Is it hate? - A blogfest entry.

Today is Tessa's Hatefest.

Write about hate, she says. It's a strong emotion - one of the strongest, surely - so it must be there somewhere, in my story, in yours.

Strange how hard it is to find it when you're looking for it. I read through my things, and think, no, that's not really hate, that's just him being tired, offended, hurt, that's just her trying to deflect attention or similar such drivel. Nothing that could qualify as pure hate.

Then I realised the problem - I was justifying the moments of hate my characters go through. He's being nasty? Well, that's just because XYZ. He doesn't really hate her.

See the difference?

So here's a scene where I believe my one MC actually feels hatred, though of course he does so for many, many reasons.

Tay wanted so much to curl up, to vanish into the wall, even, but he could go nowhere. His limbs where held in place by heavy iron shackles that bit into his wrists and ankles. It had been hours - days - since he'd had any feeling in them. 

Time blurred right along with Tay's vision as beatings, hunger and darkness took their toll on the young prince, but one thought kept him there, kept his mind from slipping away completely. 

He would not give in, would not allow the Dark King this final victory. His body might fail him, bits and pieces of him might surrender themselves as he lost the strenght to hold strong, but his mind would remain his own. 

He would find the moment, the opportunity, to get his revenge, and if he had to return from the dead to do so then that's what he'd do. Twice he'd tried to kill the king when he came to check on his prisoner, twice he'd failed. Once, because a spasm in his arm made him drop the make-shift knife. The second time, he'd managed to actually touch Feardorcha's neck before the torturers pulled him back. 

The Dark King had laughed at him, then, but Tay would get the better of him, if it was the last thing he did. 

What do you think? Am I right, is this hate? 

To those of you who've read my other posts on Tay and Doyle, this here is very early on in the story, shortly after Tay was captured. 

Right, now I'm going to go see what the others HERE think of hate...

Let's Spark our Imagination

Click on picture to go to Clancy's Blog and the list of participants.

Thank you to Clancy for coming up with this great idea! Here's one of my all-time favorite writing exercises:

1. Pick a random novel off your shelf
2. Get your notebook ready
3. Let the book fall open to any page
4. Copy out the first full sentence on that page 
5. Take a deep breath, sharpen your pencil/open your pen
6. Off you go, continue on from that line and write for at least a page or a set amount of time. 

I came up with this one myself on one very rainy day. I hope it helps! Now I'm off to see what everyone else uses to get their juices flowing... 

Inspiration brought to us by Summer's Blogfest

LINK

I'm a little late (but it is still the 18th, promise!!), most of the participants already have their prompts up, and I'm going to go with the flow and post a picture I made to pretty much inspire myself... hope it does the same for you!

You can find Summer - the host - and the other entrants HERE...

Blogfest, interrupted....

Hello and welcome all to my post for Sash's Blogfest, interrupted...

The task set is to write/post a 500-1000 word scene where your characters are interrupted doing something - anything.

Here goes my anything...

(Alethaien or Tay is hostage/prisoner to King Feardorcha - called Doyle - and has only recently spent time in the king's dungeons; now he's more or less on parole, Doyle treating him more like a recalcitrant ward or pet than a prisoner; Tay wants to know why...)

***

The desk was piled high with scrolls, bits of parchment, books, feather quills and charcoal sticks in fancy silver holders. Letters glowed and went dark again as Tay's hand brushed against books of magic. He shuddered and pushed a particularly heavy tome away with his elbow. The power that saturated this room crawled along his spine and made the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

He had to hurry. Being left to cool his heels in Feadorcha's study was a true stroke of luck, but it wouldn't last long. The king was bound to return soon, and if he found Tay searching his papers, there would be hell to pay.

A pile of letters caught his attention. Tay picked up one bearing a red wax seal and held it up to the light of the window.

The red wax had been broken, the letter read by the king, but it was unmistakably the seal Tay's father had used. He touched it carefully, hating the tears that welled up in his eyes. If his father could see him now, prisoner and little more than pet to the heretic king, he'd turn his back on Tay and never speak of him again.

If he knew that Tay's touch made the king's books of magic glow, he'd sign the order of execution himself.

"I see you and I will have to have a conversation about the nature of trust, Alethaien." Tay froze, letter in hand. So close, he'd come so close! He swallowed hard to try to rid himself of the lump in his throat.

"Your majesty," he finally managed to say, though he couldn't bring himself to move, couldn't bring himself to put down the letter.

The king didn't say anything as he moved to stand behind Tay, so close the younger man could feel the warmth of his body. Doyle held out his hand and snapped his fingers when the silent order wasn't immediately followed. Tay shivered and let his fingers go loose. The letter fell into the king's hand.

"I kept this from you for a reason, boy," Doyle said, moving away from his young prisoner. He sat on the chair, unfolding the letter. He looked up at Tay, watched him shiver with tension. "I thought you might do this. You are young, you are in an impossible situation, and you are deadly curious. It was only a matter of time before you tried this."

Tay ducked his head, facing the king without really looking at him. "How did you know?" Tay swept an arm to the side, indicating the desk and its surroundings. "You left me here to wait. How did you know when I would touch the desk?"

Doyle chuckled. "Let me keep some secrets, boy. Maybe I'll tell you some day, maybe I won't have to." 

***

What did you think of that? Like, unlike? Let me know and then let everyone else know what you think of their entries, please. 

It was nice having you over on the Dark Side of the Woods, thank you for coming. 

What is Magic? - Tessa & Laura's Blogfest

Hello everyone and welcome to the Dark Side's first ever Blogfest entry.

Tessa and Laura have asked what the Nature of Magic is to us and/or our characters. Is it abracadabra or bah, humbug? A ritual or fairy dust?

I've decided to have a go at answering. A short answer, but there you go.

(NB. Tay is a prince who's kingdom has been 'stolen', Doyle is the King who's court he's currently at - something between prisoner and ward)

###

Tay watched the king run his fingers along the spines of the old books. Golden lines glowed in the wake of his touch, forming titles and symbols on their backs. Alethaien shivered when he recognized one of them. The Arts had been outlawed for centuries in Dorenika, but the Kings of the Alliance had always been avid students of the mysteries. He swallowed hard when Doyle pulled one of them from the shelf, leaving a dark, dusty gap that none of the other books dared enchroach upon.

“This is it,” the king said, stroking the gleaming leather as if expecting it to purr any moment. Tay had to fight the urge to shrink back in his chair when Doyle approached with his prize. “I want you to read it, prince, and take these words to heart.”

The heavy tome landed in Tay’s lap. He stared at it. It looked fairly innocent, if one discounted the glowing lines scrolling all over it just moments ago.

“Your majesty...Sire...”

Doyle bent down, one hand on each of the chair’s arms, to put his face right in front of Tay’s. “No. This is not optional, young prince. You will read this, or you will be assigned a tutor to make sure you learn its content.” He leaned in closer to whisper into the younger man’s ear. “You should not be afraid of words, my friend. It’s the people who speak them that do the bad things.”

###

Thank you for reading my first ever blogfest entry. I shall be off soon to investigate everyone else's contributions... (linky list on T's blog)

Leave me a note to tell me what you think, and thank you again for stopping by the Dark Side of the Woods, hope you liked it.