Yeah, another one...

So, I bet that you guys are probably a little bit sick of excerpts from my newest book. But, here's another one... :) Soorrrryyy...

                “May I have this dance?” Tobin grinned down at her and held out his hand. Lark laughed a little, then gently took his hand and stood up.

                “It would be my pleasure sir.” She said, still smiling. Tobin bowed and led her away from the campfire slightly.

                “Henri, played something slow for us.”  Tobin said. Henri winked and nodded, then lifted his flute back up to his lips and played a song Lark had never heard before. Tobin placed his hand on her waist. “Have you danced before?” He asked. Lark was suddenly very grateful she had not declined the dancing lessons Lord Billingham had offered her. She nodded.

                “Many times.”

                “Good.” He said, still smiling. The melody was haunting, and beautiful, and it didn’t take Lark long to forget about everything else and just focus on the dancing.

                “May I intervene?” the Cap tapped Tobin on the shoulder.

                “Well, I suppose that’s up to the lady.” Tobin said. Lark smiled.

                “Of course you may.” Tobin humphed dramatically, then stepped aside to let the Captain in. Tobin winked at Lark.

                “Thank you for the dance m’lady.” Lark just laughed at him and rolled her eyes. The Cap laughed as well, then stepped up to her. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and they continued the dance. Lark was immediately aware of how differently Cap held her and danced with her than Tobin, or anyone else for that matter. The feel of his hand on her waist sent tingles up her spine, and his steps were surprisingly light.

                “Cap, I never knew you were such a good dancer!” She said, obviously surprised. Cap winked.

                “I’ve had some practice in my day.” Lark shot him a questioning look, but he just chuckled and twirled her. Lark laughed.

                “And what practice is that?” She asked once she was back in his arms.

                “You probably don’t want to know.” He said, smiling secretly.

                “And what if I do?” She asked.

                “Let’s just say my sister felt like she needed lots of practice dancing before the town socials.” He winked.

                “Surely you didn’t get that good just dancing with your sister!” Lark said. He spun her out and back in again so that her back was to him.

                “Perhaps.” He said. She laughed, and he twirled her around so they were facing each other again. The music slowed, nearing its end, and the Cap dipped her down. As Henri played the last note, he leaned in closer. The clearing became silent, and Lark was increasingly aware of how close his face was to hers. His eyes studied her. His lips were just inches from hers. Lark closed her eyes.

                “Well done!” Seth suddenly said, clapping. Both the Cap and Lark started a bit, and the Cap stood up, gently bringing Lark with him.

                “Thank you for the dance.” He said, bowing slightly. His eyes never left hers. He smiled, then turned to walk back to the fire. Lark just stood there, and allowed a hand to touch her lips. He had almost kissed her. And she had almost kissed him back.

Mooooore excerpts!

Well, actually just one. Again, it's rough. More like a random splurge of ideas. :) Enjoy!

                “Seth?” Lark looked around for him, but couldn’t see him. All she saw was his little red notebook by the river bank. She wandered over to it and sat down to wait for him. She glanced over at the notebook. She knew she shouldn’t, but her curiosity got the better of her. She picked it up and started to flip through it. She stopped on a random page. Her blood froze when she realized what was on it. It was coded. And not the code that their army used. She’d only seen this a few times before, on documents stolen from their wagon raids. But this couldn’t mean that…

                “Lark, drop the notebook.” Seth’s growly voice made her jump, and instinctively she held the notebook tighter. “Now. And stand up. Keep your hands where I can see them.” She dropped the notebook into her lap and raised her hands above her head. Slowly she stood up, and the notebook fell  into the dirt. She turned to face him. He held his knife in his hand, and she knew that he could have it impaled in her heart within moments if he so desired. Her hands shook and her insides turned to jelly.

                “Seth…what’s going on?” She struggled to keep her voice from trembling.

                “I could ask you the same thing.” He said, eyes glinting dangerously. “What were you doing with my notebook?”

                “Nothing! I just…I didn’t see anything.” She said, looking at the ground.

                “You’re lying.” His voice was menacingly quiet. It sent goose bumps up Lark’s spine.

                “You can’t kill me. Cap will find me, and he’ll figure out who did it. You won’t get away with it.” She said defiantly.

                “Who says I won’t kill him too?” Seth walked slowly towards her, knife still at the ready.

                “Please Seth.” She begged. He smiled wickedly, not saying anything. He walked up to her and used the tip of his knife to gently trace her jaw.

                “You know Lark, you’re not bad. Definitely not the sissy I thought you were at first. But that’s not going to change anything.” He stepped back away from her, and held his knife up, ready to plunge it into her quivering heart. Then something whizzed past Lark’s ear. Seth’s face changed from one of malicious pleasure to pain. His hand went up to the arrows protruding from his chest. Lark’s breath caught in her throat, and she backed away from him. He collapsed to his knees, blooding bubbling out of the corners of his mouth.

                “[enemy country’s name] will win this war. You stand no chance.” He gasped, blood spatters spewing out of his mouth.

                “Lark!” She didn’t turn towards the voice. She stood frozen, eyes glued to the sight of Seth dying.

                “Long live King [name of enemy king].” Seth raised his hand in a salute, and his eyes locked with Lark’s before he collapsed in a pool of blood on the ground.         

                “Lark!” The Captain reached her and grabbed her arm to help steady her swaying body. She collapsed into him, sobbing. Everything had happened so fast. Her brain was having a hard time processing it all. She leaned harder into the Cap, unable to control her emotions. She knew she would be terribly embarrassed about this later, but she couldn’t stop the flow of tears. Cap patted her back awkwardly, not sure how to deal with her sudden display of emotion. He helped her sit down, then sat down next to her. She buried her head in his shirt, and he rubbed her shoulders until her sobs quieted and her breathing grew more even.

                “I’m sorry.” She whispered into his shoulder. “It’s just that…”

                “No need to explain.” He said. “Are you ready to go back to camp?” She nodded and straightened up. She look at the wet spot on his shirt, and felt a rush of hot embarrassment.

                “And I’m sorry for your shirt…” She looked away. He simply stood up and held out his hand to help her. She accepted it. They started the walk back to camp in silence. When they were almost there Cap spoke.

                “Listen Lark. We don’t need to talk about this anymore. And we don’t need to give them details.”

                “Thanks.” She said, looking at the ground. As if her puffy red eyes wouldn’t give her away.

                “Hey! We were wondering where you guys went!” Henri shouted to them as soon as they rounded the corner into camp. His eyes rested on Lark’s red face. “What happened?” He asked. The Cap shook his head, warning him not to talk about it anymore. Tobin stepped out of his tent.

                “Hey, where’s Seth?” Cap just motioned for them to all gather around the fire, which they did, curious.

                “Seth…betrayed us. Our team only has five members now. Henri, Tobin, could you go dispose of the body?” He jerked his head in the direction they had just come from. Looking at them, Lark could see they were all terribly surprised, but they all knew that if the Captain didn’t want to tell them anymore they couldn’t make him. Tobin and Henri nodded. “Tomorrow we’ll pack up camp again and head south. Dismissed.”  Cooper cast a worried glance at Lark, then went back to tending the fire. Henri and Tobin started back towards the river.

                “If you don’t mind, I’m going to turn in early tonight. Don’t bother waking me for supper.” Lark mumbled at the ground. The Cap studied her for a moment, obviously concerned, then nodded.

                “Be ready to head out tomorrow.” He said, still looking at her.

               

My bio page

So, this was actually an assignment for English. But I like it. So, of course, it's going on this blog.
I was supposed to put my heart in it. This little poetic thing basically sums me up. Enjoy!

My name is Marissa

My name is Marissa.

I had a fairly normal childhood.

At least, as normal of a childhood as one can have with an older brother.

Of course, I suppose older brothers are normal, right?

They’re mostly all annoying at some point or another.

We did a lot of things though, my siblings and I.

Of course, I was just little. When I got big enough to really remember, they were all grown up. I still remember a little bit though.

We played cats, and orphans, and mountain goats, and wizards. 

One thing you should know about me: I have an imagination. I could spend hours as a little girl playing in my room with just myself.

Of course, I had friends too. But they didn’t always play the way I liked.

Maybe some people would say that I have too much of an imagination now. I get distracted easily. I still play by myself.

Maybe this is why I like to write. And I do. Write that is.

Fantasy mostly. Sometimes science fiction. But mostly fantasy.

When I write fantasy, I get to make up my own world. There are no rules, no laws, nothing to get in my way. My imagination’s my limit.

I like music too. But not the music that most people like. Sometimes I feel like words can get in the way. (Not while I’m writing of course. Just when I’m listening to music.)

I do listen to “popular” music. Sometimes.  Taylor Swift, One Direction. But I prefer to go my own direction.

Nobody wants to listen to my iPod on shuffle. You’ll find John Powell, Howard Shore, Klaus Bedelt, Alan Silvestri… “Nerd” music. Well, I suppose I am a nerd. And proud of it!

I guess you could say I sing to my own tune.  I try not to care what other people think. But words can hurt me too. Sometimes I think people forget that. My friends say things, and they hurt, and I wish they could see that.

My parents are good. They teach me things. Right from wrong, and how to do stuff.

I earn my own money. Sometimes it’s hard. But I like it.

I work with the old people.

Sometimes I look at them, and wonder what they were like when they were younger.

Some people look at them and see them as people near the end of their lives.

Useless now that they’re worn out.

I look at them and see a person sculpted by a lifetime.

They’re so much wiser than me. And when they tell me stuff, I listen.

Sometimes I feel like I have 35 grandmas and grandpas.

But right now I only have two grandparents. My dad’s parents.

But we don’t see them a lot.

My mom’s parents got divorced. Twice. And Max just kind of left.

That’s my grandpa, Max.

He’s a grandpa to me by blood, but not by heart.

He doesn’t want to get to know me, so I suppose I’ll never know him.

He says he’s never coming back to Utah.

That makes me sad. I want a Grandpa.

I met him for the first time at my Grandma’s funeral.

She was the only Grandma that lived near me.

She moved here a few years ago.

And then she got sick. So I guess I was happy when she passed. She had fought for a long time, and then she got to stop.

It’s only been 5 months, but I already forgot what she smells like.

I feel like life is too short to be sad.

I mean, if we get to choose how we feel, why don’t we choose to be happy more often than not?

There are lots of things that make me happy.

Music, chocolate, cats, yellow, teddy bears, snow, fall leaves, caramel milk, flowers, bird chirps, words, school, pens, sunshine, trees, blankets, fuzzy socks, pinecones, yogurt for breakfast, weekends…

And the list could go on.

So why, with so many good things around us do we ignore the happy things, and focus only on the negative?

Seems silly to me.

But I guess, easier said than done.

Because it takes work to be happy. I guess everything good takes work.

If we were all happier, would there be fewer wars? Less hunger? Less poverty?
I think so.

But what do I know?
Maybe more than some people think.

LOTS of excerpts. YAY!

So, this is a lie. This are random tidbits from a book I am currently working on. Yes, I abandoned Reverie. No, I put it aside until I'm ready for it. Anyway, this does give away the ending of the book, so SPOILER ALERT!! I just had some ideas floating around, and figured it was a good idea to get them on paper. So...here ya go!

Excerpt 1:

Lark stopped and turned around. “Captain?” she said hesitantly. Mark turned to face her.

                “Yes Lark?”

                “I love you.” Then she dropped her torch. Mark opened his mouth to answer her, but the fire had already built a wall around her. He dropped his torch too. Then he closed his eyes and whispered.

                “I love you too.”

Excerpt 2:

“Sir? May I come in?” the commander nodded.

                “I fear you come bearing bad news.” He said, sighing heavily.

                “Yes sir, I have.” Captain Arna ducked inside the tent. “I am afraid that the members of the SITU have been declared killed in action. This includes Captain Mark Seber, Agent Lauren Mallows, Agent Tobin Mace, Agent Henri…” The commander droned him out,  and closed his eyes.

                “Thanks you Captain Arna, that will be all.” He said. The captain nodded and stepped back out.  The commander couldn’t believe it. The members of the SITU. [insert names of country]’s golden soldiers. The heroes of the year. All dead. Gone. He sighed again and pulled out some paper to write his condolence letters.

Excerpt3
 

Mark sat down wearily on the bench and put his head in his hands. The grief pushed down on him like a ton of bricks. Up until this point he hadn’t been able to cry. But now it all rushed at him at once. A man does not like to be seen crying. Especially not the country’s newest hero. But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He didn’t even care if anyone saw him.

He got off the bench a knelt in front of the memorial. It was a marble tombstone, surrounded by flowers, with benches on every side. People had come and put little trinkets at the base. Flowers, blankets, notes. Mark ran his fingers lightly across the letters spelling out the names. They lingered on Lark’s name. He traced each letter carefully with his finger. L. A. U. R. Then he dropped his hand again and looked away.

Why did he have to survive? Why couldn’t he have died under that rubble? He heard footstep behind him. He took a few deep  breaths and struggled to stop the tears forcing their way out of his eyes. But he didn’t turn around. He stayed there, kneeling in the dirt.

“Captain?” His heart stopped. He was afraid to look. “Is that you?” There must be something wrong with his hearing. That was all. Besides, lots of people called him Captain. “Cap?” He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. He slowly turned his head, his brain swimming. He couldn’t quite comprehend what he saw. Lark’s worried face broke out into a look of relief. “Oh Captain!” She hobbled quickly  towards him and knelt down next to him, embracing him and soaking his shirt in her tears. He hugged her back  and breathed in the scent of her hair.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming.” He whispered, holding her tighter.  She was sobbing too hard to answer. He finally let go of her and took hold of her hands. “What, how?” He stuttered. Lark sighed.

“I don’t know.” She answered truthfully. “All I know was that I was stuck under that rubble for what seemed like days. The stone protected my from the majority of the fire. When I heard people up above, I tried to call for help, but no one heard me.  A few days later a forest dweller found me. How,I don’t know. But he did. I was feverish, and starving, and dehydrated, and well, injured.” She looked down at her leg. For the first time Mark noticed it. Or rather, the lack of it. A wooden prosthetic was in its place.  Lark continued. “He took me to his healer who nursed me back to health. I assumed that everyone else had died. But I came into town with the family I was staying with to help them sell some things. I heard rumors that you were still alive, and I had to find out for myself. I heard about the memorial, and decided that it might be the best place to look. I suppose I was right.” She smiled up at him. He laughed and hugged her tight.

Am I in love with this story? Yes, I am

Made up a new plot line. Am I in love? Yes I am. Will I start to write this story before I finish Reverie? ...No, I suppose I shouldn't...

Marion stumbled along. Her wrists ached from weeks of being tied up. She sighed.

Treason. That was her crime. The king had ordered that she walk 300 miles to the city of Duomonte where she would promptly be executed. She knew the walk was almost over, and she didn’t know if she was happy or sad. Or just tired.

They walked past a farm, and her eyes fell on a boy working in the field. He had a handsome face, dark hair, and olive skin. She smiled. He met her eye and smiled back, before quickly looking away. Marion blushed, suddenly embarrassed at how she looked. She kept her eyes on the ground the rest of the way.

It wasn’t long before they reached their destination; the Duomonte Jail House. She would be kept there until her execution later in the evening. Her guards unceremoniously threw her in, and slammed the heavy wooden door. She could hear the click of the locks.

The world was completely dark in the stone room. Not a sliver of light met Marion’s eye. She crawled on her knees, her bound hands out in front of her, until she found the back wall. She leaned up against it and closed her eyes. All she felt like doing was sleeping, but however hard she tried, she just couldn’t get sleep to come. Fear and anxiety gnawed at her, and her stomach felt tight.

It seemed like days when they finally opened the door again. The bright light burned Marion’s eyes after spending many hours in the dark. One of them walked in and roughly pulled her to her feet. Outside of the jail house people were lined up along the streets. Marion never imagined that so many people could have heard about her and wanted to see her death. Maybe it wasn’t her they had heard about though. Maybe it was her cause.

The guard led her to a stone wall. A simple wooden stool sat just before the wall, and a line of five archers were lined up a few feet away. Marion gulped. She thought that she’d be brave, but now that the moment came, she felt tears threatening to escape. She was ordered to sit down on the stool, and she did so obediently. Just then, images of her life the past few months flashed before her eyes.

She saw Jodur standing before her, sword in hand, as he promoted her to his elite force of spies. She saw burning villages. She saw Andi, on the ground, arrows in her chest. Execution by firing squad. Just like Marion. She saw the king, his cruel smile and cold eyes. She saw suffering, hunger, and pain. It had all been for good though. And Jodur’s Knights would continue to fight for good. They always would. A sudden burst of courage coursed through her body, and she found herself standing up.

“I will not die sitting down.” She heard herself say. The archers looked at each other, and a few shrugged their shoulder. Marion stood up tall, and looked each of the archers in the eyes. When the first arrow came at her, it seemed to go in slow motion. The shiny black shaft shone in the dying light. It struck it’s mark, right in the chest. The other four followed in rapid succession, and only two of them whizzed past her, and struck the wall behind her. She fell backwards, her first instinct was to pull the arrows out of her chest, but as she tried to lift her arm, she couldn’t. Her vision slowly narrowed, and her breath became fast and shallow. The crowd was completely quiet. Marion’s eyes drooped closed, and she whispered one last prayer to the gods to save her soul. The last sound she heard was a bird’s cheerful chirp. She smiled.

~

Jesh couldn’t get the image of the smiling girl out of his mind. He knew who she was, but he didn’t know her name. The image kept pulling at his mind, until finally he threw down his rake in frustration.

“Pa, I’m going to the execution!” He called as he hopped the fence, and sprinted down the road. He got there just in time. There she was. Her guard pulled hard at the rope connected to her wrists, causing her to stumble. Her eyes looked full of fear. She sat down on the little stool. Jesh felt sorry for her. Suddenly she stood up, knocking the stool over.

“I will not die sitting down.” She said. Her voice only quavered ever so slightly. Jesh all of a sudden wished with all his heart that he knew her.

The firing squad raised their bows. They each had their one arrow on the string. They all pulled back together. At a nod from the firing master, the arrows all whooshed towards her in one mass. Three struck her in the chest, and she fell backwards. What an awful way to die. Jesh thought to himself. He turned away. The blood oozing from her wounds and running on to the ground made his stomach sick. He looked back and saw a man step forward and crouch down. He put two fingers on her neck to feel her pulse.

“She’s dead.” He announced. People murmured amongst themselves. Jesh looked to his right, and saw a man quickly brush away a tear. Then he discreetly raised four fingers to his heart, then his lips, then outwards in a salute. Jesh gasped. Jodur’s salute. Could that be…? The man realized that Jesh had seen him, and raised a finger to his lips, as if to say, “It’s our secret”. Then he disappeared.

The town’s people then started to disperse, but Jesh stayed there. Something about that gesture towards the dead girl had moved him. He quickly moved to where her body was, and where it would stay until the next morning, as a reminder to the people. He slipped a hand behind her neck, and found a chain. He followed it until he found a pendant that had been hidden in her shirt. It was a deer. On the back it had one word. A name.

“Marion.” He said aloud. He supposed that must have been her name. Marion. He snapped the chain, and stuck it in the pouch that hung on his belt. Then he quickly rushed over and picked a blooming flower. Fawnbloom it was called, for it’s beautiful white delicacy. He arranged her body into a less gruesome position. Straight, with hands folded on her stomach. Like you would see someone just before the casket lid closed. He placed the flower between her hands. Just then he felt a sudden surge of warmth towards this girl he had never met. He gently kissed her forehead, then stood up.

“Well Marion. I suppose Jodur will be needing another soldier now.” He said sadly. Then he walked out of town, and didn’t look back.