1st 5 Pages Nov Workshop - Williams Rev 1

Name: Judith Williams

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy

Title: Midsummer Chronicles

The last remnant of magic swept over the warm beach and into the forest that grew across the island, searching for a boy whose time had come. A boy whose time had long since passed.

The wind ruffled the dark curls at the nape of Reyne’s neck, sending a tingling surge along his spine. He shivered and rubbed the arms of his pale green tunic, peering into the thick canopy of leaves that shadowed his home. Not a single giggle or sparkle of light. No faeries in sight. Strange, he thought, brushing the back of his neck.

Reyne adjusted the basket on his hip and stepped out of his one-room cottage nestled into the side of a tree. Many trees dotted the island, but only this one had been crafted into a dwelling. It sat alone atop a hill, against the rocky bluffs that surrounded most of the island.

Reyne set the basket down, shut the door, and then opened and closed it again, repeating this process several times and counting to three as he did so. The faeries knew when he skipped this part, and he didn’t want to be confined to his room again as their sense of time seemed to differ from his own.

Lifting the basket, he walked down the hill toward the beach, stopping at every seventh stepping stone, as demanded by the ritual, to pick the deep red berries from the bushes along the path. Reyne paused before the tall grasses that separated the island from the sandy shore. He tilted his head, listening for movement, and stepped through.

Seymour waited.

Reyne sighed.

The faerie’s wings fluttered rapidly. “Finally,” the small faerie snarled.

“But I’m exactly on time,” Reyne muttered.

Seymour circled the air above Reyne several times and swooped down to hover in Reyne’s face. “Are you questioning me?” The faerie narrowed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Golden highlights glinted over the spikes in the early morning light.

Reyne shuffled his feet in the sand.

Seymour snickered. “What a disgrace.”

Heat rushed to Reyne’s face.

“Get the ritual set up before I get back.” Seymour flew off toward the white tower that loomed over the island from the top of the bluffs.

A weight settled on Reyne, heavy and suffocating. How he despised the faeries. They always played tricks and carried themselves with their nose in the air. He never wanted to be a faerie. One day he would escape this place.

Reyne strolled toward the center of the beach and tossed his basket to the ground. The ocean waves rose and fell, sparkling in the early morning light. Freedom. It couldn’t be ocean forever. There had to be another island out there. Reyne inhaled as the salty sea air caressed his face. The rise and fall of the waves captivated him and a longing stirred deep within. He’d been forbidden from entering the ocean. The Faerie Queen had made it clear the punishment would be severe if he put even a toe in the water.

Seymour’s smug face flashed before him. Reyne clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm. He gazed at the sea, and his pulse raced. A chill wind blew through his hair and goosebumps prickled along his skin. They don’t control me.

Reyne glanced over his shoulder, pulled off his shoes, and ran across the sand, stopping just before the waves reached his bare feet. He half-turned toward the tall grasses, watching for any sign of faeries. With a sigh, he stepped forward into the sun-kissed water.

The waves sloshed over Reyne’s feet, and he wiggled his toes. Pleasure ignited his body, a smile touched his lips, and the wind picked up, a salty kiss dancing across his skin. He backed away and closed his eyes, letting out a gentle sigh as the feeling left him. Never did he imagine the ocean would feel so wonderful, so connected to the world around him.

Reyne opened his eyes and stared across the ocean. A peacefulness enveloped him. Nothing dark and ominous out there. So why couldn’t he enter? The faeries directed every aspect of his life. He had always listened out of fear of what they might do, but what would they actually do?

Reyne’s stomach tightened, and he fought to push away the nausea that rose up each time he disobeyed. A heavy fog rolled over his mind. His thoughts were off today. He shouldn’t think ill thoughts about the faeries. Without the Fae, what would he be?

He lowered his head and turned away, trudging back to his sandals buried in the sand and the sickness faded. If he didn’t get the morning greeting set up, the Fae would become curious and, for Reyne, curiosity meant punishment. He had enough chores without the Fae adding any more—and he didn’t need their mocking tone.

Reyne searched the tall grass lining the edge of the beach and grabbed a stick poking from the sand. He walked along, brushing the fingers of his other hand over the long, green blades. The sun peeked over the horizon indicating the ritual should begin. Reyne would greet the sun and say the word signaling the faeries to come out. Lacking magic, his part existed for theatrics. The Fae would come and raise the platform themselves.

He turned his head toward the sun. Its warm rays blanketed his body, casting his shadow over the sand. A shiver ran down his spine and the light caressed his skin. Careful to place one foot directly in front of the other, he moved forward until he stood centered between the tall grasses and the water’s edge.

Reyne took seven steps to his left, pushed the tip of the stick into the sand, and drew a large circle. He dropped it at his feet and placed his palms together, pressing his thumb against his sternum. The ocean breeze ruffled his hair as he bowed deeply to the sun.

He pointed toward the blazing orb. “Eimi!” he shouted.

The ocean rumbled.

A burst of light shot from the sun and across the waves. Reyne flew through the air, landing hard on his back. Grains of sand shifted beneath him. He scrabbled away. A tiled, bluestone floor encircled by twelve, large rectangular, flat-topped rocks rose, revealing the, grand pavilion in the center.

Reyne’s heart thundered in his ears, and he lowered himself onto one of the stone benches to catch his breath. “That was power. . .” He inhaled to steady his breathing and pushed himself off the bench. A tremble created a slight waiver in his steps as he walked over to the basket he had tossed. Hands shaking, he lifted it to his waist and turned, releasing a sigh of relief. He stood alone.

Reyne crept toward the pavilion and stood before one of the slabs. He glanced at his basket. The placing usually occurred after the faeries arrived. Eyes closed, he took another deep breath and steadied the shaking in his hands. His eyes popped opened, and he grabbed a handful of berries and dropped them on the flat top, making his way around the circle and repeating the action at each slab. Reyne stepped back from the stones examined his body. No bruises, no sparkles, no sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened. His mind whirled. He couldn’t have done it. He was human. So, who or what?