Royalty in the Pack (excerpt)

This is my first attempt at writing about werewolves. It is different, for sure. This was written for the Linkedin group Writer's 750 short story challenge "June Orphans".

Royalty in the Pack

By Glenda Reynolds

The royal coach that carried Lady Catherine and Princess Margaret raced against the furious blizzard which came fast and hard. Negotiating mountain passes became more and more treacherous as it proved to be their undoing. Though the horses were sure-footed, the wheels of the carriage started to slide in icing conditions. The trip came to an end when the carriage smashed into a rocky face of a mountain. The horses, free of their restraints, galloped through the blinding snow back to their home: Camelot.  Lady Catherine and the coachman died instantly. The little princess, though bruised and bloodied, lay unconscious. A pack of wolves discovered the disheveled coach with its occupants. The coachman was flung several feet from the carriage. The wolves discovered his body first. The hungry beasts pulled the unconscious girl through the window and onto the fresh snow. Her still warm body smelled very appealing to the pack. They began to fight over her. The sound of gunfire scattered the wolves in all directions.

The hooded figure picked the silent girl up, flung her over a shoulder, and proceeded into the woodland. The figure with her heavy burden trekked on for a few miles until she came to a cabin in the woods. A carved wooden gnome stood near the cabin as if to keep watch. It had wolf-like features. 

  

(To be continued...) 

 

You Might Be A Writer If...

You might want to be a writer if…

• Your dinner conversation is about your latest plot.
• Your characters are your best friends.
• You pitch to three agents who all want the completed manuscript–that you haven’t written yet.
• You insist all your family and friends read this draft, even though they’ve already read the last three drafts–so they can compare and tell you how much better it is.
• You have a quote for every occasion from the brilliant dialogue of your characters.
• You have a million story ideas until you sit down to write.
• You are working on your 27th draft and still don’t know how to fill in the middle
• You have 38 rejections and counting.
• The only people who understand you are others who want to be writers.
• One criticism wipes out a dozen praises.
• You measure time by the number of words you’ve written.
• Your favorite authors wrote “how to” book on writing.
• Your critique group members are on speed dial.
• You have a collection covering several years of the annual Writer’s Market.

You might be a writer if…

• You’ve moved your writing beyond most of the items above.
• Your motivation is money–and you are making some.
• You consistently spend a set amount of time writing or revising.
• You ignore rejection.
• You know when to listen and when to ignore criticism.
• You don’t allow anyone to cut the “bad scenes or dialogue” out of your story until you know why you wrote it that way.
• You search for the heart of your story in the good and the bad and the ugly of your writing.
• You don’t let anyone else define your writing or you as a writer.
• You are writing for that one person to whom what you write matters, and all the better if that one person multiplies.
• You stop talking about writing and do writing.

Path to Manhood (excerpt)

I am the winner of the May Camelot short story contest held in Linkedin's Writers 750 group. Here is an excerpt:

Path to Manhood

By Glenda Reynolds

After Tristin’s run-in with Delrot the Mongrelfolk, Hamel gave serious thought in preparing his son for what he may face in the future. No son of his should ever be afraid to venture alone within their village of Rootspire, let alone Willow Forest which had become his playground. Now that Tristin had turned eight years old, Hamel decided to spend extra time with his son. He began teaching him what manhood was all about. He instilled in Tristin the four most important things to aspire to do on the path to becoming a man: live pure, speak truth, right the wrongs, and honor the king.

Hamel set aside a day each week when he and Tristin would go out in the wilderness together. They would sleep out in the open and hunt with a bow and arrow. Tristin learned survival techniques. Though he didn’t want to, Hamel taught Tristin to fight with a knife. Tristin became quite good at it, so much so that Hamel stifled a laugh to see his son crouched, ready to defend himself. He was so adorable. Hamel and Tristin began to bond like never before during their outings together.

It was King’s Day in honor of King Arthur of neighboring Camelot. The village of Rootspire was a mass of curiosity seekers who had come to see the out of town players and vendors. There were puppeteers, “Cure All” medicine vendors, trinkets for the ladies, leather goods for the men folk, fresh baked goods, and last of all, some knights of the Round Table sword fighting for the onlookers. One of the knights took his helmet off as he addressed the crowd. He had wavy blonde hair with a rugged yet handsome face.

“Can we have a volunteer? Is there anyone in the humble village of Rootspire who can best me?” asked Eric the knight.

“Go on Papa,” said Tristin. “I know that you can fight pretty well. Show ‘em what you’ve got!”

Not wanting to appear cowardly in front of his son, Hamel agreed. He stepped forward and said, “You have one here.”

“Okay, looks like we have our volunteer. What’s your name, sir?”

“Hamel.”

“Farmer Hamel has agreed to take me on. Let’s hear it for Hamel.” The town’s people applauded him. The second knight, Gerard, placed chainmaille and a helmet on Hamel; the young farmer tried acquainting himself with the heavy sword.

The two men stood facing each other as Gerard yelled, “Begin!”

Eric and Hamel advanced to the center as the sound of clashing steel filled the air. Eric was holding back to see what kind of moves Hamel was capable of. In doing so, Eric’s feet were kicked out from under him. He found himself looking up at Hamel who was hovering above him with his sword point-blank in Eric’s face. The crowd zealously applauded. Not to be outdone, Eric whipped the sword out of his face with his own as he rolled to right himself. Eric decided to make an example of the lowly farmer. His attacks were so swift and accurate. By the time it was over, Hamel was lying on the ground; his sword was kicked out of reach. He was just glad to have survived the ordeal.

“Do you yield?” asked Eric.

(to be continued...)