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Six Sentence Sunday - 6

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.


This snippet from SAINT SANGUINUS takes place when Cavan, the son of the village wise woman was a boy of thirteen.


Here he watches as a spell launched against his rival--Peredur, future warrior for their 6th century Welsh village--shoots off in an unexpected direction.

~~~~~~~~

The sword master took his time and methodically drew a bloody pattern in his young student’s skin. When Tanwen finally arrived with her brother, dismay marred her features. I don’t know why that angered me, but it did.

It almost distracted me from the show Peredur performed so beautifully, his fellow students flinching in unison with every turn of the knife blade.

Peredur knelt there for a moment once it was over, breathless and shaking as the sword master rose and turned away.

Eventually Peredur pushed himself up, turned and quickly wiped his face as Owen walked toward the bench--this I hadn’t predicted at all.

Poetry Train Monday - 136 - She Was Too Strong For Me

Here's a backstory poem for one of the characters in the story I worked on during NaNoWriMo in November.

Cavan is the grown son of the village wise woman in a 6th century Welsh village. He spends his days hiding his own sorcerer's power from his mother. He both adores her as a son and fears her power as a witch.

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She Was Too Strong For Me


My cries filled our hut
My cries
Mother roused long enough to soothe me
I was too distraught to fight off
Her quick charm

I slipped back into sleep
Slipped back for
More torments
Unwilling to see what
Must surely come next

I sat up
About to be sick
I sat, watching Mother
I whispered the words of my own charm
Sadly I whispered with a seething anger

Did all mothers try so hard
To care for their sons
Did all mothers force sons to be cruel
To break away from so much caring

I remained sitting
A pitiful attempt
To stay awake
Soon my head
Dipped down
Upon my chest

I jerked awake, stiff and
Disoriented

Mother stirred

I moaned
Tried to force myself
Past Mother’s whispered charm
She was too strong for me

An eerie comfort, her strength
Even as it sent me
Those silent screams
Only I could hear

"No…" I moaned
Sweating with effort
I fought her
Fought the invisible bonds

I thrashed about
With all the might I possessed
Thrashed and fought
But all in my mind

In reality I lay
As though deep in sweet slumber
I sensed Mother rising
Sensed Mother creeping over
To look

Felt her soft fingers brush
A sweaty tendril of
Hair from my forehead
I moaned

Mother bent down
Mother kissed me
She whispered a soothing charm
Thinking to keep her son safe
From dream demons

Couldn't she hear
That my moans were really screams?
Her charm muffled them
Like thick cloths stuffed hard in my mouth

I fell into dreams
Down and down
To places no one should be made to go
“Hush, now,” Mama said

Forcing her breast in my mouth

I shook my head from side to side
Protesting this outrage
She guided my face with
Immovable hands
I was made to suck

In a while it comforted me
But I had sharp little teeth

I watched as Mama’s face
Lined with the pain of feeding me

- Julia Smith, Jan. 17, 2010

Nikita Banerjee How do you come up with such good poems? :)

Andy Sewina Phew, I think this would work well on the radio!

Janet says I'm always fascinated by a writer's process - is character backstory something you usually do as you write, before you write?