What You Wish For - 1

[kanasta]

This is the first chapter of a fantasy book I'm working on. Please let me know what you think! Thanks.

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It was the year of the great storm when grandmother told me the truth about my parents. I was nineteen and had never suspected that the story of my life that I had been told was not the truth.

In the afternoon we had been gathering herbs together. It was nearly winter, the time for coughs and colds, so we needed to be prepared. Borage for bronchitis; feverfew for the hot sweats; sage for sore throats and lemon balm for comfort.

I looked at Gran. Age was creeping up on her, that was certain. Lines scored her face more deeply in reality than in my mental picture of her. She bent over slowly to pick the plants; so slowly I expected to hear her creak. As she straightened laboriously, I said “Let’s call it a day, Gran. We’ve got plenty and night’s drawing in.” She pulled her ragged cloak closer and nodded.

Wind started whipping about the trees. Their dead leaves were set rustling and rattling. My hair whipped about my face. Gran looked at me. “There’s bad weather coming,” she said.

Our baskets full, we walked back towards towards home. A lot of the herbs grew at the edge of the woods close to our house so it wasn’t far. I could see the roof of the house over the tops of the trees. It was swaying a little in the wind, and as we turned a corner I could see that it was hopping nervously from side to side, jittering on its long bony chicken legs. “She’s anxious,” said Gran.

That was a bit worrying; the house had a very good sense for meteorology. The air grew colder and the wind jabbed at us sharply. We hurried to the steps and climbed up, Gran wheezing a little as she clutched the knobbly wooden rail. As soon as we were inside, Gran called out “Settle down then,” and the house drew up its knees and pulled itself in, bracing itself for the coming storm.

The shutters began to rattle and wind weaselled in through the cracks in the slats. I lit a fire.

Gran settled herself in a chair. Over the course of the night she spoke to me of many things. She was worried she would not live much longer and she wanted to be sure I was ready to live alone. I heard thunder and pulled open one of the shutters a little to look out. The storm rose and lightning crackled round the woods. One of the oldest oak trees was hit and I saw the blue flame flared up and the tree fall. That tree had been a companion to me all my life and I couldn’t bear to see it. I let the shutter fall back shut.

“Grandfather oak has fallen,” said Gran, “It can only be an omen.” I wanted to tell her not to be so silly, not to be melodramatic, but how could I? She was the wise woman of the woods, the one whom everyone came to see for answers- and she was usually right – so how could I possibly say such a thing?

In the flickering flames, with an occasional bolt of lightning flashing through the shutters, the old woman suddenly looked strange to me. It seemed that I had stepped back, away from my life spent growing up with her, and I was seeing her as the villagers saw her- a craggy faced crone with glittering eyes. Then she spoke, and she was just Gran again.

“My dear, have you ever wondered about your parents?”

“Of course,” I replied. “I wish I could have known them.”

She sighed. “It’s time you knew the truth.”

“What do you mean?’

With a deep breath, she stated “I’m not really your grandmother, child. I have never had children. Your mother was a girl from the village who trusted me.”

“But… so… after she drowned in the river, you became my guardian?”

“She didn’t drown. For all I know, she is still alive. I expect she is.”

I just stared. My throat clenched in anxiety.

“I’m sorry, child. You know, I have loved you as if you were my own, if that’s any consolation.”

“I- I love you too, Gran. But, why did you lie to me? For so long? And my father- was he really a soldier who disappeared in the war?”

“I’m afraid not. You need to listen now, dear, and you need to believe me. You may find that difficult, even impossible, but I swear to you, on the life of this house, everything I am about to tell you is true. Everything.”

I nodded, dumbstruck.

Gran cleared her throat and began.

“Your mother was a young woman called Dalia. That much is true. But she was not my daughter. She lived in the village five miles from here, the other side of the woods. I knew her for many years. Dalia first came here when she was eight and had terrible earache. Her mother brought her to see me, and I gave her some medicine. Her ear infection cleared up in a few days, and Dalia came back on her own with a bottle of sloe gin for me. I showed her the house, and the cats, and we played cards. She loved it here and from that day, she used to come and visit whenever she could.

She was a charming little girl; quite demanding but so fun and affectionate. Her head was always full of daydreams and she would chatter on for hours about how she was going to marry a rich prince and escape the village and not grow up to be like her mother... You know, the usual kind of country girl fantasies.

As she grew older, she continued to come here, and I looked forward to her vists. My life has few regrets, but I have always been sad that I never had children. Dalia became a little like a daughter to me, and as I had nobody to pass my knowledge down to, I did start to share some of the craft with her. Nothing like I have done with you my dear; she only visited once or twice a week for a few hours here and there, but I was still able to teach her some of the basics.

Dalia was a pretty little girl and she was turning into a beautiful woman. At the same time, as she became aware of the effect she could have on people, she was also showing signs of turning into a vain woman. It saddened me to see her sneer about others, to toss her hair petulantly and complain about her life. But those moments came and went, and in between she was still the adoring little girl that I had grown to care for very deeply.

One summer morning, Dalia appeared at my door looking distraught. 'Oh Nan,' she wailed, her eyes puffy and red. 'You won't believe what they've done!'

'Who?' I asked, wondering what on earth could have upset her so much. 'Come in and tell me what's happened.'

'It, it, it's my parents!' she gulped. 'They, they've promised me to some OLD MAN!'

'Are you sure? How do you know?'

'Because they told me, of course! All pleased with themselves like they were doing me some wonderful favour!'

I let the sobbing girl into my house and led her to the comfiest armchair. She dropped into the cushions and curled up, sniffling, while I made some chamomile tea.

After a bit more sobbing and a few sips of tea, she started to doze off. Her red puffy eyes suggested she had been awake crying for most of the night. I watched her for a little while and then went out to gather some ingredients for lunch.

After collecting a few eggs and salad leaves, an omelette seemed an excellent idea. I had a strong fancy for wild garlic with that omelette and headed into the woods to find some.

Unusually, there was none about and I wandered deeper, whacking the bushes and undergrowth aside with my stick, hoping to uncover some. When I found at last a stinky clump of the delicious herb, I must have been gone for at least an hour. I dropped the garlic into my basket and turned round for home.

I had only gone a few steps when a low rumbling filled the air. The ground lurched beneath me and I stumbled, grabbing a tree for balance. The sky darkened as black clouds rolled across it. 'Dalia!' I cried and dropped my basket, running back to the house.

When I came out of the woods and into the clearing, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. This was about twenty years ago so I was fitter than I am now, but still a bit old to be sprinting through the woods!

I leaned on my stick, panting, and looked up at the house. From out in the open, it became clear that the roiling clouds didn't cover the whole sky. Just half a mile or so away, I could see blue again. My house was the epicentre of the sudden darkness. Beneath the inky clouds, my poor house shivered in fear, crouching down on its bony legs as if trying to hide.

I stared upwards, not wanting to go any further, but knowing that I must. Just one step, I told myself, then another.

I reached the house and slowly climbed the external stairs. I could hear a low rumbling coming from inside, and as I reached the entrance, I realised it was a voice. A man's? Lower than any man's voice I had heard before.

Pausing before the door for a moment, I gathered my courage and pushed it open. The room was dark and my eyes slowly adjusted. Dalia was sitting on the floor with her back to me, her head bowed, trembling. One candle burnt before her and she had drawn symbols on the floorboards with a lump of coal. An ill-formed salt circle surrounded her- if it had been intended to offer protection, it would not have done so, as the line was uneven, too thin and broken in several places.

In my armchair, facing Dalia- and the doorway- sat a huge person. The sight of such a proud figure crammed into my shabby furniture might have been funny in other circumstances. It looked like a man but I knew that it was not one. He lifted his head towards me and the flickering candle lit his darkly handsome face. His features were strong and sharp; his eyes amused and his mouth almost smiling. When he spoke I caught a glimpse of his bright white, sharp teeth.

'Good afternoon,' he said pleasantly in that deep, deep voice that I almost felt inside me more than I heard it.'Is this your home?'
'Yes,' I replied. 'Might I ask whom I have the honour of addressing?'

His grin widened and Dalia's shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. 'You may call me Lord.'

'And- your Lord - may I ask- What brings you to my humble home?'

'You may. But why don't you ask this young lady? She summoned me, after all.' He smiled magnanimously.

I swallowed. 'Dalia?'

'I - I didn't want to marry that old man. So I thought... I thought if I could marry a Prince...'

I looked at the dark figure opposite. Prince he certainly was.

'So...' she sniffed, 'I looked through your books and...'

'But,' I said, 'Surely your abilities are not developed enough to summon such a mighty being...'

'I just meant a normal prince!' wailed Dalia.

'To, ah, answer your question,' interrupted the Prince, 'Your surprise is warranted. Her spell was clumsy. I was not obligated to come. However, I must confess- I have been hoping to find a wife. It does get lonely in the Darkness- and she is certainly beautiful. So- my dear- shall we go? We have a wedding to arrange.' His eyes glinted redly with amusement.

'You... you don't have to take her...' I cried.

The look of languorous humour fell from his face and he rose from the chair. Unfolding to his full height, the top of his head just grazed the ceiling. His eyes flashed again like rubies in a fire, this time with anger.

'You are right human. I do not have to do anything. But I am breaking no laws. This girl asked for a Prince to marry, and here I am. She has cast no protection worth the name and I could easily tear her to pieces just for her impertinence.'

Dalia whimpered and I shook my head in horror.

'But I will not,' he continued. 'I will simply marry her; which is all that she asked. Come, girl, we are going home. Don't look so sad- you are going to love the Underworld!' He reached down to the shaking young woman and pulled her to her feet. She stared at me in helpless terror.

'Wait,' I cried, 'Your Highness... Could I just ask for one small boon?'

He stared at me imperiously and then nodded, gesturing for me to continue.

'If... If there should be a child... A child should grow up in the open, play in the woods, enjoy the sun...'

He sighed. 'Very well. A squawking brat will not exactly improve the ambience of my palace in any case. Any offspring will be returned to your care. You have my word.'

And then, they simply disappeared. No flash, no puff of smoke, just a slight draught. I never saw your mother again, but about eighteen months later, you appeared on my steps wrapped in a square of black silk."

[PaulMcDermott]

Hi, Kanasta!

Prince Not-so-Charming,hmmmmmmm? Nice twist!

Took me a few paras to decide if this was intended as a fairy story for children, or a moral warning for a more mature reader.
The pace is good, the 'hook' in the final paras works(for me, anyway!) and I look forward to reading Chapter 2

[kanasta]

Thanks Paul - your feedback is appreciated!

[Ergo Proxy]

Finally! A really good story!

I truly thought this was flawlessly wonderful (that’s why I read the entire chapter:)) But then I took a closer look and realized it needed some help (though I still think it's good!). So, here's my complaints:

(1) Wordiness and Clarity

I’m stumbling over the second sentence. It’s far too awkward and wordy. For one thing, in the first clause, I believe you can use the simple past instead of the past perfect. Second, you don’t have to use “that” to introduce the clauses they precede. Also you can use the prefix “un” to make the negation at the end of the sentence more compact.

I was nineteen and (had) never suspected (that) the story of my life (that) I had been told was (not the truth.)

I would rewrite it as such: ‘I was nineteen, and never suspected the story of my life I’d been told was untrue.’

To get rid of the double negative, you could write:

‘I was nineteen, and never suspected the story of my life I’d been told was a lie.’

Or better yet:

‘I was nineteen, and never suspected the story of my life was a lie.’

To tell the truth, I don’t like the first paragraph at all.

It was the year of the great storm when grandmother told me the truth about my parents. I was nineteen and had never suspected that the story of my life that I had been told was not the truth.

I think the first paragraph should be changed because:
(1) It seems kind of vague to mark the revelation by year, when you could be more specific and mark it by day.
(2) The first paragraph should paradoxically give a vague, yet clear, summary of what is to come.

I would write:

I discovered my father’s true identity on the night the great oak was destroyed by lighting. It was an ominous night of dark revelations. For years grandmother had lied to protect me, but at nineteen I was finally old enough to learn the truth.

That afternoon, we had been gathering herbs together…


(2) Semicolons.

Borage for bronchitis; feverfew for the hot sweats; sage for sore throats and lemon balm for comfort.

Please don’t ask me why the above sentence is grammatically incorrect. I hate trying to explain grammar (too much technical jargon, LOL). Just take my word that the above is not how you use semi-colons. You must use commas instead.

She bent over slowly to pick the plants; so slowly I expected to hear her creak.

The above quote is another example of incorrect semi-colon usage. I went ahead and looked it up on Wikipedia. Use semicolons only in the situation listed in this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Semicolon

(3) Redundancies. Show and tell.

The first few paragraphs are very important, and I think the following one could use some work:

I looked at Gran. Age was creeping up on her, that was certain. Lines scored her face more deeply in reality than in my mental picture of her. She bent over slowly to pick the plants; so slowly I expected to hear her creak. As she straightened laboriously, I said “Let’s call it a day, Gran. We’ve got plenty and night’s drawing in.” She pulled her ragged cloak closer and nodded.

“Look” is a weak verb that gets overused by writers (I overuse it as well). I would go further, and rewrite the whole paragraph. The following three sentences are unnecessary.

I looked at Gran. Age was creeping up on her, that was certain. Lines scored her face more deeply in reality than in my mental picture of her.

The above would be conveyed better by showing instead of telling. And why put the action at the end of the paragraph instead of the beginning? The reader is being told something, and then shown it, redundantly. I would rewrite the entire paragraph as follows, in order to convey her great age and weariness:

Gran bent over slowly. She held the sage and snipped through the stem with tiny kitchen scissors. As she straightened, her weathered face frowned with exertion.

“Let’s call it a day, Gran. We’ve got plenty and night’s drawing in.”

She pulled her ragged cloak closer and nodded.

(4) Conclusion

There's many other things in the story that I have issues with, but I'll conclude my editing for now.

In all, I liked “What You Wish For.” The underlying story is far superior (commercially) than anything I’ve written. My advice is to just keep writing and don’t worry about grammar and prose. Focus on the story. After you sell it to a publisher, they can edit it. Or you can wait until after you’ve finished writing the book and then edit it. Seems like you’re muse is inspiring you, so just keep writing for now, and don’t stop. The story is what matters the most. Some people fuss over their work and fine tune the prose, but the story is crap, so their fussing is pointless. Your story is excellent, so I’d say focus on that and save the editing for last. Also, I’d recommend that you hurry up and finish the book so you can market it to an agent. Writing it is the easy part. Finding a good agent, selling it to a top publisher, and successfully marketing it to the public is what’s going to be difficult. Have you started working on your book proposal yet? How are you going to market this book? Who’s the target audience? The publisher will want to know these things when you throw them your sales pitch. Good luck. You’ve definitely got a winner here, if you can maintain the quality of chapter one throughout the rest of the book.

[joant]

Enjoyed this. Thought it was a great story, well thought out . Will definitely be reading the next part joan

[kanasta]

Thanks Joan! I'm glad you enjoyed it.

EP - thank you for really useful comments. This is a first draft; I'm pretty much doing what you suggest and just racing through it to get it down on paper. I have a tendency to get bogged down in facts and plot and so I decided to just tell a fairly linear story set in a world where I can make up the rules and just go for it! But I was interested to see what people thought of the initial ideas, looks pretty promising so that's really encouraging.
Your points were really useful though. I'm not going to rewrite this yet because the whole point is that I just keep going, but I'm putting them on file for later. Funny, I did agonise a bit over the semi-colons in the list of herbs but in the end I thought that was the correct way to do it. I do have a bit of an unhealthy love for the semi-colon though - I'll go back to the grammar books on that one.
I haven't thought about the business end of things yet, again I don't want to get caught up in that instead of writing but I will think about it, especially once I have a few more chapters under my belt!
Thanks
Katy

[A.B.Ellahi]

First of all let me just say, i'm new to this site, and your work is the first i have read.

i really enjoyed reading it, your choice of words really help to create a vivid image of the place you have described. i think you have done a great job. i will be waiting to read the next part.

[Sue]

I enjoyed this because it is unusual. The house on chicken's legs caught me by surprise, but I was amused. I hope you were listening to "Pictures at an Exhibition" while you wrote about it.

Your style is OK by me - not overdone, and not too curt. I@d happily read more.

Borage for bronchitis; feverfew for the hot sweats; sage for sore throats and lemon balm for comfort.

Please don’t ask me why the above sentence is grammatically incorrect.

You don't have an answer, EP, because it isn't grammatically incorrect. In such a list, the semicolons function as serial commas and all the items separated by them are of equal value to the sentence. OK there isn't a verb to make it a technically correct sentence, but it's just a list. Get over yourself.

[stillucan]

Hi Kanasta,

Had to tell you I really enjoyed this story and looking forward to more. I would tighten it up here and there, especially the opening para, which is so important.

Well done.
Bob