NaNo '08 Excerpts

NOTE: NONE OF THESE ARE EDITED!!

***

Excerpt from Brenna's Novel...currently titled "Not Such A Simple Summer"

I eagerly listened to the one sided conversation. “Yeah, we’re here...Oh, yeah, she’s fine…Oh, okay…No! No I don’t mind, I’ll check with Jake, but…Yeah, definitely…No, don’t worry we’ll stay…Yup, Okay…Talk to you later. Bye”
“Who was that?” Gracie asked as Kylie hung up the phone.
“Shea. She wanted to know if we could stay for awhile longer till she can get back. She doesn’t want Tori to be left alone.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of her!” I said.
“Yeah, it is considering I wouldn’t care if you were left alone or not… No! Just kidding, Tori, just kidding!” Kylie said laughing, “Jake, do you mind?”
“No, but I’m starved. Who votes we go down to the cafeteria and get some food?” Jake asked in his southern accent.
“Sounds good to me!” Gracie said “I wonder if they would let us take Tori down with us?”
“I would like that!” I said excitedly, “I’m getting sick of sitting in bed already!”
“Better ask Katy or whatever your nurse’s name is,” Trevor said. walking up behind Justin and taking the box of truffles from his hand. “Here, let me save you from yourself.”
“Dude! Give the chocolates back!” Justin said grabbing for the box.
“The hospital officials are going to kick y’all out if you don’t shush up!” I said, adding the ‘y’all’ just for fun.
“Since when did you have a southern accent?” Kylie asked.
“Since I’ve been hanging out with y’all, I’ve been getting used to it,” I replied in an overly southern attempt at an accent. “Sorry, the only thing I can do well is the ‘y’all’ bit,” I said grinning. Jake rolled his eyes,
“No matter how hard y’all try, you probably won’t get the accent down pat.”
“Maybe not, but we can try!” I replied
“Well, I for one am content with the accent I have,” Justin said.
“You don’t have an accent!” Kylie scoffed.
“Yes he does!” Jake said, “You should hear him talk in a crowd down south.”
“Ha! I love it!” I said, “You have got to teach me how to do that!”
“Do what?” Jake asked, puzzled.
“Talk like that!” I said, “Its so awesome!”
“Yeah, well, you are definitely going to need to practice awhile,” he stated critically
“Gee, thanks for the encouragement.”
“No problem. Have ya’ll decided if we’re going to eat?”
Just then Kathy entered,
“Having a good time?” she asked. The question was directed towards me but everyone answered. “Yup!”
“Absolutely!”
“How could we not?”
“Yes!”
Kathy laughed,
“A rowdy crowd of friends you have!” she said, “Are you ready for supper?”
“Actually, I was wondering if I could go to the cafeteria with the gang to get a bite to eat?” I answered.
“Hmmm, I don’t see why not. You would have to get one of them to push a wheel chair. But other then that I think that you should!”
“Good! Then I will just grab a sweater from the stuff that Shea brought!”
“Ok then! I will go get you a wheel chair.” Justin offered, heading for the door.
“I’ll go with you,” Jake said, following him.
“Hey, wait for me!” Trevor said.
“Thanks!” I said. Kathy smiled and followed them out the door.
“Hey, Kylie, can you grab me the purple sweater?”
“Sure, it even matches your pj’s!”
“That’s the point, genius! Man, you’re slow!” I said brushing off my comfy green, purple, and blue striped pants and straightened my tank top. “Just because I’m in a hospital doesn’t mean I need to look like a ragamuffin!” “Oh, gosh Tori, I’m so glad you’re going to be alright!”
“I’m fine! Never felt better!” I said gaily. Kylie gave me a look and I quickly added, “Well, okay, I have felt much better before, but hey! I’m trying to be optimistic!”
“I see that the concussion hasn’t injured your brain!” Kylie said tersely.
“Nope, well the concussion didn’t, but you might!”
“Hey!”
“I’m just kidding, Kylie! Jeez!”
“Yeah, I know.” In a few minutes the boys returned with the wheel chair. I got to get out of bed and walk around my room by myself for a minute to see if I could walk, which I discovered that I could.
“Okay, let’s get moving! I am famished!” Trevor said leaning against the wall for emphasis.
“Thank you for waiting for me!” I said, settling myself into the wheel chair.
“I don’t see why they won’t just let me walk! I am supposed to go home tomorrow!” I said in disgust.
“They are more concerned for your welfare then you are!” Gracie said picking up her bag.
“Who’s buying, by the way?” she asked, “I’m partially broke.”
“I say Jake treats us!” Trevor said, slapping his buddy on the back.
“I second the motion!” Justin said grasping the handles on the wheel chair and pushing me down the hall. “Watch your driving,” I said, “You’re scaring me.” He made a sudden 90° turn towards the wall. “Justin! One more strike and you’re fired!” I warned grasping the arm rests till my knuckles turned white.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, slowing down so the others could catch up.
“Hey, Justin, what’s the speed limit in a hospital anyway?” Trevor asked.
“I didn’t know there was one!” Justin responded smiling sheepishly.
“Here, let me drive!” Gracie said, pushing Justin easily out of the way.
“Whew! I was wondering if I was going to make it to the café in one piece!” I said sarcastically. We made it to the elevator and crowded in.
A man, I guessed to be in his early twenties seemed to be watching us from a distance. I didn’t pay any special attention to him, I only noticed that he carried a high-tech cell phone and had a tattoo of a black snake curled around his left wrist.
After entering the elevator the boys decided that they would race us on the stairs.
“Ground level please, operator!” I said to Gracie as the doors closed behind them. The elevator started to move downwards steadily for a second until it came to a jerking shaking halt.
“That was quick! I think we beat the boys!” Gracie said waiting at the door. It didn’t open. She pushed the button. But still the doors didn’t budge. The lights flickered and reality set in. We were trapped in the elevator.

To Be Continued…

Copyright -BrennaM (lol I just HAD to! Makes me feel special!) Any comments? please?

Novel Info for The Cedar Tree by Crandall
Note: I MUST get back to writing so this is extremely brief and stupid sounding....

Edward is in eighth grade and lives in Minnesota with his family and brother. They live in a house in the woods that surround them for miles. (of course he can still get to school) Anyway, he has been having odd and disturbing dreams that haunt him, and distract him from school. His dreams slowly turn into a reality. Edward discovers a cedar tree that seems to have an unusual power. Little does he know that it is all a cover up for a castle of elves that was destroyed by King Argorath hundreds of years ago, that wasn't completely destroyed, but was given the form of a massive, cedar tree. It is waiting for Edward to discover its secret, and to regain the power it had long ago.

Copyright-- Crandall 2008

***

Excerpt for Hath No Man by Squid
Every word copyright S.W. 2008, ARR

How long she slept she was unsure, but all the girl knew is that she was awoken by three things: a nightmare of a terrifying creature rising out of the sea and sinking the boat, another nightmare of an all-seeing eye in the clouds, and the fact that the sails were moving again.
It was very difficult not to scream, being woken up in a life-or-death situation just because of sleeping on a ship she should not have been on, and considering strange creatures and unexplainable things had just tortured her in her mind, it would be hard for anyone not to let out at least a little shriek.
At first she began to let one out, a quiet one thank goodness, but she caught herself and clapped a hand over her mouth. Nay, Isolda! She commanded herself. Silence thine mouth! Unless thee shouldst be fond of swimming the sea to land, which may not well be anywhere within sight!
This calmed her a bit and she took a few deep breaths, straining not to make a single sound as her back bumped over the hard wooden flooring. She braced herself against the supporting poles inside the cloth sails in hopes that it would help still her at least a bit.
The strangest thing was, she noticed, that whoever was pulling her was not saying a word. The sound of footsteps were not echoing through the hold either.
Just as this thought entered her head, she crashed into something. Luckily it was somewhat soft and no bones were broken, but it would leave a nice bruise on her side. She listened for a few moments and heard no footsteps, then something made her pull aside the quilt and peep out into the room to see that she had moved directly underneath the hatch. But something else made her look twice – because it was not there.
No one was there, in fact.
This in itself baffled the girl, and she observed the room in all directions. Not a single crewman was in sight, and the hatch was not even open. Through the tiny hand-hole in the top, moonlight streamed down in thick silvery rays, bathing everything in its narrow path with an eerie glow. The sight was beautiful, but it added to the oddness of the situation, and Isolda shivered. The deck was strangely quiet, as if no one on it were moving.
Merely slumbering, save for the lookout, she thought, shifting her position as she glanced around. The ship must have been rocking quite a bit, for most of the items in the hold were in different places than they had been before. Much of the inventory was stacked and piled on top of other things, forming miniature mountains within the hold. As she noticed a few seconds later upon looking above her head, there were several wooden support beams suspended there, held up by a few more piled on the floor and several other quilt-covered objects.
An image popped into Isolda’s mind of the beams falling. If they did, they would crash directly onto her head and back.
Silently she prayed that would not happen.
Just to be on the safe side, she attempted to crawl out of the quilt rather than just change positions. When she was nearly out, however, something stopped her short, and she was unable to move past where her waist was. After struggling for a bit, she quit with a huff and glanced behind her.
Her dress was caught by the belt on a gigantic, rusty iron hook in one of the supports that lay on the ground.
Isolda groaned and muttered a light curse under her breath. Why did this have to happen to her? She scooted backwards and began to work at the leather knot that kept it at her hips, but it was double knotted and very difficult to get her fingers around.
The sides of the ship creaked loudly as if the timber was about to split from strain, and slowly the whole thing tilted. Isolda gasped as she began to slide to the other side, toward the pile of boards. She was sure her vision was to come true – the wood would fall and hit her, possibly killing her!
Scrambling against the lean of the ship, she fought to no avail and slid to the right anyway. The mountain of lumber slid right alongside her, creaking just as loudly as the vessel. One of the many boards balanced on top fell, but on the other side of the pile.
Then another one fell, toward Isolda. She shrieked, not worrying that he would be heard in the deafening noises, and tried to dodge the board, but her belt was still hung on the hook which had poked a huge hole through the sails. Not knowing what else to do, the girl pulled the heavy quilt over her head and hoped it would do at least a little in protecting her from the nightmarish, corroded nails that protruded from the side of it.
Through the blanket she could almost see the board looming over her. It had to weigh at least fifty pounds – how thick and long it was, mayhaps even seventy. This, she knew, was the moment she was to die.
Something fell into the quilt just a few inches above her head. Sticking her hand out to feel the shape of it, relief washed over her as she identified it as…a board that had no nails stuck into it.
Relief faded into dark horror when she realized that another board had fallen and the nail-infested one was still hanging over her head, barely supported on its end by whatever else was crammed into the pile to her right.
Frantically she fumbled at her belt knot, but nothing loosened it. She tried to slide out of it both ways but it would not work – it would not go past her hip bones or her shoulders. There were no knives or sharp objects anywhere to cut through the tough leather. Nothing, at this point, was going to free her. She was stuck.
In yet another desperate attempt to release her from the bonds that held her, the frenzied minstrel groped at the belt, trying everything another time, even attempting to pull it apart with her bare hands. Not surprisingly, it did not cooperate with what she was wishing it would do. But still, in her absent state of mind, she tried it yet again.
Isolda pulled with every muscle in her arms, placing her knees against a sail pole to the left of her body and pushing away from it. Splinters pierced through the thin fibers in her dress and cut into her skin. She could feel blood dripping down her legs in a thin trickle.
Abovedecks, thunder crashed and the ship tilted again, this time back to the left. The wood screeched with a sickening pitch that sent a ringing through Isolda’s ears. The quilt over her head began to slide off, and she jerked it back well over her head. Things around her on all sides crashed down as the ship was tossed in the brutal waves. Several times, objects fallen came close to toppling over on top of her legs or arms.
The girl figured she was taking up too much space, increasing the risk of being hit, so she jolted into a position halfway on her side, hugging her knees. Something came down with a noisy crash where her legs would have been if she would not have moved them.
By now Isolda’s heart was having a very hard time maintaining a constant speed – as nervous as she was, her heart repeatedly stopped and then burst into action again, beating at ten times a normal pace. Her side had exploded in pain again, worse than when she first met Damien.
Back and forth, back and forth the vessel rocked. The head of a nail was coming undone in a board just under her shoulder, and dug into her skin with every move she made. It caught underneath her shoulder blade once and she let out a cry of agony.
She was too scared to even think about anything right now, only to brace herself between two long sail supports. The ship hit a big wave, and the supporting boards slid closer together, squashing her in the middle.
Isolda let loose another wail that was competition to that of a Banshee. The pain was not subsiding. It was getting worse with every motion of the ship. Everything in the hold was clashed together and piled on top of everything else. She did not even know where she was right then.
Suddenly everything stilled. The boat, with a last groan, came to a stop, now only swaying gently. Faint moonlight leaked in through the handle-hole in the hatch door, barely enough to see anything through a large rip in the quilt that covered the sails.
But, through this rip, she could see one thing.
The pile of boards, looking more unstable than before.
Moaning that was the unmistakable sound of wood splitting filled the hold.
She was incapable of making any sound due to loss of energy. Cuts decorated her skin all over, especially on her legs. The girl saw the one board she had feared towering over her like a monster approaching its helpless prey.
And all she could do was make a feeble, instinctive effort to protect her head with her arms.
The board cracked and fell.
Isolda closed her eyes, too weak to do much of anything.
Something stabbed through the quilt and went directly into her arms – the nails. Some of them punctured the skin on her shoulders, and a few lower down.
The full weight of the board came upon her frail body, and she could take no more. Her body gave out.
The minstrel’s mind faded away into oblivion.

EXCERPT FROM "Evenstar" by Noey
copyrighted by me

PROLOGUE
Rise up and help us; redeem us because of your unfailing love. - Psalm 44:26

"From darkness I understand the night: Dreams flow, a star shines. Ah! I desire Evenstar. Look! A star rises out of the darkness. The song of the star enchants my heart. Ah! I desire . . . . This is not the end . . . it is the beginning. You cannot falter now. If you do not trust this, trust nothing else. Trust this, trust this, trust. Trust this, trust love. This is not the end . . . it is the beginning. You should not do this. If you trust anything, trust this." - Evenstar by J.R.R. Tolkien
***
The she-elf's breath quivered as she ran her finger along the edge of the blade which left a trickle of dark blood on her skin. The knife would not hurt much. Just a sudden bolt of pressure against her ribs, maybe a little bitter sting, but it would soon be over. It was her last escape --- not the one she preferred, but it would at least rob the enemy from gloating about how they took her life and lying about how they held her power. She couldn't afford that. No, if word happened to get around . . . . The elf shuddered from the cold thoughts and the chilly breeze that wafted in from the desolate cracks in the stone. She pushed the thought away from her mind, frustrated. As she softly brushed her jagged auburn hair from her flawless face, the elf rose and longingly stared out of the glass of her bleary bedroom window. Keenly her large cobalt eyes scoured the ash-covered courtyard below for the enemy.
She noticed that eighty yards below lay the wooden gate to the castle, shattered cruelly into splinters on the black ground. When she had glanced outside half an hour ago, that had not been there. They must have arrived. After investigating a little further, the she-elf spotted half a legion of callous soldiers standing in the dark night with bright torches in the left hands and deftly crafted swords in the right. They had come quickly --- much quicker than she had expected. Nevertheless, time made no difference in the outcome of the events. The she-elf bit her lip, knowing she had only two choices: to let the warriors destroy her gorgeous castle and kill her or to give herself up to them dead, therefore salvaging her home and everyone in it.
A loud pounding on her stone bedroom door abruptly interrupted her thoughts. With a short gasp, the elf finally realized the graveness of what she was about to do. As soon as the knife plunged into her screaming heart, there would be no turning back and no way to control what would happen. But if she refused to sacrifice herself, she would be slaughtered anyway amongst those she loved. No, she would not allow that to happen. While the hammering on the door shot throbbing pulses into the she-elf's head, she raised the blade slowly and stared at the sickly thin figure reflected upon it. She wouldn't be taking much, not compared to what she was saving. The elf gazed at her room, admiring the pearl bed and her emerald vanity for the last time. She noticed an oversized wooden block in the wall. With a smile, she remembered how she and her sister once hid there from the other young girls once during an extravagant celebration. She could hide there again perhaps . . . . The pounding on the door came louder, and she heard the wood begin to groan with weakness. No, there was no time for that. There was no room for cowardice for an elf princess who must do anything to protect her people and the power. A sudden gust of gelid air blasted into her face from the wall as the bloodthirsty war whoops signaled to her that the time had come.
Hesitantly, the girl aimed the dagger at the left half of her heaving chest, blinking for the sliver of a moment as a tear wriggled from the corner of her right eye. How she wished she could tell him goodbye, but she knew he would never let her follow through with what she was about to do. With a slight gulp as icy sweat formed on her tall forehead, she heaved a large breath, ready to take her life. She must do it now, the door could not hold and would break in a matter of moments. With one last gasp, the elf bravely plunged the blade deep into her chest. For the first few moments, she could feel nothing and wondered if perhaps she had missed her mark or dropped the blade — but then a vicious sting sunk its harsh teeth into her heart. The she-elf gasped for air as gore splashed from her open mouth onto her pale face. The warm liquid gurgled quietly in her throat as she struggled for air. Slowly blood began to flow from the wound in her chest just before an echoing shriek pierced the air.
"Arabella!" came a howl as the stone door collapsed onto the ground with a clamor.
A handsome man burst into the room with terror filling every inch of his face — but he was too late.

noey3998	Latest page update: made by noey3998 , Jan 14 2009, 11:42 AM EST (about this update About This Update Edited by noey3998 906 words added view changes - complete history)
	Keyword tags: None More Info: links to this page