So I have decided to post a page from my recently submitted W.I.P. You all deserve to see what your support has helped me to create. I know that I wouldn't have a completed MS without God, my family, and all of my wonderful friends, both personal and bloggy related!
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Excerpt from my 1st finished novel, The Severing: Raised Under A Dark Shadow
Ruark watched his mother in silence. Her once beautiful hair, its shimmering white a stark contrast to the blacks and browns of his father’s people, reminded him of a living pearl. Now it lay limp and damp with the fever brought on by her torture. He wished he could have known her, that he could have asked about her and her people. Had her hair always been white? Were all Lytlingum born with white hair or had it occurred because of the torture? Except for the color of her hair, his mother could have been of his father’s people with her ivory skin, high cheekbones, and pale eyes. He had studied the slaves brought in from Nevia or Midun, they tended to be shorter with rounder faces and darker skin tones. But he knew almost nothing about his mother’s people and he would never be able to ask her.
The one time he had seen her before, she had been wrapped in Zimri-Lim magic so strong she had been unable to move anything but her eyes. She had looked at him then, as if trying to memorize everything about him. He admired her strength that day as her eyes glared defiantly at the priests. His heart warmed when those hard, angry eyes filled with love when looking at him.
This day, her eyes lay closed. He saw them wince as she struggled for each ragged breath. Her body inhaled, paused, and then let out a shuttering exhale as if bracing between each breath for the pain she knew would come. He stared at her face, willing her to look at him. He worked to imprint her in his mind: the dirt smudged across one of her beautiful high cheekbones, the crease of pain between her eyebrows, the shape of her mouth and the cut marring its perfection, the wheezing of air into her mouth as she took a breath.
Did she taste the blood leaking from the cut on her lip?
Despite her condition, he smelled her natural lily scent that no amount of abuse could hide. He would always associate the scent of the lily with his mother. He longed to reach out and feel the softness of her skin, would it feel like the petal of the lily?
Ruark heard his father behind him and at the small sound his mother’s eyes flew open. She stared straight at him and whispered into his mind. “Ruark, my son,” her voice beseeched him. “Koa needs you. Follow the Light. You must become the king you are meant to be. Only you and your queen can save Azerea from destruction. My successor will find you. You are the last hope of the Lytlingum. I love you. I always have.”
With what remained of her strength, she wrenched her arms free of their magical restraints and threw a blast of fire at the priest guarding her and at the General. The priest collapsed while his father blocked the attack. Ruark’s blood turned cold as his father slammed his mother against the wall. She clawed at her neck as her face turned blue.
Ruark lost control of his body and stepped between them. “Stop, you’re hurting her.”
While the blood drained from Ruark’s face, his father’s face flushed in rage. The General lifted his free hand throwing his son through the air. Ruark hit the wall with bone crunching force and slid to the floor. Pain radiated throughout his body. Each breath caused broken ribs to stab into his lungs. Ruark fought the tears but they flowed down his face as he lay dazed on the floor.
So here you go. A short look at my W.I.P. Sound off and let me know what you think. Does it make you want to read more? Do you see something I should work on? The formatting didn't completely translate, so ignore that. Without critiques and feedback I cannot continue to improve and since improvement means getting one step closer to a contract...well, you see where I am going with this. *grin*