Lachelle Redd's Blog

As a writer, I have learned many lessons about the art of putting together a tale that excites the reader and brings them back for more. Nothing could have prepared me more than the negative feedback on how the passive voice was too much or the pronouns were too confusing. Now that I feel that I have gotten the hang of that part, there is a new anxiety, entering contests and other anthologies.

Now, I am going to make the excuse that I don't have time to write my book and do additional writing for others. I have a good friend that does both and is extremely gifted and pouring her talent into as many projects as she can squeeze into a 24 hour day. As for me, after the grind at work and then coming home to children, it is difficult to hammer out 1000 words or even 500 for that matter. So what is my solution?

I write a little bit at a time throughout the day. Whether it is on my break at work, maybe an idea on my phone, or at the end of the work day. I email myself the snippets and put them together when I get home. This is not the finished product. The story will need tweaking once all the parts
and pieces are put together. I have found this works for me also when I am writing a story with time jumps. I won't have to focus on one specific idea. If there is a character that has me stumped, I can go to another place in the story and add some background which can help development the initial character.

So there you are. For those of you who say you don't have the time or there is too much going on or even that you just can't do it. Yes you can. Give it a try.

Fated by Chance: Landry is a true romance story for the genuine romance reader. Its author's heart and soul are felt on every page as Landry's world is revealed.

I had the pleasure of speaking with the author about herself and her talent and this is what she had to say.

       

1.  What inspired you to write the story?

I love romance out of any other stories there can be. You want to see how two people are brought together. How are they different? How are they alike? How does their life change once they fall in love with someone they never expected to be their match? Or do they stay the same? Most couples believe that they met their true love through fate. So with that idea, I started writing “Fated by Chance: Landry.” When they are brought together unexpectedly, they don’t know why. They both believe they are too different from each other from the start. However, when they meet again, something within them changes. This is the story about Landry and Kian, a couple who have dated since college. Despite their differences, they have stayed together until their relationship begins to fall apart.I thought since they have been together that long, the story should be told from the past to present. The past details what they went through together in college. The present shows how much they are struggling to stay together. This series presents flashbacks of a couple from then to now. While they are barely hanging on, there is another plot happening. This plot involves the couple which could put both of them in potential danger.

In this series, the books give a vivid description how fate changes a relationship completely. Whether the couple is struggling or not, the couple is struggling or not, fate becomes the driving force behind their relationship. Ultimately, it is up to the couple to move forward or hesitate. Through the series, the story gives the reader a strong picture fate cannot be avoided. Sometimes, fate can bring a good result as well as a bad one. No matter what happens, we have a better understanding of what we need to do. Even if we are reluctant to, we are strengthened for the best. So does the purpose for our lives.




2. What are your hobbies?

Other than writing, I love to read. I’ve been reading since I was four years old. I have my Appa (father) to thank for that. I also like to watch movies since both reading and movies can give me ideas for new stories.

3. How many books are in this series?

This is a two book series, “Fated by Chances: Denae,”is also written. The release date is still unknown at this time. I don’t know if I’ll be writing another series later on but then, anything is possible.
Passage from Fated by Chance Series: Landry

All Landry could do was desperately hope neither one of them would turn out to be seriously injured. Just when Landry thought, she did not have anything left for her to turn to. That very moment, Whitney finally came down on all four legs. Once she inhaled a breath full of tension, something unexpected occurred before becoming aware of what was going on.

For a moment, everything moved like a blur with the sky. The next, it turned out to be the ground Landry’s face came to touch. She could not be certain of what happened. Landry felt her body thrown hard to the ground with that being the last thing she could remember. It grew to be more than a couple of minutes. Both Landry and Whitney lied on the ground. Helplessly, Landry’s eyes closed and leaving her unable to move. No one saw what happened. Suddenly, a figure emerged out of the shadows to find both Landry and the horse lying completely still on the ground. With no one there to assist them, this became a very crucial time to appear. A mysterious figure smiled while seeing what it anticipated in turning to be a clear reality. Best of all, no one could prove the stranger started this incident from the beginning. When the figure began walking away, all it focused on was the road to success would be a fast and enjoyable one.

Landry started walking away from the glass table where they were sitting. She left their dinner to go to her desk. Clearly, Landry acted very distant with him. Kian experienced confusion with Landry when he talked to her. He refused to believe this sounded as the real Landry. Rather than him leaving as she suggested, he went up to her. Painfully, he grabbed Landry’s wrist and made her face him once more. Kian could be violent whenever he wanted, but never with her. The one thing Kian feared, what would happen to them if he did. He stood taller than she did by some inches. Their faces leveled with each other. Their eyes glanced directly into the opposite pair. Kian saw how much angrier she became when he pushed her carelessly into a corner. He realized how much he put her in so much pain.

“I used to let you walk all over me for as long as we’ve been together without getting angry with you. But, this is one of those times where your selfishness get the best of me. I want an explanation and I want one now. Why are you acting like this? Did you suddenly change your mind about marrying me?” he expressed in a very low tone in which sounded like a growl.

“Get your hand off of me, if you don’t want to end up in the hospital.”

“I’d rather be in hell, without you driving myself crazy as to what I’ve done, to push you away from me like this, than be at the hospital or anywhere else. What’s your answer, Landry? Do you have a scandalous picture of me and some other woman I’ve met on the side than of you?”

Her lips thinned. Landry gave him completely an iced look as her other hand rose to slap him hard on the face. As a result, Kian released her wrist. He did not doubt when she emerged this violently angry. Definitely, Landry could beat anyone down hard with one’s senses shaking altogether. Kian realized the mention of another woman turned undoubtedly the last straw for her. His face existed turned down as Landry stood there without moving an inch. Finally, Kian glanced at her with the anger simmering inside him. He slowly inhaled a breath and concluded that the end was coming. No certainty of discerning if a breakup would occur, Kian deemed, he might as well be prepared for the end.

“Fine, you’ve made your choice. I have no other choice, but to give you what you want. I hope you have a much better life without me beside you because, you just might get your wish after all.”


Where to Find the Book and Author 

Facebook Vivian Lee Author
Twitter Vivian Lee

Vivian Lee Author Books

Hi everyone,

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In the beginning

What is curiosity? Is it a beginning or is it an ending? Should you embrace itor do you shut your eyes and pray for the love of whatever god you hold closethat it disappears? It is a thing without limitations and restraints, for itcarries no conscience, other than what its bearer holds. So I ask, should it bevalued or feared? For it begs to be heard and it never, ever, no matter howmuch you should wish it, offers even the smallest measure of mercies.

Even the gods feel thetug of its call, its alluring charm. All except for one. He believed that healone held its secrets, and valued curiosity as a favorite trinket to be keptclose until such time as it was needed.

So, be warned friend, for to answer itscall - curiosity’s enticing song - it must be with wide eyes and a steadyheart, for trouble always follows.
___________________________________________________

Blame, guilt and a warm fire

The sound of steel on stone shook thenarrow laneway where the two brothers lay in hiding. Voices, dark growlsthreatening death and a most certain bloody end, roared in Roedanth’s ears. Thehand clamped over Peetra’s mouth trembled, partly in fear, but mostly in worry.There would be no going anywhere now, not with half the cityguard after them.

“Peetra, why did you do it?” It was a shaken whisper into the still ear ofhis only brother. “We had it all, a roof over our heads, two meals a day, and Iwas learning a trade. Why, Peetra?”

Blood stained his hands; it had soaked through to his under garments andthe sticky feeling of Peetra’s life on his skin made him feel sick. Roedanthshifted, the damp, coarse stone against his back a chafing reminder that theywere up to their necks in shit. Peetra groaned, the sound escaping from inbetween Roedanth’s fingers. Startled, Roedanth wriggled again, pulling hisbrother in closer and the bolt in Peetra’s breast thrummed.

“By the stars, I’m sorry, Peetra. I didn’t mean it.” More whispering, butthis time Roedanth stroked and smoothed out his brother’s sweat-soaked hair.“You’re burning up.”

The voices were closer now; two in particular set his heart racing.

“I told you Sam, the old woman pointed down this-a-ways.” A Tolerian slurmarked the man as a mercenary; half the city guards were mercenaries, paid forby the taxes collected by the current King of Crow’s Nest.

“So you’ll take the word of an old woman instead of a warm fire and a mugof beer,” grumbled the other.
_______________________________________________________________________

Truth or dare

He had watched as the figure struggled to push the cart, had grinned withgleeful eagerness as the shadow man pulled out the rags to scoop up anothershadow man. He could almost smell the grief and worry as the figure stood for atime staring up at the workshop. Jolien had left a candle burning in thewindow, a mock display of respect, for he hoped that someone from the BiscopHouse would see. He watched the shadow man eye off the flickering light, and hesmiled.

Pimply faced and sallow skin weren’t Jolien’s only faults - his lips weretoo thin, and with arms were too long, he looked like a carnival freak. Envyand greed were pivotal to the former apprentice, and as he watched the figurestruggle with his load, he came to a dangerous decision.

Down the back stairs he crept, careful step by careful step, and made hisway into the kitchen. It was the only bright room in the entire building.Peetra had seen to that. It had been his duty to care for the cooking, and sucha position he had loved, even if he had hated Mr. Bicky. He was a passable cookfor someone so young, and quite often Jolien would sneak in to snatch upPeetra’s bread cakes for his own, yielding in those briefest of rare moments tothank the young man for his efforts. Yes, he would miss Peetra’s cooking.

“So the lawbreaker returns.” He sniggered behind his hand.
_______________________________________________________________________

You can never have enough friends

To a free man, the tenth bell might have meant that he hadover–slept, or that he had forgotten some important appointment. For Roedanth,however, it meant death, each clear ring a reminder that within the hour, afterthe ninth sounding, he would burn. Maybe then they would leave him alone.

A different guard came to collect him, young and smartlydressed. Smelling fresh and clean, Roedanth envied him that. Like all theothers, he too wore the yellow crow insignia on his breast.

“Crows aren’t yellow,” he muttered.

“I know,” answered the guard cheerily as he kept pace withRoedanth’s shuffling.

The cage this time was to be drawn by horses, big, coarse, hairybrutes. It was to be a real spectacle. The drays stood patiently, obviously happyto be of service as thiswas far easier work than ploughing the terraced fields. It was a much largercage, room for more than a few. From out of the same door came five others,each as dirty as Roedanth, all condemned to the flame.

They were chosen at random, two prisoners shackled togetherside-by-side like dogs. Up and into the cage they were all pushed. There waseven a black skinned man amongst them. Tall and proud, he bore the scars ofmany wounds, some fresh but mostly white crisscrossing welts and lines of pastbattles. He never spoke a word, not even when the shortest of guards whackedhim soundly with the butt of his spear.

Roedanth was chained to a man with a hand heavily bandaged,blood still seeping from his wound. Afraid as he was, Roedanth couldn’t helpbut let curiosity win him over.

“Did they do that to you?”
______________________________________________________________________

From his sick bed

Kailen chattedincoherently, rolling from side to side, gesturing wildly with a blunted stickdarkened at one end with ash and red Jarggen. Images hung like cobwebs,clouding Kailen's dreams. His head pounded, and he felt the rise of nauseabuilding. Visions of the young heir crowded up against a black background and awall of fire.

Wasthe Prince safe? Could he take comfort in believing that he was? Or was theJarggen telling him otherwise? His dreams were all fire and black heat. He’dbeen locked away for hours, eating only the nuts and dried fruit Georgette haddutifully laid out, sipping cocomeal from a small wooden cup. Eventually thebabbling slowed, then ceased altogether, leaving the Seer weakened and in astate of hazed confusion. There were no answers here.
____________________________________________________________________

Aspitting gift

Roedanth rocked on the back legs of his chair while inside the palm ofhis right hand spun a stormy twister.

“Stop that!” spat Knat.

He looked sideways,afraid. Lately, fear was the only thing he felt. It kept him upright andbreathing. Fear for breakfast, lunch and dinner. The friendship with Roedanthforced upon him by Kahlu terrified him, for it was tenuous at best. Kahlu hadmade sure of that. The Fire Sprite’s death had cemented his fate, silence inexchange for obedience. “You will, if you value your hide, befriend this boy,Knat. Watch him, for I want to know his every word, his every step.”

He was in a bucket oftrouble and from where he stood the lip of the pail was far from reach.

“You’re a fool, Knat.”Roedanth’s voice broke the young man’s maudlin thoughts.

Knat didn’t offer up areply. What for? It would have only earned him another snipe. He wondered, notfor the first time, if the twisting of Roedanth’s lips were a sneer instead of a smile.

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Up a hole

Her struggling slowed,eventually ceasing altogether. She was a bundle of bones and rags that hepulled along after him. Scraping and bruising her already ravaged body, theycontinued in the dark. Pellimac occasionally whimpered, but for the betterpart, shock kept her silent. Father tried, crooning affectionate clicks andclacks at her joyous return, but it only terrified her more.

Rats fled the pair. Even the darknessseemed to shy away in the face of Father’s fanatical headlong rush. She was hisagain! Hours passed, and the jubilant Speck and the stunned nomad womanstopped. His bony fingers clenched Pellimac’s wrist so tightly that smudges ofblack already rising to the surface of her skin held the promise of blood redrings. Deep in the inky murk, a part still pure and intact screamed at the lossof the sky and open earth. She wept. Her cries excited Father as she dragged inlungfuls of air in between loud sobs.
_________________________________________________________________

He said, she said. Iwonder who said what?

So, this was punishment. Nodoubt, the retribution was to satisfy their aching hearts, stupid wet sacks ofmeat. Hadn’t the female told her so? Kitty spat, and the last of Mumbunda’sempathy fell away, a pointed finger sealing her fate. But it meant nothing. InKitty’s world, killing was life, a consequence of the need to feed. There wereno reprisals for carnage or death and after all, hadn’t she been hungry?

Hanging upside down, Kitty dozed. Herconfinement was so boring that her teeth ached from it all. She craved food.She was so hungry that her belly ached, her teeth ached, her blood wept. Butunderneath it all sang a single shiny thought, pure and clean. Maybe despiteher mother's blood, she was a true Speck after all.
_________________________________________________________________

There can be no goingback

It was strange that she feltat home here, in the killing shades. The dark, surrounded by memories withlayers of insanity, would have left another screaming, but not Pellimac. Shewas so far removed from anything embodying normality that she succumbed to hersurrounds with quiet capitulation. The woman, emaciated and coated in layers ofgrime, patterned with old blood from the many scrapes and cuts on her worn outbody, rested on her haunches. She watched the single flickering candle flame.Aware that Father and Hi’ayman sat close by, she rocked back and forth,crooning softly.

My son. She repeated this manytimes over in her mind. It helped to slow the internal screaming intothe barest of whispers, giving her the courage to look up at Hi’ayman. Fromunderneath a filthy veil of hair, shading her exhausted features, she smiled.
___________________________________________________________________

Done and dusted

Ordinary persons would have drawnstraws to see who it was that went through the crack first, but this lotcouldn’t be called ordinary and the situation they were facing wasn’t ordinaryeither. This bunch was in a tight fix. They were damned if they stayed anddamned if they moved ahead.

Kendrai went first. Pellimac was hisresponsibility, and as Heir Apparent, no one was in a position to argue hisright. It was agreed that Monlith would follow, Stowic and then Shai behind himwith Noloc bringing up the rear.

Through the fissure he climbed, makinghis way cautiously forward. Who knew what manner of man or beast lived in thedark? A dusky glow skulked in the far corner of the room, shapes shifted androcked about, voices drifting lazily from the crook.

One by one, the party of searcherscrawled forward, clustering together in a cramped space behind a wall of sortsto the much larger chamber. They thought themselves secret, hidden away fromthe other occupants as they quietly communicated together. How wrong they were.
____________________________________________________________________

To err is to beforgiven
A crowd had gathered aroundthe front of the dormitory. It was one of four in a set of neatly rowedbuildings. In the doorway pressed a number of older students, most openlycrying, others mute with horror.

“Get back! Get back!” roared a loudvoice.

The doorway emptied, and within its frameleant the roly-poly man. Ashen faced, his mind did its best to grasp the bloodymess behind him. “What’s happened here?” he mumbled and stared about at thecrowd outside. In all his years as a healer, he had never seen such carnage.

Other magi arrived, some drawn fromtheir beds by the screams, wrapped in nightgowns and mantles in an attempt tokeep out the night’s chill.

One young lad, noisily emptying hisstomach onto his shoes, stopped and wiped a shaking hand across his mouth. Hespat and blearily looked up at his Master.

“You don’t want to go in there, sir.”And he began to throw up all over again.

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How canit be, that I never learn?

Being cold, so very bloody cold wasn’t that bad. Going hungry was muchworse and since Quaverit wasn’t very good at begging, he went hungry a lot.What did he know of doing it right? All the other beggars laughed when he tookhis place on the corner. They laughed, so hard, that quite often, it drew acrowd. An ugly meanly-mouth bunch of other beggars, seasoned from their yearsof privation. He couldn’t help looking like a plucked chook, than the elegantStork he was supposed to be.

It was a punishment. The plucking of everyfeather on his body, head and tail feathers gone, and the pain! Well, let’sjust say, he had only recently stopped crying.

He could forgive the painful act itself,even if the Hyena Men had relished their duties a little too eagerly, but thehumiliation he suffered each time he left the safety of his cubbyhole, wouldnever he forgotten. The once proud chamberlain was reduced to sitting on theside of a smelly gutter, holding out his hands for the odd copper to pass hisway. Glumly listening to his moaning stomach, as it screamed for a bite to eat.
_______________________________________________________________________

Guest who?

She couldn’t have called it a pleasant ride by any means, Taros feltevery stone and every hole along the way to Lott’s house, well it was more thanjust a house, as they approach the Toads spectacle it looked more like avillage. Built from the blood and sweat of others, she felt sickened by theramblings.

Wanabec fretted all the way, quoting dearieme’s, and oh my goodness every third tree, if she had been in her right mindthe Turtle Man would have copped a tongue lashing, but the spirit of Tarmet wasstill upon her so she sat quietly as the world slipped by.

Every now and then, shecaught a glimpse of her escort, sometimes along the road and at other times, asshe glanced up to catch the sun, black silhouettes with their many arms swungfrom tree to tree. It was quite disconcerting having so many Spider Men around:their eyes a swirling kaleidoscope of colours. What would Tarmet have done ifhe had found himself in this situation?
________________________________________________________________________

New friends. What a Blessing
Milly wiped her hands, frowned at the rough skin from having them elbowdeep in water for most of the morning. Dinner this afternoon was going to be abusy affair, already she felt run off her feet, they ached and it wasn’t evennoon. Looking out the window, wooden shutters held back to let the sun’s warmthfill the room, the serving girl watched Knat swing the ax. Since his arrivalsome months ago, the young man had filled out his clothes, the shirt he worerippled as the corded muscles across his back worked with each fall of theblade.

Their first meeting had frightened her.Dripping wet and shaking like a beaten dog, Knat had surprised them all withhis appearance. Yet, here he was on this cold day chopping wood for Mr. Macky.He was the apple of the innkeeper’s eye.

A Dark Compendium
A Collection of 12 Short Fantasy Stories




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A King’s Son
“As I hearthem tell it,” and the lanky lad winked at his prisoner, “this one’s staredinto the eyes of a dragon for too long. Either that or the bastards just plainloopy.” The guard, if you could have called him that, was no more than a boy ofseventeen summers with a wispy fuzz sat above his upper lip, and he couldn’thelp but stroke the downy hairs. It looked like a thin, squiggly caterpillar.The man in thecage grinned and laughed out loud, grabbed at the bars and tried to shake themloose, but iron didn’t work like that. It stayed fast; Old Firestick only usedgood steel. The hair of the one they called crazy stood up in wild stiff strands;some were as thick as two fingers. Dozens of different colours created acurious hodgepodge. Beads, pieces of wood and ribbon had found their way intothis hair nest, adding to the already hysterical state of the prisoner.
_______________________________________________________________________

Bloody Hell

He turned acorner and glanced over his shoulder. It was a habit he had developed of late- seekinga way out, for the way in had been all too easy. Brick felt that familiar achein his hip as it began to throb, lancing white pain into his toes and the sweatthat had only just disappeared in a false sense of feeling safe, was back. Itdripped down his spine and stung salty tears into his eyes. But he was home,back with the living.

He didn’t needto see them to know that the Scamps were out there, hiding in the shadows andlifting their flat faces into the wind as they tried to sniff him out. Void ofnose and hair, three holes to draw in a human scent and sharp needle teeth torip him back to Hell. They would follow him no matter what.
_______________________________________________________________________

Love Hearts
It was just a song.

To her it wasa delicious sound, full of fun and mischief. It was life - so mysteriouslyelusive, joy and best of all love. Denied to her as it was all her kind. Surely,no one would notice such a little tune. Isnale spun a circle, her bare feet ticklingthe grass beneath and as she turned her head this way and that, making sure shewas alone, the Harbinger let off a single note. It floated gently out front. Itcrystalized and held still for a brief moment, perfect in its form, transparentexcept for the glistening colours of an unseen rainbow. Clapping her hands,Isnale marveled at the light it made. Apart from the stars overhead, the noteshone like a beacon.

“They’ll cutyou for that one note, you know that, don’t you Isnale?” Her brother’s voiceshattered the form and the light extinguished leaving them both, once more inthe dark.
_______________________________________________________________________

Custodians

Long ago,after the two continents had split from Pangea some 60,000 years before Manfound his way to the shores of Australia. From Africa and Asia in boats ofcrafted wood, across the narrow strait where the sea was at it’s lowest theybraved a new world. To the northern side of Wallacia, on a steady course ofisland hopping, the Aborigines found a home.

Dog and Manrose, the surf landing gently on the sandy shore. From the trees, rocks and thedarkest of holes the Custodians watched. Some viewed the procession, gaping inwonder at the Aborigines black skin and white flashing teeth. Amusement pulledat large almond eyes as yapping dogs splashed about in the choppy surf. Theytoo smiled at the excited voices of these happy people.

But beyond thatthere were other dark creatures that that loathed the light, they watched on inrepugnance, jealous of the man and the way in which he moved in their world.Tall and thin with skin coloured of old ash these creatures watched only thechildren with interest. Perhaps these laughing, bright souls could give themwhat they craved.
__________________________________________________________________________

When is it too late to say sorry? ‘We were happy once? Weren’t we?’

Diablo asked herself this question every day. Butnothing ever changed. It always came back the same… a burning anger, so brightthat it matched his strutting brilliance and that of course, only made herangrier. God, the almighty, sanctified divinity and his constant holier thanthou lectures. Her husband was a pompous fool, whose faults were even greaterthan the obedience he demanded from everyone around him. Including her and thisperfect creature would not be outdone by anyone.

She smiled despite this, cruel and calculating for shehad to admit there was great satisfaction in upsetting him. A single fingerraised and from the shadows came a man, not nearly as perfect as she, but darklyhandsome none-the-less

“Baal, General ofmy armies, my devoted and faithful servant. I have a small task for you. Notthe most pleasant, I admit, but then you never shirk your duties, do you my pet.”She ran a well-manicured fingernail down the side of his face. Her voice purredin satisfaction at the man before her, admiring the leanness and hunger thatemanated from him.
__________________________________________________________________________

War of the Words

Prose was apretty thing with dark hair and brown eyes whose smile lit the world aroundher. This day found her hard at work. Sheets of paper lay scattered on the deskand floor, screwed up balls of the unwanted stuff littered the room and thequills that she so loved to write with - her most treasured of possessions -were spread out before her in loving array. Feathers and inkpots, scrolls, andthe ability to create infinite worlds belonged to this dedicated writer, Prosewas proud of every word.

“I havefinished! I have finally made my mark.” Prose leapt out of her chair. “It isdone at last, my very first story. It’s a pearler and once it’s published Iknow it will go straight to number one.” She hammered on the wall with her fistand the scraping of a chair on the other-side followed, then a came a knock onher door.

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GRIMM RETURNS

PUSHING throughthe curious ranks came a massively muscled demon, a roughly stitched-oninsignia of a Wedgemaster on the blue sleeve of its tunic showed his rank. Theblack pelt of some shaggy creature was tied as a cloak around its left shoulderand its eyes were fixed on Grimm with murderous intent. In its hands it held ahuge club, blood red jewels clustered around one end. As it stepped up toGrimm, without any preamble it smashed the point into the mutant's stomach,knocking the wind from him and forcing him to his knees.

"Filthy cowardly scum!" the demon barked. "I'llshow you what they should've done to you, running out on your men!" Itpulled its arm back for a good swing at Grimm, but then stopped in mid-strikeas its eyes locked with the glowing blood red orb in the middle of Grimm'sforehead.

"Just try it," Grimm said through his spiked teeth,"I've killed much harder men 'n' creatures than you."

"You be full of filthy magics, you should be hung, youtraitor."
________________________________________________________________________

SHARP AND RIDGE
LANGUISHING inside a cell was a dream each prisoner could havehoped for and in this case it happened to be true.

Sharp and Ridge stared at each other, through the weakened slatsand floating dust motes. Their pallets were generous by jailor’s standards witha thick itchy blanket, a freshly stuffed mattress of new straw and two meals aday. A morning meal of porridge with bobbing sultana's to sweeten its blandnessand an evening meal of barley soup with soft chunks of dark meat servedsteaming hot. Bread and cheese sometimes followed, and the pair despite theembarrassment of being caught knew they had it easy.

Keys clinked in the lock, three men walked in, two carriedshackles and the other an arm's length piece of wood.

A guard waved the stick in the air, "Right you are boys. Thetime for kicking your heels has come to an end," he laughed. "Unlessthat is you're swinging on the end of a rope."
________________________________________________________________________

TRINITY

The King of Arinthol rang a bell and a sombre man stepped into theroom. He wore the colours crimson and cream with pride, "You rangsire?"

"Would you be so kind as to send a runner for MistressTrinity. She should have been here by now."

The servant nodded. "She went with the guards to the cellssire. I'll have someone her fetched at once." He left the room with quickclipped steps.

It didn't take long for the Mistress of Keys to arrive, theassault on Arinthol may have left scars a plenty for some, not Trinity, shetook it all on the chin. Her loss on the day of coming into power was the daythat a life she loved ended. What was a little battering on the walls to thisUn-named.

Once she had been a teacher, loved and respected, especially bythe children she taught, then came the pain. Her limbs burned and ached both atthe same time, she felt dizzy, nauseated and burned with a sweaty fever.Trinity was dying, or least she thought, why else would she hurt so. For daysshe lay, thrashing about in her bed, a small room at the back of theschoolhouse and one morning bleary eyed and exhausted the teacher's stomachbegan to cramp.

Children of all ages filled the wooden building they used as aclassroom, tables and chairs sliding along the planks as everyone readied theirplace for the day. The chatter of young voices filled the air, resounding downthe hallways and sliding under Trinity's door. The noise filled her ears andthe cramping increased. She slipped into unconsciousness and in doing so shecame into power.
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WANNA BUY A DOG

"Hey, you, wanna buy a god?"

Jos looked up from the pebbly beach, squinting in the last blushof daylight over the water. A thin old man with one arm in a pale yellowoutfit, carrying a large green pack, sat on a rock near the waterline watchinghim. He was in his late sixties, perhaps more than three decades older thanJos.

Uncertain what to say, Jos stood still for a moment. This wasn'tGni-nnut, where you could slip past odd people or ignore them and evaporateinto the crowd in the market square. There was no one else here on this stripof sand, with water to one side and sea cliffs on the other, so how could Jospretend he hadn't heard?

He decided to play it straight. "You're selling dogs?"

"No, I said a god. And it's not really selling. And you don'tget the god exactly, I mean, not to keep. Just an experience with a god, anencounter like a revelation."
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SANDSTOM AND FLOWERS

A barking dog yapped at the moon in a frenzied attempt to bring itdown. On and on, the noise carried down the incline hurting the ears of severalWestmen drinking.

“Fecking kill it already,” growled Two Bits. “I’ve always hatedthat thing and now that it’s barking I can scarcely breath.”

A low laugh followed on the end of the tirade: it was Jolly, whoalways found the funny side to most things. “You’re a worry you are, alwayscomplaining about something or other and never happy unless you have your way.Leave it be on the poor mongrel, he ain’t hurting any one and all you’ll do isupset Big Hog with that tongue of yours.”

Big Hog pushed back into the log he was using as a back rest andnodded in agreement with Jolly. “He’s me mate and you touch one hair on hissweet head Two Bits and I’ll nail your balls to the insides of your thighs."

Jolly squealed with laughter and wiped away the tears with a dirtyfinger at the very thought of Two Bits walking like an old used whore. Therewas anger on Two Bits face but he said not a word, why would he when Big Hogstood over a head taller than most men.

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PROLOGUE

Staccato yelps pin pointed their positions as they converged upon her.

She had run far stumbling across the broken ground, her bare feet torn by the sharp flints littering the frozen riverbed. Her legs ripped and scratched by the thorn bushes growing along the forest's edge.

She knew closely behind, following the huge yellow beasts came the Hardmen of the North.

Her heart pounded so wildly in her chest she could feel it banging against her ribs, herd ragging breath blew short and gasping. A red mist of panic began to descend as closer they came closer and closer, unable to run further, she climbed the tallest tree she could find.

Without a moment to spare, for she was immediately surrounded by the long legged,slavering creatures. One, followed swiftly by others began to bray, their howl seven more frightening than their hunting calls.

The howling told its own story; ‘we have her.’

She screamed in utter horror as the beasts began to climb the tree, the closest,its eyes glowing red in the moonlight clawed its way closer and closer…
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FORTHRIGHT

Forthright muttered, but only loud enough for the dog to hear, “Can you see him?”

He half expected the dog to answer. After last night’s argument, he was surprised to see him acting this congenial. It was stupid really, fighting over the scraps of an already bad meal, but when you’re on a ship at sea what else was there todo?

The dog as he called it, forgetting most times that his companion had a name, was named Pelment. They had been travelling together for a very long time, through good and bad, clean times and some very nasty smelling jaunts, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. They were friends, but most of all they needed each other.

He didn’t see Clement staring and may have even missed the youth’s emaciated presence if it wasn’t for the push of a cold wet nose. In fact, the shove was such thatForthright fell backwards. On his arse he went. ‘Thump’ landing awkwardly and cursing for the sorry trouble.

“Look here you! I can’t abide bad manners, not at all and you know it. So, what if I got the last bit of bacon on the plate? I told you last night it left me with a sore gut and if we have to get back onto the matter of shitting again, well … “

Forthright didn’t get any further for the dog not only nudged him, but smacked him full in the face with a wet tongue.

“Oh!That’s just plain disgusting.” The old man wiped his face with a semi clean sleeve and in doing so, looked up.
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PELMENT AND THE GREYLADY

Pelment wanted to speak to the Grey Lady. Troubled as he was, this shape shifter was still an Un-Named and as he stepped through the trees, the dog shimmered. A youth, unblemished and as fair as the moon’s light among the soft budding evening walked with a step so light, that it hardly touched the forest floor.He whistled a soft tune that was a memory. Before he had become one of theUn-Named, Henri had, like the rest of his kind, been a young boy. It wasn't until the age of seventeen that the change fell upon him. It had been the GreyLady, who had seen him through his transformation.

‘You knowhow much I love that song Henri.’ The Grey Lady out shone the moonbeams,gracing his life. ‘I am happy to see you once again.’

“And I you.” He spoke the words out loud for it made him feel normal.
______________________________________________________________________________

KRAD AND OSTRANDA

Krad and Thgil sat side by side, Every now and then fingers touched, a bond unshakeable.

“You will hold the barrier while I am gone?” Krad spoke in low tones.

Thgil smiled a little sadly. “I had a dream.”

It wasn’t often that Krad sweated. Tonight though, he was all nerves and wondered if meeting Ostranda was the cause of his sour stomach. “You’re having too many dreams my little moon. Was it bad?”

She had large eyes, liquid love for her brother and she nodded, “A river of red I saw Krad. You stood on one side and I was on the other, the river was an angry torrent. I called to you, I tried to Krad, really, I did! But the rushing water was too loud for you to hear.”

The look on his face caused her to bite down, drops of blood dotted her chin and he wiped them away with a finger.

“Maybe it was just a dream. An ordinary dream that meant nothing, we have been under so much pressure. Maybe my friendship with Ostranda has upset you, Thgil? I’m sorry, but I can’t help the way I feel. My bones ache for her, my blood flushed shot when I think of her name. I don’t know what to do, except to find as many minutes as I can that will allow me to feel her skin under my hands. It’s not wrong Thgil to feel this way. Is it?”

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The TarkeeniaSeries

Book 1 The Unseen Promise
Franklin knows how to show, rather than tell, and she'scertainly not a timid writer. A multitude of characters means you have to stayon your toes and not miss a word.



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Website: https://www.theunseenpromise.com


In the beginning

What is curiosity? Is it a beginning or is it an ending? Should you embrace itor do you shut your eyes and pray for the love of whatever god you hold closethat it disappears? It is a thing without limitations and restraints, for itcarries no conscience, other than what its bearer holds. So I ask, should it bevalued or feared? For it begs to be heard and it never, ever, no matter howmuch you should wish it, offers even the smallest measure of mercies.

Even the gods feel thetug of its call, its alluring charm. All except for one. He believed that healone held its secrets, and valued curiosity as a favorite trinket to be keptclose until such time as it was needed.

So, be warned friend, for to answer itscall - curiosity’s enticing song - it must be with wide eyes and a steadyheart, for trouble always follows.
___________________________________________________


Blame, guilt and a warm fire

The sound of steel on stone shook thenarrow laneway where the two brothers lay in hiding. Voices, dark growlsthreatening death and a most certain bloody end, roared in Roedanth’s ears. Thehand clamped over Peetra’s mouth trembled, partly in fear, but mostly in worry.There would be no going anywhere now, not with half the cityguard after them.

“Peetra, why did you do it?” It was a shaken whisper into the still ear ofhis only brother. “We had it all, a roof over our heads, two meals a day, and Iwas learning a trade. Why, Peetra?”

Blood stained his hands; it had soaked through to his under garments andthe sticky feeling of Peetra’s life on his skin made him feel sick. Roedanthshifted, the damp, coarse stone against his back a chafing reminder that theywere up to their necks in shit. Peetra groaned, the sound escaping from inbetween Roedanth’s fingers. Startled, Roedanth wriggled again, pulling hisbrother in closer and the bolt in Peetra’s breast thrummed.

“By the stars, I’m sorry, Peetra. I didn’t mean it.” More whispering, butthis time Roedanth stroked and smoothed out his brother’s sweat-soaked hair.“You’re burning up.”

The voices were closer now; two in particular set his heart racing.

“I told you Sam, the old woman pointed down this-a-ways.” A Tolerian slurmarked the man as a mercenary; half the city guards were mercenaries, paid forby the taxes collected by the current King of Crow’s Nest.

“So you’ll take the word of an old woman instead of a warm fire and a mugof beer,” grumbled the other.
_______________________________________________________________________

Truth or dare

He had watched as the figure struggled to push the cart, had grinned withgleeful eagerness as the shadow man pulled out the rags to scoop up anothershadow man. He could almost smell the grief and worry as the figure stood for atime staring up at the workshop. Jolien had left a candle burning in thewindow, a mock display of respect, for he hoped that someone from the BiscopHouse would see. He watched the shadow man eye off the flickering light, and hesmiled.

Pimply faced and sallow skin weren’t Jolien’s only faults - his lips weretoo thin, and with arms were too long, he looked like a carnival freak. Envyand greed were pivotal to the former apprentice, and as he watched the figurestruggle with his load, he came to a dangerous decision.

Down the back stairs he crept, careful step by careful step, and made hisway into the kitchen. It was the only bright room in the entire building.Peetra had seen to that. It had been his duty to care for the cooking, and sucha position he had loved, even if he had hated Mr. Bicky. He was a passable cookfor someone so young, and quite often Jolien would sneak in to snatch upPeetra’s bread cakes for his own, yielding in those briefest of rare moments tothank the young man for his efforts. Yes, he would miss Peetra’s cooking.

“So the lawbreaker returns.” He sniggered behind his hand.