Story Saturday - Winter's Home

I probably should have posted this back in winter ... but it completely slipped my mind.

"Winter's Home" was for a cover contest. I was given a word and told to come up with a title that contained it, a story to fit the title, and an amazing cover to top it off. I entered the contest because the girl running it looked lonely. I was sure I wouldn't win.

Wouldn't ya know, I got third place. I think it mostly had to do with the fact that my word was "Home" and the way I used it was very much not the usual thing you think of when you hear that word. The only reason it occurred to me was the fact that I wanted to use one of my own pictures - and a surprising number of my pictures were of snow-laden trees ... Apparently, I like taking pictures of snow ...

Hey! I have an excuse - we don't get snow very often where I live, so when we do, it's a big deal!

Anyways, I'll show you the award-winning cover, and then you can read the story. "Winter's Home" may or may not worm it's way into Jessica's Summer. I'll have to see.

Winter's Home

Spring's home is  a flowery pavilion. Butterflies flit here and there.

Summer's home is on the beach, with sand, sun, and fun!

Autumn's home is in the forest, where she can always have food to gather to protect against want.

But Winter is cold. She has no home. She has an icy fortress to which she'll retreat, but it is not a home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winter stalked up and down the halls of her fortress. It was Summer beyond her domains, and her power was at its weakest. She was always the most restless at this time. Finally, she got tired of inactivity.

She had her sleigh readied, then got in and took the reigns.

It took only a few minutes for her to reach the edge of her territory. Good ... good ... the snow wasn't melting. Still ...

She got out of the sleigh and surveyed the area on foot. There was something off here ... something that didn't belong here. She wrinkled her nose as she pulled back an evergreen branch. Evergreens were such nuisances, being so colorful and all. Yet, she put up with them ... 

Then she let out an annoyed growl.

There, laying on the ground was a small child, a girl, maybe three years old. Such was not an unusual thing during her own reign. During her own reign, the portals to her land were open. People, especially children, wandered here frequently.

It was no matter, however. Winter bent over to kiss the child, a kiss that would pour her cold into the miserable creature, and end its miserable life.

Yet something stopped her. She held back. What was the child doing in her lands?

For some time she just stood there, eyes fixed on the child. If she had been Spring, Summer, or even Autumn, she would have taken the child in, and made attempts at returning the child to its parents.

But she was Winter. Cold-hearted. Cruel.

Yet ...

She bent over and scooped the child up. She almost balked when she felt its wamth. The child was nearly blue, yet was still warm compared to Winter herself.

She carried the child over to the sleigh and climbed in. She would have to talk to her sisters about the child. For it to have wandered in during Summer's reign, that meant something was up.

Once in her fortress, she handed the child to one of her few warm-blooded servants. Even though Winter could stand cold - no, thrived on it -  those puny humans, especially children, could not. She handed the child to her servant ... and forgot about it. She had more pressing issues to attend to.

A few days later, a curious sound awakened her. Was that ... laughter? A child's laughter? Here? In her fortress?

Then she remembered the child she had rescued. Frowning, she went to investigate.

She discovered the child playing in the snow. Playing ... and laughing.

The faintest smile touched the corners of Winter's mouth. The edges of her frozen heart melted ever so slightly. The child could stay, she decided.

And that was how Winter's fortress became Winter's home.

Story Saturday - The Purple Flower

I had been planning to share with ya'll my monthly snippets ... but I couldn't find the jump drive whereon Take and Ankulen are stashed on Thursday night (It's been found again, so don't panic!), and I went to go listen to the Isaacs last night (a lovely birthday surprise from Papa and Mimi), and didn't get home until almost midnight, so writing up a blog entry that would require that much brain juice was frankly beyond my levels.

So, instead, you'll get another of my Figment stories, this time, it's the Purple Flower. The Purple Flower was written for a title contest. I had four titles to choose from, and I could write any story I wanted as long as it was within the word limit.

The Purple Flower is what inspired my work-in-planning, RPS, and will probably end up being very similar to the opening of that book.

So, without further ado, enjoy!

A Purple Flower

The queen was in a state. How could her daughter, the lovely Princess Violet - who represented the ideal princess - have done this? She had dared not believe the reports that had filtered in, but now she had seen it with her own eyes. The King pased back and forth, worry etched into his face. How long had it been going on? How had it begun?

Princess Violet had always been the ideal princess. Her manners were always pristeen, her speech refined, and her intrests gentle. But then the rumors had begun. Rumors that had said that she had been seen alone in the woods at night - in trousers! climbing trees! wielding a sword! The King and Queen had been quick to dismis these reports as idle gossip. Surely it couldn't have been their daughter that had been seen.

But today! Today their Violet had walked right into the breakfast room wearing those horrid trousers! She had sat down uncerimoniously in her chair, and her words! No refinision to them! The King and Queen had said nothing about it over breakfast, but afterwords had asked their daughter the meaning of it. She had claimed that she was tired of dresses and manners. She confirmed the reports that had been filtering in.

Finally the court physician - the finest in the land - emerged from Princess Violet's chambers. 

"What is it!" the Queen exclaimed. "What is wrong with our daughter!"

The physician looked the King and Queen in the eye, but his expression told them that it was bad news before he began to speak. "Your daughter has RPS."

"RPS!" the Queen exclaimed. "What is that?"

"A foul disease called Rebellious Princess Syndrome," said the physician with a shake of his head. "It's serious, very serious indeed."

"Can she be cured?" the King demanded.

The physician shook his head. "There are no sure cures ... but it is said ..."

 "Go on!" prompted the King.

"It is said that the nectar from a certain purple flower can cure RPS," said the Physician. "But this flower grows only at the top of a treacherous mountain, and she would have to fetch it herself. It is not likely that she can be cured. I'm sorry." He bowed and left, leaving the King and Queen to their thoughts.

"Well," said the King. "Do you think we should attempt this cure?"

"Ah, but what if she should be killed?" cried the Queen. "We would never be able to live with ourselves." She heaved a sigh. "No, we shall just have to get used to her how she is. But how shall we ever get her married?"

 

Story Saturday - CinderEddy

One of my writing projects last month (and this moth too, but that's beside the point) was a short story called "CinderEddy."

"CinderEddy" was originally written for a short story contest on Figment, and since the contest had a 1,200 word limit, I wasn't able to expand it as much as I wanted. The point of the contest had been to write a classic story in a new genre. I chose to rewrite Cinderella as an adventure.

I'd been debating pulling this from my Figment account, since I'd been planning on publishing, but I've decided that, since I didn't end it the way I wanted (because of the word restraint) I can go ahead and share.

Oh, and those of you who recognize the cover art from my website and FB page, it's because it's one of my working cover arts for Sew, It's a Quest. Some day I'll share that picture, because I'm quite proud of it. The only problem it had was the fact that I made the title too small.

CinderEddy

"John! John! Guess what! Guess what!"

Edward glanced up from weeding the garden to see the elder of his two stepbrothers gallop up.

"Yes John, what is it?" asked the other stepbrother, James, who was overseeing Edward's weeding.

"The Princess Eileen has been kidnapped!"

"What!" Edward exclaimed, and was instantly given two glares.

"This is of no importance to you, CinderEddy," said John, then turned to James. "The Princess Eileen! Who would do such a thing!"

"I don't know," said James, "but I do know that her father has promised her hand in marriage to any young man who can find and rescue her!"

Instantly all thought of weeding the garden was forgotten. Edward was now ordered here and there, in a flurry of excitement to get his two stepbrothers ready to go. He wasn't going, of course. Why would CinderEddy even dream of doing something as glorious as riding off to rescue a princess? Instead he was ordered to polish his stepbrothers' armour, take his stepbrothers' swords to the blacksmith for sharpening, and saddle the two finest horses in the stables for his stepbrother's use. Oh and pack food. He daren't forget to pack food.

At long last the stepbrothers were ready to go and mounted on their horses. "Be good, CinderEddy," said James.

"Watch the house, don't let anything get stolen," added John. And with that, the two rode away, leaving Edward to cough in the dust.

Once he had finished coughing, Edward broke into a run back towards the house. Even while being bossed here and there by his stepbrothers, a plan had been forming in Edward's mind for how he himself could go and rescue the Princess. You see, his own father, Sir Reginald, had perished in the crusades. Now, while he had been a valiant and renowned knight, he had also been a poor one, so Edward's mother had had to remarry the rich Baron Geoffrey. The Baron Geoffrey had had something against Edward's father, and so treated Edward quite horribly. When Edward's mother had died, it had only gotten worse. Edward had been degraded to a mere servant, and made to sleep in the kitchen. Trying to sleep in the fireplace for warmth had only earned him the nickname of "CinderEddy." Even when Baron Geoffrey himself had died a year before, it had not gotten any better.

As soon as Edward was in the house, he headed for the attic, where he had found an old chest a few years before while dusting. In this chest had been some clothes, some medals from various famous cathedrals …

And Sir Reginald’s sword.

Since Sir Reginald was Edward’s father, Edward regarded this sword as his rightful property. He took nothing else from the room, or even from the house in general, save for a bit of food.

And then, whistling a merry tune, he headed off into the woods in search of the Princess’s kidnappers. Sure, he didn’t have a horse, but, hey, he had a sword. Besides, even if he didn’t succeed, at least he wouldn’t be under his stepbrothers’ thumbs anymore.

After a few days of travel, his feet hurt and he was out of food. He was just about ready to decide that this had been a bad idea when he encountered a bridge. What was remarkable about this bridge was that, as soon as he approached it, a short, but powerful-looking man appeared out of the woods and took his place beside the bridge.

“If you wish to go over my bridge,” he said, “You must solve my riddle.”

“Um,” said Edward, gulping, “I’m looking for Princess Eilleen …”

“And you’re headed in the right direction to find her. But you won’t find her unless you solve my riddle.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, now, do you plan to hear the riddle or not?”

“Um, riddle, yeah, let’s hear it.”

“What force and strength cannot get through,
I with a gentle touch can do;
While many in the streets would stand,
Were I not, as friend, at hand."

Edward was stumped. "Um ... how long do I have to answer the riddle?"

"However long it takes. No one else has answered it yet, they have all gone off and tried to rescue the Princess another way, or they have tried to use force to get past me. They've all met most horrible fates."

"Oh." Edward wandered off. Thinking over this riddle would be hard enough without the man's watchful gaze. What could get through where force and strength could not? If only he had some clue ... some key ...

Key!

He hurried back to the bridge where the short man was still waiting for him. "I think I've solved it!" he exclaimed.

"Really?" said the man with a yawn. "And what do you think the answer is?"

"Well," said Edward, "When you can't get through a locked door, you don't use force - you use a key! And if a person loses the key to his home, he's stuck out on the streets - so the answer is key!"

"That is the correct answer," said the man, nodding. "You may go past." He stepped out of the way, but as Edward was passing, he grabbed the young man's hand. Edward started to cry out, but the cry died on his lips as he found a small metal object pressed into his hand.

A key ...

"Take it, it may be of service to you."

And so Edward continued on his way. Thing was, he was still out of food, and his feet still hurt. Luckily, he found an old woman to stay with that night, who gave him some supper, and a small bit of food to take with him to continue his journey.

Soon he found himself in a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a tower. A tower with a thick door at the base, and a large lock. At the foot of the tower was a young man on a horse. Peering down out of the window at the top of the tower was a beautiful girl, so beautiful that, for a moment, Edward's heart forgot to beat.

"I'm sorry, but the old troll has the key," the girl was shouting down, in a music-like voice. "And there's no other way in."

The man got of his horse and tried to knock down the door with brute force, but, alas, it was a very strong door.

"Fear not, Fair Princess, I shall soon return!" the man declared, then remounted the horse and rode off.

The troll has the key ...

Timidly, Edward stepped out of the woods, and approached the tower. "Um, princess?"

"Yes? Do you wish to rescue me too? I'm sorry, but the troll has the key."

"Um, actually ... I think I've already gotten it from him."

"Did you? Well, then, hurry up and unlock the door! I'll be right down!" She disappeared from the window.

Edward quickly slid the key into the lock and it did, indeed, fit. When he opened the door, there stood the princess. She was even more beautiful close up ...

"You've won!" she said with a grin.

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Story Saturday - ROCKS

For those of ya'll who don't know (which is probably most of you) I have a Figment account: http://figment.com/users/238391-Kendra-E-Ardnek

I don't do much with it, having formed it mostly so that I could comment on a friend's story. I did, however, write a few short stories so that my page didn't look empty when people visited. (Almost all of which were for some small contests - one of which won third place)

My mom, however, says that I need to share the stories that I wrote on my blog as well ...

So I've decided to do ROCKS first.

ROCKS belongs within part one of HaV Achademy, and is a glimpse into the world. According to Figment, it takes about four minutes to read. Enjoy!

ROCKS

ROCKS walks through one of the passages in her vast underground fortress. Her latest schemes and plans run though her head. Tonight is the night. Tonight everything is perfect. At last she will show that sniveling Plant Master that he was no master at all. She pauses before her mirror to make sure that her appearance is flawless.

Good. Her black jumpsuit is perfectly smooth, although, of course, since it is made of solid metal, it would be hard for it to wrinkle. Her metal mask covers her face completely, revealing only her  nose, mouth, chin, and stone gray eyes. Her black curls tumble down her back perfectly. Even her nails are perfect, as she had covered them with the same metal that she made her jumpsuit out of, and the stuff was unchipable. Her feet are shod with shoes also made of this substance.

A malicious grin curls her mouth upward. Tonight is the night.

She touches the stone wall, and it opens into a tunnel before her. Without even pausing to suck in a deep breath, she steps into the tunnel. After walking a good ways, she finds herself at the end of the tunnel. She then claps her hands, and the stone slab beneath her begins to rise, like an elevator, and the ground above parts to allow her dramatic exit.

She emerges in the center of the town. Immediately voices begin screaming. ROCKS' eyes are trained for only one subject at this moment, however. She soon lands on the face of a young woman who stares back at her, frozen in fear. With a snap of ROCKS' fingers, a stone column shoots out of the slab on which ROCKS stands, and wraps itself around the woman's waist, then starts pulling her towards ROCKS against the woman's will.

"So," said ROCKS, "we meet again, Willow."

"Stop ROCKS!" cries another voice.

Calmly, ROCKS turns to see the Plant Master standing there. A smirk curls her lip, as she fights down rage at the sight of the hero's green jumpsuit and cape, at his ridiculous mask that barely covered his eyes. He has no dignity to him. However, such is typical of the heroes. It is the villains who get the elegance. "So, Plant Master," she says, in a voice calmer than she truly is, "you think you can stop me? Think again."

By now, the woman called Willow is standing with her on the slab of rock. ROCKS claps her hands, and the slab of rock beneath her begins to lower again. The ground closes over them just as a vine tried to grab at them. "Sorry," she then says, in a mocking whisper, "too late," although she knows he cannot hear.

She leads her prisoner to her dungeon, and deposits her there, then returns to her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I remove my mask and close my eyes, as the villainy in me is once more buried. I hate that I am a villain, and that it is my brother against whom I must fight. I sigh. But there is nothing I can do about it. One cannot rebel against the HaV Academy and their schemes.

I take a deep breath and go to the garden that my brother has placed within my lair. When our masks are off, we are completely civil to each other. Indeed, as far as anyone knows, we never fight ...

But that's because we have to fight when our masks are on.

Quietly I pick sufficient food for Willow, then head to the dungeon and place the food through the wall. I do not allow her to see my face.

Then I head back to my room and change completely into normal civilian clothing. I then make my way through the tunnel that leads to the small home that my brother and I share. By now he, too is back into his normal clothing.

"I wish we didn't have to do these sort of things," I tell my brother.

"I know," he replies. "I know."

We both enjoy our powers, mine over the inorganic, his over the organic. But we hate that we have to fight each other, that we cannot stand the sight of each other in our masks. We hate that I must be a villain.

But there is nothing for it. We must live our lives like this until we have been replaced, and, at this moment, replacement is a long ways away.