Friday, May 28, 2010
-I wanted the chapter from my novel to be up as long as possible.
-and I have been very busy.
But now it is time for the next stage in my blog schedule; My top ten favorite books. But what would this be without the honorable mentions? The following books are amazing novels, but were just a bit below the top ten list.
The Door Within, by Wayne Thomas Batson
By Darkness Hid, by Jill Williamson
The Word Reclaimed by Steve Rzasa
The Word Unleashed by Steve Rzasa
Dragons in Our Midst by Bryan Davis
On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, by Andrew Peterson
Rise of the Wyrm Lord by Wayne Thomas Batson
To Darkness Fled by Jill Williamson
The Vanishing Sculptor by Donita K. Paul
The DragonKeeper Chronicles, by Donita K. Paul
I will start my series of favorite books soon, so keep on checking back!
Friday, May 21, 2010
Which means that it's that time of day for me to post my novel excerpt; the chapter. This chapter is from about midway through the second book (I couldn't find a whole lot of exciting chapters in my first book that didn't have to do with a vital part of the plot).
I posted part of it on a comment on Wayne Thomas Batson's blog (which conveniently ended in a cliffhanger), so for those who read it there, you'll get the end of the chapter as well. So you'll find out the end of the cliffhanger. :D
I'd love to hear any comments or critique you may have, so feel free to comment.
~ Chapter 18 ~
“How long do you think it'll last?” I yelled to Shad over the pouring sheets of rain. I could barely make out his dim form ahead of me through the heavy rain, swaying as waves smashed into the ship.
Lightning lit up the sky for a short second, and a crash of thunder obscured Shad's reply.
“What?” I shouted.
“I don't know!” I heard Shad this time.
Another peal of thunder sounded overhead, and I motioned in the general direction of King Ladar's cabin on the stern of the ship.
Shad followed me as we staggered around the heaving deck. Lightning flashed, and I saw some of the other ships in the fleet in a similar position, bucking like a giant sea beast in the tempest that raged around them. I focused on keeping my balance, gritting my teeth and doggedly tumbling in the direction of the cabin.
Shad and I smashed into the cabin door after a particularly rough wave, and scrabbled for the handle, dropping through the door. I slammed the door shut, and we stood there, dripping.
King Ladar sat at his desk, writing. The ship shuddered again, and he reached out, catching his lantern before it crashed to the floor of the cabin. He spotted us standing before the cabin door.
“The storm is bad, then?” he asked, as if the of crash of thunder and flashes of lightning all around him weren't enough to answer his question.
“'Bad' is an understatement.” I said, wringing my clothes.
His eyebrows raised. “I see.”
Shad collapsed suddenly in a nearby chair. “S-something's going to happen," he said, wiping the water running down his brow. I had never heard Shad stammer before.
“What?” King Ladar and I asked simultaneously.
Shad looked beyond us, out the window, as if he saw something we didn't. “Something terrible.”
He seemed to come out of a sort of trance. “The alarm bell!” he cried urgently.
Shad raced outside, the door slamming violently behind him. A few minutes later I heard the peal of the warning bell.
I began to wonder if Shad had been struck by the lightning from the storm around us. Sighing, I braced myself, and then hurtled out, barely making it through before the door smashed shut behind me.
I staggered slightly as the pelting rain hit me, and then made my way to the navigator cabin. As I made my way across the deck, I saw several other startled sailors coming up from below the decks at the ringing of the alarm bell.
I found Shad inside the navigator cabin, ringing the bell vigorously. The walls were covered with damp, half-torn maps, hence the name of the cabin.
Shad was calmer than before, and he stopped ringing the bell as I tumbled into the room.
He looked out the porthole, and then tore his eyes away from it and stared at me. “It's here.”
An unearthly roar came from outside, and the Waverunner shook violently.
“What in the world?!” I shouted, alarmed. The ship rocked back and forth again.
“It's a-” Shad began to yell, but a bellow from outside masked his words.
“What?” I shouted.
“It's a leviathan!”
My blood ran cold. Leviathans were mythical, at least, they used to be. Legend said they were the last of the huge creatures that roamed the earth when Aari had made it. Humans had driven them off in the Early Days, and they had slowly died out.
But now I wasn't so sure.
Shad grabbed a harpoon and smashed out of the cabin. I followed him, taking a harpoon as well. I didn't know what to expect, but nothing had prepared me for what I saw as I stared into the tempest raging around me.
I saw Shad standing still on the other side of the ship, but a roar riveted my attention from Shad. There, above him, was the most monstrous, hideous, and terrifying beast I had ever seen.
Its body, covered in gray-green scales stained by the lash of the sea, rippled with mighty muscles. It had giant spines running down its neck, where they disappeared into the sea. Its head loomed above the ship with luminous, blood red eyes and keen, stained teeth. It gave a keening scream, exposing rows of more teeth. A gust of choking, smelly breath hit me, and I staggered to the side of the ship and retched over the side.
Shad shouted to me, “Hit it in one of its eyes! That's the only place that's vulnerable!”
Shad had found more harpoons, and he hurled them, one after another, at the leviathan looming above the ship, but to no avail. All of the harpoons struck, but they glanced off the strong scales of the leviathan like twigs.
Shouts came from around me, and I saw other men coming from various places, clutching at harpoons themselves.
I remembered a poem that my mother had read to me when I was younger.
'Can you pull in the leviathan with a fishhook,
Or tie down his tongue with a rope?
Can you put a cord through his nose,
Or pierce his jaw with a hook?
Will he keep begging you for mercy?
Will he speak to you with gentle words?
If you lay a hand on him,
You will remember the struggle and never do it again!
Any hope of subduing him is false;
The mere sight of him is overpowering.'
Despair overwhelmed me for a second, but then I came to my senses, and ran toward the leviathan, harpoon high.
I threw it, heaving with all my strength and will.
It curved up into the dark sky, a solitary bullet in the black clouds above.
The harpoon struck deep into the glowing eye of the leviathan, a thorn in the body of the great crustacean.
It shook its head in pain and frustration, giving an earth-shaking, heart-stopping roar, glaring at Shad murderously with its one working eye.
Shad stood there, his hands on his last harpoon.
The leviathan screeched, and, jaws open wide, brought its mighty weight down on the ship, trying to get at Shad. I grabbed a rope, hanging on for my life as the deck tilted.
Shad scrabbled for the mast and managed to get his arms around it, still holding the harpoon.
The ship tilted almost vertically, and I saw Shad's hands slipping as I clung to the rope. My mind was blank with horror as I saw Shad slide a little, and then drop into the gaping maw of the leviathan.
“No!!” I cried in anguish.The Waverunner straightened, and the leviathan raised its head vertically, as if to swallow something. Instead, wheezing gasps came from its huge mouth.
It started thrashing wildly, making giant waves that almost overwhelmed the ship. I saw a glittering thing protruding slightly from the from the leviathan's neck, as if it were a tiny jewel.
It was metal, and I thought someone must have finally penetrated the leviathan's scales with a harpoon.
And then I suddenly realized the harpoon was pointing outward.
The leviathan gave a shrill, bone-chilling shriek, breaking all the windows that were still intact on the ship. It tumbled onto the Waverunner, its eyes already clouding over in death.
A figure crashed out the dead leviathan's throat, coughing.
“Shad!” I yelled, running toward him. He was alive!
He gave a nonchalant wave, as if nothing had happened, and then coughed again, hard.“Hey," he said. "I got in a tangle with the leviathan, but I managed to lodge the harpoon in its neck before it could eat me.”
"And it stunk like you wouldn't ever believe in there!”
THE END... of the chapter. :D
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
So this is where the title comes from; Do you think I should interrupt my series for a couple days (next of which is a chapter from my novel), or should I go ahead and post the chapter tomorrow?
Please comment and tell me what you think. I'll decide 24 hours from this date [May 19th evening].
Wow... I can't wait. I posted earlier about it, but I'm posting again (halfway to remind myself). And now I'm almost giddy with excitement... Wow, that phrase is seriously archaic...
I'm going to end this post now before I jump down a rabbit hole (I tend to do that when I'm excited).
Here's the official 'banner' thing for the party. Enjoy!
I hope to see you (er, read you) there!
I'm going to post a chapter from my book tomorrow, so make sure a watch for it!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
I actually took a trip to my grandparents house, which is remarkably computerless. So, sorry again.
I've really enjoyed blogging this, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Oh, and I'm posting a poll on the top of the right sidebar about editing and rewriting The Dark King, so please vote on your opinion! Thanks!
The Dark King
After breakfast the next day, Jarz, Szifa, and Haas set off in search of the cave where Jarz and Szifa had woken up.
Using the markers they had left before, they managed to find the cave after several hours of searching.
Haas began walking faster as soon as the cave came into sight, but stopped just before entrance.
Haas touched the walls wistfully, as if remembering a long lost memory, then turned to Jarz and Szifa. “Come, let us go farther in.”
They went to the end of the tunnel, and stopped before the strange, fluctuating wall at the back of the cave. “Well, now what do we do?” asked Szifa.
There was a short, eerie silence after Szifa spoke, and then Haas spoke three words in a strange, lilting language.
A slight tremor went through the rock, and a miniature picture of a mountain materialized on the wall, surrounded by mist and swirling colors.
“What...?” Jarz said, startled. It was the mountain crater they had fallen into, back in their own country.
Haas smiled sadly. “Here, my friends, is your way home. Do not ask me how I did it. I am not sure myself.” He pointed at the picture. “Walk through it, and you will find yourself home again.”
Szifa walked hesitatingly towards the picture, and stuck his hand into it. Shock registered on Szifa's face as his hand disappeared right into the wall.
Slowly, his body followed his hand, and Szifa appeared in the picture.
Jarz followed him slowly, forcing himself to go through the wall. A tingling sensation spread throughout his body, and he saw every color at once in a burst of light.
Then he was through, and baking in the hot summer sun.
Jarz turned back to the crater and saw a glowing, mysterious image of Haas's lonely figure, his hand raised in farewell.
The image slowly faded, giving a short glow to the darkness of the pit, and then blackness engulfed it.
“Farewell, my friend.” Jarz whispered. "Farewell."
He and Szifa turned and started back down the mountain, leaving the darkness of the pit to the brighness of the day.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Remember, point out any mistakes (I've noticed that less people are doing so. C'mon, you know you have it in you!)
Okay, the suspenseful part. You're going to find out what the title means this time around. :D
The Dark King
Haas and Jarz whirled around and found themselves face to face with a twisted, black shape that flickered gray colors. Again, Jarz had an overwhelming urge to flee.
“The Dark King...” Haas said boldly. “I've heard of you. Nothing good, of course.”
Jarz stared incredulously at Haas. Was he trying to get them killed?
“You are responsible for the death of my kinsman.” the Dark King hissed.
Haas smiled. “No, really, it was Saar acting through me.”
The Dark King screeched, making Jarz cover his ears. “Do not say that name!”
“Saar.” Haas said impudently. “Saar.”
The Dark King screeched again and drew his sword. Haas drew his as well.
“You shall pay.” the Dark King hissed.
“Saar shall destroy you.” Haas returned.
With an unearthly shriek, the Dark King slashed at Haas, almost faster than the eye could see. As fast as the Dark King was, Haas was faster. Haas sidestepped and gave the Dark King a gash on the shoulder. “That will give you something to think about.” Haas spat.
The two exchanged furious blows of black steel and white blade. The Dark King may have been stronger and more skillful, but Haas was quicker. He seemed to be everywhere at once, always on the defensive unless the Dark King made a mistake. Then, Haas would strike a blow.
Jarz stood on the edge of the heated battle, watching. Something told him that it was between Haas and the Dark King alone.
All of a sudden, Haas finally made a mistake, and the Dark King leaped forward to deliver a strike. Haas twisted, but the blade gashed his cheek. The Dark King was carried forward by his momentum, and Haas saw his chance. He slashed swiftly at the Dark King's back.
A howl came from the Dark King as the blade struck, and he suddenly dissolved like water and disappeared.
"That," Haas said, panting, "was for Saar."
Haas was breathing heavily, holding a hand to his slashed cheek. Taking his shirt, he ripped a strip off of it and made a crude bandage.
“That'll leave a handsome scar.” he said, wincing.
Jarz rolled his eyes. “Come, let's get out of here. Did you kill it?”
Haas shook his head. “No, but the Dark King has lost his strength and will hide somewhere and recuperate. He will not bother anyone for a long time.”
Jarz wanted to ask more questions, but he knew that if he asked, Haas would find away to avoid it in a way that Jarz couldn't press him for more.
The two made their way to the woods, and didn't encounter any soldiers. The camp was deserted.
As Jarz walked, he realized, startled, that the light was dimming, and he could hear crickets chirping in the underbrush. The battle had taken longer than he had thought.
When they made it into the woods, the villagers appeared from nowhere and began asking what had happened. Szifa was among them; he had been with the archers most of the time.
Jarz let Haas tell the tale, too tired to do anything but walk.
When they finally made it to the village, Haas, Jarz, and Szila plead weariness and retired to bed after taking a bath and a change of clothes.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the 'plan'...
The Dark King
Jarz was inspecting the enemy camp in the early dawn twilight. It had been found only an hour earlier, and there was estimated to be only twenty men left after the fight the previous night. Even with the reduced troops, they still outnumbered the village men one to two.
In the middle of the camp was a strange, bizzare, obsidian rock cave with a twisted wooden structure around the outside. Jarz assumed that the cave was the Servant's dwelling, while Haas was being held in the surrounding structure.
Jarz gave a low whistle that could pass for a bird call, a signal telling the hidden villagers to attack with their bows from their perches in the surrounding trees. The plan was to distract the camp while Jarz made his way through the camp. He was wearing enemy armor, taken from the fallen enemy from last night's battle, as to not cause suspicion.
The musical twang of bows began on the other side of the camp, and cries of alarm came from the tents.
Jarz stealthily crept down the slope and into the enemy camp. He had almost made it to the black rock when another soldier spotted him. “Heah, git ye'self down ta th' fightin'. Nah a tim' ta be a coward, soldier.” The soldier squinted at Jarz. “I ain't remem'er seein' ye bafor, soldier, ware'd ye com'-”
Jarz drew his sword and smacked him hard on the side of the head with the pommel. “Sorry,” he muttered, feeling slightly guilty. “I didn't want to do that."
Jarz made it to the wooden structure with no other delays, and ran up the rickety stairs. On one side, he spotted Haas, gagged and bound. He was facing away from Jarz.
Jarz ran up and cut Haas's bonds. “How-?” began Haas as he was freed. Jarz put a finger to his lips and mouthed, “Later.”
Haas and Jarz ran down the stairs and into the camp, just as Jarz spotted the troops coming back. “Back, back!” he hissed urgently.
The two retraced their steps, but the troops were coming up to the rock. In desperation, Jarz whispered, “Into the cave!”
Haas disappeared into the cave mouth, and Jarz followed him. The cave was small and dark, but provided enough cover from the troops as they marched by the cave mouth.
“Now,” Jarz whispered, “we stay here until they're gone and hope no one finds us.”
A hideous laugh echoed through the cave. “I'm afraid it's too late for that.”
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Since I have a growing amount of reviews (and a lot of other posts) I decided make a page with links to all of my reviews, so you won't be hassled by browsing the tags or posts. :D
What do you think about it?
This is one part I actually decided to edit, as this is probably the worst written part in my short story. So that means it deserves your scrutiny. Look over it. Evaluate it. Or just ignore this part of the intro and read the story. :D
The Dark King
Roughly an hour after the attack, all of the villagers crowded into Haas's house. Kadif had taken temporary charge, and told the villagers what had happened while the others were fighting on the other side of the village.
The villagers were now debating on whether or not to rescue Haas. Most wanted to, but a few were worried about the gray being, including the village storyteller, who said it was a Servant of the Evil One. Jarz had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but it apparently worried the villagers. The storyteller also seemed to hint that Haas was the only one who had any idea of how to defeat the thing.
"I th'nk w' shud ignore th' man altogeth'r," suggested one of the newer villagers, as the argument gained momentum.
He was immediately met with a chorus of indignant protests at his suggestion.
"Why 'n th' name o' dead Sadaar** shud w' agree t' that?" another man asked hotly.
As arguments went back and forth like the rolling of the tides, Jarz felt despair pushing him down. Haas had briefly given him hope that Szifa and Jarz would be able to get back to their own country, but now he was in the hands of the apparent enemy.
Szifa nudged Jarz, jolting him back to the 'debate'-- if it could be called that.
Among the discussion about the rescue, there was the question of why the people had attacked in the first place. The most obvious answer to the villagers would have been that the attackers were tribes that wanted revenge on their stolen homelands***. But there had been no tribes in the area when it was settled, so that answer could be scratched from the list.
Jarz had sudden, chilling thought. He shouted urgently, “Everyone quiet, please!”
The room was silenced at the tone in Jarz's voice, startling even Szifa.
Jarz took a deep breath and continued, “Isn't it possible that the people attacked the town to distract Haas and capture him?”
There wasn't a movement in the still room. Quietly, each person in the small living room affirmed that it could be a possiblity. An idea began to form in Jarz's mind as he silently searched his memory for some hint at what to do.
“And what do you plan to do about it?” a voice called from somewhere in the room, as if on cue.
This was what Jarz was waiting for. “Listen up.” he said. “This is what we will do....”
**The Sadaar were a people that were driven out of the country that Haas and the other villagers lived in [the name being secret from you readers for a number of reasons]. Not one of the native tribes (see next note). They were believed to have strange powers. The last of the Sadaar was killed by a king some time before this story takes place.
***The country where Haas and the other villagers lived in had begun many years before this story takes place, as a colony of coastal towns. As they gained power, they pushed the native inhabitants farther back into the wilds. Eventually, most of the tribes had been defeated and/or driven far, far back into their lands. At the time of the story, it had been uncommon, but not unknown, for some avenging tribes to strike out at frontier towns like the one that Haas lived in.
Please tell me if you're having trouble viewing the site.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
I appreciate any criticism... Er, maybe I should rephrase that... :D
The Dark King
A bloodcurdling yell split the night air.
Jarz sat up, body tense. He heard shouts and footsteps outside, and an unnaturally chilling breeze swept through the house.
Haas opened Jarz's door and hissed urgently, “Someone's attacking the town. Get outside!”
Jarz followed Haas and was met by Szifa, who nodded his head in a terse greeting.
The village was a turmoil of moving bodies. From the other side of the town came war cries and shouting, and women and children were being escorted out of the town on Jarz's side, away from the fighting.
Jarz found that a sword had been thrust into his hands, and he drew it, hoping he wouldn't have to use it. Beside him, Haas and Szifa did the same.
The cries suddenly stopped. A man emerged from the other side and yelled, “They've fled.”
Jarz heard Haas breathe a sigh of relief. Jarz gave Haas the sword he had been given, and started forward to the battle scene. A question formed in his mind, and Jarz turned.
He froze when he saw five shadowy, sinister shapes behind Haas. The middle one seemed to flicker and wave like a gray candleflame, and Jarz felt a stab of fear and panic. He felt an overwhelming urge to run and hide, to get as far away as possible from this foul being.
One of the men beside the gray being raisied a fire-blackened club. As Jarz watched in frozed horror, the man struck the club downward, and Haas fell to the ground limply, without a sound.
Jarz shook of his fear and gave a cry of alarm to warn the other people. At the sound, the figures picked up the unconsious Haas and fled.
Kadif appeared beside Jarz. “Where'd be Haas?” he asked, a worried tone in his voice.
Jarz felt sick. “They've... they've taken him.”
Monday, May 10, 2010
Here it goes;
The Dark King
They arrived an hour later. The source of the smoke was a sleepy-looking village that had perhaps ten houses.
Jarz emerged from the brush first, scratched and wild-looking from thorns.
He saw the village, and his initial feeling was relief. They had gotten back to civilazation. But his second feeling was apprehension. The people were definitely not the native people of his own country, and they were looking slightly hostile.
Szifa emerged beside him, and together they started cautiously into the town.
They walked up to a man that was leaning on his door and watching them suspiciously. “I elect you to speak.” Szifa whispered nervously to Jarz.
Jarz nodded his head slightly in agreement. “Who is your leader?” Jarz asked, the man hoping that they spoke the same language.
The man replied, “Name is Kadif, and we don't hav' a leader. We vote ta make decisions. But if you're lookin' fer a representative type, then ye better go see S. Haas.”
“S. Haas?” Jarz inquired politely as possible.
Kadif waved his hand vaguely. “We don't use his first name much. So we just call him Haas, or S. Haas if we be bein' 'specially formal.”
Jarz tried again. “I mean, where does he live?”
Kadif waved again. “The painted house on th' other side o' town. Can't miss it.”
Jarz thanked him, and he and Szifa made their way the other side of the village, the inhabitants still eyeing them suspiciously.
As Kadif had said, the house was hard to miss. It was painted bright red, and it had a porch in front that was also painted crimson. A young man sat on a stool on the porch, carving wood. A pile of curved shavings lay at his feet.
“Excuse me.” Jarz said, not sure how to begin.The young man looked up. He had bright blue eyes, and sandy colored hair that grew in a wild cascade curling around his head.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, smiling. He stood up and brushed the wood shavings off his shirt. Jarz immediately felt at home with this amiable man. He also noticed that the he spoke differently than the more rustic man they had met earlier.
“Uh, well, I'm not quite sure.” Jarz fumbled for words to say.
The young man smiled again. “Well, then, I guess it's my turn. I'm Shad Haas.” Haas extended a hand, and Jarz shook it, and introduced himself and Szifa.
“You're not from around here, are you?” Haas said, interest glinting in his eyes.
“No.” Jarz answered. He hesitated, and then told Haas their story, a little apprehensive that the man would question their sanity. When Jarz was done, there was a short silence. Haas broke it by saying, “Well, come on inside. I have a feeling we'll have plenty to talk about.”
Jarz and Szifa followed Haas inside, and found it to be a very spacious and well-kept house.
“If you don't mind me asking," Jarz said, "why do you have such a large house?”
Haas pulled a chair for himself and motioned to a couch. “You can sit down if you want. Now, about the house. Actually, I grew up here with my parents, so that answers your question.”
Szifa ventured to speak. “Have they, uh, passed away?”
Haas laughed, a clear, ringing sound. “No, they moved to a different town. They aren't as young as they used to be.” Haas paused. “Anyway, about your story. Let's see. How far away was the cave you woke up in?”
Jarz had no idea why Haas would ask such a question, but he answered anyway. “About three hours,” he pointed, “that way.”
Haas grinned, a thing he seemed to do a lot. “I know that cave, and that's one reason I believe your story.”
“Really?” Jarz asked.
Haas nodded. “I had an adventure of my own with that cave.” He fell silent for a moment, as if he was remembering something. A look of longing flitted across his face so fast that Jarz barely saw it. But as fast as it came, it was gone again, and Haas smiled. “Anyway, I know how you got here.”
“You do?” Szifa and Jarz asked in unision, incrudulous.
“Yes. But I won't tell you now.”
Jarz somehow knew it was futile to argue, so he asked, “Do you know how to get us back to our own country?”
Haas nodded. “I will try. But not until tomorrow. So,” he said, getting up, “you will stay at my house until tomorrow. We don't want to get caught outside in the dark.”
Haas shook his head slowly. “There has been a rumor.” he said, “Whether or not it is true is the question.” Jarz considered the statement rather cryptic.
They had supper with Haas, and each afterward were showed to a room, and bid good night. Jarz went to sleep almost immediately, tired from the day's momentous events.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
For this wonderful award, I get to list five random things, and award five other bloggers.
-Dark chocolate... Choklad Mork from Ikea... Mmmmm.
-Mom is awesome!!! Especially on Mother's Day. (I had to do that one too, Squeaks) :).
-I haven't done any writing today
-The glowsticks I'm looking at are cheap
-Steak is delectable
And who is it going to?? Alex, A Servant of the King (a.k.a. Gillian), Nathan R. Petrie
(I'll update it as I get them)
And the second award is;
Aspiring Author Award
Congrats to the winners! Don't forget to give the award on to other people! You can pick however many you want on the Aspiring Author Award, by the way.
Yes, I'll be getting around to posting some more of my short story tomorrow, for those who are waiting. :)
Saturday, May 8, 2010
I won't post all of the details here, but you can go to Hidden Doorways to get in on the fun.
PS; I interrupted my posts on my short story to post this quickly, but don't worry, there'll be more soon! :)
The Dark King
Jerz woke up, the trilling voices of birds around him, and the smell of fresh leaves and grass in the air. He lay there for a second, wondering where he was.
He bolted upright, remembering what had happened. He had fell, and then... he remembered nothing. His body was in full working order, though, and he didn't have so much as a bruise.
Jerz looked around. He was in fairly long cave, with bright sunlight streaming through the entranceway. The wall at the back of the cave looked strange and fluctuating, as if there were tiny pieces of crystal embedded in the rock, glinting in the light.
Jerz saw a still form in the corner. He looked closer, and then recoiled in disgust. It was the wolf, only, it wasn't alive anymore. Not wanting to see-or smell-anything further, he turned away.
Jerz's attention was diverted by the sound of whistling from the cave entrance. Szifa strode in, whistling an old tune. His arms were full of crimson apples. Jerz's stomach grumbled as he beheld the delicious looking fruit.
Szifa saw him and smiled. “Good, you're awake.”
Jerz asked him, “What happened? I don't remember anything but... falling.” He shuddered as the memory coursed through his mind.
Szifa shrugged. “Can't help you there. I don't remember any more than you do.” He laid down the apples. “But you can help me eat these apples.”
Jerz reached for one, and bit down deeply. They tasted as good as they looked. “Ahh.” he sighed. “These are the best apples I've ever eaten.”
Szifa reached for one himself. “Yes. This place seems to have better... well, better everything. The place invigorates me. And wait until you see the scenery! The plants are like bits of emeralds carved into intricate shapes, full of life, and the animals are as gentle as doves, and the sun is as bright as, well, the sun, and trees are as leafy as the day is long.”
Jerz laughed. “This place also makes words float from your mouth like turtle doves on a gentle summer wind.” He paused suddenly. “As well as me, too.”
They both laughed. Once they were done with their vegetarian meal, the two went to explore. Szifa had been right about the flora and fauna of this new country. The colors were unbelievebly vibrant, like an artist had picked the brightest colors from her collection and painted the landscape.
As they walked, Szifa and Jerz made sure to mark their way with colored bits of cloth tied to twigs, as neither of them had knives to mark the trees with. Even if they would have had knives, they would not have used them as not to mar the landscape. Scarring the beautiful scenery would've felt like an unspeakable crime.
After exploring for a hour, they sat down in a clearing with long, jade grass. Jarz lay faceup, hands behind his head in the grass, basking in the warm sunlight. He looked up at the clouds, and noticed one narrow cloud close to the ground was a familiar gray. Jarz followed it down to the horizon, and he suddenly realized what it was. “Smoke!” he yelled, scrambling up and pointing.
Szifa stood up too, and together they stared at it.
“Let's go.” Szifa said, answering the unspoken question that hung in the air. Wordlessly, the two friends walked in the direction of the smoke, wondering what they would find at the source.
No, they are not in heaven... Just making sure that you all know that. :)
Friday, May 7, 2010
Anyway, it's titled 'The Dark King'. Unfortunately, it is not allegorical, although it does have mysterious ties to my novel. :)
It actually was a language arts thing. I had to write a narrative story, and when I asked my mom, she said she didn't care how long it was. Haha! So I worked for the next day on it, and it ended up being three and a half thousand words. Nice, right?
The Dark King
The fiery sun beat down on the two hikers as they slowly climbed higher. They seemed to be close friends, grinning at one another through the sweat lining their brows.
They stopped at the edge of a gaping crater, panting for breath. They were smiling in exhiliration, glad that they had finally made it to the top. One of them, a tall but stout man, turned and admired the extravagent view from the top of the crater. He whistled through his teeth.
“My, it is beautiful. Well worth it, I'd say.”
His companion was looking down into the crater. “What's beautiful?”
“The view.” The man turned and saw his companion getting on his hands and knees, looking down into the dusty darkness of the pit. “Szifa, get back up and stay away from that edge. You could fall.”
The man's companion, whose name was Szifa, rolled his eyes but stood back up anyway.“I tell you, Jerz, it's unnaturally dark, that crater.” he said.
The man, who Szifa had adressed as Jerz, looked into the crater himself, careful to stay away from the edge. He frowned, his brow wrinkling. “I don't know about you, but it seems like there's a...” Jerz struggled to find the right word, “...an absence of light.”
Szifa snorted. “Sounds like a definition of darkness.”
“No, it's like there isn't... like there is nothing in there.”
Szifa opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of a rock falling stopped his speech. “What was that?” he asked.
Jerz shrugged. “A rock.”
“A rock doesn't fall on its own.”
"Sure it does. If you're scared, then why don't we check it out? We still have an hour or so before we have to leave.”
The two walked in the direction of the sound, and despite Jerz's earlier skepticism, he was starting to get nervous. More sounds came from ahead of them, causing them to freeze. “What in the world?” Jerz whispered, his brain freezing in fear.
In an instant, everything turned to chaos. A strange wolf-beast burst out from beyond a rock, and sprinted towards them, a terrible yowling sound coming from its mouth.
Szifa gave a cry of surprise and stumbled backwards. Jerz stood frozen a second, and then turned to run. He tripped on a rock, sending both he and Szifa tumbling to the ground. As soon as they hit the ground, they were back up again, not caring where they were running, just that they had to get away.
Adrenaline pumped energy through their veins as they stumbled up to the rim of the crater. They reached the rim and turned. There was nowhere left to go, except over the edge.
The wolf was leaping at them, jaws open wide....
Szifa's hands closed on a sharp rock, raising it high.
The three figures, beast and man, human and wolf, collided.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Okay, here's the order in which the posts will go;
First, I will have a short story of mine posted in... Eight segments. Starting tomorrow!
Second, I'll post a chapter from my second novel that I really like.
Third, I'll do a ten-post series on my TOP TEN favorite books, along with a review with each and an explanation on why it's my favorite. I know you can't wait!
And last, I'll do a I'm-not-sure-how-many series on what makes a fantasy world awesome, with key elements like;
Be sure to check tomorrow, when the fun begins! Heh heh... *insert evil laughter* :)
Monday, May 3, 2010
-Dictionary; the process of being mentally stimulated to do something creative.
-Regular people; A good idea
-Writers; A wonderful, creative, unique (at least at the time!) idea for a plot line, story, twist, etc. or a need to write
Isn't that inspiration?
Jack London does a good job of describing inspiration in this quote; "You can't wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club."
Besides being an awesome quote, it accurately tells you how to get inspired; go after it with a club. Figuratively, of course. That's why it's a good idea to have a deadline, or a time for writing every day. I find that the hardest time to write is when I start writing. As I go along, though, I get inspired by my own words... :D
What do you think?
"Read what you want to write and write what you want to read."
That's all. And very good advice at that. I'm going to take this sentence and turn it into a blog post, using what my dad calls the 'engineer' approach.
"Read what you want to write." It means to read the genre or sub-genre that you write in. To do away with big words, it means that if I want to write in Christian Fantasy, I should probably read Christian Fantasy.
"Write what you want to read." Basically, when you would write a book, write something that would be something that you would want to read. Easy.
But now I venture to add a phrase to this venerable tip; "You will write in what you read." What does that mean? Take the engineer approach.
This phrase isn't that different from it's predecessors, except for one word; 'will'. Future tense. So, if you don't write, this applies to you. If you read a certain genre, you may eventually write in that genre. So take care what you read, and that applies to everyone. You read scrap material, you'll write scrap. That's it. The same goes for the opposite; you read quality stuff, you'll write quality stuff.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
"Man the pages!"
"Smack the ink out of 'em!"
Such were the words that echoed through the computer as I mercilessly pounded the Wases out of my prologue yesterday.
"Fire inna hole!"
When the smoke and word pieces had cleared, I eyed my improved prologue. Leaning back, I casually did a word search of the word 'was'.
I sat up in alarm when the computer highlighted two Wases in my prologue. "How did those get there?"
I scrolled down a bit more, and my eyes widened in horror as I saw highlight after highlight... after highlight.
They were everywhere!
I hoped you liked this partly fictionalized version of my editing yesterday... Okay, mostly fictionalized. But I did rewrite quite a bit of Wases out of my prologue yesterday. I did a word search for Was afterward, and saw two Wases, to my horror, in my prologue. When I scrolled more, there were a lot of Wases. I calculate that I had about a little less than a 1ooo Wases in my manuscript.
So, more ways today to get rid of those Wases and start 'showing'.
"There was a sharp blast of pain on his temple, and his head swam in agony."
So, how do I fix this? I need to find what the Was was pointing at. What is the 'was' pointing at? The pain, of course. So I need to show the pain. Here's how I did it;
"His head swam in agony as a sharp pain blasted his temple."
Much better. Here's another example;
"Hysas was the son of the Kalsi. The Kalsi was the governing official of Gess..."
The second sentence wasn't complete, just so you know. I would've combined it earlier if it wasn't already long. Anyway, let's work on the first Was.
Where is the Was pointing to? The son of the Kalsi. How do I show that Hysas was the son of the Kalsi? It's a little hard, as this is an explanatory paragraph, one of those important things that explain what things are in a new world.
Since I really can't convert the Was from the first sentence, I'll combine it with the second sentence, therefore eliminating the other Was into;
"Hysas was the son of the Kalsi, the governing official of Gess."
I really should've combined this earlier, but I must have overlooked it. Anyway, I add a "Being the son of the Kalsi," to the next sentence to make it complete. And so I eliminated a Was.
On a completely different subject, my poll (on favorite authors) has finally finished with great results. Here's the results of "Which of these is your MOST favorite author?" (32 votes);
'How in the world do you expect me to PICK?!?' finished (not surprisingly) with 31% in first place. I had expected it to win, but not by the narrow margin it did.
Here's a surprise second place; 'Wayne Thomas Batson' had gotten several more votes, shooting it up to second place with 21%. Some people really like WTB! Any of those people out there?
Here's the only tie; 'C. S. Lewis' and 'Bryan Davis'. Davis shot up near the end, while CSL was the opposite; he had a strong lead in the beginning before he fell behind.
'J. R. R. Tolkien' was one of the ones that caught a late rush. Unfortunately for you LOTR fans, his 'Road' didn't actually go on and on; he settled for fourth. :)
Not very close to the others, Brian Jacques (author of Redwall) ended up with only one vote; 3%.
And last, but not least, came CP, Christopher Hopper. Love his books, but he's not my MOST favorite... 0% of the vote. Can you guess how many votes he had? :)
Okay, time to tell what I voted... (*drumroll*)
I voted "How in the world do you expect me to pick??" Not surprisingly. But I love pretty much all the authors up there (or at least most), so it was an obvious choice.
Well, that was interesting while it lasted. What's your opinion on the results?
And while I'm on the subject of polls, please vote on my poll on what to blog next (in the upper lefthand corner of the blog on the sidebar). I need a tie-breaker!