I meant to write a post a few days ago, but something happened: I started writing the story itself.
I’ve been sucked deep into the story and as I write this post, I’m now nearly 40,000 words into the story and approaching the half-way point. This book will be much longer than I thought it would be, unless the ending plays out much quicker that it feels like it will in the outline as I’ve currently written it.
I’ll keep going for now and see how it ends up.
But I thought I’d drop in a little snippet of the first chapter for you to see.
Remember, this is first draft! What you read here will not be exactly what appears in the final book, but it will be close.
So, here goes:
EXCERPT FROM THE MEMORY OF WATER
COPYRIGHT © TAYLEN CARVER 2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cornwall
A group of Errata crouched at the far end of the beach, out of speaking distance of the humans soaking up the sun, including my family, which was closest. I measured the Errata as I flapped the blanket and spread it across the sand under the postage stamp-sized piece of shade the cliff provided. Soon, even that would be gone, for the sun was swinging around to the midday peak. As I laid out the blanket to maximize the shade, I watched them from the corner of my eye.
They were ignoring us, their heads together in a tight little group, which was normal. But I would still monitor them. I, more than anyone else in the world, knew what they were capable of.
Ffraid had volunteered to fight with the umbrella. As she is at least twice as smart as me, I didn’t argue when she grabbed the dusty thing out of the boot and tucked it under her arm like a Sargeant Major’s swagger stick.
The children jumped about, both because of the hot sand and because of the beckoning water.
“I want to go in!” Gwen said impatiently. “It’s my birthday.”
“It’s your father’s birthday, too, Gwendolyn,” Ffraid reminded her. “Stop nagging him.”
“It was an observation of my state of mind,” Gwen shot back. She had turned nine today, and I was already wondering how we would keep her adequately occupied with normal schooling, or if we should find an advanced program for her.
“Da, want to swim,” Olwen lisped. He had the sweetest nature of the three of them, but even he was impatient.
“Very well,” I told them, and held up a finger. “The rule, please?”
“Only up to my knees,” Heulwen parroted. Gwen nodded. Olwen just looked grave. The waves were tiny, but they were his first.
“Go, go!” Ffraid told them, and shooed them toward the water. “Gwen, hold Olwen’s hand, please!”
Gwen took Olwen’s pudgy hand and the three ran toward the water with shrieks and little leaps.
“It’s far too hot for such energy,” I said, lowering myself to the tartan blanket.
Ffraid dropped onto the blanket beside me and glared up at the umbrella, daring it to close upon us.
I mentally urged it to behave itself. The consequences of defying my wife weren’t worth it.
Fraid shaded her eyes against the glare of the sun on the water and looked at me, her eyes narrowed a little. “Are they dangerous, Michael?” She had switched to Welsh, which was unlikely to be understood by anyone around us. The closest humans was the family of three to my right, ten yards away.
I glanced at the Errata, away to the left, close by the curving end of the bay, where the beach narrowed to a short point of salt and brown seaweed encrusted rocks, before turning into the next bay. “They’re enjoying a day on the beach, too,” I said. “There’s humans among them,” I added, spotting the ghostly flesh of the arms of a typical Englishman without his pullover.
Just a snippet to whet your appetite. What do you think? Tell me in comments.
