The Stories. The Stories. The Stories. We have all heard about The Stories. Enough.
When can I read it?
This sounds so amazing, I can’t wait to read it?
Wow! Can’t wait! they say.
The blessing is that these are real comments…from real people! :}. Since I’m going traditional and querying-another fact I’m releasing-it will be a while longer before everyone can read it, but I guarantee you-aside from my confidence and all the tremendous, most humbling comments and remarks from the few that have read the intro and chapter-you will be surprised.
The stories you read as a child? Only rumors of what really happened
“We are in the midst of a revolt.
But what are we fighting for?
Whatever is left of them, that is.
There is no vast army. No strongholds. No one is coming to help us.
There are no, ‘teams’.
Just us…and them.
Logos, I hate them…
We may seem familiar to you.
But you’ll notice things aren’t quite as you remember.
You grew up.
So did we.
You forgot about us.
Things have changed.
We have changed.
Who are we?
We are…The Stories.
In this epic fantasy…legends will be reborn.
As I sit here, listening to Demon Hunter’s “I Play Dead” I remember a very powerful scene I wrote in The Stories. My M/C is alone. She is small. Frail. She should not be able to contend with the beast-twice her size. Should she be vanquished…so be it. But right now…she will come face to face with the monster. She will choose to prove, if only to herself, that she can fight back. FULL EXCERPT of this scene soon.
For now we are the stories, huh? Who are the “stories”? What of them? Fairy tales? If only.
“Let the blood speak, child…”
L’orrah was just like any other child her age. She had no thoughts of the future or anything else beyond her beloved Grandmother Sarah and her close circle of friends she called family. She lived day to day, enjoying her quiet life with Sarah and always had the biggest smile on her face. Then..the unthinkable. Oh…the evil. She was barely ten years old when her life ceased when everything she knew and loved was taken from her. An evil wolf, the master, fought against her Grandmother, ferociously. Her Grandmother knew him. She said his name-Labadon. Sarah fought this beast valiantly but was no match. As her Grandmother lay, broken, bloodied and dead, L’orrah, having been left for dead herself, crawls through the mud and rain to be at her Grandmother’s side. L’orrah’s life fades quickly with each passing moment.
She awakens under a blue sky, drifting in and out of consciousness barely able to hear the two voices of the ones who came out of nowhere to help her stay alive. A month later, they, too,were gone and L’orrah, able to finally grasp the scope of all that has happened, slips into a black cloud of depression and stays near her Grandmothers grave site of smooth, gray stones. Unable even to open her eyes in the sunlight she chooses death once again, this time by her own hand. She can no longer function. She has no real reason to live. This child, this little girl of barely ten years of age, simply cannot cope.
That is until she unwittingly finds a great set of swords, hidden. They belonged to her Grandmother. They held no magic or special power. The power was in the steel. Greatly enamored by the smaller blade-the kopis-and deeply inspired, at least to find out why her Grandmother used these, why the white beast Labadon called her Lady Sarai and spoke of a great war-she sets out to simply-stay alive. When she first encounters a lone wolf from Labadon’s army, there is no prophecy to fulfill and all is left to choice.
Her life, wrought with pain. With loss and trauma. But she survived. No one, ever again will simply just do what they wish to her. She makes her new home in a hole in the earth…and emerges only at night to fight against herself and her loss. She decides she will be a force to be reckoned with and carries in her heart a mantra, her strength…the last words she heard her Grandmother say: Do. Your. Worst.
Four years pass and L’orrah is ready to walk into the greater reaches of the land in search of anyone. An old Friend, Sunder. A once mighty warrior. His two brothers. Maybe to find the bearers of the two voices that helped her so many years ago. To find the reason her Grandmother was murdered. Sure of her herself and her training, she begins her quest. Along the way, however, L’orrah finds that Labadon’s evil has devastated the entire known world…and a stirring within her, perhaps the voice of her beloved Sarah-calls her to arms against him. It calls from within her soul. A darkness. Her speed is unusual. Her abilities are nigh super-human…and the strange power inside her is growing…with every move she makes.
–“You always did love to stare up at the night sky, L’orrah,” Sarah said softly in her dreams.–
–“She knew she would be dead soon. So she closed her eyes and began to pray as Labadon continued his taunts. Her words were unintelligible, but she knew in her heart they would be received. Labadon continued to speak over her prayers, louder and more forcefully…mocking her shallow voice.”–
In The Stories, many legends of old are represented in an entire new light. My light. Carefully chosen. So that it wouldn’t be a case of adding anyone for the sake of having them. Each must have a reason. Each must have genuine change that reflects the emotion, the feel, the voice of The Stories. It is called The Stories. They are the stories. They have voices. Wants. Desires. They bleed. They scream. They are real. They are alive. They have been transformed. You’ve never seen them like this before. L’orrah, the girl in the red hood, leads these beings in an epic fantasy like no other. In this land, bittersweet endings will come when and only when this evil has been destroyed. But…can one small child hope to defeat a power such as Labadon?
“I am Labadon! Belial! I am flux. This land and all who claim it are mine. I will be their end. No one will remember.”
This is only the beginning…this is only…the Genesis.
The Stories. Legends Will Be Reborn. Witness the rebirth.
…and coming next: The Stories: “Histories”
Four races of beings once lived peacefully in the lands of Thiend and Folowil. Indeed it was a time of peace and harmony. Then jealousy and envy raged and grew in their hearts.
Man, the apple of the eye of Logos. The Brutaal, the beasts, the animals. The Obscuriot, the Nychtos-the night. The Deluz, The Ascendants…the day.
The River Amblem was where these races once joined in the great war.
They each had many names…but they are The Stories:Prequel “Histories“