This is the first chapter of my novel. Also see nested pages for my query letter. I’ll have my novel’s backstories soon. Thanks!!
The Prince’s Secret
You broke your vows, oh son of the morning star. Your eyes desired what you could not have and your hands stole what was not yours. Poisonous words seeped from your lips. You would make yourself like the Most High and your throne would rise above the heavens. We would be your servant and you would be Our god. So We cast you from Our sight and threw you into the very pits of hell.
-The Book of Ueje, The Words of the Attiyq.
Hidden secrets betray us and become our masters – King Broden, first King of Ezasu.
Chapter One
Imogene Katherine Beazley celebrated her sixteenth birthday by shoving an ant covered Twinkie wrapper into a trash bag. Most girls spend their sixteenth birthday in large halls with bands and dancing and cute guys. And how did she spend her birthday? With a happy little party known as Community Service. She frowned as she stabbed at a paper cup with her stick and dropped it into the bag. The brown haired judge had stared down at her from atop his tall desk, giving her the ‘be good’ lecture. But the ‘be good’ lecture wouldn’t stop the bullies from teasing her at school. He had no words for them, only a stern lecture for her. Aunt Laurie said she should be thankful the judge didn’t send her to Juvenile Hall. She was thankful, but what a crummy way to spend a sixteenth birthday. This wasn’t what Mamma had wanted for her.
A shadow eased over the lawn, cooling her sweating brow. She pushed back her curly hair from her eyes and glanced up. Clouds floated overhead. One looked like a dog, the other possibly a rabbit. It had been years since she and Mamma lay on the grass in the backyard watching the clouds. Mamma ran off to New York a few years ago with a crazy dream of being something big with photographers following after her, begging for her picture. She doubted Mamma would be proud, seeing how her only daughter entered womanhood by picking up trash.
Giggling drifted in the air behind her. She rolled her eyes. They were back. Blondie and her Red Lipstick Posse, the darlings of the Community Group. And Ronny, the twenty-something site supervisor’s latest love interest. One of the Lipstick Posse tossed a paper plate in front of Imogene. “Hey Convict, you missed one,” Blondie said.
The other girls burst into laughter. Stupid jerks. Just because she didn’t have the required size C chest or the curvy figure or the long flowing hair didn’t give them the right to pick on her.
“Hey, what’s going on over there?” called Ronny , his voice blaring across the park. He glared at her and crossed his skinny arms over his chest. The guy actually thought he was something because Blondie gave him what he wanted. Too bad he didn’t see past his own skinny physic and pimply face. “Beasley, are you starting trouble again?”
“No,” she said, wincing. The Posse giggled again.
“She is, Ronny,” Blondie said, glancing at her girls. “She’s calling us names again.”
“I swear, Beasley, you keep this up and I’ll have no problem telling the judge,” he said, uncrossing his arm. He smiled smugly at his fans.
She made a face at Blondie and her tribe, then stabbed Blondie’s plate. The point penetrated the paper and dug into the ground, then she dropped it into the black bag. Turning her back on Blondie and King Ronny, she made her way to the other end of the park. The clouds had moved off as if bored with the scene. Too bad she couldn’t join them. They could carry her off to New York and away from here.
A white light flashed from a nearby bush. Again the flash beckoned her. She followed the lights to the shrub and pushed the branches aside. A tarnished gold medallion the size of a small jar lid sat in the shrub, its gold chain tangled in the branches. Strange writings ran along the medallion’s edge. On top of the writing was a band of gold, then more writings. A purple stone sat in the middle of the medallion. It had to be worth something. Maybe Marv at the pawn shop would give her some cash for it; add it to her New York Stash. She still didn’t have enough money to run away to Mamma’s.
She reached into the bush and grabbed the medallion. A fiery heat raced from her fingertips and down her arm, engulfing her body. She screamed and tried to pull free, but the chain wrapped around her arm and jerked her down into the bush. The park disappeared and she tumbled though the shrub, drawing her into a black pit where she was unable to stop like the paper plate falling into the trash bag. Her fingers reached for something to stop her fall, but nothing was there. A pin of light emerged below her. The small dot grew larger and larger like a spotlight until she finally landed with a hard thump on the ground, knocking the air from her lungs.
She laid on the ground, gasping. Slowly she opened her eyes, expecting to see Blondie standing over her laughing. Instead, large trees loomed overhead and bugs buzzed above her. She blinked twice. Those trees weren’t here before she fell. She sat up and rubbed her wrist. Something grabbed her and pulled her into the bush. An animal wouldn’t have that kind of strength. Blondie and her crew must have hit her over her head and pushed her into the bush. But where did the trees come from?
“Get up!”
She held her hand over her eyes, trying to block the bright sunlight.
“I said, get up!” A strong grip yanked at her arm and dragged her to her feet. “Are you deaf?” The rough voice ripped at her eardrums.
“I’m sorry, I must have passed out,” Imogene said, shaking the cobwebs from her mind, “Ouch! My hand, it hurts.” She shook her hand, then stared at her palm. It was bright red like from a burn. She turned to Ronny. “Sorry, I’ll get back to . . . ”
Her mouth dropped open. Instead of facing skinny Ronny with the pimply face, she stood before a man with a barreled chest. Her eyes rose to his thick neck and razor stubble face. She stepped back. The wind whipped at his black shirt with sweat stains around the armpits and his thick legs filled his black pants. Red mud covered his knee high boots.
She dragged her gaze from him and searched for Ronny. Where was Blondie? The park? Everything had changed. The trees and grass and the swings and the children had vanished. Instead of a manicured park, a deep tangled forest surrounded her. She turned back to the stranger in black.
Another man strolled from the thick underbrush and joined them. He was shorter than his companion and wore the same black clothing, but had thick leather covering his forearms. A sword jingled at his side. “What have you got, Ruarc?”
Ruarc snickered. “Target practice. I will allow you go first, Toal.”
She shook her head. If she could just remember. There was the medallion, then darkness, then here. He must have hit her over the head and brought her to the forest. But what forest?
“But she is so small, not worth my effort. Perhaps she could be our dinner for tonight?” said Toal.
They laughed and crowded around her. A stench of unwashed bodies made her wrinkle her nose, forcing her to turn away. “Please, I want to see my supervisor, Ronny!”
“Oh, Ronny?” Ruarc asked. He grasped the hilt of his sword. When did people start carrying swords? “We fed him to the Jaba-Nott.”
“The Jaba-what?” she asked, staring from one man to the other.
The two men howled with laughter. Ruarc grabbed her by the collar and brought her close to his face. His front lower teeth were missing and his breath smelled sour like milk spoiling in his mouth. She turned her head away. “You will soon long to join him!” he said.
“What are you doing? Let me go! This isn’t funny anymore!” She clawed at his thick fingers.
He grabbed her arm. “Sorry, my little Chuoha,” he whispered in her ear, “but we’re going to your new home.”
She stomped her heel on his foot, but he only laughed. His fingers tightened on her bicep, making her fingers tingle.
“Let me go, you jerk! I haven’t done anything!” she said, trying to wiggle from his strong grip. This is how girls get their throats slashed. A freak grabs them and they’re never seen again.
Ruarc chuckled and dragged her towards a path. I will return, brother,” he said.
“Avoid the little vermin’s bite,” he answered, laughing.
The forest grew denser as he dragged her down the path. Hawks soared overhead and small fury animals scurried in the ferns. Something snapped under her foot. She looked down. It was a skeleton hand. He had killed someone and chopped up their body.
“Let me go,” she screamed. She kicked his leg and tried to pull away. He growled and yanked her arm.
Her shoes tangled on a root and she fell into the dirt, slipping from his grip. He reached for her, but she shoved his hand away and jumped to her feet. He grabbed her hair, pulling her back. A cold blade rested on her throat. “Do not try that again, Chuoha, or your throat will taste my blade.” The skeleton hand lay under foot and more parts were scattered through the woods. This place must be a grave yard. Do as he says, and maybe you’ll live, her mind whispered. Be cool, be good. He shoved her down the path.
A clearing came into view and in the center sat a large grey stoned building. Men walked on top of a huge wooden fence that surrounded the compound. People stood on guard towers. What was this place? A prison, a freak camp? A stench like spoiled meat hung in the air, taking away her breath. How did I go from Blondie and her posse to a freak prison in the woods?
Her gaze lowered to the path. A man with three arrows protruding from his bloated chest laid on the path ahead of them. She stopped. His stiff head stared into the sky, his mouth open as if to scream. More parts, more bodies. How many were dead? Ruarc jerked at her arm, pulling her forward. Crows sat on the branches above them and scolded them “I don’t want to stay here,” Imogene said, shaking her head. “Please, just let me go.”
Ruarc stepped over the dead man and yanked her over the corpse, making her stumble over him. The end tip of an arrow snagged her pant leg. There was a slight tug, before it released her. The forest spun before her and vomit rumbled in her stomach.
A man bent over the top of the barricade and waved. “You seem to have caught a bird, Ruarc.” Other men, dressed like Ruarc, watched them from the platforms, some leaning against the wooden railing. A couple of them pointed at her, while others laughed like this was some sick game.
Ruarc returned the wave. “The Little Bird is very small, but feisty.”
This is what happens to kids who are kidnapped. They’re taken for porno stuff. You have to get away. She jabbed her kidnapper in the ribs with her elbow. His grip loosened and she pulled her arm free. Her rubbery legs pumped, propelling her towards the woods. Please God, her mind begged.
Ruarc cursed. His feet pounded the ground behind her. A large rough hand grabbed her shoulder and whirled her around, then punched her in the stomach. Her legs dropped her to the ground and she gagged, struggling for her breath. He hauled her back to her feet and dragged her back to the compound. The men on top of the fence howled with laughter.
The man chuckled. “The Little Bird has a nasty beak. Be careful, Ruarc, she might eat you.”
A guard opened the gate and reached for her. Ruarc slapped his hand away. “The little one is mine,” Ruarc said. “I will escort her to her cell.”
He hurled her into the compound. She tumbled to the ground, knocking the breath from her lungs. Dirt flew in her mouth; she spit it out. Long fingers dug into her scalp and jerked her to her feet. He yanked strands of hair from her head, making her scream. Why was he doing this? Get away, get away, get away, her mind chanted.
“You will not mock me again,” Ruarc growled. “You will beg for my sword by tomorrow’s sunset.”
Tears blurred her vision and dripped down her face. Questions tumbled before her and slipped through her fingers, falling lifeless into the ground. She was dead, that was the reply that lay at her feet. Because she had been stupid and broke the law, God had sent her to hell.
“I don’t want to stay in Hell,” she whimpered.
“Too late, Chuoha.”
This page has the following sub pages.
This is amazing! I really love it! Please notify me when the book comes out.
P.S.
How in the world did you manage to get tabs up? I can’t figure it out.
I don’t know how to do it on Blogspot, but on WordPress.com, you go to dashboard, and the pages is on the upper left side. This is why I LOOVE WordPress as opposed to Blogspot. I had blogspot, but it didn’t do what I had wanted it to do. WordPress does everything but clean the dishes and clean the litter box. Now if the admin here could do that with wordpress, then I’d be thrilled. My publishing coach, Diane Eble, said this is my website and it is.