(no subject)
Title: WIP#1
Genre:Fantasy a la young adult (in the vein of HP & Spiderwick)
Characters: Jessie & Tery
Word count: 944
Rating:G
Summary: Every little girl dreams of fairytale princesses and knights in shining armor... but what do you do when one rings the doorbell?
It would be far more interesting to start this story with something dramatic, ‘It happened at midnight on a stormy eve’ or the like, as luck would have it the facts are not so interesting. The beginning was, in truth, rather boring. Simple as it was, I was fond of our life then. Tery, my older brother, had been my only family since before I could remember. Our parents died when I was very young and he had raised me in their stead, being nearly 13 years older than me.
Well, really, Tery was only my half brother, the result of an ill-timed pregnancy when Mom was still young. He worked as a sous-chef in one of the classiest restaurants in town. He’d been offered the head chef position once but he’d declined. He said it was because he wouldn’t be able to get Wednesdays off anymore and Wednesdays were our days. Tery cooked for me on Wednesdays and he joked that he was up against the harshest critic of all. It was one such Wednesday that my tale begins.
It was a day like any other. It had been a very hot day but nothing that was out of the ordinary for mid July. The sun was sliding sleepily toward its rest. The marshes beyond our neighborhood buzzed with the sounds of frogs and insects. Despite the heat the windows were open and a gentle breeze stirred the curtains.
It was so ordinary a day that I don’t even recall what he’d made for dinner that particular night. It must’ve been something Italian because the knock came as I was washing the large copper pot he used to cook noodles in. Eager for any excuse to abandon my task I snatched a nearby towel to dry my hands and ran from the kitchen. Tery shook his head but he laughed just the same.
His laughter followed me from the kitchen into the foyer, fading into an eerie quiet as I regarded the dark figure standing just outside the door. Through the beveled glass I could make out little more than shades of black and grey. The figure loomed tall and foreboding beyond the door and I felt certain that whomever stood beyond that glass pane would bring with him news that would change our lives forever.
So perhaps the beginning is not so boring as I had predicted. Then again knowing the events that followed I can perhaps more clearly understand what the emotions running through my young heart were. Surely I did not think then that the frightening figure would change our lives. I knew that something was going to happen. I had no idea just what and I was glad for it.
In spite of the fear that gripped me, or perhaps because of it, I forced myself to grip the door knob. Gathering all my courage I swung the door open hard, nearly throwing myself off balance in my determination. The fierce grip I had on the door loosened, my hand sliding off the knob as I stared dumbfounded at the sight before me.
It was as though the very books my dear brother insisted I not read; the “wishy-washy” tales of other worlds and magic and times older than our history books at school, had yielded the strange visitor. I glanced at the stairwell behind me, certain to find a sign that he had walked out of the books hidden beneath my bed and straight out here to my front porch. When no such sign appeared I looked back and offered a half-hearted wave to the man.
For reasons beyond my comprehension he looked as stunned as I did, his grey eyes wide with surprise. The man was large, tall enough that I had to step back to study the expression on his tanned face. A grand silver helmet covered most of his head. A thick feathered plume of a deep scarlet jutted from the crown of the helm. The color was reflected in the painted etchings upon his breastplate; a magnificent golden bird, wings outstretched, clutching a crimson stone in his talons.
“My apologies…” When he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft, hushed almost. He reached up, gauntleted hands drawing down the silver helm. Waves of golden hair spilled forth, curling around his shoulders. Darkened strands clung to his neck, damp with sweat.
“I..” His gaze lifted to the hall behind me, concern and confusion warring over his features. “Is your…” He blinked rapidly and shook his head slightly as if trying to shake off a dream and I began to wonder if perhaps he was merely a crazy man with a good costume. He dropped his grey eyes to meet mine, falling to one knee and thus leveling our gaze.
“May I speak with Teryziel?” He said finally, a gentle smile settling on his features despite the sorrow I could now see in his eyes.
“Tery…?” I repeated in confusion. There were few people that knew my brother’s full name and even fewer that called him by it. That this man not only knew my brother but knew him well enough to use his full name was stranger than his attire or behavior.
“Jessie, what on earth are you doing out…” I spun around, my expression conveying my confusion as Tery rounded the corner into the hall. I could tell from the creak of metal that the man had returned to standing in the doorway, his bulky frame filling it completely. A bright yellow dishtowel fell from Tery’s hands, landing in a damp pile, its embroidered daisies looking so very awkward on the dark cherry wood floor.
Genre:Fantasy a la young adult (in the vein of HP & Spiderwick)
Characters: Jessie & Tery
Word count: 944
Rating:G
Summary: Every little girl dreams of fairytale princesses and knights in shining armor... but what do you do when one rings the doorbell?
It would be far more interesting to start this story with something dramatic, ‘It happened at midnight on a stormy eve’ or the like, as luck would have it the facts are not so interesting. The beginning was, in truth, rather boring. Simple as it was, I was fond of our life then. Tery, my older brother, had been my only family since before I could remember. Our parents died when I was very young and he had raised me in their stead, being nearly 13 years older than me.
Well, really, Tery was only my half brother, the result of an ill-timed pregnancy when Mom was still young. He worked as a sous-chef in one of the classiest restaurants in town. He’d been offered the head chef position once but he’d declined. He said it was because he wouldn’t be able to get Wednesdays off anymore and Wednesdays were our days. Tery cooked for me on Wednesdays and he joked that he was up against the harshest critic of all. It was one such Wednesday that my tale begins.
It was a day like any other. It had been a very hot day but nothing that was out of the ordinary for mid July. The sun was sliding sleepily toward its rest. The marshes beyond our neighborhood buzzed with the sounds of frogs and insects. Despite the heat the windows were open and a gentle breeze stirred the curtains.
It was so ordinary a day that I don’t even recall what he’d made for dinner that particular night. It must’ve been something Italian because the knock came as I was washing the large copper pot he used to cook noodles in. Eager for any excuse to abandon my task I snatched a nearby towel to dry my hands and ran from the kitchen. Tery shook his head but he laughed just the same.
His laughter followed me from the kitchen into the foyer, fading into an eerie quiet as I regarded the dark figure standing just outside the door. Through the beveled glass I could make out little more than shades of black and grey. The figure loomed tall and foreboding beyond the door and I felt certain that whomever stood beyond that glass pane would bring with him news that would change our lives forever.
So perhaps the beginning is not so boring as I had predicted. Then again knowing the events that followed I can perhaps more clearly understand what the emotions running through my young heart were. Surely I did not think then that the frightening figure would change our lives. I knew that something was going to happen. I had no idea just what and I was glad for it.
In spite of the fear that gripped me, or perhaps because of it, I forced myself to grip the door knob. Gathering all my courage I swung the door open hard, nearly throwing myself off balance in my determination. The fierce grip I had on the door loosened, my hand sliding off the knob as I stared dumbfounded at the sight before me.
It was as though the very books my dear brother insisted I not read; the “wishy-washy” tales of other worlds and magic and times older than our history books at school, had yielded the strange visitor. I glanced at the stairwell behind me, certain to find a sign that he had walked out of the books hidden beneath my bed and straight out here to my front porch. When no such sign appeared I looked back and offered a half-hearted wave to the man.
For reasons beyond my comprehension he looked as stunned as I did, his grey eyes wide with surprise. The man was large, tall enough that I had to step back to study the expression on his tanned face. A grand silver helmet covered most of his head. A thick feathered plume of a deep scarlet jutted from the crown of the helm. The color was reflected in the painted etchings upon his breastplate; a magnificent golden bird, wings outstretched, clutching a crimson stone in his talons.
“My apologies…” When he spoke his voice was unexpectedly soft, hushed almost. He reached up, gauntleted hands drawing down the silver helm. Waves of golden hair spilled forth, curling around his shoulders. Darkened strands clung to his neck, damp with sweat.
“I..” His gaze lifted to the hall behind me, concern and confusion warring over his features. “Is your…” He blinked rapidly and shook his head slightly as if trying to shake off a dream and I began to wonder if perhaps he was merely a crazy man with a good costume. He dropped his grey eyes to meet mine, falling to one knee and thus leveling our gaze.
“May I speak with Teryziel?” He said finally, a gentle smile settling on his features despite the sorrow I could now see in his eyes.
“Tery…?” I repeated in confusion. There were few people that knew my brother’s full name and even fewer that called him by it. That this man not only knew my brother but knew him well enough to use his full name was stranger than his attire or behavior.
“Jessie, what on earth are you doing out…” I spun around, my expression conveying my confusion as Tery rounded the corner into the hall. I could tell from the creak of metal that the man had returned to standing in the doorway, his bulky frame filling it completely. A bright yellow dishtowel fell from Tery’s hands, landing in a damp pile, its embroidered daisies looking so very awkward on the dark cherry wood floor.