Lily
01-05-2007, 10:15 PM
This story has been haunting me since I was eleven years old. I've sat down and written and rewritten it at least two dozen times since then...never finishing it, getting about 80 pages in and then stopping. The problem I'm facing is that I can't start working on anything else without this coming back and haunting me, I need to get it out and finished so I can move on! Anyways, here's the first few pages - I need all the help I can get. (This is the newest version of the beginning that I've come up with, they've all started out differently...)
The honeyed glow of the afternoon sun painted highlights in Jade’s hair as she sat by the stream, dangling her feet in the water while watching her elder brothers play chicken. The game consisted of two teams of people, one sitting on the shoulders of the other, while trying to knock the other team down. So far it had been an amusing sight. Alec was bigger and stronger then Mandan by a long shot, but Mandan had far more determination. So far that had been enough to keep him on the shoulders of their poor servant, Wilfred. Alec sat atop the shoulders of their Uncle Stephen, a lad the same age as Alec. As the boys wrestled, their foundations wavering dangerously, Jade heard the sound of horses sweeping up the riverbed. Turning, she spotted Myra, their horsewoman. Her horse trotted up gaily , whinnying it’s own greeting and turning it’s nose stubbornly as Myra climbed down from him. “What is it?” Jade asked.
“The King’s got some royal guests, m’lady. Says you and the boys better get up there quick.” She looked at the boys splashing in the water, Alec had just been knocked down by Mandan and had come out of the water sputtering. “Hah!” Mandan yelled, smiling at his victory.
“What sort of guests?” Jade had a habit of being quizzical about everything. Most servants found that annoying, having been brought up to follow orders without question.
“Oh I don’t know. Your Queen Mother says they are from the South. Looks to me they’re royalty though.” She frowned at the boys, who were splashing water and throwing mud.
“Alec, Mandan,” Jade said, holding back a laugh, “Myra says it is time to leave.” The boys stopped their splashing and looked at her, amused.
“But little sister,” Mandan smiled, “we do not follow the orders of women.” He knew that would get a reaction from both women on the bank as Myra stomped in the water after him. He squirmed away laughing and dove under the water as Myra reached for him. Alec climbed up the bank slowly, dripping mud and water, Stephen following behind. Wilfred had already started untying the horses when finally Mandan crawled out of the water, having been dunked under several times by Myra’s strong arms. “What are you doing? Trying to baptize me Myra? I did not realize you were a priest.” He snorted, pulling his breeches back on.
“If I thought baptizing would help you, I’d have done it ages ago.” Myra rung out her long black hair and tied a strap of leather around it to keep it out of her face, then she climbed back on her horse and started back for the castle. Mandan couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
“That one will bring you trouble, brother.” Alec smiled, shoving Mandan’s shoulder playfully.
“I sure hope so.” Was his reply.
The five of them followed Myra up the slope and along the pathway to the stables and unsaddled their horses. The stable was cool and dark, though it had been hard leaving the coolness of the riverbed. She left her brothers and Uncle and went through the gate that led to the North tower, where her rooms dwelt.
It had been a warm August. Every day the heat sweltered off the castle stones like the heat from an oven, and the afternoons were spent by the river, swimming and fishing. It rained nearly every night, the earth giving water to the greenery that surrounded them. They had been lucky for that. With war consuming most of the land, food had still been plentiful, even in this strange heat.
It seemed to Jade that her life had been framed by war. And yet she'd never seen it. But she wasn’t disappointed by that. Soon enough Alec would be old enough to lead an army and then she feared he would never return. Boys go to war and never come back, only ghostly figures wearing the same clothes. Yet some came back more alive then ever, it seemed. Her father, for example, found his inspiration in war. There was a passion he described feeling during battle, a fever of sorts. It took over your body and mind and you could feel nothing, see nothing, but your enemy and the desire to destroy them. Jade never wanted to feel that sort of passion.
Ok tear it up! Thanks.
The honeyed glow of the afternoon sun painted highlights in Jade’s hair as she sat by the stream, dangling her feet in the water while watching her elder brothers play chicken. The game consisted of two teams of people, one sitting on the shoulders of the other, while trying to knock the other team down. So far it had been an amusing sight. Alec was bigger and stronger then Mandan by a long shot, but Mandan had far more determination. So far that had been enough to keep him on the shoulders of their poor servant, Wilfred. Alec sat atop the shoulders of their Uncle Stephen, a lad the same age as Alec. As the boys wrestled, their foundations wavering dangerously, Jade heard the sound of horses sweeping up the riverbed. Turning, she spotted Myra, their horsewoman. Her horse trotted up gaily , whinnying it’s own greeting and turning it’s nose stubbornly as Myra climbed down from him. “What is it?” Jade asked.
“The King’s got some royal guests, m’lady. Says you and the boys better get up there quick.” She looked at the boys splashing in the water, Alec had just been knocked down by Mandan and had come out of the water sputtering. “Hah!” Mandan yelled, smiling at his victory.
“What sort of guests?” Jade had a habit of being quizzical about everything. Most servants found that annoying, having been brought up to follow orders without question.
“Oh I don’t know. Your Queen Mother says they are from the South. Looks to me they’re royalty though.” She frowned at the boys, who were splashing water and throwing mud.
“Alec, Mandan,” Jade said, holding back a laugh, “Myra says it is time to leave.” The boys stopped their splashing and looked at her, amused.
“But little sister,” Mandan smiled, “we do not follow the orders of women.” He knew that would get a reaction from both women on the bank as Myra stomped in the water after him. He squirmed away laughing and dove under the water as Myra reached for him. Alec climbed up the bank slowly, dripping mud and water, Stephen following behind. Wilfred had already started untying the horses when finally Mandan crawled out of the water, having been dunked under several times by Myra’s strong arms. “What are you doing? Trying to baptize me Myra? I did not realize you were a priest.” He snorted, pulling his breeches back on.
“If I thought baptizing would help you, I’d have done it ages ago.” Myra rung out her long black hair and tied a strap of leather around it to keep it out of her face, then she climbed back on her horse and started back for the castle. Mandan couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
“That one will bring you trouble, brother.” Alec smiled, shoving Mandan’s shoulder playfully.
“I sure hope so.” Was his reply.
The five of them followed Myra up the slope and along the pathway to the stables and unsaddled their horses. The stable was cool and dark, though it had been hard leaving the coolness of the riverbed. She left her brothers and Uncle and went through the gate that led to the North tower, where her rooms dwelt.
It had been a warm August. Every day the heat sweltered off the castle stones like the heat from an oven, and the afternoons were spent by the river, swimming and fishing. It rained nearly every night, the earth giving water to the greenery that surrounded them. They had been lucky for that. With war consuming most of the land, food had still been plentiful, even in this strange heat.
It seemed to Jade that her life had been framed by war. And yet she'd never seen it. But she wasn’t disappointed by that. Soon enough Alec would be old enough to lead an army and then she feared he would never return. Boys go to war and never come back, only ghostly figures wearing the same clothes. Yet some came back more alive then ever, it seemed. Her father, for example, found his inspiration in war. There was a passion he described feeling during battle, a fever of sorts. It took over your body and mind and you could feel nothing, see nothing, but your enemy and the desire to destroy them. Jade never wanted to feel that sort of passion.
Ok tear it up! Thanks.