Monday, October 24, 2016

NaNoWriMo Teaser

It's almost time for #NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month! I've got their new notebook, which you can see in the picture above. :)

In anticipation of my project, I thought I'd post a little teaser from 'A Godling for Your Thoughts?', my upcoming NaNoWriMo project. 'A Godling for Your Thoughts?' is the sequel to 'The Hand and the Eye of the Tower' and 'Stealing Myself From Shadows'. ('Stealing Myself From Shadows' was last year's NaNoWriMo project, which is undergoing revision. 'The Hand and the Eye of the Tower' is a novel, which is finished, yet under revision. I really need a National Novel Revisions Month! :))

“A godling for your thoughts?” The question was a low tease, as the man pulled the tiny icon out from behind the boy’s ear. It was a trick, an illusion. Nothing, but a coin laid in the man’s hand. The boy still giggled at the sight of it.

The man smiled, seeming to bask in the boy’s laughter. His multicolored eyes, however, were troubled. “Seriously, Leiwell, what’s the matter?”

“Seriously?” The boy looked up at the sunlight shining through the trees overhead, down at the mossy log he was sitting on, before they settled upon the man, standing over him. “My thoughts don’t matter.”

“If that were true, this place wouldn’t exist.” The man nodded at their surroundings. Trees surrounded the man and the boy, as the breeze tickled and whispered in their ears. “I wouldn’t exist.”

The shadows gathered around the man, but they weren’t threatening. If anything, they emphasized the beauty of his face. 

“I miss this.” The boy sighed, as he drank in the sight of his lord within his domain. “I never wanted to be a part of the real world. It’s a harsh, ugly place, filled with hatred.”

Noises were being carried on the wind. The noise of people moving, talking, of a hammer striking wood. Houses were being built, as a village was being reborn. All the things that were taking place back in the real world. 

“Do you remember when I showed you the world?” The man sat down on the log, beside the boy. “You were wide eyed with wonder at the time.”

“As my brothers are, now.” Leiwell shuddered. “I don’t want them to lose that wonder.”

“And what about you?” The man’s hand reached out for the boy’s. “Where is your wonder, now, Leiwell? Or are you simply afraid?” He leaned a little closer. As always, his presence had a weight and comfort, but Leiwell shivered. It was dangerous. It had always been dangerous.

“Are you afraid of the villagers?” the man whispered in his ear. “Or me?”

“Both,” Leiwell admitted. The shudder ran through his body, threatening to wake him up. For Leiwell knew he was dreaming. There were things he could only admit in a dream. “I don’t know who these people are, but they’re building their homes next to mine.” He turned to face his lord, to look him squarely in the eye. “I don’t know who you are, either.”

“Allow me to offer you a gift, in exchange for your truth,” the lord said. His lips gently brushed Leiwell’s ear. There was a slight weight in Leiwell’s hand, of something small, cool, and hard. “My name is…”

“…Dyvian,” Leiwell gasped, as he woke up, feeling blankets around him. He was sitting in his new bed, the one his mother had build for him. Ashleigh was proving to be surprisingly handy at carpentry. A nook of the living room had become his bedroom. It was directly below the trap door, leading to his brothers’ attic.

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