Teaser Tuesday!

Thank you for all your well wishes yesterday :). I feel sooooo much better today, and I think it was partially due to cool internet friends making me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Now, since I've been doing the crazy revising, I realize it's been a while since I did a proper Teaser Tuesday! Without further ado, here is a short bit from my work in progress, LEGACY OF THE EMPRESS.

Enjoy!
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The footprints led directly into the mouth of the cave. Brandok stood scratching his backside as he surveyed the cliff-face for any sign of life. He was certain the girl came this way. He would bet his life on it. Tracks in the ashes. Clear as day. The soil beneath his feet was charred as if a fire had scourged the land near the cliff. Lightning, maybe. Long ago. Brandok sniffed the air. Rain’s not far. He had to hurry.

He drew his knife from his belt as he entered, narrowing his eyes in the darkness. He groped for the back of the cave, but before he reached it he saw a faint glow coming from a tunnel. He grunted and raised his knife. Anyone could be waiting. Could be a trap, or could be a traveler seeking shelter. Could be a little girl… His lips curved into a smile. A gold tooth glinted coldly.

He moved further into the tunnel, the light growing with each step. He noticed the air becoming thick and warm around him as if he were walking into the lair of a dragon. His eye twitched at the idea. The old stories troubled him. He could almost hear the voice of his grandfather, harsh and wheezing; smell the tang of his breath as he beckoned him closer.

This is no time to think of the old stories, man. Those beasts are dead and gone along with the old Empire. Nothing remains now but bones and stories. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the darkness that hid him as he moved down the tunnel.

I’d rather face them dragons than Queen Leanore if I don’t find the girl. He ran a hand over his face, wiping the sweat away. He remembered the look in the captain’s eyes as he gave him his orders in the queen’s own hand. He looked drawn, haunted, as if he were seeing things behind the veil of the world even as he looked into the tracker’s eyes. He accidentally brushed the captain’s fingers as he took the parchment, and he watched the man jump as if stung as their flesh met. He left in a hurry from that place, eager to begin and end his mission.

I hope she struggles when I find her. He licked his lips. Hopefully the little poppet will be worth my while, as well as the queen’s.

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How are your works-in-progress going so far this week?

Any news or updates to share? :)

Teaser Tuesday: Writer's Block

Ah, the dreaded Writer's Block.

Killer of copy, Pirate of Prose, Destroyer of Dialogue, Stomper of Stories. It is infamous, and it walks among us.

Or does it?

I was thinking about Writer's Block today because I've been seeing more and more people talking about how to "cure" their own Block. I've always been of the opinion that if you believe in its existence, it will come out and get you, like if you say "Bloody Mary" three times in front of a mirror at midnight. Best to just leave it alone and pretend it's not real.

A while back while working on my WIP, I felt like I was getting the dreaded "Block," so I unstuck myself by writing a poem about it. I was amused by the irony, and was able to go on writing because of the exercise.

Do you believe in Writer's Block?

Is it fact, fiction, or creepy ghoststory? Does it affect your writing life? If so, do you have any Block Breakers or cures? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

This Teaser Tuesday, I'd like to share my Writer's Block poem with you guys. Enjoy!

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Writer’s Block


A canal cakes into ruin
Red dust scattering over broken walls.
The land aches to be filled again
To feel the caress of flowing life
Brought by the river’s hand.

The men forgot how to dig.
Time made them dull, their minds
Following the by and by of quiet living
Not used to work of this kind.
Their backs forgot how to bend.

Hands are smooth, calluses gone,
Forgotten in the land where no one
Lifts a hand to help his neighbor.
No one remembers his neighbor’s name,
The chore of friendship abandoned.

Their only hope, the words,
the melody of time and space,
the by and by of quiet living
turned glorious in the rapture
Of words,
crumbles, even now,
into crimson ruin.

Teaser Tuesday!

Hooray for Teaser Tuesday :D!

I always love reading these snippets on other writer's blogs, so here is your dose for today from LEGACY OF THE EMPRESS. Background: Astrid (our heroine) has just escaped her mother's castle after a decade of imprisonment. Aaaaaand, go!
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The servant boy fidgeted as he approached the door. As always the shadows writhed before it, making a shield of darkness blocking the doorway to the tower. He drew breath slowly, feeling the panic tightening in his chest. It’s okay, Tim. You can do this. The old man doesn’t have a problem with it, so I shouldn’t either. He ran a hand nervously over his face, feeling the sweat beading on his brow.

I shouldn’t have goaded him. If I’d only kept my big mouth shut, I’d be down in the stables where I belong. He thought of the horses; their musty smell, their soft snorting breath on his face, the feel of the hay under his feet as he moved through the stables. Why did I have to tease him for being afraid? Stupid, Tim, stupid. Bloody magics give me the creeps.

He edged toward the doorway, feeling the hair on his arms stand up as he approached the shadows. Setting down the food tray, he fumbled in his woolen breeches for the key the queen gave him. It was a small piece of paper. He unfolded it with shaking fingers and held it up facing the shadows. He didn’t look at what was written on it. I don’t want to know, he thought turning his eyes away. I don’t want anything to do with these bloody magics. Slowly, the shadows at the bottom of the door began to thin, swirling to each side, like water running off stone. A small sliding door appeared through the darkness. Tim swallowed, his tongue scraping like sandpaper in his rapidly drying mouth. He moved forward and reached a trembling hand through the gap to slide the door open.

The old man said she screams like an evil spirit when you open the sliding door. He said she can possess you if you’re not careful. Have to be careful… I can’t listen to what she says…

He pressed one hand over his left ear and pressed his right to his shoulder. Thank goodness no one can see me. I probably look a fool. Still, he thought. You can’t be too careful.

He bent down and slowly slid the tray through the doorway, flinching as it bumped and scraped over the stone floor. The tray made it an inch through before it hit against something and stopped. He felt his tunic clinging to him with perspiration as he bent down to peek through the doorway. Bile rose in his throat as he hunkered down. Don’t listen, don’t listen, don’t listen. Oh, Light, what have I gotten myself into? Peering through the gap, he saw another tray blocking the way, a bowl of congealing stew sitting on it untouched. It hadn’t moved since the old man left it there the night before.

She didn’t eat. Oh damn, oh, damn. He sat down outside the door, his hands still over his ears, trying to think. Is that okay? Oh, damn…

He looked at the tray and heard the old man’s instructions echoing in his mind. “Put the new tray in, take the empty tray, don’t look into the room, and don’t listen to her lies. She’s an enchantress. Dangerous, boy. Do you understand?” He shuddered, although the air in the hallway was stiflingly warm. What if this is a trap? What if she wants me to look so she can… do something to me? He stared at the doorway and suddenly felt that it was looking back at him, taking the measure of him, testing his nerve.

Tim licked his lips and stared back at the gaping hole in the darkness. He closed his eyes, steeling himself. With a shaking hand, he slammed the tray and the bowl of oat gruel through the door, jerking his arm back to the safety of the hallway. The corridor was filled with the sound of bare feet pounding the flagstones as he ran for the safety of the stables. The darkness swirled closed behind him, encasing the doorway once more.

The boy returned that evening bearing another tray; stew again. He’d been mentally kicking himself all day for his cowardice. I’m letting that old man’s superstitions get the best of me. What can the girl do to me after all? She’s the one locked away. Helpless, isn’t she? He looked down the corridor at the door before him. Then again, why would her Majesty have taken such precautions if she were helpless? Maybe she is as mad as they say, he thought, biting his lip. Oh, there I go again, like a fool.

He approached the door, the stew slopping onto the tray as his hands shook. He held up the paper, showed it to the door, and watched with mounting tension as the darkness pulled slowly away. Can she hear me breathing? Can she sense that I’m afraid?

He moved forward and slowly slid the tray in through the space in the door. It bumped against something with a metallic clang. I can’t believe this. Why now, Princess? What are you doing? He felt his hands becoming moist and wiped them on his tunic. He bent down slowly, breathing heavily, and peered through the door into the forbidden space beyond. Two trays sat in the doorway with two bowls untouched.

The queen will kill me if something has happened to her. Oh, damn it all…

Working up his courage, he got down on his knees and slowly, ever so slowly, put his face down between the swirling shadows to peer into the tower room. Please don’t let there be a body. Tim scanned the room, his eyes lighting over the shelves of dusty books, the rumpled bed by the window, the chamber pot. The room was utterly still, except for a few flies flown up from the gardens to examine the remains of the stew. There was no body, no hand reaching for his throat, no screaming voice full of treachery and lies. No princess beyond the door.
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I hope you enjoyed that sneak peak.

What are you guys working on right now? I'd love to know!

Teaser Tuesday: the beginning of my new WIP

Hi, guys!

I'm nervous, because this is from my rough draft, but here is the opening I have so far for my new manuscript, Hollow Land. It's a post-apocalyptic fantasy/soft scifi (not sure which yet). I'd love to hear what you guys think. Enjoy!

HOLLOW LAND:

In the beginning were the giants; corporations so large they grew until they thought they could touch the sun. We knew them by their moldy letterhead, blowing through empty rows in abandoned office buildings. We knew them by their burned out signs groaning as they swung in the wind. We knew them by the newspapers we found in the darkness of the underground, untouched by time. Nemue City sleeps, but it doesn’t forget. Someone has to be responsible.

My parents said it started almost 80 years ago. Our grandmothers and grandfathers started it with hope for protecting the city, the country, our little piece of the world. Nothing terrifies your enemies like disease—a weapon they cannot shield against until it is too late. The carriers they produced, the mutated rats, pigeons, and roaches chewed through their cages and clawed their way to freedom through a wall of their creators. That’s when Nemue began to die, but not everything was wiped out.

This is the beginning, but it is by no means the end. Perhaps, to give you an idea of what you’re up against, what waits for you, I should start at the beginning of my own story. Then you can decide for yourselves what choices you will make.

Teaser Tuesday!

Well, since everyone else has a Teaser Tuesday, I thought it was time I went for it. After all, who doesn't love a good bandwagon? Am I right? ;)

So, without further ado, here is a sample from Legacy of the Empress. Enjoy!

The nightmares had been coming more and more frequently since the moon's turn, each more vivid than the last. Astrid's hair was sticky with sweat when she put a hand to her brow. Images of a torn silk dress lingered on the edge of her mind as she smoothed the sheets down over her linen shift. She shook her head, the last remnants of the dream, whatever it was, leaving as quickly as they came. I've stayed too long. Tomorrow I will finally be free. Sleep did not find her again.

The morning started the same way all Astrid's days started since her father died. The wards outside the tower door thrummed as the servant bringing her food approached. A pocket opened in the darkness before the door and allowed the castle servant access to the rectangular sliding panel, just large enough for a tray to be passed through. Her eyes were bright as she watched the trembling hand pass the food through and then snatch itself back to the safety of the hallway.

"I suppose Mother told you all I was mad ages ago," she said to no one in particular. Anything so they would fear opening the door for me. Astrid turned her head away.

After the servant scurried off, she listened at the door to make sure no one was near, then pried up the loose stone in the floor. She carefully removed the book and the lock of hair beneath it and spent the rest of the afternoon reading and pacing her tower room.

That night was different from all the rest. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation, as if the stars themselves were waiting for something to happen. Astrid felt the hair on her arms stand up as she opened the book on her lap. Her hands ran down the ancient leather binding and then over the first page, and she rejoiced in the familiar warmth beneath her fingers. My old friend. The side of her mouth curled up in a smile. At first the pages remained blank, but then slowly, as she stroked them, letters began to form, drawn up through the page by her touch. Here we go…

All of her hope lay in this moment. She'd found the book hidden under one of the stones of the tower's floor in the first year of her imprisonment. I toyed with the idea of prying up the floor one stone at a time, finally dropping down to the stairway below and making my escape through the castle. She smiled grimly at the thought. I was a child then, and anything seemed possible. Prying up the stones with the handle of her spoon, she discovered a secret cache. In the hole lay a small bit of silk, a lock of yellow hair, and the book.

I remember the first night I held it in my hands; it was as if a voice was whispering in my mind. She was only nine years old at the time but was already a voracious reader. As the princess of this kingdom of Taleria, she had studied with the best tutors gold could buy. Fascinated by history and the lives of the previous kings and queens, she would stay up long nights with her father, talking about the older days when magic had been more prevalent. In those days, he told her, the True Magic had been an art many admired and sought after. He once even hinted that his own mother had studied the magics before she died.

“Your mother would be very angry if she knew we were talking about this, you know,” he’d warned her. “She doesn’t want us to have anything to do with the magics. She thinks all this is just superstition for the folk in the cities. You would have loved my mother, though. An extraordinary woman. You could almost feel the magic coming off her sometimes,” he touched her chin, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “When I was a lad, she told me that the magics were what kept this kingdom beautiful, what kept the darkness from closing in. She used to set wards up around us at night, keeping the castle hedged in by a cage of light. It was as if she wove a pattern in the sky. It was breathtaking.”

Astrid had looked at the stars and wondered what kinds of patterns she could weave, if only she knew the way.

The stars. Astrid began to speak gently, almost inaudibly, and the stars outside the tower window began to flicker, slowly at first, then faster and faster until the night sky shimmered. She stopped, taken aback. Slowly, she began again, eyes fastened on the night sky. As she watched, small lines seemed to draw themselves out, connecting the shining bodies, knitting them together into a net of pure light. A voice inside her cried out in shock. It is working!

I hope you guys enjoyed this bit of my book :).

Thanks for sharing all of your awesome teasers with me, and have a great night!