Free First 5 Pages Workshop Opens May 2!

The First Five Pages April Workshop has come to an end.  The participants did a great job with their revisions and it showed! A big thanks to our guest mentor, Becca Puglisi and our guest agent mentor (and my lovely agent!) Amaryah Orenstein, both of whom provided great comments and suggestions, and of course to all of our fabulous permanent mentors!  And I want to welcome our newest permanent mentor, Holly Bodger, the author of the forthcoming YA novel 5 to 1 (Knopf, May 2015). I can’t wait to read it!

Our May workshop will open for entries at noon, EST, on Saturday May 2, 2015. We'll take the first five Middle Grade, Young Adult, or New Adult entries that meet all guidelines and formatting requirements.  Click here to get the rules. I will post when it opens and closes on Adventures in YA Publishing  and on twitter (@etcashman), with the hashtag #1st5pages.

In addition to our talented permanent mentors, we have my dear friend and critique partner, author Diana Renn. Diana is the author of three fabulous international YA mysteries,  TOKYO HEIST, LATITUDE ZERO, and BLUE VOYAGE which will be available October 13, 2015.  And we have Georgia McBride as our guest editor.  In addition to being an author, Georgia is the founder of Georgia McBride Media Group, home of Month9Books, Swoon Romance, and Tantrum Books.  So get those pages ready!

May Guest Mentor – Diana Renn

Diana writes contemporary novels for young adults featuring globetrotting teens, international intrigue, and more than a dash of mystery. TOKYO HEIST, LATITUDE ZERO, and BLUE VOYAGE are all published by Viking Children’s Books / Penguin Young Readers Group. She’s also the Fiction Editor at YARN (Young Adult Review Network), an award-winning online magazine featuring short-form writing for teens. 

BLUE VOYAGE

An intricately crafted mystery set in the contemporary Middle East.

Zan is a politician’s daughter and an adrenaline junkie. Whether she’s rock climbing or shoplifting, she loves to live on the edge. But she gets more of a rush than she bargained for on a forced mother–daughter bonding trip to Turkey, where she finds herself in the crosshairs of an antiquities smuggling ring. These criminals believe that Zan can lead them to an ancient treasure that’s both priceless and cursed. Until she does so, she and her family are in grave danger. Zan’s quest to save the treasure—and the lives of people she cares about—leads her from the sparkling Mediterranean, to the bustle of Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, to the eerie and crumbling caves of Cappadocia. But it seems that nowhere is safe, and there’s only so high she can climb before everything comes tumbling down.

Available for preorder: amazon, indiebound, barnes & noble

May Guest Editor – Georgia McBride

Georgia McBride is founder of Georgia McBride Media Group, home of Month9Books, Swoon Romance, and Tantrum Books. She develops content for film and TV, and is also a speculative fiction writer. Georgia founded the #YAlitchat hashtag and weekly chat on Twitter in 2009.  Georgia is one of Publishers Marketplace’s most prolific publishers and has spent most of 2014 atop the editors lists in Young Adult, Digital New Adult and Digital deals. She’s completed over 120 publishing deals on behalf of three imprints in the past 24 months.

First 5 Pages April Workshop - Hadacek Rev 2

Name: Karel Hadacek
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Title: The Wayward Path, Rev 2

Alyssa watched the raven watching her. She’d heard they were mystical messengers between humans and the spirit world and wondered if this one carried a message. Stepping toward the bird, she glanced over her shoulder at the blanket on the grass with her family’s picnic remains. Her exhausted parents had pushed the leftovers to the side so they could doze. She promised herself she’d be back before they woke and walked closer to the raven. Why is it watching me so much? Am I’m special? Could it have a message for me?  

Sometimes she communicated with her Jack Russell terrier, Sparky, without words. It was more like sharing feelings and pictures in their minds. Could I do the same thing with this bird that I don’t even know?

The raven cocked his head and looked down at her with one eye. Is it a boy or girl? She pushed her question to him but didn’t receive an answer.  The raven perched a few trees away and Alyssa hesitated before hurrying down a game trail to catch up. She thought it felt like a boy, even though she had no way of knowing.

She kicked at a pinecone; winter was coming, so this was their last trip to the park this year. She zipped her windbreaker against the breeze and tried to catch up with the raven, which she found perching on a rock a few yards ahead. Raven, do you have a message for me? Can you tell me how to fit in with the others? Why am I so different?  The bird looked back at her and gave a gruff call. 

Stopping, Alyssa stared at him until her vision blurred. Blinking didn’t help, so she shut her eyes. As she focused and opened her mind to receive his pictures or feelings, she saw colors swirling behind her eyelids. In her mind’s eye, she looked down from a position high above, seeing a petite, blonde girl in a red windbreaker and blue shorts. There was a haze of light surrounding the girl as she stood with her head tipped back and eyes closed.  Alyssa blinked, and the scene cleared. She’d done it! She’d didn’t communicate with him -- she’d merged with him and looked with his eyes! She never would have thought that was even possible, but she’d done it! She twirled and fist-pumped the air, wishing she had a friend with her to tell.

She hurried to keep up with the raven as he fluttered to the left of the trail. He perched on a rocky outcropping above her and croaked before gliding to a dead branch below. She continued as he fluttered in a constant string of little hops from branch to branch, branch to rock, rock to grass, then grass to tree.

The wind kicked up and rain sprinkled in her hair; storm clouds gathered overhead. Pulling up her jacket hood, she wondered how long she’d been gone. The raven flew over the trees, crossed the valley to her left, and angled up, ending their game. Unable to follow, she sighed and began the trip back to her family. Alyssa looked around for the trail, frowning. Retracing her steps over a field of rocks, she reached the place where the rocks faded out and grass grew again but saw no trail.

“Mom? Dad?” She called periodically, hoping to hear her parents in return.

Dark descended as she searched for the trail, finding only trees, rocks, and weeds. Her shouts grew louder and more frantic. Determined not to dissolve into a crying heap like a child, she cringed as lightning cracked. Won’t the lightening like the tallest trees? Not a short thing like me?

She left the meadow for the relative safety of the trees where she found a place under the broad branches of an evergreen tree that was almost dry. The musty smell made her sneeze. Her stomach clenched and she tried not to think about her thirst or darkness. Tears pressed at her eyelids as she thought about how anxious her parents would be now. Man, I’ll be grounded for years when they find me.

Could I look through the raven’s eyes to find my parents? Her heart sank as she realized that wouldn’t work. She didn’t know where he was and had no idea how to do it again. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, but it just kept running as her tears soaked her face. She rested her head and arms on her knees, exhausted.

She jerked awake, instantly attuned to the darkness. What’s out there? Holding her breath, she listened. The rain had eased and she heard something moving among the trees. Is that a bear? A mountain lion? Heavy footsteps came from behind, and then paused. No one had a flashlight or called her name, so it wasn’t human. Surely I’m too small and scrawny to be a good meal. Or would being young make me tender and tasty?

She couldn’t remember the Ranger’s instructions on their last trip. Do I make myself look big or small? Make noise or look dead? There were different rules for different predators. Big or small? Loud or dead? She searched for a weapon and grabbed a branch on the ground, only to discover that it was really a tree root, with the end buried deep in the ground. Oh my God, it’s coming closer! It knows I’m here.

Abandoning the root, she leaped toward a shiny rock partially hidden in the murky shadows beneath the tree. She scrabbled at the rock, but it wouldn't budge. She heard the thing move closer. Loud or dead? Big and dead? Good as dead? Unable to see much in the dark, every instinct told her to run. She bolted, running as fast as she could through the trees.

The rain had slowed, but clouds blocked the moonlight. She was one of the fastest kids in her class, but she couldn't run all-out here. There were roots and rocks that she couldn’t see poking up everywhere. She fell, skinning her knees and hands. Jumping up, she looked over her shoulder. Did the creature stop or was I too noisy to hear it? There it is again! She ran through the woods, never seeing the rock that tripped her. One moment she was running, and the next she was sailing through the air. She threw her hands out to catch herself, but landed hard and hit her face on the ground. Pain stabbed up her arms and she lost consciousness. 

She woke to birdsong. Her head felt like she'd been clubbed, and panic rose as she realized she couldn’t see. She cried and her face stung as her tears found several cuts and scrapes. For some reason, whenever she tried to move her hands, they seemed to go the wrong way and pain shot from her fingertips to elbow. She tried to lift them to her eyes, but the pain made her quit half way to her face. Something’s broken, she thought.

“Help! Help me!” She called over and over until her voice was a whisper. No response. Tears loosened the muck around her eyelids though, which she wiped gently on each shoulder. It hurt, but fear of unending darkness was far worse. The right eye opened a little; she sat on a long narrow rock platform. The cliff at her back loomed straight up; climbing up was impossible. Below her ledge was nothing for a long way.

First 5 Pages April Workshop - Tardiff Rev 2

Name: Anthony Tardiff
Genre: MG Fantasy
Title: Damsel’s Dragon

His Royal Highness Prince Berric was only a day from being crowned the youngest ever king of all Eldary. And he had just been kidnapped.

It was embarrassing, really. He had let his guard down for only a moment, riding out of sight of his four Royal Guardsmen escorts and into a thick group of trees. In a trice he’d been knocked off his horse, bound, and whisked away. And now here he was, kneeling in the back of an enclosed cart that smelled of rotting hay, bouncing along a rough road to who-knew-where.

And Lord Pottsworth had sworn up-and-down that there was no plot to keep Berric off the throne! If Berric got out of here, he was going to deliver the loudest “I told you so” ever heard in Eldary.

Of course, he’d have to get free first. He took a deep breath, set his knees wide, bit his lip, and pulled with all his might on the ropes that bound his wrists behind his back. He’d felt the knot slip a few moments ago, but now it was being stubborn.

There was a shout from outside, and the cart slowed and came to a stop. “Did anyone see you?” said a voice. It was unnaturally gruff, as if the speaker were hiding his true voice.

“No, he was alone, as you said,” said the driver. The cart rocked as he got down. “Are you taking over, then?”

“Yes. Take this for your trouble.” There was a jingling sound.

“If it please you, sir,” said the driver, “I’d rather take this and have no trouble, if you see my meaning. Kidnapping a prince . . . some would call it a hanging offense.”

“You have nothing to fear. This isn’t even illegal.”

“Maybe. But princes aren’t princes forever,” said the driver.

“Why not?” said the gruff voice.

There was a pause. “Ah,” said the driver. “All the same, me and my men will keep our masks on until we’re clear. And I suggest you do the same. I do not want to know who you are, though I imagine I’ll know soon enough. Now: where do you want him?”

“In this carriage.”

The driver whistled. “Fancy.”

“He’s a prince.”

Berric was running out of time. He took another deep breath. Last chance. He bent forward and pulled, muscles straining, grunting as his face turned red with the effort. He was close; he could feel it! Just a little more . . .

Berric bent over too far and fell on his face. His rear shot into the air, and his nose bounced in the musty straw on the floor of the cart. His body jerked as he sneezed. 

There were footsteps coming toward the cart. Berric rolled over — and stared in astonishment at his unbound wrists. Ha! The ropes had parted when he sneezed! 

A shadow fell into the cart from its tiny, barred window, and Berric quickly rolled under it and stood up, keeping his arms out of sight. He looked out the window and jumped a little when he found himself looking into the eyes of the bandit driver, already staring in. “Oh, hi there!” Berric said. Had the man seen his loose wrists? “Listen, I’ve been thinking. We can cut a deal. Let me go, and I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in riches.”

“Hmm,” said the driver. His eyes were shadowed under his hood, and his nose and mouth were hidden by a loose, wrapped mask. “You’ve gone from insults to bribes. You must be desperate.”

“And rich.” Berric gave him his most winning smile.

The bandit driver smiled in return, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “Will I get to live in a palace of my very own, like Mr. Princeling?”

Berric’s eyes drifted to what was behind the man. The cart had stopped under on a broad road under thick trees. In the sun-dappled light a second bandit was untying a horse from the back of the cart. It was Berric’s horse, the beautiful, coal-black charger he’d been riding when the kidnappers had ambushed him. Berric’s hands itched to close around its reins. “How much is Mr. Gruff Voice paying you?” he said. “I’ll triple it.”

“Can you pay enough to protect my family from bandits?”

“Huh?” Berric said. “You are a bandit.” 

The man rolled his eyes and unlocked the cart door.

This was his chance! Berric stooped and grabbed a handful of dirty straw from the floor, and as the door swing open he flung it in the driver’s face. The man shouted a curse and threw his arms up, leaving him open for a swift and, Berric thought, well-deserved kick to the chest.

If only he hadn’t been wearing mail under that robe. Berric yelped in pain. But there was no time to stop and see if he’d broken his toes. The bandit was still wiping dirt from his eyes. Berric jumped out of the cart and ran past the man and toward his horse.

“Get him!” shouted Gruff Voice, and out of the corner of Berric eye he could see a heavyset figure coming toward him in a rolling run, and other figures converging from every side.

The man holding Berric’s horse dropped the reins and rushed at him, arms out, but Berric ducked under his arms and then under his horse’s stomach and emerged on the far side to clamber in an instant up into the saddle. “Up!” Berric shouted, and his charger reared on cue, making the surrounding bandits leap back. The charger tossed its head and Berric snatched the reins out of the air as they flew back. He dug his heels into the horse’s side and they were off like an arrow, scattering bandits as they flew.

Trees whipped past on either side, and Berric leaned forward in the saddle. He’d done it! What a story this would make when he got back to the palace. He’d have the criers proclaim it throughout the kingdom. Did you hear? The young prince, ambushed, captured, probably destined for some barbaric slave market or to be abandoned for the monsters in the Towerwood Forest, and he escaped!

What, all alone, with no help?

Yes! And he rode all the way back to the palace and called the Guard to arrest the kidnappers.

Berric smiled. Those bandits would spend the rest of their lives in a palace, all right — in the lowest dungeon.

There were hoofbeats behind him. Berric flashed a look over his shoulder. Four riders were close behind, gaining fast. Their horses were the equal of his own, and the riders leaned in their saddles with practiced ease. Berric spurred his charger desperately, but they kept pace. Then his eyes caught what they were wearing: the blue and gold livery of the Royal Guard. They’d found him! Berric pulled the reins to slow his horse.

“About time you caught up,” he said as the Guardsmen took up protective stations on either side of his horse. But something was wrong. The men didn’t look at him. And they were riding much too close. Then the closest reached out and grabbed Berric’s bridle, and the whole group came to a dusty, scrabbling stop.

“What are you doing?” Berric said.

Without a word, the Guardsmen turned Berric’s horse around, and they all began trotting back the way they had come.

“Hey! Berric said. "We need to get back to the palace."

First 5 Pages April Workshop - Ellie Rev 2

Name: Ellie
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Title: The Wicked and the Dark

Caetlin had had steadied her furiously beating heart as she rounded each corner, bracing herself for what would be there. It wasn’t like she wanted to find a body, but Jax had been missing after his patrol for far too long—even for him.

Jax liked to play tricks on his sisters, but he never disappeared on a patrol for longer than it took to scare whoever’s turn it was after his. He was serious enough about protecting their patrons that he wouldn’t pull a trick that would get in the way.

A frown tugged at Caetlin’s mouth. Something was definitely wrong. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions and scare Eloise and Peony, only to have their brother pop up later. Jax wasn’t just their older brother—he was their leader, the family’s first born, the strongest of them all. Caetlin refused to believe he could have been killed by a Shadeu or a rival guard.

"Damn you, Jax." Caetlin growled into the tunnel's dark crevices, the words muffled behind her face mask.

Not a single Shadeu, the flesh eaters that lived below ground, or opposing cabal member had been spotted the whole time she’d been on watch. It wasn't rare, but it wasn’t common either. There were nights when she had killed ten Shadeu in a single section, and other nights when there were none in any sectors—at least ones under the Three Bells, her cabal's, protection.

Still; there was something going on, her instincts were going crazy and her heart refused to stop pumping a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The air felt electrified with lurking eyes, watching her as she crept through the stone underground corridors.

She was kicking up black ash and dust as  her watch time crept to a close and she searched for Jax.  Her thoughts turns to her parents, up in Nahljie, looking into some orchards. Even if Caetlin wanted to, it would take at least three days for a letter to get to them. It was up to her and her sisters to find Jax.

The sound of shuffling feet broke the silence. A sound that would usually be soft and light echoed like grating chains. The scraping crawled through the dark tunnels, over the cobblestones and rocky walls, right under Caetlin’s skin. No one would make such a ruckus while traveling underground unless they wanted to be heard—or dead.

Hope soared in her chest. She sprinted around the corner, saw a shadowy human figure and stopped short.

A young man shambled towards her, slumped; holding the side of his stomach. All the hope in Caetlin’s chest crashed to her toes. The person in front of her wasn't Jax, he was a member of another cabal. He seemed to be around her age, maybe eighteen or so. Tall; then again, most people were taller than her five foot-almost two-inches. But he was still much shorter and leaner than her brother.

Caetlin’s hand hovered over the dagger at her side as her eyes skimmed over his weapons; two swords at his back and three daggers at his sides.

The stranger was dressed in a black and grey tunic, with a hood and matching pants. His face was covered by a metal mask, but she couldn’t make out the design on it with his head flopped onto his chest.

He lurched towards her, his hand going out. Instinctively, Caetlin palmed her dagger hilt and shifted her feet to root herself. “Who are you?” She demanded. Did he get wounded fighting Jax?Or was it a Shadeu?

The cabal guard didn’t say anything before he collapsed forward and crumpled to the ground.

Caetlin watched him for a few moments, noting how his back moved slowly and shallowly as he breathed. He was unconscious, not dead—at least not yet.

Usually the protocol for coming across a rival cabal member would be to leave them to be found by either a lurking Shadeu or—hopefully for the person—one of their own cabal members. But he wasn’t in his own section; he was in hers; she couldn’t just leave him as bait to draw Shadeu into her own territory.

With a muffled string of curses, Caetlin stalked over to a broken stone pillar with their seal etched on it, and pulled open a hidden rock door. Inside the small hole was a wire. She tugged it three times and replaced the rock.

Eloise and Peony would be there within ten minutes. Peony wouldn’t mind as much, since her shift started after Caetlin’s, at one, but Eloise always had the early morning route from three thirty until sunrise, and wouldn’t get as much rest now. But they would both want to know about Jax and the mysterious loner.

While she waited for Eloise and Peony to show up, Caetlin crouched over the fallen boy. He was outfitted in typical cabal style; dark clothing with a hood, leather armor for his front and back, fingerless gloves. Shining metal armor overlapped each plate up his arms and legs. She pushed him over onto his back. His metal mask covered his lower face, delicately designed like a beast’s jaw clamping down and bearing its teeth.

Caetlin let a small smile lift her lips. Snarling jaws and sharp teeth were very popular mask decorations in the cabal, especially for men who wanted to look more menacing than they actually were.

“Huh.” There was one thing missing that all cabal members wore: His crest; the insignia of the cabal he was a member of— usually worn with pride on the chest or somewhere else easily seen— was nowhere to be found. Was this boy a loner? Someone without a Cabal? He didn’t look like a tunnephile; one of the rich and bored who came down into the tunnels for fun during the day.

There was a tuft of dark brown hair covering one of his eyes. Caetlin’s fingers itched to push it out of the way. She wondered for a second if he was handsome, if maybe she knew him somehow from a party or ball, but disregarded the thought. Wondering if everyone she met in the city was a member of a cabal would just make her paranoid.

The light sound of approach pulled Caetlin from her thoughts. She stood and spun around as she palmed her dagger hilts.

“What happened?” Eloise’s voice vibrated through her mask, making it rough and indecipherable. She landed on the rocky ground next to Caetlin with the grace of a dancer. A thin blond braid escaped her hood that she quickly tucked back inside.

She must have taken the upper caverns to get here so fast, Caetlin thought. Some of the upper caverns weren’t stable, with the constant cave-ins of rocks and water leaks from the surface. They were Eloise’s favorite routes through the tunnels.

“It’s a boy.” Peony breathed through her own mask as she followed behind Eloise, not quite as graceful as her sister, but just as swift. “Did you kill him?” She asked excitedly.

“No.” Caetlin rolled her eyes. “I was looking for Jax when he stumbled out of the eastern wing there,” She pointed in the direction he came from. “And fell, right here.”

Eloise’s attention whipped from the unconscious man to Caetlin. “What do you mean you were looking for Jax?”

First 5 Pages April Workshop - Harrington Rev 2

Name: Sarah Harrington

Genre: Young Adult Science Fiction

Title: Of Time and Blood

Some Timekeepers saw the Schedules as a rigid set of rules never to be broken, but I figured a little creative interpretation never hurt anyone. 

The dust was thick in the air and heavy on my tongue as I inhaled. With every breath, history took root in my lungs. A flowery perfume tried to hide the musty scent, but the smell of years long gone still lived on in the antique store.

“Change of plans,” I said as my assignment partner rounded the corner of the aisle. He jumped out of the way to avoid sending a teetering pile of old books crashing to the floor.

Trent sighed. “Why do you always do this, Mik? What was wrong with the original plan?”

“Do you really think just prompting him to buy a book from her would be enough to create a spark between them? It's way too simple for a guy like that. We’ll need something a little more drastic to get through his thick skull.” My gaze drifted towards our target.

Thirty-year-old Joseph Bolland stood on the far side of the store with stiff shoulders and a straight back. The window behind him, dirtied with years of grime, let in very little light. Even with the dingy overhead lamps, the wine decanter in his hands was barely visible.

I ran through my mental checklist for matchmaking assignments. The briefing was on point with almost everything, but it had failed to mention that Joseph was a real jerk.

Trent’s voice sliced through my annoyance. “What’d he do to piss you off?”

“Elbowed me out of the way. He was muttering about how rowdy teenagers don’t deserve to be in a place like this. Apparently we ‘don’t appreciate the history behind the objects’.” I dropped my voice as low as I could to imitate Joseph’s grating tone.

We stood at the back of the antique store, surrounded by old figurines and pieces of secondhand kitchen equipment. Although most of my focus was on Joseph, I could just make out our secondary target in my periphery. Coraline stood behind the cash register with her lips pursed and fingers drumming on the counter. She trained her eyes on us and I could almost hear her mentally screaming at us to get out of her precious shop.

I ached to tell Coraline that nothing about me wanted to be in this dusty old store with uninteresting and poorly maintained items. We were only there to set her up with her future husband and we would certainly appreciate not having to operate under the shopkeeper’s piercing glare the entire time.

I turned to relay that thought to Trent, but stopped short at the sight of him cradling a clay Chinese teapot.

“My mom had one just like this.” He ran his free hand over the smooth surface, light sandy skin contrasting with the deep reddish brown of the clay. “She used to sneak tea in to me during all the hospital stays.” Sorrow laced his voice as he spoke of a time stolen from him.

A time stolen from all Timekeeper recruits.

At his words, my hand crept up to touch the silver anchor charm hanging around my neck. It was the only thing I had left from my time in the outside world but, unlike Trent, I didn’t miss my life before the Timekeepers. They’d given me the closest thing I’d ever had to a family.

“Careful!” The sharp sound of Coraline’s voice shot across the room. “These aren’t toys to be played with; they’re antiques.”

“They deserve each other,” Trent muttered as he set the teapot down. “We should hurry up. Can’t have you being late for your own Advancement Ceremony.”

The nerves that had been swimming lazily in my stomach all day burst into a frenzy at his words. The thought of this being my last time engaging with the outside world sickened me. Staying on as an Agent would be a dream, but it was such a rare occurrence, and it wasn’t likely for that dream to become my reality. But there wasn’t time to worry about that now.

I pushed my anxiety aside and moved to stand with Trent. Our eyes poured over the store, looking for all the possible ways to bring Joseph and Coraline together.

A burning sensation interrupted my thoughts. I pulled my pocket watch out of my jeans and ran my fingers over the rusted surface of the hunter case. The hot metal singed my skin; it was a warning, but I couldn’t initiate the interface here to read the message. The risk of the targets seeing the hologram coming out of the watch was too high. “They’re telling us to get a move on. We need to figure out a plan.”

“Well I thought the original plan in the Schedule was good enough, but we can’t do that anymore because someone decided we should change things up and made us miss the time slot.”

I ignored his sass and squinted in Joseph’s direction. “It wouldn’t take a lot of force to shatter the glass display case behind him.”

Trent followed my gaze, catching onto my plan. “But it would cause a ton of damage. It doesn’t really fit in with the whole ‘unnoticed’ part of our mantra, does it?”

He was right. Being yelled at by Coraline was one thing, but causing lasting damage to property in plain sight of the targets was something else altogether. The Councillors would probably ream us out as soon as we got back to Meridian, but time was ticking down. “Do you have any better ideas? The next customer will be here any minute. This needs to be done right now.”

Trent pressed his lips into a thin line but nodded. We broke away from where we stood, creeping down opposite sides of the store towards the target. Inching closer, I saw Joseph’s eyes dart towards Coraline. He didn’t know what the future held for himself and the shopkeeper.

But Trent and I did.

We always did.

And it was our job to make sure it happened.

I walked down the aisle, trying to look natural and innocuous for Coraline, while also making my footfalls as light as possible to keep Joseph from noticing me. My mind wandered back almost ten years to the last time I saw Joseph. One of my very first assignments had been to make him late for a law school interview. The world just hadn't been ready for Joseph the defense attorney; his current job as an accountant suited humankind's course far better. Maybe he remembered the seven-year-old girl who spilled her milk on his jacket. My lips twitched at the memory. Joseph hadn’t been as awful back then; he’d even bought me another milk carton to show he wasn’t upset. What happened to that man? I should’ve looked at the database to see his full Schedule. Another Timekeeper must have been responsible for the assignment that turned him so sour.

I stood close enough now to catch the spicy scent of Joseph’s cologne. He was so engaged in examining a vase for chips in the glasswork that he hadn’t noticed us sneaking up on either side of him. Trent’s brown eyes met mine.

Now.

First 5 Pages April Workshop - Norton Rev 2

Name: Patrick Norton
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Title: The Hollow - The Fox and The Dragon

Sunup. He’s late.

Ryder pulled up his sleeve to check his watch, and then peeked around the musty lace curtain into the dim room. His eyelids were heavy, and he swallowed a yawn. The late night sparing sessions were starting to take their toll.

Where the hell is he?

A creak from the bedroom door answered him as Tiberius tiptoed across the floor, pausing in front of Ryder’s bed. Tiberius crouched and leapt over the footboard, belly-flopping onto a pile of pillows strategically shaped like a sleeping Ryder. The lumpy mattress smooshed to the ground, the box spring screaming from the massive weight pressing it to the floor. Ryder stepped from behind the curtain and pulled a tarnished poker from the spent ash of the fireplace.

"And what are you going to do with that?" Tiberius asked, his bushy face half buried in a feather pillow. He rolled off the bed, and pulled a dull brown sword from his belt. "All right, boy, let's see what kind of poker player you are."

Ryder shook his head.

Tiberius lunged, but Ryder sidestepped the blade, deflecting it easily with his ashy poker. He tried to counterattack, but Tiberius backhanded him, splitting his bottom lip. Ryder stumbled, but regained his footing.

"Since when do heroes slap?" Ryder said, licking the blood from his lip. He inched backwards toward the closet, beckoning Tiberius to attack.

“Im not the hero right now, remember?” Tiberius lowered his head and charged. Thunderous footsteps shook the room, the floorboards creaking under each booted footfall. Ryder stood his ground, pressing his back against the closet door. When Tiberius was close enough for Ryder to smell his aftershave, Ryder rolled to the ground and slapped him with the poker as he passed. Tiberius spun around, crashing butt-first through the closet door and halfway into the back wall. The closet caved in, raining clothes and hangers onto the defeated swordsman.

Ryder picked up the fallen sword, and crossed it with the poker against Tiberius’s neck. "Had enough?"

Tiberius blew the sleeve of a striped turtleneck out of his eye. "From you? Please."

Ryder flicked the sword at his chin, lopping off a chunk of gray beard. The blade was sharper than it looked.

Tiberius raised his hands in the air. "All right, boy, you win, I surrender."

Ryder flipped the sword around, offering the hilt to Tiberius. "It was a lot closer this time."

"Oh, so you're gettin' cute with me now? Never mind I warned you an ambush was coming -- a courtesy few enemies will ever give you. All right then, let's get me up."

Ryder stared at the outstretched hand. His uncle was not a lean man, being at least twice Ryder's height and who knows how many times his girth. Ryder grabbed the wrinkled hand and dug in his heels, but his socks just skated across the wood floor. Tiberius rocked back and forth like a turtle before lumbering to his feet, still covered in Ryder's clothes.

"Who woulda thought," Tiberius said, panting. "The great Tiberius bested by his puny nephew. I'd be the laughingstock of the Hollow."

"It’s your fault. You’re a good teacher."

Tiberius dusted wooden shards off his pant leg. "Yeah maybe, but I'm runnin' out of tricks. You know everything I know, and you've heard every tale I can tell ya. I noticed you used the Samson move."

Ryder inspected the shattered closet, remembering a story his uncle had told him about the ancient hero Samson. Outnumbered and out-muscled, he caved in a great temple to defeat his enemies, sacrificing himself in the process. Tiberius always prattled on about heroes: who they were, the battles they fought, the villains and creatures they hunted. Ryder's ears drank in every word. Tales about faraway places like Lyra, Atlantis, and Raleon. Stories of the wars he'd fought in the Dread Lands and the Valley of Giants -- fantastic places hidden deep in the Hollow, the world inside the world.

"A good teacher and a good storyteller," Ryder said.

"Well, I hope you listen good to those stories. I won't always be here for you, and when the time comes... I just hope you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

Tiberius looked out the window, where the curtain was half ripped off. "Another story for another time."

Ryder was used to his uncle's riddles, and didn't press the issue. He could dig for answers, but the usual response was silence or a story about some monster he slayed.

"Whatever it is, I'll be ready." Ryder smacked his palm with the fire poker. "And if it's danger, don't worry -- I'll protect you."

Tiberius peeled a staticky sweater off his chest and flung it at Ryder's head. "You're a special kind of brat, you know that? Rematch later; but for now, pack up. We're leaving."

Ryder pulled the sweater off his face, replacing it with a frown. "Again? But you said-"

"It’s not safe anymore.”

“What about school? You said I could try again.”

“I know, and we’ll try in the next town.”

Ryder threw the fire poker into his nightstand knocking a small globe to the ground. “It’s always the next town! How am I supposed to make friends? I’m 14 now, I don’t want to stay up all night fighting or learn how to blind sand harpies. Normal kids don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry Fox, someday you'll understand." Tiberius dug through the rubble of the closet and wrestled out a beat up suitcase. "But hopefully not too soon." He gave Ryder a half smile and limped out the door.

Ryder kicked the lid of his suitcase open and tossed the sweater in. The rest of his clothes were a scattered mess mixed in with broken closet parts and chalky bits of drywall. He booted the suitcase across the floor and sat on the edge of his ruffled bed.

He was used to moving, but Tiberius had promised that this town was different and he could try school again. 7^th grade was his last expulsion but that was two years and three towns ago. His previous attempts at school always ended the same with either Tiberius pulling him out to move or Ryder getting kicked out, which happened often. Schools just didn't make sense, especially given what he'd learned from his uncle.

Ryder picked up the globe that had rolled off his nightstand. It was split at the equator and he pulled the two halves apart. Inside, Tiberius had drawn a map of the Hollow which he used for his lessons with Ryder.

Ryder had brought it to school once to settle an argument with his 6^th grade teacher, who was convinced the earth was full of lava.

“Full of lava?“ A baffled Tiberius would correct when Ryder got home. “A little in the Dread Lands sure but full of it? Sounds like that school’s full of something. Tell her about aliens tomorrow.” 

He did and she wasn’t amused.

Ryder never knew who to believe. The confusion started years ago in elementary school where he earned his first expulsion. His 3^rd grade teacher swore the North Pole was full of elves and a fat wizard, but called a meeting with the principal when he tried to tell her about Boreade ice giants and Draconian devilworms.

Tiberius claimed to have met elves, and he wasn't fond of them. “Nasty little buggers,” he said. “Man-eaters.”

Ryder got off with a warning but that only lasted until the Easter Bunny incident…

First 5 Pages April Workshop - Hadacek Rev 1

Name: Karel Hadacek
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Title: The Wayward Path

Alyssa watched the raven watching her. Her grandma said they were mystical messengers between humans and the spirit world and wondered if this one carried a message for her. Stepping toward the bird, she glanced over her shoulder at the blanket on the grass with her family’s picnic remains. Her parents had pushed the leftovers to the side and were snuggled together, dozing. I won't be long or go far, she promised herself. I wonder if it would tell me its message.  

Sometimes she communicated with her Jack Russell terrier, Sparky, without words. Whenever she imagined how fun their walks were, Sparky rand to the door and jumped at his leash on the hook beside it. But when she was sad and didn't want to play, he'd settle in her lap and snuggle, ignoring the leash altogether. She didn't think they communicated with words; it was more like sharing feelings and pictures in their minds. Could she do the same thing with this bird?

The raven cocked his head and looked down at her with one eye. Is it a boy or girl? Hmmm, a boy, she thought he told her. Just when she felt a thread of communication with him, she lost it. The raven flew to a perch a few trees away and Alyssa hesitated, considering. She spotted a game trail through the woods and hurried to catch up with the bird. She felt safe knowing that the trail leading her a few steps away would also take her back, and she wanted to try to merge with the bird again. What else could I see?

Focusing on the raven again, her vision blurred. Blinking didn’t help, so she shut her eyes. In her mind’s eye, Alyssa thought she looked down from a position high above, seeing a petite, blonde girl in a red windbreaker and blue shorts. The colors were brighter and somehow different than the way the colors usually looked to her.  Blinking, the scene cleared. She’d done it! Somehow, she’d didn’t communicate with him -- they’d merged, and she could look through his eyes! She never would have thought that was even possible, but she’d done it! She twirled and first pumped the air, wishing she’d had a friend with her to tell.

He fluttered to the left of the trail, and she increased her pace to keep up. She was eager to experience his vision again. The raven perched on a rocky outcropping above her and croaked. Following, she focused and tried to remember what she’d done to see through his eyes. More than anything, she wanted to do it again. He fluttered in a constant string of little hops from branch to branch, branch to rock, rock to grass, then grass to tree.

The wind kicked up and big drops pelted her face before she looked around and saw the storm clouds overhead. Zipping her windbreaker and pulling up the hood, she wondered how long she’d been gone. The raven flew over the trees, crossed the valley to her left, and angled up and away with strong beats of his wings, ending their game.

Unable to follow, she sighed and began the trip back to her family’s picnic. She wasn’t worried, knowing she could return to the game trail. Alyssa looked around for the trail, frowning. Retracing her trail over a field of rocks, she couldn’t find the trail at the bottom where the grass grew again. She clutched her windbreaker, already beginning to chill.

“Mom? Dad?” She called periodically, hoping to hear her parents call in return.

Dark descended as she searched for the trail, finding only trees, rocks, and weeds. Her shouts for her help grew louder and more frantic. Although determined not to dissolve into a crying heap like a child, she had to admit she was scared. Lightning cracked, making her cringe. She hoped the tall trees would attract the lightning first, rather than a small thing like her.

Stomach clenching, she left the long narrow meadow and moved into the trees. Soon she found a place that was almost dry under the thick branches of a prickly evergreen tree. It smelled dank and musty, making her sneeze. Her stomach growled and she tried not to think about her hunger, thirst, or the growing darkness. Tears pressed at her eyelids. She thought her parents would be anxious by now, looking for her. Man, I’ll be grounded for years when they find me.

Wanting to look down through the raven’s eyes to hunt for her parents, she closed her eyes but couldn't do it. Not really knowing how she did it the first time, she had no idea how to do it again. She wiped her nose on her sleeve, but it just kept running as tears soaked her face. She slumped, resting her head and arms on her knees, exhausted.

What was that? She raised her head. Stretching, she swiped at the dried snot on her nose and upper lip. She must have fallen asleep, but what woke her up? Holding her breath, she listened to the night. The rain had eased and she heard another sound. Something was moving among the trees. Could it be a bear? A mountain lion? She thought she heard furtive, heavy footsteps, then a pause. It didn’t sound like her parents or a search party. No one had a flashlight or called her name. Certain she heard something close, she wondered if she was too small and nice to frighten a hungry animal. Part of her hoped she was too scrawny and stringy to look appetizing while another part of her thought she could be tender and tasty.

She couldn’t remember what the rangers had said on their last trip. Am I supposed to make myself look big or small? Make noise or look dead? There were different rules for different predators. Big or small? Loud or dead? She searched for a weapon and grabbed a branch on the ground, only to discover that it was really a tree root, with the end buried deep in the ground. Oh my God, it’s coming closer! It can hear me moving around.

Abandoning the root, she leaped toward a shiny rock partially hidden in the murky shadows beneath the tree. She scrabbled at the rock, but it wouldn't budge. She heard the thing move closer. Loud or dead? Big and dead? Good as dead? Unable to see much in the dark, every instinct told her to run. She bolted, running as fast as she could through the trees.

The rain had slowed, and clouds absorbed the moonlight, leaving sullen darkness. She was one of the fastest kids in her class, but she couldn't run all-out here. There were hidden roots, and rocks everywhere that she couldn’t see. She fell, skinning her knees and hands. Jumping up, she looked over her shoulder. Has the animal stopped or am I too loud to hear it? There it was again! She ran through the woods, never seeing the rock that tripped her. One moment she was running, and the next she was sailing through the air. She threw her hands out to catch herself, finally landing hard and hitting her face. Pain stabbed up her arms, barely registering before she lost consciousness. 

She woke to birdsong. Her head felt like she'd been clubbed, and panic rose as she realized she couldn’t see. She cried and her face stung as her tears found cuts and scrapes on her face.