Happy Holidays!!

Wanted to wish you all the happiest of holidays, whichever domination you all may be! I know it's been good for me so far, and I have plans to make it better this weekend. But the best part is I'm finally writing steadily again. The Harbinger of Fidelity now has almost 9,000 words. When I last wrote it, it only had about 4,000 so I'm super excited! Finally getting the touch of writing back in these lazy fingers.

Haven't been my writer's group in a few weeks, because of the holidays, but the next meeting I am seriously going to go to! I love those women and their ideas. They even suggested I start a memoir now, which I did, so I could remember things clearer. I just wish I could offer them suggestions as well, but I'm still new at all of this so it's going to take some time yet.

Random note: I've figured out I seriously love going mudding! It's super awesome, and super fun.

Happy Holidays! ~Kai

The Harbinger of Fidelity

Okay, check this out. If you've read my stories on Figment.com, you'd know the first chapter to this new book. I wrote the short "Dark Roses" for a contest and got several people telling me it would be a good novel. So that's what I did: made it a novel. And the one story I knew that had roses? 'Beauty and the Beast.' That's right. "The Harbinger of Fidelity" is a spin-off of 'Beauty and the Beast' but with its own twists, naturally. I'm not copying it exactly (where would the fun in that be?). Anyway, here's a little peek of the first time Ichelle meets Kendrew:

The Master

“Don’t be scared please,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

“Why would I be scared of you?” I asked.

He replied, “I’m not normal.”

I paused, wanting to stand up and open the door myself. He sounded normal. He talked with respect. Surely he couldn’t be that odd.

His foot scraped against the stone floor. “Can I come in now?”

“If you want,” I answered, sitting straighter in my chair. I quick glanced around to make sure my room was clean as he opened the door, slowly pushing against it. He kept to the shadows, hesitant to enter.

“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to let him know he was welcome. “All I hear Will call you is ‘the Master’.”

“How do you know I am the Master?” He sounded more curious than surprised.

My mouth twitched into a half smile. “Will said there were only you, me, and him in the whole castle. And you don’t sound like Will.”

He stepped inside, keeping his head down so his face was shadowed. His dark hair looked patchy, his scalp showing in some places. His cheeks were raised as if he was smiling. He bowed slightly, his clothes, covering every inch of him from neck to ankles and wrists, rustling. “Kendrew. My name is Kendrew Wray.”

Silence fell then and I shifted. “Would you like to come sit by the fire? It gets chilly in here at night.”

He shuffled forward, preferring his right leg to his left. “Thank you.” He sat in a chair close to mine but kept his face turned away. “I trust you are comfortable here, aside from the chill?”

“For the most part,” I replied, smoothing my hands down my skirt.

He nodded absently, “May I call you Ichelle?”

I looked at him questioningly.

“I heard you and Will the first day you arrived. I’m afraid he cannot speak so well, which is why he calls you Ah-shell.”

“What am I to call you? Master?” I asked warily. I was not going to call anyone ‘master’, not even if I was to be his servant.

“No,” he said quickly, sounding horrified. “You may call me Kendrew, as is my name. I should hope you will see me as an equal.”

Anger burned suddenly. “Then why did you kidnap me?”

He looked sad now. “Would you rather be in county jail? Or would you prefer to be here where it’s comfortable?”

“I want to know why it’s necessary I be kept here.”

“For your own good. They were going to sentence you to death. I said I’d handle you and it wasn’t necessary for them to do that.”

“Why?” I demanded.

A sad smile appeared. “Will and I get lonely. I figured we could benefit from having another person here.” There was something he wasn’t telling me, I could tell, but I didn’t press the topic. If the man wanted a convicted felon in his castle, that was his decision to make.

Upon that thought, pity blossomed within my chest and I felt bad for him. Why did he isolate himself in his castle? And, for the love of God, why wouldn’t he show me his face?