Notices: Argument. Plot outline. What's in a name?

Friday, October 27, 2006

A sample...

For anyone who's actually reading this (testing... testing... hellooo? is this thing on?) I'm going to stop the navel gazing for a moment and give you a decent sample to read. This is the current opening of the book. I'm in the midst of revising it so take with a jovian grain of salt.

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1.

“Why does the villain try to kill the hero, Fin?” Francis asked me. “I think it's because the hero rides a white horse and carries a red banner – the villain has to wear a black coat and eat children. That's just how the story goes. When the hero touches a star the villain touches a toad. Then, in the end, the hero sticks a sword in the villain's gut and kisses the princess. But maybe... Maybe, just once, the story would let the villain run that sword into the hero's heart. Take that darling princess for himself... And on that skinny hope he fights the hero. Am I right?”

Francis was a witch. I had first met her many years before when the magistrate hired her and a troll named Durge as the headmasters of my orphanage. I remember that day well.

The day our previous headmaster resigned (after we'd been caught stealing his prized bag of oranges) the magistrate had promised to “fix us for good”. I never dreamed that they'd go to such lengths. Still, my stomach thrilled at the possibility. No more fat old men with droopy eyes and dull low voices trying to “make us respectable” and quoting Bible verses at us. Here at last was a real challenge.

We never saw them arrive but one night a red light appeared in the windows of the headmaster's cottage. I sent Will to investigate and he returned twitching with the news he bore:

“I seen a troll, Boss Fin!” he cried “Ugly as The Devil and hu-uge! Didn't scare me though. An' I saw a fine lady with bloody-red lips wearin' ruffles on 'er arms! She smelled like roses. An' she talked to me from the window, Boss. I wasn't afraid. She asked after you, Boss. Said for you to come to the house, straight away.”

“I'd wait until morning” Peter told me. “Witches and trolls should not be trusted, 'specially at night.”

But I disregarded his advice. If an actual troll and witch were waiting for me in the cottage then I thought it best to have introductions right away.

As I made my way, I rehearsed the act I would present to my new headmasters. When the evening ended I wanted them to think two things: First, that I was a terrified idiot. Second, that they were in complete control of the orphanage.

The cottage was a thach-roofed little building that had flower boxes on each window filled with dead flowers. I made to knock on the door but found that it was ajar. I took a breath and stepped inside.

The only light in the room came from an assortment of candles arranged on a cupboard. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim and I stood in the doorway squinting like a fool.

I first saw the troll, slouching in the corner and I'll admit to a brief fright. He was an impressive figure with ugly scars gnawing at his skin. In spots it looked like he'd been axed as much as a tree trunk. He appeared to have lost his nose altogether. I vaguely noticed that he held a burlap sack in one hand but the sheer size of his hands drew the majority of my attention; they were almost twice the size of my face and looked like they could crush my skull easy as a grape.

"So this is the famous Phinneas!" came a cheerful voice, startling me.

Never in my life had a person's features inspired such drastic impressions in me. Even sitting in her chair, Francis was almost as tall as me. Her mouth was wide, sensual, and smiling so sweet that you could almost taste sugar. She had dark enormous eyes, almost like a cow. Her jaw was hard and sharp. She looked nothing like a woman – or rather she looked too much like a woman. Every inch of her was so fiercely beautiful and defined that the overall impression was inhuman. Just seeing her was the shock of viewing a monster and I had to keep from averting my eyes.

"Sit down, sit down," she said, placing her kitting aside and motioning to a chair.

I immediately knew she was bad. The troll was fair enough and I would've been fine with a green-skinned old hag covered in warts, but the witch was entirely wrong. Wrong, wrong and wrong.

She noticed my hesitation and giggled.

"Now, now, don't be afraid - I’m Francis the Good witch."

I quickly assumed my role of the idiot.

"H-he won't hurt me will he?" I stammered, widening my eyes and pointing at the troll.

“Oh poor boy,” Francis said, “Don't be afraid of Durge – he wouldn't harm a flea.”

I took my seat, never taking my eyes from the troll, trying to look as frightened as a baby.

“I like you, Miss Francis, but he looks mean.” I whispered in the most childish voice I could muster. I was only twelve and small for my age; my voice was still high enough to talk in simple, innocent tones without sounding ridiculous.

Francis squinted at me.

"I'm must say, Fin, I'm surprised. The magistrate couldn't warn us enough about you. Aren't you the reason that the previous five headmasters resigned? You seem to be such a sweet boy."

I merely bit my lip and stared at Durge. For effect, I tried to muster a few tears but had little success. I settled for a whimper.

“Do the children really call you 'Boss Fin'?” the witch said.

“What do you mean, Miss Francis Good-Witch?” I said, wagging my head in befuddlement.

Francis sighed. She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose then said: “Durge?”

Something hit the side of my face, nearly knocking me from my chair. I jumped to my feet swearing. I felt something wet slide down my neck and under my collar. I pawed at my cheek, pulled the thing off and found a smashed tomato in my hand.

“Is something the matter?” Francis asked.

I turned to the troll. He had opened the the burlap sack, which I now saw was full of tomatoes. As I watched he pulled another out and weighed it his palm.

“I think your troll hit me with a tomato, Miss Good Witch,” I said, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“Durge? Why he's fast asleep.” She giggled. “What an imagination you have! Now – back to our subject.”

She leaned towards me.
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Enough for now. Just posting it I'm seeing spots that I need to change.

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