Writing Workshop – Escape

This week for Josie’s Writing Workshop I decided to skip forward a bit in my current WIP and write a scene I’ve been planning for a while but just hadn’t reached yet. It’s from about chapter five of the ‘book’ but I don’t think much background is needed as the scene is fairly self-explanatory. The WIP doesn’t have a title yet either so I can’t even tell you that – I hope you enjoy it regardless!

****

“Eòghan will you please sit down for a minute, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Eòghan tried to rush past his mother but she reached out and steered him onto a chair.

“Eòghan, please! It’s important.”

He slumped in his seat, glaring at his mother. “What, Ma? It’s almost time to go. We can’t miss the start – you only get one Evolution in your life after all. You had your turn, now it’s mine.”

“Hush. Listen to me.”

“Wait, are you even dressed yet? Ma! I’m your only son, are you not even going to make an effort for my Evolution?” Eòghan squirmed in his seat trying to get up but she stood close before him, blocking his escape.

“Eòghan will you sit still and listen to what I have to say. It’s about your Evolution.”

Sensing something in his mother’s voice, Eòghan stilled and looked up into her startling green eyes. “What?”

“You can’t go.” She closed her eyes, unable to look at her son as she spoke. “Baby, you can’t go to Evolution because you aren’t going to Evolve.”

“What? Everyone Evolves.”

“Humans don’t.” Aubrey stepped back, freeing her son. She couldn’t stop the tears burning tracks down her cheeks as she forced out the sentence she had been dreading for years. “You’re a…I swapped you with… Changeling, I…I stole you from your cradle. You aren’t a faerie, Eòghan, you’re a human. I left my own baby in your place then brought you home.”

There was a moment of silence. A stillness. Aubrey gazed hopelessly at the child she had raised as her own for the last 13 years and waited for the world to collapse.

“You’re lying.” Eòghan’s voice was almost as still as the room, his blue eyes were cold. “Tell me you’re lying.”

Aubrey shook her head, unable to speak.

“No-one brings the human baby back to Otherworld. They leave them somewhere where they’ll be found and let nature make its choices, they change them and they leave them. That’s how it works. That’s how it always works.” Anger began to creep into his voice as he spoke, his voice going as hard as his eyes.

“Eòghan. Baby. I had to bring you back, I needed you. I loved you.” Eòghan suddenly found his mother kneeling at his feet and talking desperately to his knees. “You have to understand…”

He jumped up, pushing her aside. “I understand just fine. You had a baby that was chosen to be a Changeling. An honour beyond all others and you…you dirtied it by breaking all manner of rules and bringing me back here. And then you lied to me for my whole entire life and thought that it would all be okay?”

Aubrey didn’t move from the floor, she simply sat staring up at her son. “I love you. Please, Eòghan, I couldn’t just leave you somewhere and not know what happened to you. I needed…”

“You needed me to fulfil your selfish need for a child. Well you know what? I wish you’d left me on a hillside. I’d rather be dead than your son. At least then everything I know wouldn’t be one big fat lie!” Eòghan kicked out and sent his chair skittering across the floor. “I hate you, Aubrey Valeris. You’re no mother of mine.”

With that he stormed out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

*

For a minute he just stood and stared at the wall breathing heavily and clenching his fists, then, with a burst of energy he flew across the room and slammed open his wardrobe. Hauling out a bag he stuffed in a change of clothes, the pouch of money he had saved up from his birthdays, his secret stash of biscuits from under his bed and the length of rope that he had got when he had wanted to build a tree house the previous Summer.

Hands shaking slightly he buckled on his belt, sheathing his twin daggers at his side. They were his pride and joy, a thirteenth birthday present from his mother, he had spent hours training with them in the woods and he could no longer imagine going outside without them.

With one final glance around the room Eòghan shouldered his bag and flung open his window. With a grace that implied he had done it many times before, he leaped from the sill, swung down the tree beside the house, landed softly on the grass and set off for the forest without looking back. The forest would be his home now, it couldn’t lie to him or deceive him, he didn’t need anyone else and the forest wouldn’t care whether or not he was Fey. He could pretend as much as he liked in the sanctuary of the trees.

Second

Second is sometimes better than first.

First can feel like a dream. Unreal. Unstable.

Second cements first. Holds it steady. Keeps it in place.

After first, hold on for second. It’s even better.

Writing Workshop: We’re Going On A Word Hunt

The Workshop prompt for this week from Sleep Is For The Weak was a challenging one, which resulted in me getting rained on just to take a photo, but I actually quite enjoyed it

We had to be observant and see what words jumped out at us as we went along our days. In the end the word that inspired me and gave me the idea for my piece was a sign I walk past pretty much every day  – just a brown road sign on a brick wall at a horrible junction for a quirky little Story-telling Centre which lives in the beautiful building that used to be the town library. I have refused to go in there ever since the library moved purely because it was one of my favourite childhood places and they dared to change it. Silly, yes. But I just know it won’t smell right and the shelves of books won’t be there and they might have repainted or changed the carpet or…or…something. I miss that old library, the new one just isn’t the same

Anyway, I have majorly digressed, sorry. Here is my word, and my writing. (When you’ve finished click on the Writing Workshop badge at the bottom and hop over and read some of the other brilliant entries out there):

Testing The Waters - A Tale of Lyall and Tahni, by Carole Holland (if you didn’t see my last Workshop entry and have no idea who Lyall and Tahni are, nip over here and read the summary – it’ll all make more sense then!)

R.E. had been horrible ever since I broke Sean’s arm at the disco. He still sat next to me but spent the entire time trying to be as far away as the desk allowed, making me feel like I was diseased or something.

I had tried talking to him, apologising (again and again), because it had been an accident after all. But he wouldn’t have any of it making the whole thing awkward and tense.

Today’s lesson had been a bit of respite though, we were listening to different members of the class read out their versions of legends and myths meaning I had a great excuse to not try and talk to Sean and the silence was normal, rather than tense.

Miss Fairhurst called Lyall to the front. “Come on, Mr Hargreaves, let’s hear what you’ve got for us.”

You could tell by her voice that she was fully expecting him to not have anything prepared. He very rarely remembered to do his homework.

We were all quite surprised when he sauntered out and leaned against the whiteboard, though I did notice he wasn’t clutching his book or any notes at all. Here we go, I thought, cue the cocky excuse.

Lyall cleared his throat.

“I looked into a local legend for this week’s homework. It’s about werewolves.” He paused and looked straight at me, with an odd, calculating expression. “They are responsible for many different things in this area and a lot of older generations are still convinced that they exist.”

Someone sniggered and Miss Fairhurst scowled at them. “Quiet. Carry on, Lyall. I haven’t heard about these legends.”

He shifted, crossing his legs and staring out of the window as he talked. His eyes were catching the light weirdly again and had a golden tinge to the green.

“The werewolves weren’t like the ones you see in all the horror movies, they looked just like normal people until they changed, and then they looked just like normal wolves. They weren’t evil or massively huge or anything like that, just wolves that could run fast and hunt and hear small noises and smell the faintest of smells.

There were several packs around the area and they did their best to live peacefully. They kept to their own kind as much as they could but mingled when they had to – for work and schooling for example. Everything was fine until two packs clashed over territory and a vicious battle broke out. Many humans saw the werewolves transforming and fighting to the death as wolves. This resulted in many wolf hunts and the werewolves are supposed to have left the area to find safer homes.

It was rumoured however that one pack remained in town and claimed the entire area as their own. They took great care to hide themselves and blend in with the human community, hoping that eventually the werewolves would be forgotten and passed off as legend and they could live in peace again.”

When he finished, Lyall looked slightly embarrassed and stood up properly. Miss Fairhurst prompted us all into clapping before asking if anyone had any questions.

“So could you not tell if someone was a werewolf at all then? If they were looking human at the time?” Someone at the back piped up.

Lyall swallowed and looked at me again. “Only if you knew what you were looking for.” He shrugged and glanced at the girl who had asked the question. “I think their eyes were a bit wolfy or something and they could move a bit faster and quieter than normal people. And they were stronger than they looked. Nothing they couldn’t hide though, apart from their eyes.”

“What crap.” That was Sean. He was sat back in his chair scowling and chewing the end of his biro. He clearly hadn’t noticed it was leaking and he now had ink all over his face.

“Sean! I will not have language like that in my classroom. At least Lyall did his homework which is more than can be said for you.” Miss Fairhurst was not happy. Swearing was one of her pet hates – and crap was firmly under her definition of swearing.

“He just made it up as he went along. No werewolves would be that rubbish if they were real.”

Lyall suddenly looked smug. “Being secretly fast, sneaky and strong isn’t rubbish.” He smirked more at me than at Sean. “I bet werewolves could break people’s arms without even trying, even if they were small.”

Sean flushed. “Small people can be violent. They just need to know what angle to snap at that’s all.” He glared at me.

“Yeah. I’m sure that’s what all boys say when a girl breaks their arm without even trying.” Lyall looked positively evil all of a sudden and his eyes were definitely a bit golden in the afternoon sunshine.

“Lyall, that was an accident and you know it.” Miss Fairhurst warned, trying to stop the argument before it got properly started.

“Course it was. Tahni’s hardly werewolf material is she?” He winked at me and grinned, clearly expecting some kind of reaction.

I frowned and hoped I wasn’t blushing too badly. I so wished I had never gone to that stupid stupid disco.

Obviously not getting the response he wanted, Lyall’s grin wavered to a look of concern and then dissolved into a scowl as he went back to his seat.

“Right,” said Miss Fairhurst, clapping her hands together. “Who’s next?”

Writing Workshop: Giving

Writing Workshop is a writing meme hosted over at Sleep Is For The Weak and this week’s theme, in association with ActionAid, is ‘Giving’.

I decided to write a fictional piece for this using two characters from a WIP of mine that has been much neglected for quite some time. For those unfamiliar with this WIP (i.e. anyone who wasn’t in my classes at Uni or roped in as a proof reader) here’s a brief bit of background which might make it all make a bit more sense:

Tahni, the narrator, is a fifteen year old girl in her first year of GCSEs. She was adopted as a child but other than that leads a typical teenage life. When she starts at the school she meets Lyall, another typical teenager with all the bluff and bravado you expect from a reasonably attractive and intelligent fourteen year old male. The only thing is that Lyall’s eyes are a highly unusual shade of green – unnaturally bright and defined with a tendency to flash even brighter and almost gold when he’s emotional in any way. This is odd in itself, but not so much as the fact that Tahni’s eyes are exactly the same.

This similarity often makes their teachers and school-friends assume they are siblings (which they aren’t) and this has always been a point of irritation for Tahni and amusement for Lyall, who loves to play on it just to annoy her.

The truth is that Lyall is a werewolf and his eyes are the only outward show of this (aside from when he gets hairy, obviously) and Tahni is too, however due to being raised outside of any pack she doesn’t know it. Werewolves mature when they are around fifteen and as she approaches her birthday Tahni begins to experience a series of unusual feelings and events which any other ‘wolf would know was the onset of her first change. Tahni hasn’t got a clue and Lyall doesn’t realise that she doesn’t know…yet.

Sudden Changes

I sat on the stone tiles and ran my fingers over the cracks that had formed after years of over-excited kids running back and forth to P.E. lessons and football practice. My head hurt.

I felt Mr Minshall approaching long before he turned the corner to the changing room corridor, his heavy footfalls vibrating the floor in their distinctive pattern. No-one knew why he limped, we were all too afraid of him to ask and he never volunteered the information himself. It was a topic of much speculation but not one I had ever really thought much about. I spent most of my time avoiding him in P.E. as he seemed to dislike me more than everyone else in the school. Aside from Lyall that is. Typically.

“Did I say you could sit down?” His voice always sounded like he hadn’t used it in a while, gruff and gravely.

“No, Sir.” I dragged myself to my feet. “Sorry, Sir.”

He presented me with a Pink Slip and a glare. “Office. Now.”

I nodded, folded the paper into my pocket and set off for the main school office to hand it in. My parents were going to love this. First I break someone’s arm by accident at a disco, next I almost knock someone out in Netball class and get an official warning. Three of those and you get suspended. Now I had two to my name in the space of four weeks. It really wasn’t my year so far.

*****

Someone else was in the office being yelled at by the Head, so I sat down on the worn seat outside the door to wait for my turn. I shut my eyes to try and stop the pounding behind them. It felt like they were trying to jump out of my skull in time with my heartbeat and the bright corridor lights just made it worse. I felt sick even before I started worrying about Mum and Dad’s faces when I got home after they’d received ‘the phone call’.

“That was a good shot on Duxley, Tahni. She’s much more attractive when she’s stunned into silence.”

I groaned inwardly. “Get lost, Lyall.”

“Can’t, I know my way round. Anyway, been sent to give you this by Minshall.”

I opened my eyes a crack to see Lyall’s hand offering me another folded sheet of paper. I squinted up at his face, suspicious. “What is it?”

“His official report apparently. More detailed than the Pinky. Wonder if he remembered to put in about how she went cross-eyed as she fell over.” Lyall grinned his always-too-white grin and his eyes flashed that abnormal shade of green I’d seen a few times before.

“Wonderful.” I took the paper and shut my eyes again. “Ugh. I feel like it was me that got elbowed in the head, not her. Are these lights brighter than normal?”

Silence.

“Lyall?”

I squinted my eyes open again to discover he’d gone. Though how he’d managed it so silently I hadn’t a clue. Creepy boy.

The shouting from the office increased as whoever-it-was started answering back and pleading their case using less than polite terminology. They had clearly run out of chances and were getting the killer phone call made. The one where they tell your parents to take you home indefinitely. Every syllable echoed in my head and made me feel sicker. This headache was getting silly.

I shivered. There was a draft from somewhere too, despite being right in the heart of the building. My P.E. kit was hardly the warmest thing to be wearing as it was and I kept getting ripples of cold across my body like waves of ice water. All the hairs on my arms kept standing up, making them look even darker than normal. I frowned and rubbed at them to make them go flat.

I started counting seconds in my head to distract myself from my general discomfort and was up to three-hundred-and-four when I became aware of someone standing beside me and jumped slightly.

“Don’t open your eyes, just take these.” I felt two small tablets being pressed into one hand and a glass into the other. “They help make it feel less bright. Should help the headache too.”

“Thanks,” I said, slightly confused. I took the tablets one at a time, assuming they were just paracetamol or Aspirin, then sat with my head resting against the wall. “Lyall?”

“Mmm?” He sounded nervous.

“How did you know I had a headache?” I asked, stifling another shudder as the cold flowed across my body again.

“Lucky guess.” His voice had hardened and I got the impression he wasn’t going to give me any answers. “Is your jacket in the corridor or in the changing room?”

“Corridor. Hangers by the girls’ door. Why?”

“You need to keep warm. I’ll get it.”

He left again and I cracked my eyes open a little to watch him go. He was almost out of sight already, as always, moving a little too fast to be normal. He had been right though, the lights did seem less bright and I was able to open my eyes properly without them hurting.

I waited not long enough for someone to make the trip all the way to the P.E. department and back again without sprinting and there he was. He should have been out of breath but he wasn’t even flushed. Lyall Hargreaves was possibly the strangest person I had ever met. And, most of the time, one of the most annoying, rude and obnoxious. This sudden niceness was more than a little weird.

“Here.” He handed me my coat, studying my face closely as he did so. “Put it on and make sure you drink all that water. Headache better?”

“Yes, thanks. The lights aren’t so vicious now.” I wanted to ask how he seemed to know what was wrong with me but somehow suspected I wouldn’t get a straight answer. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Probably.” He paused and stared at me some more. “If your eyes hurt like that again, make sure you tell me. I’ll give you some more stuff to make it stop. It gets worse otherwise, trust me.”

I nodded dumbly, wondering if the pain was something directly related to having freakishly green eyes. The one thing Lyall and I shared.

“I’ve got to go. Promise me you’ll find me next time?” Lyall sounded genuinely worried.

“Promise. But, Lyall, what’s with all the niceness? No offence, but it’s not like you.”

He shrugged. “I just know how you feel that’s all. I always wished someone had been there for me through it, I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“Oh.” I had no idea what he was talking about. “Right.”

I watched him leave, slower this time, as if he was distracted or lost in thought. I hadn’t a clue how he knew what I was feeling, what it was I’d taken, why he knew how to make me feel more human again or even why he suddenly cared, but I was glad he had. The gift of kindness wasn’t one I often got these days and the feeling it left me with was one of peace. Even though the person who gave me it was Lyall of all people.