Tag Archives: Magic

Day 6: 12 Days of Blogmas

Today is another special post. Taking a break from rules and tips of prompts to give you a winter-themed piece to chill your bones.

This is extra special post for the Spotted Writer because this piece is written by my best friend, Megan. She is working ruthlessly to finish her first novel, and on the road to completion there is always a time where parts of the unfinished product are shared. Sometimes it’s right after you’ve written a scene and sometimes it’s only when you’ve finished the first draft. I’ve convinced her that now is the time to share some of her glorious wordsmithing with us!

Now I know my minions, as in all things, you will read and be fair when it comes to shy writers or new writers or anything posted on this page.

This is the prologue to Megan’s fantasy work in progress. If magic and wonder and intrigue and drama and life and death and good and evil appeal to you, so will this. Without further pomp and circumstance, here is the prologue to Megan’s work in progress.

Prologue

Zavos stood out on the balcony of the Castle of Veratis, looking out over the crystal blue Glass Bay. The Bay was aptly named due to the treacherous icebergs and the water, so chillingly cold it felt like being cut with tiny shards of glass. The sky above was grey and thick with fog and small black birds could be seen diving in and out of it, occasionally sweeping down and gliding just over the Bay, wetting the bottom of their feathers. Zavos wore a thick blue robe with a grey shawl to keep warm as he gripped the railing, losing himself in the endlessness of the waters below. His salt and pepper hair tumbled down around his shoulders, scraggly and unkempt, locks of hair knotted into his beard.

Even untidy and growing older, you could tell by looking at his hooked nose and icy-grey eyes, he had been handsome once. He often came out to clear his head, he couldn’t help finding the beauty in something so dangerously calm. He twitched his fingers together, nervous about the calm in Azia, wondering if it would last or if it would only progress into a terrible storm of war. These things often occupied his mind, after living for four hundred and thirteen years you tend to see history repeat itself.

Maybe this time will be different, the Beks have been laid to rest, the boggarts have retreated underground but is it enough? Magic always seems to corrupt those not strong enough to wield it.

“Brother! Are you still out here? It’s freezing.” Arivan swept through the patio door out to the balcony with his typical exuberance, in a burgundy robe embroidered with gold swirling designs. He had thick, curly blonde hair, peppered with grey and a shorter beard that mixed red, blonde, and grey. He held a tiny white teacup, which was billowing steam and handed it to Zavos. Zavos accepted the cup graciously and gave thanks. He pushed his beard back and held the cup just below his chin for a moment, letting the steam warm it before raising the cup to his lips to take a careful sip, droplets of tea hugging the ends of his mustache.

“Thank you, brother.” Zavos acknowledged again gratefully.

“You’ve missed dinner…again. Alaya is growing concerned, caring for your Neri has been trying for her, he’s grown rebellious in his teenage years.”

“And you think teaching him magic is the answer? Do you think it’s helping in any way?”

“Oh, Zavos not this again. He has the gift, he is the son of a creator. We are the only two that remain in this world with this powerful of magic. He has to be taught, we will not live forever and he will be left to rule Azia.”

“What if I don’t want that for him?” Zavos snapped.

“Who else? The humans? The gifted ones can barely perform the most simple spells. The elves are too unfocused and self-absorbed. The keepers serve their purpose already, and don’t even get me started on the Octarians, those stubborn high elf bastards have been itching to rise to power since the dawn of Azia.”

“Well, what of Odrin? He holds great magic.”

“Odrin is a shell of what he was. You know Neri is the only option, why do you fight it so? Please tell me it’s not jealousy over his learning from me. I know for a fact he’d be thrilled if you taught him.”

“Jealousy? Don’t be foolish. No, magic corrupts, look what it’s done to you, you’ve become obsessed. You say I’m distracted? Where are you at night? Holed away in your library doing God knows what till all hours of the night and whispering secrets with Neri. I don’t want to watch the world we built burn down to ash and rubble.”

“You worry too much, brother. Magic is beautiful. Without it our world wouldn’t exist. Azia is as quiet as it’s ever been. Be content with that and come inside and see your family, soothe their worry. Magic is never going away, not as long as I have breath.”

Arivan threw his arm around Zavos, causing his tea to dribble down the cup and singe his finger. He led him inside and Zavos joined him reluctantly, glancing back longingly at the icy water.

****

Arivan began the climb up the spiral steps to the keep, that just about reached the clouds. He could just barely make out the lighthouse style tower up at the top. After reaching his third circle around, he reached his black painted wooden staff, with a ruby in the center of enclosed branches, up towards the sky and shut his eyes, envisioning the top of the steps until his body tickled with pricks of electricity. Every pore was on fire and every hair shook as he felt himself enveloped in a shroud of magic.

When he opened his eyes he was at the top of the winding stairs, standing beside a rickety old railing that when he looked over, saw nothing but a blur of green, brown, and blue, swirled together like a watercolor. The height made his belly flip flop a bit so he pulled himself away from the railing and faced the entrance to the keeper’s tower. He looked up at the great cobblestone structure that appeared to be on it’s last legs, arching to the right as if falling. Arivan felt the magic here, weaving into the air and keeping the building sturdy. He felt for the brass knob on the curved circular door and pulled it open.

When he stepped inside he was blown away, as he was on every occasion he had been to the tower, staring at the full shelves of books that lined each wall. The circular room had the tallest walls that seemed to lean slightly, and yet every book was in it’s proper place. Ladders lined every other group of shelves and inside was drafty and smelled of mildew and dust. he saw the keepers, in brown robes huddled around a circular table covered in giant books with a map spread across the center. Zavos was already there and was the first to look up and meet Arivan’s gaze. His eyes looked hollow, he was nothing but a shell of a man hunched over, his hair grayed and fingers trembling over the pages of a book he was holding. Arivan walked in confidently towards his brother, pushing back the curly blond locks from his face.

“Hello brother, you haven’t aged a day, still playing your magic tricks I see.” Zavos said.

Arivan tried to brush off the jab.

“I was quite sorry to hear about Alaya.”

Zavos winced at the mention of her name and Arivan reached out a hand to touch Zavos’ shoulder but he shrugged it away.

“I did notice you weren’t at the funeral.”

“I didn’t think I’d be welcome…I should have listened to you.”

“I don’t want to discuss this brother, let’s get to the matter at hand. We know why we’re here, the magic in Azia has corrupted you and everything here, just as I said it would.”

“Brother, you are grieving, it’s not so bad, sure there are a few violent uprisings, but it’s nothing that can’t be resolved. Magic is what created this place, OUR magic, surely that can’t be bad?”

“I disagree. You taught Neri dark magic against my wishes and now him and my wife are both gone. Everywhere I turn I see corruption and greed, it disgusts me and it’s time something was done.”

Arivan sighed and looked down from his brother’s cold gaze back to the table, taking a closer look at the maps which depicted what looked like a venn diagram. Two circles filled with land markings, mountains, and vast blue waters with an overlap in the middle. Zavos watched as Arivan studied the maps for a few minutes before speaking.

“Are we in agreement?”

“It doesn’t seem that I have much say in the matter, what if I don’t agree to aid in this plan?”

“Then I’ll be forced to strike you down.”

Arivan felt the sting of his brother’s biting remark and sadness swirled up in his stomach, making him nauseated. He tried to process the gravity of the decision before him but his head was clouded with emotion, he dropped his head and almost whispered

“Fine, I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

Arivan looked across at the keepers with a serious, but numb expression. “Let’s begin”.

Happy Reading/writing!

Be sure to check out the link to Megan’s blog, which has a few tidbits of her non-novel writing: https://foxyintronerd.wordpress.com/

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Mysterious Interlude

This next interlude was written during workshop this past January, and it actually precedes the first one  I posted in chronological order. I revised the scene to fit in between two chapters. The prompt that began this one was quite exciting. Janice Eidus, our mentor asked us to include animals into our writing and this is what my crazy little mind came up with. Hope you enjoy and as always comments are welcome. 

Happy reading /writing!

The chatter of bones pierced the comfortable silence of an English courtyard on a cool summer evening. Nestled in their velvet pouch, the bleached bones were thrown with force into a decorative wooden pan.

A woman dressed in white robes knelt before the altar constructed hastily on the cobblestone. She had to move quickly because if she spent too much time in the open, then she would be shunned by her conservative neighbors, who would accuse her of witchcraft.

Purple candles flickered as the wind picked up, threatening to extinguish her only light in the darkness. Various woodland animals were sacrificed to build the collection along with her own ancestor’s. A hen bobbed back and forth along one of the paths, and unaware of her impending sacrifice. The woman peered intently at the bones, reading the possibilities that lie ahead. She would give the small white-feathered chicken as an offering to the gatekeeper, for showing her the future.

She brushed the caramel braids behind her back, the warm hue clashing with the cool cinnamon of her skin. Incense and blood muddled the refreshing smell of that afternoon’s rain. The ritual concluded with the ceremonial prayer to her ancestors, which the priestess fervently chanted, pleased with the answers the spirits.

 

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Place is Everywhere, Captain Obvious!

As strange as it seems, place keeps coming back and slapping me in the face. “I’m everywhere,” it says. “Use me!” And so when I venture to the great Emerald Isle, I will embark on a writing journey completely focused…on place.

How can someone not write about this??

Located hundreds of miles from my tiny apartment is the brilliant city of Dublin where I will learn how the wonderful country of Ireland feels, smells, and sounds.  Place allows everything in a story to prosper if the writer lets it. Too often stories are set in a wonderful place, and the writer kills it before it can build a life of its own. It is in other stories that place becomes the center of the characters’ lives and without it the story falls a part. Ireland brings me an opportunity to experience the world as it was before cell phones, electricity, and even indoor plumbing.

It is the magic of the land that I hope to soak in and apply to my writing. A chance to breath in the history and the myth of the ancient world.  After starting the Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley, the mystical elements of the land seem into my sub-conscious and beg of me to search for faeries and leprechauns on my trip. I have a goal to wander the wilderness of Ireland in search for the Otherworld, but perhaps that will have to come in my dreams or my writing. Regardless, a trip to this magical place has inspired an idea of epic proportion, which I hope will blossom on my journey to Dublin.

Instead of forests and streams, my trip will be full of the Dublin nightlife, which will hopefully still hold the magic of Ireland!

What magical place have you always dreamed of traveling to and writing about? Share your thoughts here!

Happy reading and writing!!

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Childhood Throwback? Yes, please!

This is the world I was brought into and I love it!

My lovely friend from Facebook posted the following link that took me back to the awesome childhood I had. Lucky for me, I was born after the war/peace problems of the 70s, and the crazy days of the 80s. The 90s offered a cool relief for children with the rise of the greatest children’s movies Disney has ever created and toys that will confuse generations to come.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/10-things-90s-kids-will-have-to-explain-to-their-children/

The 90s were like a pool of great cartoons, fun toys, and not a care in the world. With the internet on the cusp of becoming the greatest thing in the world, kids in the 90s cared more about good entertainment than tweeting (just yet). The first item on the 90s list–Boy Meets World. Where else would the girl next door be named Topanga instead of Emily or Jenny? Only in the 90s could the leading lady of one of the best tv shows have the strangest name. It will live forever in hearts to see the weird girl use lipstick to paint a heart on her face in the legendary Mr. Feeney’s class.

I think his wardrobe came from Saved by the Bell

 

Next on the list is the Tamagotchi, the first experience at virtual pet ownership. This isn’t as difficult to handle for kids these days because they have DS Lights with pet games and Kinect Animals.

The most exciting aspect of the list is one Will Smith. Now we know he is a badass from years of movies, but he became the badass with Men in Black during the 90s. He showed us what he was made of and the public loved it. We still do and when Men in Black III comes out we will continue to love him in a way that our children will never understand.

These cartoons were da BOMB!

The rest of the list, Fern Gully, beanie babies, and Lisa Frank are all part of what made growing up the 90s fun! What we miss is the carefree nature of  living and the lack of paranoia between parents and children.

I watched Sailor Moon, Charmed, and the plethora of Disney movies that entertained me to no end. Pop music reigned supreme and everyone had slap bracelets. It was the funkiest, chillest time to be a kid. Back when tv was actually fun to watch, MTV still had music on it, and your toys still required your imagination.

Instead of playing Mobwars online, we were playing with Nerf guns and Supersoakers. It was a time where kids still loved playing outside more than sitting in front of the computer. Skip it, Slip N Slide, and yo-yos were the norm. What was even more powerful were dolls and action figures. Polly Pockets, Power Rangers, Transformers, and Hungry Hungry Hippos entertained us for ours. Easy Bake Ovens taught girls how to bake and Pokemon/ Magic taught boys how to trade. The world of the 90s where imagination was not stunted by high quality graphics and realistic virtual reality in games.

This the lack of paranoia I'm talking about

 

 

I loved the 90s and without knowing the other decades, I say it’s the best for kids to have lived in. Share your favorite part of the 90s!

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