The Serialists - Scene 85

I'm now posting with The Serialists which appears on Wednesdays.

To recap this dark fantasy story so far:

As a small boy of seven, Scorpius was fetched from the nursery where he'd been raised to live among the nobility - fetched not by his family, but by a falconer to serve as his apprentice.

Scorpius soon learned that a close encounter with a dragon was preferable to the cruelties of the nobles he'd once hoped were family. His master did whatever he could to shield Scorpius from the world outside their cottage, but the falconer was merely a servant who must obey his own masters.

An attempt on the life of a young noble while on a hunt sent the falconer and his apprentice on abruptly different paths, bringing Scorpius into the service of Lord Thibault's noble house.

We now continue with Scorpius at age nineteen.

You can follow the progress of this story arc by clicking on the Works in Progress link just under the blog header.


Scene 85

It was difficult but not impossible to ride, considering the horse was as determined as Scorpius to leave the Sibiu behind. They’d left him the saddle, at least, which he grabbed with his bound hands wrenched fast behind his back. Leaning as far forward as he could without losing his grip, Scorpius hugged the horse with his legs, trusting it to pick its own way back out of the pass.

They raced against the lengthening shadows with the stink of scorched flesh clinging fast. Hoof beats drummed in time to Scorpius’ heart, filling his mind so that he strained to listen for the rhythmic flapping of leathery wings.

Fighting the panic that stole the breath from him, Scorpius stared straight ahead but saw nothing except the horrible memory of the Sibian herd in his mind’s eye, blooms of flame rolling forth from the shrieking mouth of the dragon. He and the horse were both intent on barreling past his master when he emerged at a run toward them.

“Whoa!” Lord Thibault said, waving his arms in broad circles.

The horse halted, sending Scorpius to slide abruptly forward. Tumbling onto the rocky ground, jagged pain greeted his landing. His master jogged to grab the horse’s mane, coaxing it to put aside its mindless flight for the time being.

Groaning, Scorpius struggled to his feet. Straining to see if the nightmare followed them, he scanned the horizon but found it to be made of only sunset hues. The mountain pass gaped black and still, like a lie.

“Did you bring the message?” Lord Thibault asked.

“No message,” Scorpius said, working to catch his breath.

The look of sickened disbelief that washed over his master reached into Scorpius’ heart, still numbed by fear. Taking a few steps to close the gap between them, Scorpius kept his voice low so as not to distress the horse any further.

“No scroll, I meant to say, my lord.”

“But there is news?”

“Did you not see?” Scorpius said, hearing the stricken edge to his own voice.

“Of course I saw,” Lord Thibault whispered.

Pulling himself as straight as he could, Scorpius fought to keep a normal tone to his voice. He grasped at this semblance of normalcy as though it could protect him like a charm.

He told of the Sibian’s reaction to the scroll’s suggestion, until Scorpius had offered his dragon ring in order to vouch for his master’s word. Lord Thibault grabbed hold of him then and spun him around.

Scorpius’ body jerked as his master sliced through the rope pinning his arms back.

“You gave them my mother’s ring?” said his master.

Turning to face Lord Thibault, Scorpius said, “I did, my lord.” He watched in fascination as his master flushed red.

“You shame me, Scorpius.”

“My lord?”

“You forced their hand with that offer. I assume then that they refused my first one?”

“They did, my lord.”

“But the herd was cleansed.”

“The herd? The herd was burnt to a crisp!”

Stretching a hand out to clap it on Scorpius’ shoulder, Lord Thibault smiled grimly. “The herd was ill. A herd which they hide amongst our own in order to graze them. There was much at stake.”

Nodding, Scorpius gazed once more upon his master’s red face, at Lord Thibault’s dust-worn doublet, at the worn lines around his master’s eyes for such a young man. The news he craved hadn’t been passed to Scorpius in a scroll. A few words and Lord Thibault would have his answer.

“My lord,” Scorpius said. “My lord, there’s something you must know.”

© Julia Phillips Smith, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday - 2

Writers are encouraged to post six sentences from a work-in-progress or published piece. Sign into the Linky at Six Sentence Sunday, and visit other SSS participants.

Last week we were introduced to Dark Ages Welsh warrior Peredur, the hero of my debut vampire novel, SAINT SANGUINUS.

This week we meet Tanwen, the woman whose name was on his lips as he lay wounded on the battlefield.

After the wise woman purchases a ring from a peddler, her son Cavan returns the ring to Tanwen. Everyone in the village knows it belonged to Peredur.

~~~~~~~~

New tears began.

“I can’t,” she said.

Cavan pressed his mouth like a kiss near her ear. “Yes, you can,” he whispered.

Tanwen squeezed the ring in her hand until the edges bit. She took a deep breath, nodded and covered the rest of the space between herself and her home.

5 on Friday - Set 104

Travis at Trav's Thoughts invites everyone to lay down a short set of music that takes their fancies for his 5 on Friday meme.





Thought I'd showcase some of my favorite Police tunes this week.

1 - I Burn For You



2 - Regatta de Blanc



3 - Every Little Thing She Does is Magic



4 - When the World is Running Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around



5 - The Bed's Too Big Without You

Thursday Thirteen - 242 - 13 People I Follow on Twitter

Until I went to the writers' conference in New York last June, I used Twitter only sporadically. I had my blog set to feed all posts directly to Twitter, and that gave me automatic status updates, which suited this blogger perfectly.

I don't have a cell phone or any other sort of mobile electronic device - what did I need Twitter for, really?

Apparently, my writing life needed Twitter desperately. At the conference, I discovered that everyone involved in publishing was a heavy Twitter user. So, if I wanted to dance, I'd better get myself to the party.

Since July, I've been steadily increasing my Twitter followers and am closing in on 1000. I've discovered lots and lots of great book review bloggers through Twitter, plus all manner of arts Twitterers, writers, film industry folk, Twitterers from television, comics, publishing, social media, local Halifax and Nova Scotia Twitterers, Toronto Twitterers, and some who are just plain interesting folk.

I've already noticed a huge impact on my blog and Facebook stats since I stopped using Twitter as a parking space and hit the open road instead.

In celebration of my impending 1000th follower, here are thirteen Twitterers I follow, with a sample tweet:

1 - @evilpez4

Carpoolapalooza starts tomorrow. Dust off your small talk & hide that WHAM! Cd. #Halifax #Dartmouth #transitstrikeisgo

2 - @canadiancynic

Sure, experts might disagree bit.ly/xf5aIL but Stephen Harper is a "trained economist" with a rigid, throbbing mandate.

3 - @porterthereport

The key to Apple's success: Chinese Sweatshops, where workers are available 24/7 for $17 a day! Such enthusiasm! http://tinyurl.com/7qktjkr

4 - @mlhelliwell

It's Feburary. February. Whatever.My spell checker is going to get a workout this month. #cantspellfebruary

5 - @jessied44

@RealHughJackman . It really is happening. After decades. You and Colm making it come true.

6 - @nationalballet

Hey @metromorning fans watch National Ballet’s Guillaume Côté in int'l viral sensation Lost in Motion, over 250K views bit.ly/At5Pb6!

7 - @Browne Tom

Still don't know ur writing voice? What's ur personality type? Sad/depressed/dark - try comedy. Happy/content/pleasant - go for a thriller.

8 - @portentint

10,001 followers. It works forwards AND backwards.

9 - @jumblejim

Maybe I should become a hairdresser so my daughter Maddie wouldn't look like a goat's been sucking her hair.

10 - @AjayFry

My fly was down the whole way to work this morning. Hope you appreciated it Toronto.

11 - @RAnetdotcom

I've been asked to run a poll about characters from classic novels you'd like to see Richard play. Suggestions for the list please?

12 - @ParanormalRead1

Come by and leave a teaser of what your reading or writing on our wall. Paranormal Reads

13 - @GothicNet

News: The Top Ten Horror Films of 2011 top-ten-horror-films-of-2011"

The Serialists - Scene 84

I'm now posting with The Serialists which appears on Wednesdays.

To recap this dark fantasy story so far:

As a small boy of seven, Scorpius was fetched from the nursery where he'd been raised to live among the nobility - fetched not by his family, but by a falconer to serve as his apprentice.

Scorpius soon learned that a close encounter with a dragon was preferable to the cruelties of the nobles he'd once hoped were family. His master did whatever he could to shield Scorpius from the world outside their cottage, but the falconer was merely a servant who must obey his own masters.

An attempt on the life of a young noble while on a hunt sent the falconer and his apprentice on abruptly different paths, bringing Scorpius into the service of Lord Thibault's noble house.

We now continue with Scorpius at age nineteen.

You can follow the progress of this story arc by clicking on the Works in Progress link just under the blog header.


Scene 84

Whipping around to keep his sights on the rest of the Sibiu, Scorpius prepared himself for a fight.

He found only men standing with bowed head, their lips moving in prayer.

Looking back to see the aide pulling his knife free of his kinsman’s back, Scorpius’ heart raced as he made ready to flee. But the Sibiu weren’t as distracted as he’d hoped.

Strong hands took hold of his bound arms and held him in place. He knew it was useless to struggle, but he couldn’t stop himself from wrestling against their grip.

The man who’d been stabbed started to sag slightly in the arms of the aide. Perhaps sensing the suffering of the one in their midst, the animals in the herd shifted and bleated uneasily.

Adding to the sense that the very ground beneath Scorpius’ feet had turned to sand, an eerie tune filtered skyward. Craning his neck to stare, Scorpius saw several of the Sibiu blowing into carved wooden pipe instruments. The hair on the back of his neck rose at the sound of the music, at the cries of the herd and the gasping of the stabbed man.

Dragging him so that Scorpius stumbled backward, the Sibiu forced him down onto his face, pressed close to the sheer rock of the mountain pass. Joining him as near as they could, the Sibiu who held him fast ducked their heads low and continued to pray.

At first it was so distant, he thought he imagined it.

But it was a thing to haunt one’s dreams, as it had done for most of his life. Ever since that horrifying day when he still lived at the nursery, the day his little friend had not rolled quickly enough under the hole in the fence. The smell of her burning flesh, her screech of agony, the sound of the leathery wings gliding overhead had never left him.

When Richolf had come for Scorpius, when he was still a young boy, it had flown overhead as he’d tried to make his way to the Pillar Rock. His former master had rolled him beneath a rock ledge just as these Sibiu were doing now.

Over the rising din of the animals, which scattered and ran in circles as they failed to find a route off the ridge, Scorpius heard it now. The Sibiu kept playing their pipes and praying, but the sickening sound of the enormous wings seized hold of him, leaving him frozen with dread.

Scorpius would have given anything—anything—to be spared the sight and sound and smell of this. Trembling with fear, he could only watch as the aide kissed the dying man’s forehead, then broke their embrace and ran as fast as anyone Scorpius had ever seen. The herd ran frantically with him, their eyes white with terror.

But the dragon swooped low, its size and speed too great for those on the ground. The running man dove to the edge of the ridge and disappeared from view just as the man he’d left behind finally sagged in a heap upon the smooth rock.

An intense blast of heat lit the mountain pass. Wind raced ahead of the dragon’s fire, whipping Scorpius’ hair into his eyes, stealing the breath from his lungs.

The piped music, the bleating, the praying, the scream of the stabbed Sibian all fell away under the deafening roar from that scaly throat.

© Julia Phillips Smith, 2012

2012 Movie Madness Challenge - January Report

Welcome to my first status report for the Movie Madness Challenge.

First of all - just wanted to say I am having a BALL doing this challenge. The only thing that takes the bloom from this rose: when I heard about it, my first thought was how much my dog Xena would approve of my participation, since it would give us a lot of snuggle time on the couch.

But life had different plans for us, and Xena passed away on Jan. 6th, before I had been able to watch even one film for this challenge. At first I couldn't even sit in my regular spot on the couch without her curled up with me.

Over the past 11 years, we have watched a lot of films together. So I dedicate this entire Movie Madness Challenge to her.












Here is my code for the films:

New to me - N
Repeat viewing - R

I'll also be including how I viewed the films:

DVD
VHS (yes, we have a lot of those, and a VCR)
Pay TV
In theatre



Ever After

R

Pay TV



















Green Lantern

R

DVD











Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson

R

VHS
















The Crimson Petal and The White

N

Pay TV







Ladyhawke

R

DVD











Let Me In

N

DVD









Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of The Black Pearl

R

DVD


Ultimately, I'm shooting for Movie Master bragging rights:

25 Movies: Movie Newbie

50 Movies: Movie Fanatic

75 Movies: Movie Critic

100+ Movies: Movie Master

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Total movies for January - 7

Total movies for 2012 - 7

Six Sentence Sunday - 1

I'm joining a new-to-me meme called Six Sentence Sunday. Writers are encouraged to post six sentences from a work-in-progress or published piece. Sign into the Linky, and visit other SSS participants.

Here are the opening lines from my Dark Ages vampire novel, SAINT SANGUINUS, which opens in Wales in 577.

~~~~~~~~

Peredur coughed up blood.

Moans hung in the autumn air as women picked carefully between the tangled embraces at their feet. He could only watch them pass. A spear pinned him to the ground as the sun made ready to set without him.

His lips fought to form the name of his beloved. Tanwen.