Tag Archives: excerpts

Sunday Snippet, February 16, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“We also hear that there are dangers here that are worse than anything in the Wilds,”

“For one such as you, answering a Call, most likely,” he replied. “But don’t worry.  When you go into the city I’ll come along.” She started to protest but he shook his head and held up a hand. “No arguments. You’ll need someone to guide you.”

He could see her accept the fact that she was not going to win this argument. “Thank you. You’re probably right.”  

“Of course he is,” a new voice said. “Veren is as knowledgeable in the ways of the city as you are in the ways of the Wilds.”

Veren turned and smiled, feeling his heart swell. “You are too kind,” he murmured, then glanced at Kestra to see her reaction.

 

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Rainbow Snippet for 2-15-2020

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Rainbow Snippets is a group for LGBTQ+ authors, bloggers, and readers to gather once a week and share six sentences from a work of fiction–a WIP or a finished work or even a 6-sentence book recommendation (no spoilers please!).   Check out all the other awesome snippets by clicking on the picture above.

Still posting from that “Steampunk Thing.” The first draft isn’t done yet and I’m hoping that this will keep me motivated to keep at it.

(Apologies for any language usage that’s anachronistic. I’ll deal with that once the first draft is done.)

This picks up from last week.

Before she could reply the door opened and a man came in, accompanied by a blast of cold wet wind.

“Miss Vi…” The words died on his lips as he caught sight of me. “Pardon, ma’am. I didn’t know you had a visitor.”

She laughed cheerfully. “It’s all right. He’s not a visitor. I’ve just hired him to work with me on the ship. James, meet Mr. Daniel McKelvy. Mr. McKelvy, this is James White, my coachman, no doubt sent to fetch me home for supper.”

“A pleasure, Mr. McKelvy. And that would be correct, Miss.” There was a touch of humor about him that set me at ease, despite the feeling that I was far out of my league with these people. “I was also told to inform you that your grandfather will be dining at the table tonight as well.”

 

 

 

 

 

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Sunday Snippet, February 9, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“…No one wants a repeat of the Uprisings.”

Kestra nodded, understanding. After the Awakening, and after the Mutants had been driven away, there had been a war between the two factions.  Neither side had completely won, but an uneasy truce had been created.  

Veren was relieved that she knew the history. Since meeting Gundrin he was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the prejudice against Mutants and their segregation from Humans. This sanctuary was probably the last place in the city where Mutants were safe, and as he thought about what his Masters had planned for it he felt ill. 

“We also hear that there are dangers here that are worse than anything in the Wilds,” she said, changing the subject back to safer ground much to Veren’s relief.

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Rainbow Snippet for 2-8-2020

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Rainbow Snippets is a group for LGBTQ+ authors, bloggers, and readers to gather once a week and share six sentences from a work of fiction–a WIP or a finished work or even a 6-sentence book recommendation (no spoilers please!).   Check out all the other awesome snippets by clicking on the picture above.

Still posting from that “Steampunk Thing.” The first draft isn’t done yet and I’m hoping that this will keep me motivated to keep at it.

(Apologies for any language usage that’s anachronistic. I’ll deal with that once the first draft is done.)

This picks up from last week.

“So, then, I’ll be seeing you first thing in the morning,” I said. I picked up my coat and cap from my bag of tools and prepared to go out into the weather.

“Were you planning on starting tonight?” she asked, noting my tool bag.

“I always take me tools when I’m out and about. They’re less likely to go missing that way.”  

She tilted her head.

“The lock on me door’s not the greatest. Neither’s my door. An’ my neighbors aren’t exactly the neighborly trustable sort.”

She nodded but didn’t press further.

“Do you have a long trip home?”

“I live in The Old Nichol, Miss.”

Before she could reply the door opened and a man came in, accompanied by a blast of cold wet wind.

*(The Old Nichol was one of the worst slums in London’s East End.)

 

 

 

 

 

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Sunday Snippet, February 2, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“We have stories too, you know. One of them is that humans don’t interact with the other races.”

“Not much,” he admitted, then lowered his voice. “I don’t think it’s right. Gundrin…” He stopped, unwilling to reveal how much the Gnome’s kindness had come to mean to him in the brief time that he’d known him. He watched her intently, and was relieved when she didn’t pursue his comment.

She tilted her head curiously. “You wear a sword.  Aren’t there other weapons here, guns?”

“There are. They aren’t allowed, though, and when found they are destroyed, and the owners are executed. No one wants a repeat of the Uprisings.”

 

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

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Rainbow Snippet for 2-1-2020

rainbow logo 1

Rainbow Snippets is a group for LGBTQ+ authors, bloggers, and readers to gather once a week and share six sentences from a work of fiction–a WIP or a finished work or even a 6-sentence book recommendation (no spoilers please!).   Check out all the other awesome snippets by clicking on the picture above.

Still posting from that “Steampunk Thing.” The first draft isn’t done yet and I’m hoping that this will keep me motivated to keep at it.

(Apologies for any language usage that’s anachronistic. I’ll deal with that once the first draft is done.)

This picks up from last week, with Danny being introduced to his employer’s bodyguards.

“Thomas, your turn.”

A bit taller but not as heavily built, the wolfhound bounded up to me and snuffled at my neck and I scratched his ears too, momentarily overcome with a bout of homesickness. He leaned against me begging for more, and I obliged.

“He doesn’t do that to many,” she observed. “He’s taken quite a liking to you.”

“He reminds me of the dog me grandda had. I don’t remember much about him, but I remember he was the best pillow a toddler could have.”

“If he gets to be too much, just tell him ‘that’s enough’ and he’ll go lie down.”

I nodded, feeling a bit of a loss as the big dog heeded her words and returned to a corner near the fireplace. Roger followed suit, sprawling out in front of it.

 

 

 

 

 

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Sunday Snippet, January 26, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase this next question. “And… mutants?” he asked hesitantly. “We’ve heard that you all live together out there.” He flushed; that hadn’t come out as he’d intended. “I mean, that you don’t separate yourselves, that you… that you are equals.” He half held his breath, hoping she wasn’t offended by the question or didn’t think that he was prejudiced. 

She tilted her head slightly, thinking over what he’d just said, looking for the real question behind the words. “Yes,” she said finally. “We live and work together in the same villages. We’ve learned to judge people by actions, not looks.”

He relaxed visibly and she smiled. “I think that answers at least one of my questions about the city,” she said and he raised an eyebrow. “We have stories too, you know. One of them is that humans don’t interact with the other races.”

 

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

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Rainbow Snippet for 1-25-2020

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Rainbow Snippets is a group for LGBTQ+ authors, bloggers, and readers to gather once a week and share six sentences from a work of fiction–a WIP or a finished work or even a 6-sentence book recommendation (no spoilers please!).   Check out all the other awesome snippets by clicking on the picture above.

Still posting from that “Steampunk Thing.” The first draft isn’t done yet and I’m hoping that this will keep me motivated to keep at it.

(Apologies for any language usage that’s anachronistic. I’ll deal with that once the first draft is done.)

This picks up from last week, with Danny being introduced to his employer’s bodyguards.

The English mastiff rose and approached me, his great head nearly level with my chest and for a moment I had an uneasy vision of him ripping my heart out. Instead, he pressed his nose against me and took a deep breath, getting to know my scent.

“They won’t hurt you.” Her voice was tinged with amusement. “If they’d thought you were a threat you wouldn’t be standing here now.”

Moderately reassured I cautiously reached out and scratched behind his ears and was rewarded with slobbery tongue against my face.

 

 

 

 

 

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Sunday Snippet, January 19, 2020

More from the untitled WiP that I’ve been posting from.

This follows from last week’s snippet.

“What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

 “The Wilds. We hear tales, but I don’t think I believe most of them.”

“What sort of tales?” She was curious about what the city dwellers knew about the Wilds.

He shrugged, embarrassed. “They say that there are all sorts of wild animals out there that are dangerous killers and will rip a man to pieces, even an armed man. And poisonous plants. And that even the water is poisonous.”

Kestra smiled. “There are wild animals, but most are afraid of people. Attacks are rare, and usually caused by something the person did. As for plants, there are some that will make your skin blister and itch if you touch them, and some that will make you ill if you eat their fruit. There are a few – very few – that are deadly. And as for water, we hear the same things about the water in the city. Some of it isn’t safe to drink, but mostly it just makes you sick and won’t kill you, although you may wish you were dead until it gets out of your system.

 

I thought maybe I should post a bit of an explanation/blurb in progress for you to give you some sort of idea about the world I’m playing in for this:

Magic had reasserted itself. Banished for millennia, it could no longer be contained and erupted, bursting forth with a surge of power that had never been known before, and which, mercifully, has not been repeated since.

Unfortunately, no one believed in magic anymore, so no one knew what to do with it, not even those most directly affected: not those who had mutated overnight into creatures of legend, not those born as something other than human, not those who retained human but found themselves touched in other ways, with special powers and abilities.

Almost no one.

There were a few. A few who had held on to dreams and understandings, who believed in the things that others called fantasy. These few took roles as adepts, as teachers and counselors, leading the way into the new age.

There were some, of course, who rejected the changes. They persecuted the Abominations, as they called them, they drove them out of the cities and into the wilds.

And, gradually, a balance was achieved.

Sort of.

Outside the cities, in the wilds, there arose villages, their inhabitants, human and non, living together in peace and harmony with each other and with the natural world that was feared by the city dwellers.

In the cities, Tech ruled. But magic, or, rather, magic power, was not forgotten, nor entirely abandoned, and Temples grew, their priests (who had no power of their own) seeking Power, seeking to harness it for their own ends.

But also in the cities, magic remained.

Humans were still born with special abilities, special senses. They learned not to talk about them, not to reveal that they were “different” – if they did, they were ostracized, driven out away from the general population. 

Veren was one such human.

Mutants were still born each year, but in smaller numbers than during the Awakening. Some infants were killed by their parents, and some were hidden away for a few years, abandoned when their differences could no longer be hidden. 

Jopie was one such child.

And in the wilds, humans and mutants continued to live in harmony, and to practice magic. But occasionally one would be born with a wild talent, something strong and different than what was normal for their village. They felt isolated, because there was no one to help them understand their gift. Some were driven mad by the visions they saw, others went in search of help when the visions became too much to handle.

Kestra was one such person.

 (Yeah, I know it’s too long. But the book is a long way from being finished so I have lots of time to work on it.)

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

 

 

Find more great reading
at the Sunday Snippet group.

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Rainbow Snippet for 1-18-2020

rainbow logo 1

Rainbow Snippets is a group for LGBTQ+ authors, bloggers, and readers to gather once a week and share six sentences from a work of fiction–a WIP or a finished work or even a 6-sentence book recommendation (no spoilers please!).   Check out all the other awesome snippets by clicking on the picture above.

Still posting from that “Steampunk Thing.” The first draft isn’t done yet and I’m hoping that this will keep me motivated to keep at it.

(Apologies for any language usage that’s anachronistic. I’ll deal with that once the first draft is done.)

This picks up from last week.

“…Aren’t you worried about working here all alone?”

“Who said I was alone?” Humor danced in her eyes. “Boys,” she called softly, and a moment later two large dogs appeared in the doorway to the warehouse. “Come meet Mr. McKelvy, boys,” she said, rising.

I scrambled to my feet as well – it wouldn’t do for a gentleman – or any man with any manners – to remain seated whilst a lady stood – never taking my eyes from the dogs. One was an English mastiff; his dark brindle coat would have made him difficult to notice in the shadowed corner of the warehouse even if my attention hadn’t been drawn to the airship. The other was an Irish wolfhound, so dark grey as to be nearly black.

They approached calmly and sat at a hand signal from their owner. “Roger, come say hello.”

 

 

 

 

 

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