s shoulder toward the shadowy figure. Gone.
“What are you looking at?” She followed my gaze.
Jill joined us, her blond hair swaying over her shoulders as she bobbed her head up and down. The giddy smile on her face said she might start clapping at any second. “Ooh, I hope it’s something witchy and dangerous.”
Jill was ecstatic to cast a spell with us. Haven hadn’t ever asked her and I’d never been skilled enough to lead a circle. Until now. I took a deep breath. Was I crazy for needing to do this? For wanting answers? Part of me had always felt carved out. Missing. Today, I was hoping to find a reason.
“Probably just a deer. Come on.” I gave Haven the let’s-move look and marched past both of them. Leaves crunched under my feet and a cool breeze nipped at my cheeks.
Haven raced up to my right side. “You do realize we’re gonna have to hike out of the woods in the dark, right?”
“It’s okay. The spell has to be done at sunset,” Jill chimed in on my left.
“How does she know that and I don’t?” Haven stopped walking. “She’s not even a witch.”
May Test Run #3
TITLE: Jumpers
GENRE: Horror
“Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.” The two girls’ half-sang, half-chanted as they held hands and skipped through the field on the way to school. They stopped short when they came to the fence that separated the old red brick building from the woods.
“Whatcha think?” Amy asked smiling mischievously at her friend. “You want to go check it out?”
Lily stared at the dark woods. Her stomach began doing all kinds of nervous little flip-flops at the thought of going in there. It was against the rules, everybody knew that. Bad things happened in there. Children went in but never came out. At least that’s what Marty had told them when Amy asked why no one ever played in there. Marty was the bravest fifth-grader she knew and even he didn’t go in there. She looked at Amy and shook her head. “I’m not going in there. You know what happens. Besides it’s against the rules.”
“Rules schmooze. I don’t believe what they say anyways. It’s just a story the big kids tell us to try and ruin our fun,” Amy said as she climbed over the fence. “Come on. Let’s check it out. We won’t go near it or anything.”
“Amy come on, come back. If anyone sees you we’ll get in big trouble.” She watched Amy begin tromping into the woods. “Amy. Please,” Lily pleaded as she looked around to see if anyone saw.
“You know what Lily, you’re a chicken. Bwak bwak.”
“Am not. I just…,” Lily stopped and looked down at her feet as hot tears threatened to fall.
GENRE: Horror
“Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day.” The two girls’ half-sang, half-chanted as they held hands and skipped through the field on the way to school. They stopped short when they came to the fence that separated the old red brick building from the woods.
“Whatcha think?” Amy asked smiling mischievously at her friend. “You want to go check it out?”
Lily stared at the dark woods. Her stomach began doing all kinds of nervous little flip-flops at the thought of going in there. It was against the rules, everybody knew that. Bad things happened in there. Children went in but never came out. At least that’s what Marty had told them when Amy asked why no one ever played in there. Marty was the bravest fifth-grader she knew and even he didn’t go in there. She looked at Amy and shook her head. “I’m not going in there. You know what happens. Besides it’s against the rules.”
“Rules schmooze. I don’t believe what they say anyways. It’s just a story the big kids tell us to try and ruin our fun,” Amy said as she climbed over the fence. “Come on. Let’s check it out. We won’t go near it or anything.”
“Amy come on, come back. If anyone sees you we’ll get in big trouble.” She watched Amy begin tromping into the woods. “Amy. Please,” Lily pleaded as she looked around to see if anyone saw.
“You know what Lily, you’re a chicken. Bwak bwak.”
“Am not. I just…,” Lily stopped and looked down at her feet as hot tears threatened to fall.
May Test Run #2
TITLE: Institutionalized
GENRE: Contemporary YA
That last rum and Coke was a big mistake. I gripped the aluminum ladder. The world swirled around me. I burped and the sickly sweet smell made me gag. Mom would be so proud. I giggled at the thought, letting loose with one hand and swaying a little.
“Damn it, Sara, hold on with both hands up there,” Dylan called from below.
“Shhh,” I held a finger up to my lips and looked down at my date. “I got this.” I adjusted the plastic crown that had slid to the side of my head. I smoothed down the fly-away toile of the dress I borrowed from my sister Sam, straightened my shoulders, and started climbing. Man, is this thing wobbly. I started giggling again. I tried to choke it off, but ended up snorting instead. That only made me laugh harder.
“C’mon! You’re gonna wake up your parents.”
I sighed. Dylan was getting tiresome. He’d been awesome at the Spring Fling dance. He’d told me that I was beautiful and the kissing – oh, my God. I could’ve done that all night. My heel slipped on the metal rung.
“Ahhh!” I hugged the cold metal. It felt soothing on my cheek. Everything was spinning.
“Shit!” Dylan said. “Are you all right?”
“Mmm, hmm.” I clung to the flimsy ladder, still swaying. “Gimme a minute.” Looking up, I could see I was halfway there. My sister’s light was on. She had called me about two hours ago freaking out. I didn’t know why.
GENRE: Contemporary YA
That last rum and Coke was a big mistake. I gripped the aluminum ladder. The world swirled around me. I burped and the sickly sweet smell made me gag. Mom would be so proud. I giggled at the thought, letting loose with one hand and swaying a little.
“Damn it, Sara, hold on with both hands up there,” Dylan called from below.
“Shhh,” I held a finger up to my lips and looked down at my date. “I got this.” I adjusted the plastic crown that had slid to the side of my head. I smoothed down the fly-away toile of the dress I borrowed from my sister Sam, straightened my shoulders, and started climbing. Man, is this thing wobbly. I started giggling again. I tried to choke it off, but ended up snorting instead. That only made me laugh harder.
“C’mon! You’re gonna wake up your parents.”
I sighed. Dylan was getting tiresome. He’d been awesome at the Spring Fling dance. He’d told me that I was beautiful and the kissing – oh, my God. I could’ve done that all night. My heel slipped on the metal rung.
“Ahhh!” I hugged the cold metal. It felt soothing on my cheek. Everything was spinning.
“Shit!” Dylan said. “Are you all right?”
“Mmm, hmm.” I clung to the flimsy ladder, still swaying. “Gimme a minute.” Looking up, I could see I was halfway there. My sister’s light was on. She had called me about two hours ago freaking out. I didn’t know why.
May Test Run #1
Title: Seven Days
Genre: Horror
Realizing that he wasn't able to move made lucidity shoot through him, as if someone had injected caffeine directly into his brain.
Genre: Horror
Todd Stowman groaned.
His eyelids fluttered open, and his vision was blurry. Somewhere in the room, water dripped into a pool in a constant staccato of plips and plops.
Todd squinted to try to bring his eyes into focus, as much as he could in the dim light anyway. The only illumination was a bare incandescent light bulb that flickered and sputtered, casting odd shadows all around. The whole room stunk of mildew mingled with rot. The walls, as much as he could see them in the wavering light, were slick with moisture and glistened with black mold. Where there wasn't mold, Todd saw bare concrete, pocked and pitted with the passing of time and the action of water.
He found a patch of bare concrete and stared at it for a long moment, trying to cut through the static in his brain. It was as if he were lost in a fog, with no beacon to guide him. The more he focused though, the more the fog began to lift. And as the fog in his mind began to recede, he became aware of a throbbing pain in the back of his right hand. When he tried to life it to get a look at what might be wrong, but he met unyielding resistance. He tried to lift his left hand as well, but met the same resistance.
May's Critique Round
Just a quick post to say that I've extended the submission window until 7 PM EDT tonight for entries as this round has been more quiet than usual. I probably shouldn't have picked a long weekend to open it on, ha ha.
I was asked why I offer these rounds. Simply, these critique rounds are to help out my fellow writers. It's an opportunity I give to each of you to get your work out there and grab valuable feedback that is only going to improve your story (and your writing) by allowing other writers and readers to tell you things about your work you may not see. I'm a big fan of critiques, as they've strengthen my own work and given me insight from a reader's point of view, something that not every writer gets. The readers are the ones who will ultimately decide the success of your finished work, so taking advantage of their opinions is a crucial step to perfecting it, especially for those planning on publishing.
So don't miss out! ;-)
Thanks to those who've entered this round and previous rounds. Your writing amazes me, and I'm happy to offer you a venue to display your art for open eyes.
Hugs to all.
I was asked why I offer these rounds. Simply, these critique rounds are to help out my fellow writers. It's an opportunity I give to each of you to get your work out there and grab valuable feedback that is only going to improve your story (and your writing) by allowing other writers and readers to tell you things about your work you may not see. I'm a big fan of critiques, as they've strengthen my own work and given me insight from a reader's point of view, something that not every writer gets. The readers are the ones who will ultimately decide the success of your finished work, so taking advantage of their opinions is a crucial step to perfecting it, especially for those planning on publishing.
So don't miss out! ;-)
Thanks to those who've entered this round and previous rounds. Your writing amazes me, and I'm happy to offer you a venue to display your art for open eyes.
Hugs to all.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
May Test Run Critique Round *Call for Submissions*
****The submission window is now closed. Thanks to everyone who entered and be sure to check back soon for the entries!***
This critiquing round will be a “Test Run” session. This is for any first page. Whether your manuscript is finished and polished, it's a work-in-progress, or you only have the first page, this is the time to test it out on readers and get some honest, helpful feedback and support from your peers. If you've entered previous rounds, this is also a great opportunity to get feedback on your revisions.
From Thursday, May 24 at 10:00 PM EDT until Sunday, May 27 at 7:00 PM EDT, I will accept submissions. I will post them later that evening (between 7:30 PM and 8:30 PM EDT) right here at KTCROWLEY.COM for critiquing.
Please send submissions to ktcritiques [AT] gmail.com
In the subject, please state "MAY FIRST PAGE”.
This round I will accept all genres and it is one entry per person, per genre (So you can submit 1 adult 1 YA/MG).
Please list the TITLE, GENRE and your SCREEN NAME (I will not include screen names in the critique posts, these are for my purposes only. Your screen name is the name you'll use to critique others in the comments.) above your 250 words (format it the way you normally would). Please do not stop in the middle of a sentence. If it goes over the 250 limit by a couple of words, that's fine. If you stop at say, 235 words, that's fine, too.
Your submission should look like this:
SCREEN NAME: Your Screen Name Here
TITLE: Your Title Here
GENRE: Your Genre Here
(Excerpt here.)
Please leave out "chapter one," chapter "titles", etc. Otherwise, I may count them toward your 250 and you could lose some of your first page entry.
You will receive a confirmation email, but it may not be right away. Only resend if you don't get one by the last hour of the submission window.
Please check your submission(s) carefully for typos, grammatical errors, etc. before submitting. Once the submission is confirmed by email, it is set to automatically post. Double checking it first will ensure you're writing is critiqued appropriately. ;-)
If you enter, you must critique at least 5 other submissions (if there are only five, please critique all). If you enter two first pages, please critique 10 (if there are less than 10 total, please critique all). This is so it's fair for everyone involved.
I will accept up to 20 entries.
That’s it! If you have any questions, please hit me up in the comments or send me an email at crowleykt@gmail.com.
Spread the word please; the more, the merrier! Let's fill up this round and help everyone involved get as much feedback as possible. Also, if you're not a follower of my blog, please do so, so I can continue to offer rounds like this to help writers like you perfect your work. :)
I look forward to seeing everyone's fabulous work and comments.
This critiquing round will be a “Test Run” session. This is for any first page. Whether your manuscript is finished and polished, it's a work-in-progress, or you only have the first page, this is the time to test it out on readers and get some honest, helpful feedback and support from your peers. If you've entered previous rounds, this is also a great opportunity to get feedback on your revisions.
From Thursday, May 24 at 10:00 PM EDT until Sunday, May 27 at 7:00 PM EDT, I will accept submissions. I will post them later that evening (between 7:30 PM and 8:30 PM EDT) right here at KTCROWLEY.COM for critiquing.
Please send submissions to ktcritiques [AT] gmail.com
In the subject, please state "MAY FIRST PAGE”.
This round I will accept all genres and it is one entry per person, per genre (So you can submit 1 adult 1 YA/MG).
Please list the TITLE, GENRE and your SCREEN NAME (I will not include screen names in the critique posts, these are for my purposes only. Your screen name is the name you'll use to critique others in the comments.) above your 250 words (format it the way you normally would). Please do not stop in the middle of a sentence. If it goes over the 250 limit by a couple of words, that's fine. If you stop at say, 235 words, that's fine, too.
Your submission should look like this:
SCREEN NAME: Your Screen Name Here
TITLE: Your Title Here
GENRE: Your Genre Here
(Excerpt here.)
Please leave out "chapter one," chapter "titles", etc. Otherwise, I may count them toward your 250 and you could lose some of your first page entry.
You will receive a confirmation email, but it may not be right away. Only resend if you don't get one by the last hour of the submission window.
Please check your submission(s) carefully for typos, grammatical errors, etc. before submitting. Once the submission is confirmed by email, it is set to automatically post. Double checking it first will ensure you're writing is critiqued appropriately. ;-)
If you enter, you must critique at least 5 other submissions (if there are only five, please critique all). If you enter two first pages, please critique 10 (if there are less than 10 total, please critique all). This is so it's fair for everyone involved.
I will accept up to 20 entries.
That’s it! If you have any questions, please hit me up in the comments or send me an email at crowleykt@gmail.com.
Spread the word please; the more, the merrier! Let's fill up this round and help everyone involved get as much feedback as possible. Also, if you're not a follower of my blog, please do so, so I can continue to offer rounds like this to help writers like you perfect your work. :)
I look forward to seeing everyone's fabulous work and comments.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
April Indy 500 #7
Title: Aral-Kahn
Genre: Fantasy
Genre: Fantasy
Benson Wood was still wreathed in its summer finery, even though the year was lurching ever closer to the fall transition and the cold deadness of winter. The morning was warm and clear - the sun only shared the sky with a few wispy clouds and the ghostly half disk of the moon.
It was a morning much like any other, Zyn Emerling knew, but she couldn't shake the expectant feeling that had been with her since she woke early that morning. The fact that she woke early was odd enough - the rare occasion that it happened her father always told her, only half jokingly, that the Devil must be shivering his hooves off in Hell.
As if the signs and portents of her sleep cycle weren't bad enough, another strange happening that morning lead Zyn to believe that the day was cursed from its beginning, and that maybe she should have heeded her lazier instincts and simply stayed in bed for the day. Once she had dragged herself out of bed and dressed, she opened the drawer of her nightstand, looking for her locket. It had been a gift from her father, after her mother's passing thirteen years previous, and Zyn wore it every day without fail.
Today she went to put it on as she had every day for more than a decade, when the clasp snapped. Zyn was so surprised that when the locket fell, she wasn't quick enough to catch it. The locket flipped open, revealing her mother's portrait, which her father had paid a local artist a fortune to render in such minute detail.
Her father had offered to take it to a friend of his, the jeweler who had made it and carved the intricate floral designs on the outside, but Zyn declined. She didn't want to be parted from it, and she didn't have enough time before she was supposed to meet Laurie on the trail to take it to the jeweler herself. She'd planned on taking it herself once she and Laurie got back to town. In the mean time, Zyn found herself constantly patting the pocket of her dress where she'd put it for safe keeping, just to make sure it was still there.
If Laurie noticed her friend's new tic, she didn't say anything. But then for Zyn, and anyone else who knew her for that matter, that wasn't much of a surprise. Laurie's powers of observation weren't exactly legendary, after all.
Even so, it baffled Zyn that the woman couldn't feel the oddness hovering in the air. Maybe it's just me? Zyn wondered. Yet the forest was silent, save for the rustling of leaves and pine needles in the spare breeze, Laurie's voice, and the soft shuffle of the pair's footsteps on the dirt footpath worn by centuries of feet. No birds sang, and there were no small things scuttling among the tree branches or through the brush. It was as if the small things of the forest knew something was coming, and they were hiding until it passed.
April Indy 500 #6
TITLE: TMC
GENRE: MG Historical
For the tenth time my metal hoop clanged to the ground, and I heard Dad's voice saying, “Hoop rollin's an art, Jamie. I used to roll mine to school and back every day without it falling.”
I swung my hoop over my shoulder. A rusty nail snagged my bibbed overalls as I jumped from the porch. Maude wasn’t gonna like that. Rain splattered my sore toe as I raced across the yard and headed toward the road. I stopped to look back and a whiff of sassafras on the rain started my stomach to growling. Maude often made us sassafras tea in the winter.
Dang, that
I chewed the inside of my cheek, remembering the reason I left the house so early. Tyke Whyte, the banker had pounded on the door before breakfast, his fist bulging with papers. I’d listened from behind the door until he started yelling at Maude. Then for the very first time, I wished I was grown.
I lifted my chin and stepped out from behind the door, ready to punch him in the nose. Tyke stopped me in my tracks, waving his finger in my face and shouting at Maude. “There. That boy’s a prime example of why you’re behind on your bills! That boy should be working, carrying his own weight instead of lazyin’ around all day, wallowing in the river . . . And the trash. Hmh. Nothin’ but scum . . . That‘s what you‘re raising!”
A wave of heat surrounded me. Sweat covered my forehead. My blood must be boiling, like Eli talked about. I tightened my fists and stepped forward.
Maude must have known what I was thinking, because she stepped between us, motioning me to go back up stairs. I stood my ground, glaring at him, the way Maude often did before she swatted me with a willow limb.
Maude drew her eyes down until her eyebrows met. “Get up them stairs, if you know what’s good for you, young man!” The words hissed through her teeth.
My stomach tightened into a knot. Had she turned against me too? I swallowed and headed for the back door. My fingernails cut like knifes into my clenched fists.
Dad burn-it. She should have let me hit him. If he took the orphanage, where would we live? I tried swallowing the lump in my throat as I sneaked out the screen door.
Why did trouble seem to follow some folks? Dad shouldn’t have left, I shouldn’t be an orphan, and Ol’ Nickel Head should get what’s coming to him. Nothing seemed fair anymore.
I gazed upward. I couldn’t see the mountain tops for the morning haze that surrounded them like a fuzzy, gray crown. There was something inspiring about the mountains and the music bouncing from them. Still a cold, emptiness followed me everywhere, constantly reminding me of my loss.
If I could, I’d be a mountain with my head in the clouds hearing nothing but music.
GENRE: MG Historical
For the tenth time my metal hoop clanged to the ground, and I heard Dad's voice saying, “Hoop rollin's an art, Jamie. I used to roll mine to school and back every day without it falling.”
I swung my hoop over my shoulder. A rusty nail snagged my bibbed overalls as I jumped from the porch. Maude wasn’t gonna like that. Rain splattered my sore toe as I raced across the yard and headed toward the road. I stopped to look back and a whiff of sassafras on the rain started my stomach to growling. Maude often made us sassafras tea in the winter.
Dang, that
I chewed the inside of my cheek, remembering the reason I left the house so early. Tyke Whyte, the banker had pounded on the door before breakfast, his fist bulging with papers. I’d listened from behind the door until he started yelling at Maude. Then for the very first time, I wished I was grown.
I lifted my chin and stepped out from behind the door, ready to punch him in the nose. Tyke stopped me in my tracks, waving his finger in my face and shouting at Maude. “There. That boy’s a prime example of why you’re behind on your bills! That boy should be working, carrying his own weight instead of lazyin’ around all day, wallowing in the river . . . And the trash. Hmh. Nothin’ but scum . . . That‘s what you‘re raising!”
A wave of heat surrounded me. Sweat covered my forehead. My blood must be boiling, like Eli talked about. I tightened my fists and stepped forward.
Maude must have known what I was thinking, because she stepped between us, motioning me to go back up stairs. I stood my ground, glaring at him, the way Maude often did before she swatted me with a willow limb.
Maude drew her eyes down until her eyebrows met. “Get up them stairs, if you know what’s good for you, young man!” The words hissed through her teeth.
My stomach tightened into a knot. Had she turned against me too? I swallowed and headed for the back door. My fingernails cut like knifes into my clenched fists.
Dad burn-it. She should have let me hit him. If he took the orphanage, where would we live? I tried swallowing the lump in my throat as I sneaked out the screen door.
Why did trouble seem to follow some folks? Dad shouldn’t have left, I shouldn’t be an orphan, and Ol’ Nickel Head should get what’s coming to him. Nothing seemed fair anymore.
I gazed upward. I couldn’t see the mountain tops for the morning haze that surrounded them like a fuzzy, gray crown. There was something inspiring about the mountains and the music bouncing from them. Still a cold, emptiness followed me everywhere, constantly reminding me of my loss.
If I could, I’d be a mountain with my head in the clouds hearing nothing but music.
April Indy 500 #5
TITLE: The Hourglass Bridge
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Di couldn’t decide whether to run away or wet herself. Thankfully, being paralyzed with fear made it difficult to do either.
There’s someone in my house! The realisation struck her again. Locked in a silence pierced only by the ring of her nervous system in her ears, she stared at the miniature, wooden hourglass on the bookshelf. It didn’t look particularly scary, standing on a lace doily next to a bowl of potpourri, but those things had been there five seconds ago.
The hourglass hadn’t.
Coby? She grasped at a desperate hope as the last, silvery grains of sand trickled through the rough, glass shell. No. Her brother was upstairs, oblivious, while she was alone with a potential robber, axe murderer or raving lunatic for company. Or maybe even all three.
She pressed herself against the wall to cover her back, throwing panicked glances up the hall in both directions. The skin on her right arm prickled, where, only an inch away, the wall ended for the world’s creakiest stairs. If she went up to check on her brother, she’d cut off any means of escape. But if she tried searching for the intruder, she couldn’t move anywhere without leaving the rest of the house open for them to sneak around.
Di locked her eyes on the hallway phone. And something crashed to the floor above her.
Coby! She dived around the corner, without considering who she’d meet or how she might defend herself, and found Coby standing at the top of the stairs. He raised his hands in surrender.
“Before you go mental,” he said as a cricket ball rolled out behind him, “that vase was ugly anyway.”
“Uh-huh.” Di couldn’t even process his words. “Where did this come from?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.
“What?” Coby craned his neck to see beyond her. She turned to follow his gaze. The hourglass was gone.
“That’s impossible.” Di groped across the doily and checked behind the bookshelf; on the floor; and even in the gap between the shelves and the grandfather clock. “There was an hourglass right here – a little antique thing. I swear.”
“Ooookay…” Coby raised his eyebrows. “Forget the vase, you’re mental already,” he added, kicking the ball into his room and disappearing after it.
“But— I—”
Ignore him, said a voice in her head. Sure he’d caught her creeping through the house with a butcher’s knife two weeks ago, looking for what turned out to be nothing more than a mouse in the pantry, but that didn’t make her crazy and neither did this. No, she was just seeing things after last nights’ study chewed into her scheduled seven and a quarter hours’ sleep. Di yawned and checked her watch – and the sight woke her faster than being drenched in a bucket of ice water. How could it be that late already? Ironing Coby’s shirt had stuffed up her routine a bit, but by this much? The bus would be there any minute.
April Indy 500 #4
Title: Girl of His Dreams
Genere: Paranormal Romance
Vincent was sitting at Julie’s kitchen table. She had her tarot cards out looking into his future love life. He thought it was a little silly but he indulged her. Vincent considered himself a good looking man. At thirty seven he was in excellent shape, running five to ten miles every day. He was six foot two with short jet black hair and chocolate brown eyes. He dressed wellbeing a lawyer at a big law firm afforded him a comfortable lifestyle. Vincent just could not seem to find that perfect girl. That’s why he was sitting in his best friend’s kitchen having his tarot cards read. Vincent watched as Julie flipped another card and placed it face up on the table.
Julie was fun to be around but she wasn’t really his type. She had long strait blond hair, bright blue eyes, and pale skin no matter how much sun she got. She was slender and tall at five foot seven. She stayed in shape going running with him at least three or four times a week. He just never really thought of her as more than a friend, a really good friend yes but always just a friend.
Julie’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Vincent. Hey, earth to Vincent.”
“What... Oh sorry guess I was wool gathering.” He said with an apologetic smile. “So, what do your cards say? Am I doomed to walk the world alone?”
“No, as a matter of fact they say it’s time that you find love.” She stated with a sweet smile. Julie got up and moved behind Vincent. She then snipped a lock of hair from him with a pair of scissors she had laying behind him on the counter.
“Hey! What did you do that for?” He complained as his hand moved to the back of his head to feel what kind of damage was done.
“Oh, relax I didn’t take that much see.” Julie said as she showed him the small snip of hair. “Now when you go home tonight I want you to lie down and think about the girl of your dreams. Concentrate on that thought as you drift off to sleep. Over the next three nights you’re going to dream of your mystery girl and on the third night she will be revealed to you.” Julie explained as she placed his hair into a small velvet pouch.
“I’m going to dream a girl up?” Vincent asked with a skeptical look. “That’s it I’m checking your incense sticks. I think someone might have laced them with something.”
Julie laughed at the joke and sat back in her seat across from him. “Laugh all you want, but I’m casting a spell tonight and you my dear are going to go dream walking. Now go on you did say you needed to run some errands before you could go home.”
“Alright I’m going and I’ll see you in a few days. Who knows maybe I’ll bring the girl of my dreams to meet you.” Vincent joked as he got up and walked out the door.
April Indy 500 #3
TITLE: Here Comes the Sun
GENRE: YA-Contemporary
GENRE: YA-Contemporary
I should have known from the amount of diet coke I drank that I would have to pee as soon as I stepped on board the plane. And of course I can't use the bathroom while the plane is still sitting on the tarmac, because that would look asinine. I can just imagine what my classmates would think. “Oh look, there goes Tooty Fruity. She has to pee already. Didn't she know about the bathrooms in the airport?” And I do. I used them. But my bladder is the size of a walnut, unable to bear the strain of sixty four ounces of sweetened, zero calorie pop consumed in approximately fifteen minutes.
So here I am, my legs tingling because I'm crossing them so tight, staring obsessively at the giant red X above the bathroom door, willing it to turn green. I fight back my tears as I shoot my head into the aisle every three seconds to check on the status of the bathroom. I don't see my classmates. Don't notice if they're staring and leering or ignoring me as usual. I just see the small aisle connecting two bathrooms, and giant X's above them both.
“Here Tooty Fruity,” Meredith whispers as she bumps my arm. My lower half screams at her as I whip my head back in my seat.
My nickname. It's short. Sweet. And totally humiliating. And as I size up Meredith, I realize in her flat eyes that to her it's just a name. I doubt she even knows my real name anymore. Because even though we've attended the same high school for almost four years now, this is the absolute first time she's ever talked to me. I'm not kidding. She's part of the so-called “popular crowd” - I stress the air quotes on that one - and I am, well, not.
I blame my nickname. And the awful Brunettes that created it.
Meredith has really short blonde hair and pretty typical blue eyes. And she's holding out her hand to me, cupping it a little as if not to spill whatever is inside. I'm sad to admit that my first thought is that I'm prepared to unzip my jeans and pee in her hand. Because quite honestly, at this point, I just might.
“Take this. It'll help you sleep.”
I look from what appears to be her empty hand up to her face, dubious as to why all the sudden she wants to talk to me. Sure, we're going to be sitting next to each other for the next eight hours as we cross the Atlantic, but we once sat next to each other for nine months during Sophomore year geometry and she never said a damn thing to me. I try to cock an eyebrow at her, but most likely, I probably just look surprised. “What is it?
She rolls her eyes at me and sighs, as if I just asked her to conjugate a verb. “A sleeping pill. Duh! We're all taking them.”
April Indy 500 #2
TITLE: Tainted
“So,” I said, “what will it be tonight?”
“Is it a Saturday?” Mum asked, her lip twitching.
“Yes,” I replied and stared down at my empty plate, avoiding my reflection in the glass dining table. On the first Saturday of every month, all three of us sat in the lounge, watched a movie, and ate popcorn together. Mum exchanged a quick glance with my dad and I frowned a little. Even the lingering scents of saffron and garlic, though my favourite, emphasised how wrong everything was. They normally cooked a barbeque.
“I think we forgot to pick up a movie from the video store,” Dad said. “Sorry Aisling.” I suppressed my sigh and feigned a smile. Never had they forgotten before, not in the six years since the tradition started.
I dropped my knife and fork together on my plate with a loud clatter. Mum’s leaf green eyes darted in my direction and she exhaled heavily. She never startled that easily before. Even dad shot me a quick glance.
“Can we play a board game instead?” I asked. Again, both of them exchanged looks, their eyes looked haunted. My stomached contracted into a tight ball.
Mum gave a short nod. “Sure honey. Why don’t you go grab one and we’ll clear the table.”
“Great,” I said and forced a smile. All the bedrooms were up on the second floor, the collection of board games sat on a shelf in the spare room.
Even though I knew something bothered my parents, I started up the staircase regardless. I only got to the third step when the power went out.
Instinctively I gripped the stair rail and took a deep breath. There was no storm, no rain, and no sound of a substation exploding.
“Mum? Dad?” I called out, and reached out until my other hand hit the wall. I didn’t hear their response, and I couldn’t hear them moving in the kitchen. Repeatedly in my mind, I kept telling myself it was ok, the power would come back on in a second. I heard my jaw pop and stopped biting the inside of my cheek.
“Have you guys found the torches? Candles, even?” I called again, and silence met me. Keeping one hand on the rail and the other flat against the wall I slowly felt around with my left leg. It connected with solid ground and I took a step backward. When I went to repeat the process, my foot encountered something, instead of air.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Mum? Dad?” No response but warm breath tickled the back of my neck. Goosebumps prickled down my arms. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness and my flight response kicked in. I tried to sprint up the stairs, only to kick a step and stumble.
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Something was terribly wrong. Mum rubbed at her neck and glanced up at the wall clock. She did it all during dinner. Lines creased my dad’s forehead ever since we sat to eat. He never frowned.
“So,” I said, “what will it be tonight?”
“Is it a Saturday?” Mum asked, her lip twitching.
“Yes,” I replied and stared down at my empty plate, avoiding my reflection in the glass dining table. On the first Saturday of every month, all three of us sat in the lounge, watched a movie, and ate popcorn together. Mum exchanged a quick glance with my dad and I frowned a little. Even the lingering scents of saffron and garlic, though my favourite, emphasised how wrong everything was. They normally cooked a barbeque.
“I think we forgot to pick up a movie from the video store,” Dad said. “Sorry Aisling.” I suppressed my sigh and feigned a smile. Never had they forgotten before, not in the six years since the tradition started.
I dropped my knife and fork together on my plate with a loud clatter. Mum’s leaf green eyes darted in my direction and she exhaled heavily. She never startled that easily before. Even dad shot me a quick glance.
“Can we play a board game instead?” I asked. Again, both of them exchanged looks, their eyes looked haunted. My stomached contracted into a tight ball.
Mum gave a short nod. “Sure honey. Why don’t you go grab one and we’ll clear the table.”
“Great,” I said and forced a smile. All the bedrooms were up on the second floor, the collection of board games sat on a shelf in the spare room.
Even though I knew something bothered my parents, I started up the staircase regardless. I only got to the third step when the power went out.
Instinctively I gripped the stair rail and took a deep breath. There was no storm, no rain, and no sound of a substation exploding.
“Mum? Dad?” I called out, and reached out until my other hand hit the wall. I didn’t hear their response, and I couldn’t hear them moving in the kitchen. Repeatedly in my mind, I kept telling myself it was ok, the power would come back on in a second. I heard my jaw pop and stopped biting the inside of my cheek.
“Have you guys found the torches? Candles, even?” I called again, and silence met me. Keeping one hand on the rail and the other flat against the wall I slowly felt around with my left leg. It connected with solid ground and I took a step backward. When I went to repeat the process, my foot encountered something, instead of air.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Mum? Dad?” No response but warm breath tickled the back of my neck. Goosebumps prickled down my arms. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness and my flight response kicked in. I tried to sprint up the stairs, only to kick a step and stumble.
April Indy 500 #1
TITLE: Tears of the Children
GENRE: Contemporary/Fantasy
GENRE: Contemporary/Fantasy
Douglas Butler knew the time had come, and he released his daughter. He held her by the shoulders and looked into her jewel-green eyes, knowing it’d be the last time. “No matter what comes, I want you to know I’ll be here for you, okay?”
She didn’t respond, and only blinked at his cryptic message. “Okay, An?” he repeated, his brown eyes boring into hers until she nodded her acceptance of his promise.
“Good. Now,” he said, willing the thickness of his throat to go away so he could get through this moment he’d been dreading the last 18 years. “What I want to show you is right here.”
Analisa watched as he walked to the edge of the clearing, next to an old, nearly decrepit oak tree. All the trees around them were hundreds of years old, as the forest seemed to never have been touched by an axe nor a chainsaw. It seemed, Analisa wondered, completely untouched.
The tree her father motioned her over to seemed like one of many, tall, so wide around that she knew she couldn’t get her arms fully around. Its base was slightly cracked open, moss and old bark and exposed roots creating a bowl. Her dad was pointing into that depression, so she followed his direction and crouched next to the hollow of the tree.
“Dad,” she said, not turning her head, “What am I supposed to be looking at?” He didn’t answer, and Analisa reached her hand out. The early morning and swirling fog made the shadowed hollow dark. She was hesitant to just stick her hand in, but then, as her fingertips touched the edge of the bark as it curled back into itself, a spark of light lit inside the hollow.
Analisa sunk to her knees at the base of the tree, the knees of her jeans dampening on the cool moss. The teardrop of dew winked again at her, the flash of light seemingly coming within.
“Dad,” Analisa breathed, “Did you see that?”
When her dad didn’t respond, she turned around to look at him. But he was gone.
“Dad?” she asked, looking around the clearing. He wasn’t there. “Dad!”
She thought she heard a faint crunching of retreating footsteps, and opened her mouth to shout for him again, but another sound came to her, one that froze her to the core.
A child’s scream. She knew it was a child’s scream. Whether it was from pain or fright or just a general squeal, she couldn’t tell. The teardrop. She begged it to come again, to dispel the thought that it was real, and maybe just a figment of her imagination. It came again, and as Analisa was staring directly into the shadowed crevice, she saw the teardrop pulse with light as the scream came again, echoing and faint, for sure, but definite.
It called to her, the light and the voices, and before she knew it, before she could stop herself, second guess herself, Analisa reached out to the teardrop.
Monday, April 23, 2012
April "Indy 500" Critique Round--Call for Submissions
***THE SUBMISSION WINDOW IS NOW CLOSED. COME BACK LATER TO READ THE OFFICIAL ENTRIES!!***
This critiquing round will be dubbed the "Indy 500". This is for anyone's first 500 words. Whether your manuscript is finished and polished, it's a work-in-progress, or you only have the first few hundred words, this is the time to test it out on readers and get some honest, helpful feedback and support from your peers. If you've entered previous rounds, this is also a great opportunity to get feedback on your revisions and give previous readers of your work a further peek at where your story is going.
From Monday, April 23 at 6:00 PM EDT until Tuesday , April 24 at 6:00 PM EDT, I will accept submissions. I will post them later that evening (between 7 PM and 8 PM EDT) right here at KTCROWLEY.COM for critiquing.
Please send submissions to ktcritiques [AT] gmail.com
In the subject, please state "APRIL INDY 500”
This round I will accept all genres and it is one entry per person, per genre (So you can submit 1 adult 1 YA/MG).
Please list the TITLE, GENRE and your SCREEN NAME (I will not include screen names in the critique posts, these are for my purposes only) above your 500 words (format it the way you normally would). Please do not stop in the middle of a sentence. If it goes over the 500limit by a couple of words, that's fine. If you stop at say, 489 words, that's fine, too.
Your submission should look like this:
SCREEN NAME: Your Screen Name Here
TITLE: Your Title Here
GENRE: Your Genre Here
(Excerpt here.)
Please leave out "chapter one," chapter "titles", etc. Otherwise, I may count them toward your 500 and you could lose some of your entry.
You will receive a confirmation email, but it may not be right away. Only resend if you don't get one by the last hour of the submission window.
Please check your submission(s) carefully for typos, grammatical errors, etc. before submitting. Once the submission is confirmed by email, it is set to automatically post. Once your post is up and has received a critique, I won't be able to fix it for you. Double checking it first will ensure you're writing is critiqued appropriately. ;-)
If you enter, you must critique at least 5 other submissions (if there are only five, please critique all). If you enter two different manuscripts, please critique 10 (if there are less than 10 total, please critique all). This is so it's fair for everyone involved.
I will accept up to 20 entries.
That’s it! If you have any questions, please hit me up in the comments or send me an email at crowleykt@gmail.com.
Spread the word please; the more, the merrier! Let's fill up this round and help everyone involved get as much feedback as possible.
I look forward to seeing everyone's fabulous work and comments.
This critiquing round will be dubbed the "Indy 500". This is for anyone's first 500 words. Whether your manuscript is finished and polished, it's a work-in-progress, or you only have the first few hundred words, this is the time to test it out on readers and get some honest, helpful feedback and support from your peers. If you've entered previous rounds, this is also a great opportunity to get feedback on your revisions and give previous readers of your work a further peek at where your story is going.
From Monday, April 23 at 6:00 PM EDT until Tuesday , April 24 at 6:00 PM EDT, I will accept submissions. I will post them later that evening (between 7 PM and 8 PM EDT) right here at KTCROWLEY.COM for critiquing.
Please send submissions to ktcritiques [AT] gmail.com
In the subject, please state "APRIL INDY 500”
This round I will accept all genres and it is one entry per person, per genre (So you can submit 1 adult 1 YA/MG).
Please list the TITLE, GENRE and your SCREEN NAME (I will not include screen names in the critique posts, these are for my purposes only) above your 500 words (format it the way you normally would). Please do not stop in the middle of a sentence. If it goes over the 500limit by a couple of words, that's fine. If you stop at say, 489 words, that's fine, too.
Your submission should look like this:
SCREEN NAME: Your Screen Name Here
TITLE: Your Title Here
GENRE: Your Genre Here
(Excerpt here.)
Please leave out "chapter one," chapter "titles", etc. Otherwise, I may count them toward your 500 and you could lose some of your entry.
You will receive a confirmation email, but it may not be right away. Only resend if you don't get one by the last hour of the submission window.
Please check your submission(s) carefully for typos, grammatical errors, etc. before submitting. Once the submission is confirmed by email, it is set to automatically post. Once your post is up and has received a critique, I won't be able to fix it for you. Double checking it first will ensure you're writing is critiqued appropriately. ;-)
If you enter, you must critique at least 5 other submissions (if there are only five, please critique all). If you enter two different manuscripts, please critique 10 (if there are less than 10 total, please critique all). This is so it's fair for everyone involved.
I will accept up to 20 entries.
That’s it! If you have any questions, please hit me up in the comments or send me an email at crowleykt@gmail.com.
Spread the word please; the more, the merrier! Let's fill up this round and help everyone involved get as much feedback as possible.
I look forward to seeing everyone's fabulous work and comments.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
I'm Finally Back!! Did You Miss Me? ;-)
So I've been absent for a bit. I had made all these plans for the blog back around the New Year and now we're in April and I haven't had the pleasure of implementing most of them. But I have wonderful reasons for falling behind. I've been hard at work writing, brainstorming and forming connections with our wonderful writing community. I stepped back and really evaluated where I am in my writing career and how I feel about my current road mark. But the biggest reason I've been a bit of a ghost is because I'm pregnant again!
Yes, I've been blessed with another little one. A boy, due in September. I found out in early January and was a sick, nervous wreck up until a couple weeks ago. I'm still suffering from morning sickness and fatigue, which is what mainly sidelined me to begin with, but it's not 24/7 like it was my first 4 months. I'm not complaining, though; it's all worth it. We are beyond excited and our son (who turned 2 yesterday) will be the best big brother!
Obviously this means my priorities have changed a little. Over the next few months I'll be preparing my family and home for the new baby while busting my hump to advance my writing to the publishing level, or at least close to it. And I will be implementing some of the promised new features.
First up will, most likely, be my post on loglines. I've had plenty of time to research and read loglines, watching them develop from rough to perfect, and it was quite the learning experience--one I feel will benefit all of you. After that I'll host a logline clinic/critique session for anyone who wants to perfect theirs. This will be the first in a series (I hope) of novel pitch package development I'd like to host. Perfecting your novel is just the first step in the process; perfecting your pitch package is what gets that perfected manuscript to the agent's desk. I'll talk more about that soon.
I'm also excited to announce that my blog will be expanding to a website, as I've talked about doing forever now. In addition to helping my fellow writers mold their crafts through informational posts and crit rounds, I'll be offering some professional services like beta-reading and critiquing. I love reading and working directly with writers, so this is something I'm thrilled to finally offer on a broader scale.
This month's critique round will be announced shortly, so stay tuned to my Facebook and Twitter feeds for the information and call for submissions.
That's it for now. Get excited, because I certainly am! <3
Yes, I've been blessed with another little one. A boy, due in September. I found out in early January and was a sick, nervous wreck up until a couple weeks ago. I'm still suffering from morning sickness and fatigue, which is what mainly sidelined me to begin with, but it's not 24/7 like it was my first 4 months. I'm not complaining, though; it's all worth it. We are beyond excited and our son (who turned 2 yesterday) will be the best big brother!
Obviously this means my priorities have changed a little. Over the next few months I'll be preparing my family and home for the new baby while busting my hump to advance my writing to the publishing level, or at least close to it. And I will be implementing some of the promised new features.
First up will, most likely, be my post on loglines. I've had plenty of time to research and read loglines, watching them develop from rough to perfect, and it was quite the learning experience--one I feel will benefit all of you. After that I'll host a logline clinic/critique session for anyone who wants to perfect theirs. This will be the first in a series (I hope) of novel pitch package development I'd like to host. Perfecting your novel is just the first step in the process; perfecting your pitch package is what gets that perfected manuscript to the agent's desk. I'll talk more about that soon.
I'm also excited to announce that my blog will be expanding to a website, as I've talked about doing forever now. In addition to helping my fellow writers mold their crafts through informational posts and crit rounds, I'll be offering some professional services like beta-reading and critiquing. I love reading and working directly with writers, so this is something I'm thrilled to finally offer on a broader scale.
This month's critique round will be announced shortly, so stay tuned to my Facebook and Twitter feeds for the information and call for submissions.
That's it for now. Get excited, because I certainly am! <3
Thursday, March 29, 2012
March 2012 Test Run #8
TITLE: Crossroads
GENRE: Fantasy
She was dreaming; she knew that. The barren castle, the circular room, the bodies on the floor – all these things she had left behind days ago. But her mind replayed them each night, breaking her heart again and again until she was sure she had no heart left to break. She kept reminding herself it was a dream, except for one inescapable truth: Captain Hunter was dead.
Gar’s growl woke her from the nightmare and she found herself looking up into citrine eyes set against a dark face. Fearful, her mind sought that of her bear, seeing the scene through his eyes. He stood behind her, hackles raised at the black wolf whose pearly canines were mere inches from her nose. She felt the damp doggy breath on her face.
She slowly raised a hand to the dark fur, looking for connection. And she found it. But the lupine mind behind the yellow eyes was strangely familiar, stirring memories from before her transformation. Unsettled, she severed the connection and strangled the memories.
At the least, it means me no harm, she thought to Gar who huffed in agreement.
The bear sent her a vision, more like her dreams than his usual animal thoughts. A ghostly woman in armor had told him to wait for the next companion. Grandmother told you about the wolf?
A slick tongue shot out of the charcoal snout and stroked her chin, bringing her attention back to the golden eyes. Apparently the wolf was here for her.
GENRE: Fantasy
She was dreaming; she knew that. The barren castle, the circular room, the bodies on the floor – all these things she had left behind days ago. But her mind replayed them each night, breaking her heart again and again until she was sure she had no heart left to break. She kept reminding herself it was a dream, except for one inescapable truth: Captain Hunter was dead.
Gar’s growl woke her from the nightmare and she found herself looking up into citrine eyes set against a dark face. Fearful, her mind sought that of her bear, seeing the scene through his eyes. He stood behind her, hackles raised at the black wolf whose pearly canines were mere inches from her nose. She felt the damp doggy breath on her face.
She slowly raised a hand to the dark fur, looking for connection. And she found it. But the lupine mind behind the yellow eyes was strangely familiar, stirring memories from before her transformation. Unsettled, she severed the connection and strangled the memories.
At the least, it means me no harm, she thought to Gar who huffed in agreement.
The bear sent her a vision, more like her dreams than his usual animal thoughts. A ghostly woman in armor had told him to wait for the next companion. Grandmother told you about the wolf?
A slick tongue shot out of the charcoal snout and stroked her chin, bringing her attention back to the golden eyes. Apparently the wolf was here for her.
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