"Draw your chair up close to the edge of the precipice and I'll tell you a story." ~F. Scott Fitzgerald

20 August 2013

sneak peek!

So, it's been almost 2 months since I wrote anything on here. I have all the usual excuses--life has been crazy, never any time, too busy--but none of them really matter. So, I'll beg your forgiveness and give you something I mentioned the other day on my facebook page: a sneak preview of what's coming next!

THE PROPHECY has done better than I ever would have imagined. Not that its sales have been off the chart or anything, but to be honest I'm just honored that people are choosing to spend their hard-earned money on something I wrote! Some would think that I would be content now, glad I got that whole "writing bug" thing taken care of, but I'm actually the exact opposite. All I want to do is write more, partly because writing keeps me sane but also because I want to put something better out there.

Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of what I've written. At the same time, though, I look back at it and have to cringe a little bit every once in a while. Like, I imagine, all first novels, it's a bit rough in places. I'm anxious to write and put something else out there because I know I can do better. Please don't take that the wrong way, because I really don't mean to sound as conceited as that last sentence came out. Like everything, though, good writing takes practice. Now that I've gotten a little more practiced, I'm excited to try again!

So, now that all that stuff's out of the way, here's a peak into Roedel's world and the story I'm working on right now...

"Long ago, a new presence came to Paideia. No one knew where it came from or why it came, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that this new presence was bent on nothing but destruction, and it came in a form no one could stop.

They were called the Feron, a name which quickly had the ability to drive even the bravest to tears and desperation. The Feron were ruthless, cutting down anyting in their path. There was no common decency to be found among any in their ranks, no honor in their actions. When they razed a town, no one was spared. Their arrows flew true, and it is said that if you were unlucky enough to escape the pierce of their arrows, a worse fate awaited you should you fall into their hands.

A single touch brought agony so intense it left the victims begging for the mercy of death. That was a request always granted, though never for mercy's sake. Those who died at the hands of the Feron died quickly, but their deaths were far from simple. From the look of fear frozen permanently on their faces, the pure agony in which they died evident in the expression frozen there at the moment of death, all those who saw the victims of the Feron could do nothing more than pray their own death would come from the merciful hail of arrows.

There would be no warning of an attack before it occurred. The number of scouts sent out or sentries posted was inconsequential, for the Feron appeared out of thin air, seemingly formed from nothing more than the dust in the breeze. They were ghostly beings, tall and transparent. They carried weapons which appeared as ghostly as themselves, yet they became anything but ghostly as they passed through flesh.

Though many fought valiantly against them, the battle was futile. No weapon raised against the Feron could prosper. Arrows soared through their incorporeal forms to fall harmlessly to the ground. Knives and swords passed through them as easily as if they were passing through smoke, and the Feron never reacted to a single blow. Entire towns were burned to the ground without even a scrap of food left behind, for the Feron needed no sustenance to maintain their army.

They moved south across Paideia, a horde of pure evil swarming across the land. All the peoples of the land fled in terror, unable to do anything else.

Then one day, they vanished.

There one moment and gone the next, the Feron vanished as if they had never been anything more than a nightmare. Their ghostly weapons and ghostly forms melted back into the wind. The only evidence of their existence was found in the razed towns and the stories of the dead, those whose agony haunted the dreams and tales of every people of Paideia.

But the peoples of our land are strong. They picked up, carried on, and moved forward, knowing that one day the Feron would once again form out of the mists.

Now," Roedel said, his voice low and his hand turning the smooth stone in his pocket, "the Feron have returned. Once again they swarm across the land, appearing without warning. Their weapons wound grievously, but they themselves feel no strike and fear no archer."

"And all that stands between this unnatural army and the total destruction of Paideia and her children," Beryl spoke up, "is a group of misfits..."

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