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Chapters from original books by our members.

  1. Wildwitch - Chapter I - The Tower

    An echoing crack came from below, shivering the stones of the tower. Vivaine’s fingers tightened on the wreath she was weaving, and a strand of holyvine snapped in her hands. The pattern frayed; vine, juniper, and white ribbon came loose. She could feel the power leach from it, and the dusty-green leaves turned brittle.

    It did not matter, she told herself. Neither a keepsafe charm nor the silent prayer to the Mother she had woven it with could help her now. But panic bubbled up in ...
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  2. Prologue to My Novel Part 2


    “I admit, a name like “The Grays” is not really a worthy name for a people. We have little contact with them in fact, I couldn’t be more precise unless you would count encountering each other in the Esson regularly. It isn’t through any will of our own, as a boy I remember being afraid of the Grays. They are an elusive people. Their skin is of gray complexion, hence ...
  3. Prologue to my Novel Part 1

    Here is one prologue I've written for my novel, which is a work in progress. I plan to change it a bit other than it's posting here but wanted to share it for a little bit of exposure on the forums and see what people think. It's 16 paperback pages about, 6,232 words in total, but truncated for the proper number of characters here.

    1: A Colorful Situation

    Hasser was a ...
  4. Prologue to my debut Novel

    Memories of King Tyrel Salvidawn

    I wearily push the golden doors open and drag myself across the threshold into the sanctuary. Each step is in the uncertain. Should this be my last thought, then I wish to share it with another so that our fight, our sacrifices, may give you hope in despair. The battle will not end, not while there is one last Sentinel to fight for the safety of Anmor. Although I do not know what may become of me, my faith in this soldier grants me ...
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  5. Chapter 1 Scene 4 (reviosn) The House on Berry Bay.


    “Who did this boy? The woman demanded in Senegalese as she poured water over the young boy’s broken, bleeding skin.
    The child hesitated, “John.” The boy replied, wincing as the older woman began to spread a salve over his back. She gritted her teeth as she worked, she could see the child’s struggle as he tried to hold back the tears that stung his eyes. The women started to chant softly waving her hands around wildly, the rhythmic ritualistic words calmed ...

    Updated 7-8-14 at 12:23 AM by The Blue Lotus

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